This kind of stillness use to really rattle me. Just the idea of it. Sit. Stay. Still.
Watch the breath. Watch the thoughts.
Just the simplicity of it made me feel like I might explode.
And then, something changed. The position didn't change. I did. My attitude toward it, shifted. And I began to crave the stillness, even while my mind was swirling.
And swirl, it does, well before sunrise. Alone, in a candlelit room, my mind will still swirl. But after a few breaths, and a few more moments, things begin to settle. And the exhales come. And the centering begins.
For those who are physically active, this may be the most difficult practice of all. For athletes, consider this -- there are moments of pause in every driving action. For surfers, that moment when you stop paddling to catch the wave. For skiers, that moment when you discern the full breath of the mountain. For climbers, that moment when to stop to see the majesty of where you are. These are the moments when you might begin to notice a moment of stillness. These are lifted, suspended moments of time. These are moments when you are already cultivating stillness.
And in this stillness, you may notice a softening glimpse of grace.