A few weeks ago I wrote about getting back to basics. Part of that was to spend 10 minutes every morning and evening in silence. Not necessarily meditation, although it may be, not always prayer, although that may be there, not even contemplation. Silence was the key.
I find this easy to do in the evening, before sleep, when I am slowing down. Harder to do in the morning when I am fully awake and ready to jump into the day. (I am a morning person, one of those people who bound out of bed with full energy. The secret to this is a good 7 to 8 hours of great sleep. No surprise here.) In the morning my mind is like a room full of superballs, bouncing wildly all over the place.
The most surprising part of this commitment has been the deep recognition of my thirst, my yearning for…
Stillness, silence. No agenda, nothing to do, nothing to get, nothing to hear, no where to go, to learn, to be. Just silence and stillness. Like falling into the softness of your favourite arm chair, luxury and beauty, all combined. Spaciousness and eternity.
When I go into silence I am present to the low grade hum of Universe. The primordial sound, the source. It is like coming home. There is a peace there that nourishes my soul.
Our lives are filled with noise. Noise of activity, noise of the external world, noise of the endless chatter inside our head. Busy-ness and noise. Our days are like a cork bobbing in a very wild sea, constant motion, constant challenge from our environment. And then we usually numb ourselves out with TV, alcohol, food, facebook just so we can try to get to the ‘off’ switch.
I am never been a good meditator, although I have tried over the years. Let me go for a long run in a forest any day, than sitting still trying to still my mind for hours.
My little 10 minutes in the morning and at night of just being still and silent, without trying to meditate, or calm my mind, or do anything at all, has been the key. There is no striving for, no effort, no process. And it is beautiful. Beautiful. And so desperately missing from the endless busy-ness of life.
It has become a most wonderous, beloved part of my day.