Now - a time for stillness. Even when I am not actively creating, what's happening beneath in the darks depths is far more important but, perhaps less glamorous. Incubation is occurring below the skin and away from the light of day. A delicious and mysterious alchemy of ideas are brewing in the unconscious, and with any luck, bubbling to the surface thanks to the opening that is stillness.
Stillness is less of a place or time than a state of being. Our life embodies a series of cycles, namely and often metaphorically, births, deaths and rebirths. The births and rebirths have long been thought of as the fun parts. Deaths, endings, conclusions, terminations are decidedly less sexy. Often, they hurt. They serve an important purpose, though. Just as we intake breath, we must eventually release it again as an exhale. Summer eventually yields to fall then winter. Each of us will soon enough be called to face the Great Void in the journey of death. We cannot control these phenomena any more than we can control nature. But, we can honor them and the meaning they bring to our lives.
One might feel pressure to constantly produce. I know I do. "Who am I if I'm not DOing?" I've often wondered. There is a real social expectation to remain in a constant state of movement and productivity. Our world prizes results. Or worse, assumes endless productivity is a necessity.
There will always be a dynamic balance tethering us to both the impulse to create and the rejuvenation of stillness. At once, we are bound up in a need to explore and grow while also beholden to an equal and opposite force: a need to yield and time to compose the rumblings of the heart. Inevitably, a singular devotion towards one opposed the other spells imbalance. We intuitively know when we are either overworked or underutilized.
As I begin my next semester of graduate school, I feel a quiet voice remind me to savor my last few moments of stillness (for now). Snow is cloaked across the lawn and foliage, brightening the appearance of all it touches. I admire the snow's beauty and novelty and know that it will eventually take new form as water, another reminder of constant change. In this space of stillness, I realize how much there is to be gained and relished by simply "being". To ponder and to dream; to let the imagination take root and grow something magical and yet unknown. So much is happening in the rich dark soil of the earth before sprouts emerge. Insight can strike at any moment, but for me, it seems to be particularly fond of flashing through the stillness. The sacred speaks when it is nurtured.