Life, as we know it, works against the tide, idea or practice of stillness, repose, rest, silence, solitude or inactivity. We glibly fill the hours of our days with commitments and obligations whether mandated by work, serving others or simply doing the things we like to do. To appear as though we have nothing to do, puts everyone, including ourselves, out of sorts. 

    Always Be Doing?

Recently, I stopped and visited a friend of mine who is healing from an accident that left her somewhat incapacitated. Sitting outside in the warm sunshine, her leg elevated on a pillowed chair, she summarized for me her last eight months of living within her imposed physical limitations. 

“It’s been hard, but good,” she said.  

She is encouraged with the healing that has taken place, but a little discouraged at the snail like pace that it takes to heal. 

In the interlude between her injury and returning to the full status of “I’m all better,” she has been forced to put the kibosh on most of the things she likes to do; jogging, roller blading, water skiing, long distance open water swims and hiking. She’s gone from being active to being inactive. From moving fast to slowing down and stopping. 

This period of inactivity, she told me, has given her the opportunity to assess and access areas in her heart that needed some fine tuning. She’s had time to think, ponder, and consider relationships from the past and relationships in the present. In doing so, her sense of gratitude has grown exponentially. And sitting down with her on that sunny day, I too sensed her gratitude.

But why is it that it takes a certain set of circumstances before we take a rest from our busyness and assess and access our inner thoughts and feelings? 

I speak from personal experience when I say that it is our nature to be busy, consequently, to voluntarily be unbusy is an odd phenomenon. We know what to expect when we are in the midst of doing. We know how doing things makes us feel; like an expert, confident, like we are somebody that is important, and like we are in charge of our lives. But we do not know what to expect when we are not doing.

I’ve recently returned to the practice of contemplation or contemplative prayer. I let this particular spiritual practice go by the wayside because I was too busy. Contemplation takes time, more time than I was willing to give myself. 

But then I remembered the benefits of contemplation and chose to carve out the chunk of time that it requires. I’ve returned to sitting still, being silent and listening to the voice of God who does indeed speak to those willing to be quiet enough to listen. 

Why bother to be still? Being still does not eliminate a busy life, but it does quiet a busy heart.