Notes from a Sojourn
April 3, 2020
Stillness
“The sole cause of man’s unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room.”
from Pensées by Blaise Pascal, French polymath, 1623 - 1662
That’s a timely observation, isn’t it? It’s been nearly four centuries since Pascal penned that, yet it seems to me that people today – including myself – are unhappy for much the same reason.
Are you apartment-bound or house-bound? I am. The days flow by without much distinction between them. My commitments are fewer, my itinerary is improvised, the normal boundaries I navigate between work, leisure, and rest are all blurry. I don’t know about you, but it’s making me restless. This is not a vacation!
Why is it so hard to be still?
Because stillness is not the absence of anything to do. Like its two related yet distinct siblings, silence and solitude, stillness is a choice to do something. Paradoxically it is the choice to do no-thing. And that’s really hard to do! We humans are prone to think that our relationships, words, and actions hold the world together. If we stopped talking, socialising, and doing, the world as we know it would implode, right?
I’m not so sure.
As a person of faith, silence, solitude and stillness are no less intimidating for me than for others. But the chronicles of countless saints before me promise that the world does not cease to exist when I practice these things. In fact – I’m reliably informed – they add depth to my existence in the world:
Silence is a choice to refrain from speaking that enables me to actually listen.
Solitude is a choice to be apart from others that enables me to maintain authentic contact with my self when I am with others.
Stillness is a choice to do nothing that enables me to rest in what is already done before I start doing anything.
Colin+
