I’ve had a lifetime of excellent spiritual directors (… I know, it hardly shows!) Several of them had the same prescription for me: Be still! I’ve gotten a little better at this, but still struggle to be still, quiet, in the present moment.
Everything in our world, especially our western world, distracts us from stillness and silence, and that’s before we even pick up our mobile phones! Distractions are compounded for those of us in the helping or service professions– I mean, seriously, our work is never done!
Our home is blessed with a wonderful creature of God that helps and even encourages me to be still, — of course, for her own sake! Fiona, our pet pig, and frequent homiletic reference for St. Brigid’s congregants, demands daily belly rubs. When I sit to read or pray in our living room, she often comes over and nudges my legs for a dose. As soon as I acknowledge her presence, she allows her 100-pound self to collapse onto her side, sometimes on my feet, and demands complete attention. With a back scratcher I stroke her favorite spots: across her stomach, between her two front legs, and under jaw. With ears straight back, she lets out deep grunts of pleasure, and sometimes whiffs of joy … if you know what I mean. While she loses herself completely in bodily comfort, I realize that while I often preach incarnation, she lives it. How I wish I could be as comfortable in and with my body as she is!
Once considered a distraction from prayer, I now recognize that Fiona not only invites me to prayer, but she is the prayer! Stillness … all present … nothing else … Most of the time what she had distracted me from was spiritual gymnastics, other people’s thoughts, and not the stillness called for by the psalmist.
The conscious act of stroking frees my mind to go deeper, to the thought-of-no-thought. The beauty and affection of the moment frees my soul for a quiet stillness.
Certainly, I am not alone in such experiences with pets. They tug at our hearts and open them to love. When we accept their invitations to stillness, nothing else matters at that moment.
Stillness is a state of mind or level of consciousness; it does not require the lack of physical movement. Others reach this state through jogging, crocheting, knitting, gardening, gently holding or rocking a baby, walking a dog, or praying the rosary—a simple activity that frees the more conscious mind from the ego’s control and allows an inner stillness, a quietness of heart, a sacred silence.
The language of God is silence, all else is a poor translation. Rumi
Silence is not necessarily the absence of sound. We can be filled with anxiety, fear, or monkey-mind while sitting motionless, alone in a library or chapel. Silence also is a state of consciousness.
So, let’s stroke a pig, walk a dog, knit a sweater! Identify those special “places” or activities that bring us to that state of consciousness, which is quiet stillness. There and then, at least for a few moments, we may be without any fear, anxiety, anguish. There and then we may tap into the divine life implanted within us. There and then we may experience God.