Imagine what would happen if all 8 billion of us sat still for a few moments every day
By Annie Katz
Returning from my walk the other day, I stopped in the driveway of the farm where I live to watch a woman and her child shoveling horse manure. The little boy was about 6 years old, and he was using a full-sized rake to scoop up big piles of fresh poop and deposit it in the wheelbarrow. He asked my name, we engaged in a bit of neighborly conversation, and he went back to work while I stood still, enjoying being outdoors on a lovely day in the country.
After a few minutes, the child stopped working and demanded, “What are you doing?”
I smiled and replied that I was enjoying the sunshine like the other farm animals. He considered my answer. Then he nodded and went back to work.
It made me realize how rare it is to see someone standing still. Our culture values activity, not stillness. Already this little boy was working hard, caring for horses, and helping his mother. He was suspicious of an old woman standing in the sunshine doing nothing.
Spiritual traditions often counsel us to be still. Such a simple instruction! Do nothing, simply be awake, aware, relaxed, attentive and receptive. But after a lifetime of running away from things that frighten me and running toward things that entice me, sitting or standing still often seems unbearable.
And yet I know that when I sit still for even a few minutes, I’m greatly rewarded. I first became aware of this was after I left my husband. At 36 years old, I was living alone for the first time in my life. Every evening at 7 o’clock, I’d suddenly be overwhelmed with loneliness. The feeling was so intense that it drove me crazy.
For several weeks I ran away from the loneliness by calling a friend or planning an outing so that I’d be away from home then. Or I would eat a carton of ice cream or a bag of chips to get myself through that dangerous time of the evening. Then one day I got tired of running. I resolved to sit on the couch when the feeling arrived and to keep sitting with the loneliness for as long as it took. Then I invited the loneliness to kill me if it had to, because I was determined to stop running.
I sat on the couch, and sure enough, at 7 o’clock, the loneliness overwhelmed me the way it had every other night that I’d been on my own. I watched myself desperate to get up, or call a friend, or grab a book, or eat a bag of cookies to distract myself from the misery of being all alone and not having a clue about the future. And I forced my body to sit there while my mind went nuts. Even when I felt like crawling out of my skin, I sat still.
I experienced such intense loneliness and desolation that I sobbed and held my belly. After a few minutes of that, I wiped my face with my shirt, and I stayed put. And at 7:15 I wasn’t lonely at all. I felt fine, so I got up, watered the petunias on my balcony and enjoyed the view from my little apartment. From that time on, I no longer feared loneliness.
Sitting still with other feelings and with intense physical pain is still scary, but as with loneliness, after I get tired of running away or distracting myself, I sit still and learn the truth. Feelings and sensations are the same as everything else in nature. They come and they go, they don’t last forever. They change moment to moment, the same way the sky changes moment to moment.
Cultivating stillness, resting in a quiet body and a quiet mind, connects us to a deep well of inner peace. That kind of humble silence is rarely encouraged in our society, but imagine what would happen if all 8 billion of us sat still for a few moments every day. So much precious peace and wisdom could flow into the world from such a simple practice!
Annie Katz is a retired educator living in Ashland. She has studied philosophy and spiritual practices all her life and now writes novels for fun. Readers may contact Annie at [email protected].
Want to contribute? Send 600- to 700-word articles on all aspects of inner peace to Richard Carey ([email protected]).
