On Finding Stillness

Here we all are in 2022, trying to figure out wtf is going on in the world and what we’re supposed to do next. I feel as though I’m poised on the edge of my seat, waiting for the news to deliver the next unfathomable event. By now, most of you have probably seen the videos of WHOLE HOUSES disappearing into the ocean along the coast of North Carolina, where rising sea levels are eroding the coastline. The house just… floated away. Ukraine has allowed us to forget about Afghanistan. Racial violence has bled into something as mundane as grocery shopping. Our political system has all but collapsed in on itself. And… since I began writing this... an elementary school shooting took the lives of 19 students and two adults (I have many thoughts and feelings about this but will share them separately, if at all). 

It’s as though human civilization and mother earth are collectively shuttering down. I don’t think it’s an accident that all of this began with the quiet, slow sigh of Covid- one that, despite its many challenges and losses, allowed us to feel what it’s like to be truly present in our own lives. Do you remember those early months, when the sky was clearer than most of us had ever seen, and birdsong was abundant? It was as though the earth was unfurling. Now, it has snapped itself shut again. We’re hobbling back into life attempting to hold onto that precious sense of connectedness we had for a fleeting moment, bartering for hours and space and the right to choose how much of ourselves we hand over to the demands of our work culture. It’s hard to give too much when we suddenly understand how fragile all of this really is and how little any of it actually matters. 

I don’t know about you, but something was awakened within me over the last two years. Perhaps it was COVID. Perhaps it was my brother’s death. But something deep inside of me began to yearn for a silence that is seldom found in America. Everywhere I turn, there is noise. Even the church is its own cacophony of sound, arguing over rules and laws, enmeshed in theological posturing and politics maneuvering. 

I’ve spent a lot of time over this past year figuring out how to protect a space that allows me to connect to my spirit and remain grounded. What I have found is that it is exceedingly difficult to step outside of the rush and roar of the culture we live in. I’ve touched on this before, but I think most of us carry a general sense of failure around a list of aspirational shoulds that we often perceive ourselves to fall short of. It’s difficult to orient one’s desires in light of what our culture tells us is obligatory. Exercise, prayer/meditation, home cooked meals, incorporating play into our lives and with our children- all seem indulgent… lazy even.

I’ve spent the last two years considering what it would be like to prioritize those elements, and let me just say… it is an absurdly daunting task. It isn’t that we are all failing. It is that our system is failing us. Those very human elements that are so crucial to human thriving are wholly antithetical to the way our society was formed- a society founded on the premise that productivity and success, monetary gain, and power should be prioritized above all else. 

What would it look like if we, as a society, prioritized the task of being human over the task of being productive? Where does that begin? If our schools don’t teach it, and society doesn't teach it, when do we learn it? And how do we implement it when our work demands 40-60 hours (or more, for many) of our lives each week? 

For me, this has begun by stalwartly protecting a daily space for silence and contemplation, to be present with my own emotions, fears, gratitude, and soul. This has been brutally difficult to do, especially during the demands of grad school, of which there are seldom enough hours in the day to meet. I’ve had to combat real guilt around using my time for such “touchy-feely” activities; I am deeply programmed to believe that all my hours should be productive or social. Starting my day at 9 or 10am, no matter how late I work that night, feels as though I am committing a crime. My time belongs to… who?

To claim stillness in this world of noise is the only way I can find to change the system I live in. My great rebellion is to encourage others to do the same. To fight for silence and the space for rest. To invest in one’s soul above all else. A look at the practices that I consider crucial can be found here. My journey to incorporating these habits can be found here. And as always, I’m here to chat if you have questions!