Imagine with me one of those days where you have no plans, as rare or common as that might be, and the first hint of that morning sun leaves you with a relaxed anticipation for the chance to simply ‘be’. Sure some laundry and a few texts back to your Mother-in-Law might be on your mind, but for the most part, the day has all the workings of rest. So you begin slowly with a hot cup of coffee and you are just nailing the patience card. All begins well enough, until the minutes tick steadily towards hours, and somehow – after you cleaned that spilled soup up off the floor and spent far too long scouring the internet for the best rated winter boots to purchase for your one year old without paying more than $30 (impossible mind you) – you think of all the ways your day could have gone differently. That mess in your kitchen seemed insignificant at first, but when dinner time rolls around you begin to feel somewhat lazy and a bit disgruntled that rather than sipping wine tonight you’ll be loading the dishwasher. The laundry never did get done, in spite of the fact that it was only one load, and the only joy you start to find in Christmas shopping is knowing that you have presents coming your way as well. (Come on, admit it.) Somehow social media wasn’t even the culprit, but simply that the smallest of things took longer than anticipated and even though you didn’t anticipate an overly productive day, you still find yourself wondering if time would have been better spent with a few more things checked off the list and a few less moments thinking the day was young. And all that on a seemingly slow day. Now imagine with me a day of hustle …
Even as I write this there is a real debate in my head about whether I should continue writing, play with my girls, or start making dinner. (For the record, one of those won and it wasn’t writing. It has been well over 24 hours since I wrote that last sentence!) We are consistently pulled in a plethora of directions, all of which rightly vye for our attention, but none of which should defeat us before we have even begun. Yet often times we fall defeated to a not-yet-done check list or attention-pining children or intermittent fasting crazed culture and lose our place in it with a personal perception of being everything we are not doing well. By that measure, how can we – how can I – really let a nonchalant demeanor be permissible? There is still so much to accomplish.
Now I know that there are several books written about this kind of thing. Time management and goal accomplishing, parenting and life balance, smoothies and yoga, but none of which will do well with you if only yet another means for you to procure self defeat. With all the intentionality and discipline you can muster, you will still fail and fall short. The parameters you have set in place to prompt purposefulness will surely serve you well, but there just may be one thing you lack from the onset that will discourage the triumph of intentionality. Stillness. And I’m not talking a 2-minute savasana kind of stillness at the end of a 20 minute yoga practice (although I do rather enjoy that pose, so long as my children are not climbing on top of me) but a stillness etched on your conscious that speaks into you before any accomplishment or defeat can. An unwavering prodding that all is not lost or you are not lesser when what you intend goes unattended. A stillness found in both rest and rigor. A reminder that you are welcome to try again, even amidst the way we bully ourselves into wearing our zeal, our busyness, our conquests like an anchor. But there is in fact no security in what you can achieve. No real security anyway. Financial and boastful and distinguished perhaps, but your anchor is one for your spirit, and it has nothing to do with what you are capable of and everything to do with simply you. You before you served breakfast to your children. You before you showed up to work. You before you tackled fifty-three emails or rocked the crow pose. You before you have anything you can delight in or be dispirited by. A stillness for the soul.
EXPOSITION: Sure this all sounds well enough, but how do you rightly live under this banner of stillness when our culture very obviously, and persistently, places our utmost attention on productivity and accomplishment? Let’s start with an inward glance – when do you most feel a sense of accomplishment and wholeness: In stillness or in productivity? At the start of your day before you are given a metric for achievement or the end when you can gage the days yield? Discover when you are most vulnerable to anxiousness over stillness.
RISE:
Scene I – At the onset of each day, or in those vulnerable moments, make it a practice to pinpoint your motive, but stay away from task-driven motivation. Rather hone in on relational equity. Seek stillness, even in the hectic, by shifting your focus toward loving on others and your Creator.
Scene II – Lower your expectations. Be diligent in your work, but don’t overpromise yourself. Create a sort of mental margin so that when something does take longer than expected or you get caught by that coworker who just loves to talk, you have given yourself both the motivation and the capacity to slow down and count them worthwhile.
DENOUEMENT: “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” (from the Psalms)