The Art Of Stillness

In our fast-paced technological world, we are led to equate being still with being lazy or inattentive. A state of calm reflection or a meditative silence is often viewed with bafflement or alarm -- typical reactions run the gamut between the concerned, "Are you all right?" and the irritated, "What's wrong with you?" We spend our days rushing through tasks so that we may accomplish more tasks; endless movement and activity ceasing only with sleep. We teach our children by precept and example that they must constantly be "kept busy." We encourage and sometimes browbeat them into a multiplicity of activities: sports, games, clubs, music lessons, dancing lessons, etc., all with the undeniably benevolent intention of making them "fit in" and "interact with their peers." As a consequence, most of them are incapable of being alone for longer than the space between two segments of a television program!

I took a class in which various meditation practices were explored. One practice was a modified Buddhist walking meditation which required three different locations: the median strip of a busy street, a quiet garden, and a sparsely peopled beach. The most difficult exercise for most of the students was being able to find a centered stillness in the midst of traffic and passers-by, not only because of the distracting activity, but because people would become actively worried or annoyed at the sight of them taking slow, deliberate steps at random! Seeing anyone do anything so "weird" was not only startling to the observers, it was somehow evidence of incipient insanity or dangerous behavior!

There are times in every life when we are forced by circumstances and events to fall back on our own company and inner quietude in order to gather strength. Our "internal dialogue" will sometimes be our only source of entertainment or refuge. If we have never really learned to listen, in stillness, to ourselves, how can we deal with those times?

Doing is the keynote of our society. Active participation and interaction are the means we rely on for material success, intellectual growth, and spiritual development. We participate in "work groups" to earn our livelihood; we have "learning activities" in school; we join "volunteer groups" or "prayer circles" in our spiritual lives. All these things have value -- we are, after all, gregarious creatures, needing contact with others for emotional health -- but we also need contemplation and solitude in which to find our personal balance. Even those who take the time to be physically still often need a group ritual or a meditation guide in order to achieve a state of reflective calm.

The art of stillness needs to be practiced with as much attention as we give to proficiency in sports, music, or dance. When we are still, internally and externally, there is time to be fully aware of ourselves and our surroundings. The practice of "time outs" for disruptive children has been much more effective in the long run than physical punishment or the distraction of redirected activity. I believe that we all need "time outs," not as a disciplinary measure but as a positive reward for surviving the stresses of our crowded lives. Time for positive solitude is precious and should be regarded as a necessary component of our emotional and mental health.

Our public educational system has eliminated vocal prayer as a required part of the student day for good and sufficient reasons. It is unwise to expect a diverse and individualistic population to accept any form of spiritual expression as innately correct; our culture's strength lies in the seeming paradox of individual liberty in a cohesive society. However, the idea of a "moment of silence" to start the day has great merit. Whether it is a time for silent prayer, meditation, or just "woolgathering" matters less than the positive connotation it gives to stillness. Our children need to be aware that being quiet and still is rewarding, not punishment for bad behavior or evidence of laziness.

We are bombarded daily with frenetic activity and noise: hurrying to work or appointments, exercising, playing games or sports, traffic, exhortations to buy this or that, music played at ear-damaging levels. Thinking and feeling are submerged in the tumult of our lives. Without practice in the art of stillness, is it any wonder we rely on antidepressants, alcohol, nicotine, and other substances to alleviate the frenzy? In our rush to acquire "more," we do not make time for the awareness of what we have and, as a result, find ourselves facing life-changing moments alone -- afraid, abandoned, and lost.

There is no magic spell or invocation that will solve all our problems, just as there is no "perfect world." We will all face great troubles and seemingly insurmountable difficulties and have to deal with them as they come. The more tools we have to aid us, the greater chance for our survival and growth. The art of stillness is just one tool, but a valuable one, often neglected in our society. If we can begin to realize its effectiveness and incorporate it into our lives, we can benefit greatly, both as individuals and as a society.