The Art of Stillness

One of my Christmas gifts is The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere, by Pico Iyer.

From the back cover:

“At some point, all the horizontal trips in the world stop compensating for the need to go deep, into somewhere challenging and unexpected; movement makes most sense when grounded in stillness.

In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow. In an age of distraction, nothing could feel more luxurious than paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.”

This is why I meditate. The Art of Stillness clarifies for me the importance of meditation, of silence, of depth. And it has me thinking about Christmas.

The depth of Christmas is not in the food, or in the presents. It’s in generosity, in beauty, in singing together, in donations, in quiet moments enjoying the Christmas tree, in time together, with friends and family. And deeper still, it’s in silence. That’s where depth lives – in silence.

We get lost, I think, in busyness, and lose the silence. But that’s where joy lives. This can be a time to take time, to take a moment to breathe, instead of running faster and faster, shopping and wrapping and cooking all day so we can overeat and then shop again for days and spend January decluttering and losing weight.

Imagine if we didn’t, if this darkest time of winter was a time to rest, to breathe, a time for silence and depth. I’m going to give it a try.

Maureen

When Writing Sings

Sometimes writing just doesn’t happen. Or it limps along. Or it flows, briefly, and then stops. For me, this happens when I’m sick and my brain is slow ­– often just from a cold, or an allergy – but it’s enough to slow writing to the point of painfulness. Sometimes I stop, walk away, have a nap, or go on an errand, knowing that whatever writing I push to accomplish will have to be redone the next day.

Because the good days – the great days ­­­– those brilliant writing days – on those days, the words sing, and a day of pushing is so far from that it’s hard to bother. In between are the regular writing days, when there are moments that shine, and moments that struggle, and progress, although it always feels too slow.

This is where the work of writing kicks in. To simply do the work, even if the words aren’t dancing –  to do the work, hoping the words will sing.

Maureen

Writing on Retreat

I’m on a meditation retreat, but managed a little writing today (a sick day, felled by allergies).

It was lovely to start from silence, and then settle into a story I’m coming back to. It felt homey and comfortable, like I was wrapped in a warm blanket, visiting with a friend.

Maureen