Quiet
“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” Ram Dass
Quiet is what I've been seeking. A quiet mind, and a quiet body.
I am a loud person. Loud in my convictions, my thoughts, my persistence. I’m not talking about quieting my personality. I’m talking about finding quiet spaces and quiet time in my head and in my life.
Our present day existence is full of distractions, a flurry of noise, not the least of which is technology - phones, computers, television - and for someone my age (40) they have been present nearly since birth. But, much like a diet rich in sweets or alcohol can cause harm to my body, too much noise is equally detrimental. I struggle to find the balance nearly every day.
Even when I know what I need, such as meditating, taking a walk, or sleeping, it feels like there is no time, no space for such frivolous things. Frivolous. We treat self-care as frivolities rather than essentials. Then, I begin the pattern of negative self-talk. I flog myself for not having the discipline or will power to strike down my distractions, to step away from the television, in order to do something “healthy” for my body and my soul. This negativity is just as harmful as the lack of self-care, thus creating a cycle which still does not include the care I need. Instead, I’m working hard to re-frame the distractions as the frivolities. I don’t need to check social media again, I don’t need to react to the work email at 10:00 PM. I need to drink a glass of water, I need to close my eyes and breath, I need to go to sleep, I need quiet.
A distraction can be anything that takes you away from the moment you are experiencing. It can be a stray thought, an email, someone calling your name. Distractions are not inherently bad, but they divert us from the present moment and can derail a positive experience.
How do I engage more with what I need and less with what I don’t?
It is simple, but it isn’t easy:
First, acknowledge the distraction. Say it out loud if necessary.
Pause.
Breath.
Respond. Don’t react. Rarely are distractions actual emergencies.
Should I pause what I’m doing/thinking/feeling to attend to the distraction? or Should I make note of the distraction and attend to it later?
Without being too dramatic, I see this as an ongoing war, not a single battle. Fighting each day to remember what I need and what is pulling me away. So much in our lives feels obligatory, often tied to others' perception of us. Something positive like making other people feel special or helping a friend, should not happen at the expense of your own self-care. Hence the much-used saying, “put your own oxygen mask on first, before assisting others.” Even things that feel more essential to daily routines - cooking, laundry, grocery shopping - sometimes can wait for my attention longer than I allow. If only I pause before I respond, and take stock of what I need, rather than what needs me, I can stay more present.
As I celebrate my 40th birthday, I’ve chosen the word “quiet” to guide me through this year. It begins this weekend with a retreat of sorts. I stepped away from my family and work to spend the weekend alone to read, write, and connect with myself. Free from the noise of my everyday life. A rather large act of self-care. Less than 24 hours into my time here, I can feel a change. I can feel an unraveling, an awakening. I can hear my own thoughts. I can feel my body.
I don’t have answers. In fact, I learned there are no universal answers. Answers imply an end to a quest. Instead, a pool of guiding questions and principles that lead to self-reflection, make “quiet” a journey rather than a destination.
