A Little Silence

At this time of year in my corner of the planet, parents and children are readying themselves for a new school year. New routines. New schedules. Busy busy busy. As life begins to speed up again after vacations and summer pleasures, it can be hard to find a minute of peace and quiet.

Yet this is when we need it.

It's not hard. All that's required is a desire to relax deeply and turn off the world for a little while. No music. No conversation. All that's needed is a willingness to meet awareness itself – that bright, deep, quiet place where we really live.

Yet for some reason, there's always an excuse to avoid it. No time. And then there's the fact that for many of us, doing nothing feels like a guilty pleasure. We have been so deeply programmed to believe that idle time is unproductive, or that idle hands lead to mischief, we forget that those idle moments are the ones that bring new insight, deep rest, and fresh energy. We forget that silence brings us into the presence of something greater.

In that bright, deep, quiet place, joy rises. Not the superficial joy that might come with an expensive car, or an understanding spouse, or a dog that doesn't pee on the carpet. It goes deeper. It carries us farther. It nourishes and inspires us. As Jane Goodall says, in "Reason for Hope": "And now, if I am sad, or filled with sudden rage, I find some quiet place with grass and leaves and earth, and sit there silently, and hope that they will come and call me with their silvery voices, and make me clean again, those little angels of the trees and flowers."

And, if that's not enough, when we leave that quiet corner, it spills over into everyday life. Appreciation rises effortlessly for the things that are in our life – a new feeling of generosity towards that old beater that carries us to work each day – a new tenderness towards the old dog, even as you mop up the wet spot. New qualities of respect and acceptance unfold naturally.

All that, just from a few minutes of silence a day.

A Little Silence

At this time of year in my corner of the planet, parents and children are readying themselves for a new school year. New routines. New schedules. Busy busy busy. As life begins to speed up again after vacations and summer pleasures, it can be hard to find a minute of peace and quiet.

Yet this is when we need it.

It's not hard. All that's required is a desire to relax deeply and turn off the world for a little while. No music. No conversation. All that's needed is a willingness to meet awareness itself – that bright, deep, quiet place where we really live.

Yet for some reason, there's always an excuse to avoid it. No time. And then there's the fact that for many of us, doing nothing feels like a guilty pleasure. We have been so deeply programmed to believe that idle time is unproductive, or that idle hands lead to mischief, we forget that those idle moments are the ones that bring new insight, deep rest, and fresh energy. We forget that silence brings us into the presence of something greater.

In that bright, deep, quiet place, joy rises. Not the superficial joy that might come with an expensive car, or an understanding spouse, or a dog that doesn't pee on the carpet. It goes deeper. It carries us farther. It nourishes and inspires us. As Jane Goodall says, in "Reason for Hope": "And now, if I am sad, or filled with sudden rage, I find some quiet place with grass and leaves and earth, and sit there silently, and hope that they will come and call me with their silvery voices, and make me clean again, those little angels of the trees and flowers."

And, if that's not enough, when we leave that quiet corner, it spills over into everyday life. Appreciation rises effortlessly for the things that are in our life – a new feeling of generosity towards that old beater that carries us to work each day – a new tenderness towards the old dog, even as you mop up the wet spot. New qualities of respect and acceptance unfold naturally.

All that, just from a few minutes of silence a day.

Control

In my readings for myself, I see the ‘Control’ card often when life is stressful or things are changing fast and I feel like I have nothing to hold onto.

 The best thing to do at these times, is of course, to surrender and let a greater force direct traffic for a while. Yet when I am stressed, that’s the last thing I want to do. My impulse is to tighten my grip. I mean, things could go wrong if I'm not right there to manage them, couldn't they? Others may not understand as thoroughly as I do just what is at stake if things go wrong. 

Well they probably don't understand, but letting go of control is the right thing to do anyway. Even if it means things get messy or go wrong.

It's a blessing to see the 'control' card come up. It gives me pause. What am I hanging onto that needs to be seen? Sometimes it's something as small as the arrangements for a visit or the formatting of this blog post. Sometimes it's big, like trying to manage a loved one's pain. I care about them. Of course I'm going to lean and do what I can. And if the results come up well, I can feel good about it all.

But if it's not coming together, I need perspective. Joanna Macy said, “Learn to trust. You are only a small part of a much larger process, like a nerve cell in a neural net.”

A single nerve cell in a neural net. 

When I feel the tension seeping in, this image helps me find perspective. My little bit is important, but there are powers greater than me who have a say too. When I can pause, the energy loosens right up. It lets in fresh air. 

I don't have to do it all, even if I secretly hope that I, of my own effort, can change the course of the universe.