But I Don't Want to Be Still

"Why is it that when we speak to God, we are called pray-ers but when He speaks to us, we are called schizophrenic?" ~Lily Tomlin

Let all mortal flesh keep silence
and with fear and trembling stand
Ponder nothing worldly minded
for with blessing in his hand
Christ our God to earth descended
our full homage to demand.

My life is noisy. Rarely in any given day do I keep silence. Even now, as I sit in the early morning, with the waning "super moon" still high, the ambient noise invades. As the rotating earth allows the sun to speak light into the morning, the house breathes and creaks. Furnace hums. Grandfather clock ticktocks. My body speaks: tinnitus in my ears, an allergic sneeze. Creation groans: the Northern Flicker comes in search of suet, non-migrating geese fly their arrow overhead, rush hour traffic builds a wall of red taillights likely related to the sirens that woke me. An impatient driver squeals out a u-turn toward a self-devised detour.

“Listen!” 

It’s a shushing we resist. Reach for the radio. Pick up the iPhone. Plug in the earbuds. Turn on the TV. Whistle a happy tune. Check social media. Talk to oneself. Even the ever-so-brief prayer time at the Tuesday Bible study ramps up with chatter instead of reverence and supplication. Our brief foray into listening prayer had to be guided, met with strong resistance, was forgotten soon after.

“Be still and know I am God.”

Even in intentional silence, when I “still” my body, my mind is still noisy. Searching, thinking, Googling. In the writing of these few words, I have searched out the answers to at least two questions, learned a new musical phrase, and the origins of the hymn first quoted. This is part of the drawback of using a laptop for word processing: the internet is a click away. Thus I am not mentally silent. Not listening, but asking, talking, questioning, resisting. I have a curious mind. Love learning. Want to know. This is a compulsion paired with Attention Deficit Disorder. Silence seems a horrific distraction. An impossible quest. Even now, the dog barks two doors down. I wonder if he’s neglected.

Pink and blue watercolor stretch the sky. The earth exhales.

Humans abhor silence like nature abhors a vacuum. Or is it just me? I want to speak into the silence, make sense of the noise of the day. Even meditation begs an object. Ignatius Loyola was on to something with the Examen but even after professing and attempting to "follow God" most of my life, I have not yet disciplined myself to regularly (habitually, daily) invite God into my busy mind.

Let all mortal flesh keep silence

Silence pairs well with love. With all my heart. soul. mind. body. If I love something, I give it my time and attention. If I love someone, I listen. When my spouse and I need meaningful conversation, we turn off the TV and look at each other. I don’t seek out conversation in the theatre or at a concert. The person talking incessantly at the Diana Krall concert last night disrespected everyone with her lack of silence.

And with fear and trembling stand

Am I afraid of what I may hear? Noise helps drown out pain, the memory of failure. But is it also, perhaps, a barrier to grace? Perhaps loving God with all my heart, soul, mind and body means I embark on the quest to learn how to be fully silent before God: quiet my heart, still my soul, rest my mind, relax my flesh, so that I can hear Love.

For with blessing in his hand
Christ our God to earth descended

The blessing is God's presence. Emmanuel, "God with us."

Our full homage to demand

I shall begin today.

If you wish to embark on your own quest, consider clicking the links in this blog, practice a bit of silence today, and join me tomorrow to share what you learn?

Reading Deprivation

I'm on a "Reading Fast".

No reading. Yes. You read that right. No reading. No books, no blogs, no internet, no in-bound email, no text messages.

Wait. What?

Reading deprivation is a tool, a jump-start toward creative output. As Julia Cameron suggests in The Artist's Way, "For most artists, words are like tiny tranquilizers. We have a daily quota of media chat that we swallow up. Like greasy food, it clogs our system. Too much of it and we feel, yes, fried." (p. 96)

She goes on to explain the paradox of emptying our lives of distractions so that we can experience the sensory world, make observations we might otherwise miss, do things we have left neglected and begin creating our own art, writing and so on. We fill the well of our creative potential with new sights and sounds that we may otherwise numb ourselves to if we are constantly filling the void with white noise and/or other people's opinions and perspectives.

"We often cannot hear our own inner voice, the voice of our artist's inspiration above the static... reading can be an addiction. We gobble the words of others rather than digest our own thoughts and feelings, rather than cook up something of our own." (p. 97)

The time filler of Facebook and daily digest of emails from intelligent, spiritual and/or witty bloggers are not wrong. But setting them aside for a time, I have realized my dependence on them as distractions, diversions or excuses from actually getting work done or spending time in necessary and beneficial self-care. Full-headed days packed with mind-numbing volumes of reading have given way to satisfying personal entertainment, meditation, face-to-face engagement with real people in real time and diligent, satisfying work. I've had short story inspirations, time to write an article for the church magazine, plan camping trips with friends and decide where to spend our 2016 holidays.

So far this week (in three days), I have written at least three pages (longhand) every morning, sent some important emails, listened to music (blues), danced, rearranged my accessories drawer and jewelry cabinet, learned a new way to remove dried blood stains, sorted and filed half my stacked papers, fed the birds & squirrels and spent hours watching their antics, photographing them and listening to their songs and fights, visited Heritage Park, gone out for dinner, had several long conversations with my husband about stuff that really matters, made dinner several times and enjoyed one on the deck while watching the sun set, played cards and Crokinole, learned to appreciate blackbirds and magpies, called my banker about business, called Spa Lady about an incorrect charge, called the dentist to book an overdue appointment, practiced music for choir, took a walk, wrote a poem, rehearsed my lines every day for my role in dinner theatre, sorted pictures and made a to-do list in which I have already checked off several things. And I have laughed. There's more, but some things are private.

All the while, the undercurrent of my major writing project is simmering at a higher temperature. It is always in the back of my mind, sorting itself, ideas and outlines coming and going, notes sketched out in morning pages, taking on a shape, slowly but surely.

I'm on the journey.

I retired from my last job completely depleted. The volume of information I had to absorb, sort, categorize and act upon was overwhelming. I was working out of an empty well. After truly resting for a few months, I began filling the well and now I am working out of my strength and getting stronger every day. I'm studying, writing, singing, speaking, acting, directing, loving, dancing, laughing. Oh, so much laughing!

Reading and Digital Deprivation, by intention, leaves room to fill the well with new sights, sounds, thoughts, feelings, and inspiration. I am richer than I have ever been, and not one dollar has changed hands.

I've just started paying more attention.

And the return on investment is priceless.




Photo credit: depositphotos.com #54606177, standard license