Growth Through Stillness

I had to take a break.

A bit of a time out.

It started last Friday night when my husband and son went on a boyscout camping trip while my middle daughter went to a birthday party and my youngest went to sleep.

I decided that I didn't have anything more to give.  So, I checked out.  I can't remember the last time that I didn't do a long run on a weekend or gather a load of laundry to be washed or find my way to our church for mass or really make my way to the shower.

I just stopped and decided to try-on being quiet for a while.

I treated myself to what 81-year old actress Ellen Burstyn (Alice Doesn't Live Here) calls "shouldless days." Moments that are owned by no one except for you.

It was delicious and scary and exciting and foreign to be alone.

In that time, I found a quote by Pema Chodron that hit home and helped me to remember that more often than I think, I must slow down, ground myself, and be reminded of what is most important.

So even if the hot loneliness is there, and for 1.6 seconds, we sit with that restlessness when yesterday, we couldn't sit for even one, that's the journey of the warrior.

Not that I fancy myself a warrior in the slightest, but I do believe that life is a journey that sometimes, must be endured.

What I do know that I am a master at is giving every reason under the sun as to why I shouldn't be quiet.

Quiet is a luxury...a place for people who do not have children or who's kids are grown and out of the nest.

There's really too much to do.

It's irresponsible to spend time by myself not doing something that will aid my family.

It's boring.

If I'm quiet, I'll fall asleep.

But sometimes, the body, the mind, and the heart just give out. And you have no choice.

You're forced to sit in the silence.

And, it's a good thing.

And after you fight it with everything you have, you realize that you're not solving the problems of the world, but your nervous system is calming down.  The world around you feels less chaotic.  You are safe.  You are enough.  You are loved.  And all will be well.  Really, all is well.

You emerge knowing in your soul that true growth emanates from stillness.

To Sorrow is To Live

I don't know where you live, but here in the midwest, the weather is stunning.

The leaves are turning extraordinary shades of abundant red, orange and yellow.  The temperature is mild and the sun, at least for the past several days has been shining.

So, on my way to the gas station and the grocery store this morning, I was smiling in gratitude. 

I needed to.  I'd been moping a bit.  Care taking for my two daughters who have been down for the count with the flu and now feeling badly that my husband has caught the bug. 

Just as I rounded the bend, out of the blue, a friend sent a text to tell me that she was grateful for the spirit of joy I bring to her life.  I was astounded and probably looked like a dip shit with big tears in my eyes at the gas pump.  We exchanged a few messages; one in which, I lamented about how sometimes life isn't fair and that certain things don't add up.

That's when she sent me this:

"Joyfully participate in the sorrow of living," Buddha.

And then, a moment later, this popped up in my in-box.

As I was throwing ingredients into the grocery cart to make chicken noodle soup, apple crisp and pumpkin muffins, I started throwing it around in my head.  It makes sense.  There are so many attachments, desires, cravings, fears that we walk around harboring.  Some of them will be actualized and some of them will not.

I suppose, our job is not to wallow in the parts of us that don't work out the way that we yearn, but rather to learn to live with the outcome, the season, the challenge, the trial with joy.

Essentially, to relish as best we can in the sorrow, the failure, the shortcoming, the hurt and to trust that it is temporary.


And maybe to be reminded that

Here's to friends and falling leaves and quiet moments of solitude that let us know we're not alone in our journey.