It was an innocent conversation, but out of it came a gem for me. The woman who was talking mentioned the word, stillness, as an afterthought. But it became central for me and, therefore, the focus of some serious reflection. That is it. Sometimes the key is stillness…stillness of the spirit.
In some ways I am surprised I never thought about this before. It is like all those things we come to know; after we know it, we can’t believe we did not figure it out much earlier! I thought the same thing after I saw my first hula-hoop! Why could I not have invented that…I could be rich!
When I think about stillness, I am thinking about how I approach God or the Spirit. I know there are many ways to do this---both within Christianity and in the various other non-Christian traditions. But for me stillness is what works most predictably and, therefore, the best.
But first, let me contrast it with silence and solitude, the two classic spiritual disciplines. Of course, I have nothing against either two disciplines. They both play a key role in my spiritual path. In fact, stillness works very well with either or both of them.
Silence is a medium wherein one ceases speaking. Or at a deeper level, one tries to quiet one’s environment. Silence could be defined simply as the lack of noise. The way I am using it, it is an external matter. If I am in a noisy place, it is more difficult for me to center and be found in the Spirit. Typically, noise is distracting. Or worse, I am intrigued by whatever noise---could even be some “noise” I find attractive and, therefore, am pulled toward it. But that lack of silence seldom centers me in the Spirit.
The same goes with solitude. I am introverted enough to need some solitude almost every day. I enjoy being with other people and, indeed, spend quite a bit of every day with folks. But I like solitude. But by itself, solitude again is an external thing. If I choose solitude, all that really means is I am by myself---I am alone. That does not necessarily lead to anything spiritual, certainly not to being centered in the Spirit.
And this is where stillness comes into play for me. Stillness may start with my solitude. It may originate in silence. But stillness goes inward and potentially it goes deep. I can be in silence and solitude and not be still. In fact, it is not unusual for me to begin a devotional time by myself and in silence. And yet, ideas are racing around in my head. My thoughts jump from one to another like monkeys in a tree. I am not “still” at all.
It is only as I begin to still myself, that I am aware I have begun the process of centering. I don’t go chasing those monkeys in my mind! I think stillness is a process. One begins to center…to go deeper. One goes deeper until I begin to get the sense that I am coming to be centered---which means I have begun to approach the Divine Center which was there all along.
I understand the process of stilling as both an active and passive process. It is active in the sense that I must engage it. I must pursue it. I have to try---to make effort. But like so much in spirituality, there also is the passive element. In fact, passive is not a good word here. It really is grace---really is gift.
So stillness requires my effort and it will also be graced. With effort and grace my spirit can be stilled in a process of centering that brings me to the Divine Center. There I will be nourished and nurtured. There I can drink from the wells of living waters. I can feast on the Bread of Life.
It is all there in the stillness of the Spirit.
In some ways I am surprised I never thought about this before. It is like all those things we come to know; after we know it, we can’t believe we did not figure it out much earlier! I thought the same thing after I saw my first hula-hoop! Why could I not have invented that…I could be rich!
When I think about stillness, I am thinking about how I approach God or the Spirit. I know there are many ways to do this---both within Christianity and in the various other non-Christian traditions. But for me stillness is what works most predictably and, therefore, the best.
But first, let me contrast it with silence and solitude, the two classic spiritual disciplines. Of course, I have nothing against either two disciplines. They both play a key role in my spiritual path. In fact, stillness works very well with either or both of them.
Silence is a medium wherein one ceases speaking. Or at a deeper level, one tries to quiet one’s environment. Silence could be defined simply as the lack of noise. The way I am using it, it is an external matter. If I am in a noisy place, it is more difficult for me to center and be found in the Spirit. Typically, noise is distracting. Or worse, I am intrigued by whatever noise---could even be some “noise” I find attractive and, therefore, am pulled toward it. But that lack of silence seldom centers me in the Spirit.
The same goes with solitude. I am introverted enough to need some solitude almost every day. I enjoy being with other people and, indeed, spend quite a bit of every day with folks. But I like solitude. But by itself, solitude again is an external thing. If I choose solitude, all that really means is I am by myself---I am alone. That does not necessarily lead to anything spiritual, certainly not to being centered in the Spirit.
And this is where stillness comes into play for me. Stillness may start with my solitude. It may originate in silence. But stillness goes inward and potentially it goes deep. I can be in silence and solitude and not be still. In fact, it is not unusual for me to begin a devotional time by myself and in silence. And yet, ideas are racing around in my head. My thoughts jump from one to another like monkeys in a tree. I am not “still” at all.
It is only as I begin to still myself, that I am aware I have begun the process of centering. I don’t go chasing those monkeys in my mind! I think stillness is a process. One begins to center…to go deeper. One goes deeper until I begin to get the sense that I am coming to be centered---which means I have begun to approach the Divine Center which was there all along.
I understand the process of stilling as both an active and passive process. It is active in the sense that I must engage it. I must pursue it. I have to try---to make effort. But like so much in spirituality, there also is the passive element. In fact, passive is not a good word here. It really is grace---really is gift.
So stillness requires my effort and it will also be graced. With effort and grace my spirit can be stilled in a process of centering that brings me to the Divine Center. There I will be nourished and nurtured. There I can drink from the wells of living waters. I can feast on the Bread of Life.
It is all there in the stillness of the Spirit.
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