Hello, again, dear ones! :) Thank you for being here.
If you haven’t already, please slow down and read Part 1 of this newsletter series.
Today, we focus on the possibilities of slowing down into stillness.
One important note: Slowing down does not fix or eliminate problems. It does not suddenly make everything match our ideals. We are not able to control every thought, feeling, or event just because we slow down.
Slowing down does not make life perfect, but it does make life more possible. *
The more we slow down and notice each moment, ourselves, and how we respond to different sensations and situations, the more we can become aware of when we feel open or closed.
Practicing stillness is the entry point to living with awareness.1
To be open is to be emotionally available and willing to interact with the world. When we are open, we have the capacity and resources to be present with our internal and external experiences, to listen, connect, give, and receive.
To be closed means we have limited energy (e.g., out of battery or bandwidth) and need to pause and rest. When we are closed, we recognize that we cannot engage in a practice, conversation, or activity because we need to give ourselves space to recharge and reset.
The rhythm of opening and closing can be observed in our bodies and the natural world.
Pause for a minute and notice what ebbs and flows in the stillness.
Sometimes, it is as brief as the blink of our eyes, the beat of our heart, or our breath. Other times, it takes hours or more, such as the cycles of our digestion, sleep, or healing of wounds.
In nature, we might witness phases of change within a day, a moon cycle, or a season. Tides rise and fall within hours. Buds turn to blooms within days. Leaves change color and fall to the ground within weeks. Ecosystems stabilize within generations.
Becoming still clarifies the movement of our own pace and rhythms.
When we give ourselves permission to open and close as needed, we can move through the world with greater clarity, compassion, and intention.
One morning in 2018, I was heading to a coffee shop to work and was struck by the splendor of the pink water lily in a silver bucket in someone’s front yard. I paused and took this picture with delightful appreciation, then went inside and worked for several hours. When I left that evening, I went to see the flower again and noticed it had closed itself for the night.
How beautiful and necessary it is to let ourselves rest.
I’ll return next week with an urgent poem begging us to slow down even more.
Feel free to comment or reach out and let me know how this message feels for you. I am practicing right here with you, finding ways to be still amidst so much movement, uncertainty, and change.
With love, in stillness,
💖Marissa
* Inspired by the wisdom of Flint Sparks as taught to me by Kelly Lindsey. 💞
Stillness does not mean being like a statue. We can allow for our humanness, our wiggles and wobbles. Bring a generous amount of curiosity to your urge to keep going, moving, and doing. This is a powerful edge to explore. Before you adjust your position or reach for a distraction, what is it like to stay still, soften, and see what arises? Try it… And remember, it is important to support your capacity to be with the discomfort that sometimes comes with stillness. What gives you the mental, emotional, physical, and/or spiritual resources you need to be still? Begin and end with kindness.
The poppies and water lily photos are so lovely!
Marissa,
The photo of the poppies both open and closed is just such a great illustration of your point. In the sunlight, the poppies are receiving energy from the sun, and at night they are conserving energy for the next new day. I’m particularly drawn to the amazing, nighttime photo of the river stone path leading into the darkness. It begs us to stop and savor the light shone on the poppies with their “petals folded in” as if they were cuddling together, asleep in the cold of night.
I currently have a pain under my right shoulder blade. When I paused and closed my eyes to notice my experience, all I could think of was the pulsing pain in my back’s right side. It came to me that I hadn’t even noticed my left shoulder blade. It’s such a natural thing that we pay attention to the discomfort of what is not working and not even notice and appreciate the comfort of what is going well for us. I breathed energy into my left shoulder blade and breathed out a soothing calm to my right. After I opened my eyes I felt more balanced. If the pain arises again I can put my focus on my lefthand side.
Just like part 1 of this series, it’s easy to turn your words into a poem.
when
we slow down
we are more
Thank you Marissa for sharing your experience and your encouragement to us to “practice presence”.
With appreciation,
Greg