Perhaps there is all kinds of activity going on under the surface of the cold lake, in the bare branches of the trees. But, for just a little while, it might be enough to just find the stillness, the calm, the brief moment when nothing much changes.
Where do you go to find stillness?
I go to my room. Depending on how intense my need for stillness is, simply doing that may be enough. Other times I need to darken the room, lay on my bed, and close my eyes. Sometimes I need consciously slow down/lower the volume of my mind as well. This process works fairly well when the need for stillness arises from too much external stimulation: social contact, sound, images, etc. It’s not that I’d want to eliminate these things from my life completely – music and relationships bring a lot of joy and meaning to my life – I just get overwhelmed with it at times.
Sometimes the need for stillness comes from inner turmoil. Sometimes mindfulness exercises work for that, too, but often I need to express myself first. I do this through actively worrying in a written form, processing emotions/situations through journaling, talking to someone supportive (such as a friend or crisis line), drawing, writing poetry, praying, or improvising music. Setting a limit in terms of time can be helpful, especially with the active worrying. Once time’s up, I can go to focusing on things I appreciate/am grateful for or do a mindfulness exercise. Going straight to silence before dealing with my problems rarely brings relief.
On the backside of my eyelids and inside my head is a sacred space of stillness. Before mentally entering, I visually bow to each part of my protective brain and thank each part , including my O.C.D. (for it too plays an integral part), for the nonstop electrical and chemical communications centered in bodily survival. The “parts” return my nod and turn down their white-noise volume as I enter into the love chamber. Like a cell phone returning to its charging station, I sink into the lap of Light and receive from this part of my brain in charge of thriving. As the thriving chemicals and electrical impulses over flow, from the stillness within, there is change in breath pace and an overall sense of calmness engulfs me with regenerative balance.
Stillness? I have plenty of that where I live, alone, in a rental home. I am quite used to it. Also I can add another spot: when I am in the Tai Chi class thrice a week. Damon, the health instructor, urges us to leave our worries at the door, center ourselves, calmly do the movements and visualize them, such as wild geese flying as we raise and lower our arms; opening and closing our arms in front such as thinking of bellows opening and closing. I find that when I can get into those modes I have a stillness that I welcome.