I have a daily practice of mediating for 20 minutes in the morning. I have come to cherish this time of stillness.

I consider it skill-building to exercise the muscle of not entertaining my own thoughts, but to set them aside during that time.

There’s so much of modern life that gives the illusion that we control so much, when in reality we control so little.

My 20 minutes of stillness reminds me of this.

It’s 20 minutes where my mind gets to rest, and I don’t have to solve tomorrow’s problems or ruminate on yesterday’s.

I can just be.

Don’t get me wrong. Meditation isn’t easy for me. I don’t think anyone who has this practice claims that it is easy.

No, I probably have to press pause on the tape that runs inside my brain 17,000 times during that 20 minutes.

But this is a practice.

I do it every day.

And I’m building the muscle of not letting my thoughts run me.

And even though I have this daily practice at home, I am aware of other spaces where this practice brings up new things.

In our weekly service at the Anglican Church I attend, the rector regularly has our small little congregation sit in silence for a solid 10 minutes.

It is awkward.

It is long.

And in this space, more so than in the privacy of my own home, I am aware of how uncomfortable sitting in silence and stillness can be.

Especially when others are around doing the same thing.

Because I’m in public, I am aware of the tendency I have to avoid stillness. To avoid awkward silences.

And it is precisely because of this new awareness that I am leaning into a new practice in my life.

A practice that embraces the pause. That doesn’t try to fill still or boring spaces or lulls with something more exciting or distracting.

And it is so hard.

Watching my son open his birthday presents….I’m tempted to wash a dish at the kitchen sink.

Someone leaves the room I’m sitting in…..I reach for my phone.

Sitting at a stoplight…..the phone again.

It is these moments where I’m reminding myself that I can be still. I can be quiet.

And I’m convinced that the health of my soul depends on it.

If I have to avoid these moments of stillness and fill them with distractions, what am I avoiding?

That is a question worth sitting with.

I wonder if you, too, can relate.

Perhaps the age of instant gratification and digital downloads has moved you away from awkward moments of silence and stillness.

If you were to linger a bit longer in the silence and stillness, what might you encounter?

It’s not a light question.

It’s a daring, bold, and even scary question.

So, I dare you.

Linger in the stillness. What is waiting for you?

Love,

Audrey