Thoughts: Being Still

Mom; a moment of stillness

I’ve always been restless. My sister will attest to endless summers of: “come along with me to go and do something”, “it’s such a beautiful day, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”. 

I get this restlessness from my Mama, who can’t sit still either. This desire to be busy, to be moving, it’s something I’ve felt my whole life. It is a truth that I have defined for myself, the idea that if I’m not busy doing things, I must be missing out, not living fully. I’ve been thinking about this restlessness lately and contemplating what it might mean to learn to be still.

I’ve found this move to Vancouver has left me floating, a bit directionless, in the face of so much change. Not surprisingly then, there are days that I find myself spinning in my own restlessness as though getting out there (to the ocean, to the woods), wherever there may be, will provide the answer to my restlessness in the sense of certainty and purpose. In other words, when so much has changed and much remains unknown, at least I will be able say I was out there living.

Of course, this isn’t always true; we can’t possibly be busy 24/7 living an action-packed, exhilarating life, coasting from the wake of one adventure to another. There is life to be found in the moments of stillness. And lessons to be learned, too. And I started to think that perhaps I should practice being still, that I should learn to be more intentional in appreciating the contentedness that comes from such a stillness.

While I believe this to be true – that learning stillness – is important for me and my semi-constant state of restlessness, I also came to the quiet conclusion that I don’t want to be still. Or at least not too still. I don’t ever want to quiet the drive that makes me want to get out there and get living. Although it is that same drive that prompts such restlessness (and I’m sure, drives those around me crazy), it is also this restlessness that serves as a constant reminder to be out there, experiencing, living. Because sometimes the greatest moments of stillness, and the greatest moments of living, are the ones that are born from that very same restlessness.