Be Still

Growing up, one of my favorite hymns was Be Still My Soul. Set to the tune of Finlandia, the hymn’s haunting melody is a perfect vehicle for words of patience and confidence in a better future in the face of present sorrow and pain. The wisdom of its counsel has been of great comfort at difficult times in my life. Whether you are religious or not, we all need to be reminded that in times of trial we are not alone but gathered in the embrace of friends, family, and community, which this hymn so perfectly conveys.

There is another message, however, within the hymn; a message about stillness and the redemptive power that can be found when we set aside our human tendency to act and react to the world around us. Stillness is not solitude. One can be still in the midst of frenzied activity; it is a posture of the mind and the emotions, apart from the physical realm. It is not our nature to be still, however, we are curious, reactive and emotional creatures. We engage, and in so doing we are drawn into the energy of our surroundings and the agendas of those who are around us. To remain still, not aloof or indifferent, but removed from the necessity of engaging, affords us a precious tranquility.

Freed from action and reaction we are able to observe, to process, and to reflect. Those are particularly crucial avenues to follow when the environment around us is chaotic, stressful, or threatening. Some find their stillness in meditation, some in simple repetitive tasks; there are no rules to guide how we may pause our minds and exorcise the facade of feelings that accompany our thoughts. When we approach stillness a certain peace accompanies us. Our modern world contains too many calls, too frequent and strident clarions bidding for our attention. It is harder than ever to escape the ceaseless flow of both urgent and trivial information. Even when we are alone, our phones, watches, and other electronic devices beckon us. Whether out of boredom, reflex, habit, or sense of urgency we are loath to sit quietly, unoccupied for even a brief moment.

To be still requires that we occupy the eye of the storm. All around us it rages, seethes with turmoil and instability while we abide in a place and time apart from the forces that would hurl us into the fray. When we emerge, in a minute or an hour, the storm may have passed or its power abated, but even if that is not the case we are better prepared to respond with clarity and resolve. But to do so we must learn to turn off the thoughts and feelings—the causal chain of expectations manufactured by our daily lives long enough to allow silence and the absence of consequence to prevail.

I’ve been practicing stillness for some time now. Each day I choose to set aside the day’s troubles and appeals for a few minutes and simply sit. If the weather is conducive, I will do so outdoors allowing the sounds of nature to become the metronome of my stillness. At other times I will find a spot, like a dog or cat hunting for the warmth of the sun, and wrap the stillness around me like a blanket. With practice I find that I can turn off my surroundings with relative ease and for a few all too brief moments I bob along on a sea of tranquility. When I emerge from this sanctuary the world will still be there but I will be stronger, and isn't that what the hymn teaches us?