I am writing this as I sit in a Muskoka chair watching a spectacular sun set over Morrison Lake. I hear the rhythmic lapping of the water over the rocks and my skin tingles as the breeze makes itself known. The kids are asleep and all is well with my world.
Or is it?
I find that I can be in these moments and still not really be in them. You know what I mean? Like I want to just sink into the calm of it all and breathe deeply but there is something inside me that seems wound up. Like my breathing is constrained by some imaginary force field.
Perhaps, if you have a personality like mine, you can identify. You too might find sitting still to be an impossibility and God forbid you add silence to that equation. Still and silent? Can’t do that. Must. Do. Something. (Blogging in this case!)
I think that I actually have to slow down before I can be still. Sure, I can stop my body but my internal funnel cloud can still be whirling about regardless of my physical submission. My mind has a mind of its own, so to speak.
I don’t think this is healthy. And so I pause and I pray some breath prayers:
God help me rest in you.
God help me in the silence.
God help me listen.
God help me unwind.
I know that I should have moments like these each day but I feel like I have not had a truly quiet moment in weeks, perhaps months. So many things shouting and vying for my attention. Distractions, really. The enemy of the meditative experience that I desire.
How can I slow my mind down, even a little, even for a moment? I know I desperately need a break from the noise of life and the noise of my own processing: A resignation in the silence that all is well, a relinquishment of control.
God help me cultivate this peace in my spirit each day.