Stillness

This solstice time of year draws me into the quality of stillness – when sounds and activity quiet and I settle, calm, and come into an expansive peacefulness. I treasure this moment in Gaia’s rhythms and try to weave its qualities often into my life. What comes foremost to mind in trying to describe my experience of stillness though is not a physical silence or quiet peacefulness, but a vibrant sense of holding a powerful stem cell moment of possibility.

As I was reflecting on co-creativity in preparing to offer a class on Manifestation recently, I had an image of myself in a woodland meadow. I saw a deer at the meadow's edge looking at me, ready to bolt if I moved. I wanted to meet it. I held out my hand with an offering of food. I knew I needed to be quiet and still, not only outwardly, but within myself so that the deer would come to take what I was offering. I could feel the busyness of my normal thinking preventing it from coming closer – all the thoughts of past events and the future ones to come, even those needed to become quiet. I had to create a new spaciousness in thought and heart so the deer could step forward and accept the food. Knowing I could bring them forward again, I consciously put my busyness “behind “me to open the space and give room for the deer and myself to make a connection. I stood quiet as myself, letting go and staying present in stillness. The deer came forward and within the vital stillness of our connection, something new emerged.

The wonder of that moment was its stem cell nature. Contained in stillness there was aliveness and possibility. It was dynamic, but also quiet in attention through a listening presence.

So, at its essence, stillness is connected to co-creativity for me. It is a shared relationship. Co-creativity and stillness have a physical connection in my imagination to an open hand, respectfully available, inviting and willing to partner, ready to be transformed. When I take that position, physically or in my imagination, I am softened, hopeful, strongly present to myself, and attentive to the world around me. 

When considering stillness, I go back to this personal experience. Stillness now has a shape in mind, energy, and heart. It opens and grounds me in its roots in possibility, its stem cell fullness. It is a moment of pause that is both full and empty. It is active in Gaia’s solstice shift, winter to spring and summer to fall, as each season “rounds” the corner and moves into its new trajectory. It is here too for me, for each of us, to draw upon as we turn to meet and engage new possibilities in our lives.