Still

I recently watched a movie about Michael J. Fox and his journey with Parkinson’s Disease. Fox describes his experience with the tremors and inability to become still. He realized this was the theme of his life. He never stopped. The narrative of his existence was a story in motion—always moving, never staying put, never reflecting on his process. The diagnosis of Parkinson’s was a wakeup call, but it took many years before he really heard it.

How many years has it taken for any of us to hear the call to slow down, to listen to the echo of stillness amidst the busyness of life? Social media has made it even more difficult to let go of mental motion and emotion. I think an apt description of our ego identification is basically the fear of stillness—as if silence threatens us with non-existence. Who are we in the spaciousness of an open moment? Who wants to know?

When Siddhartha Gautama paused to reflect, to still his mind, he experienced his true awakened nature. He realized all the movement, including spiritual pursuits, masked his ability to recognize his true nature. So he simply sat still and observed, noticing the mind and all its delusions. When he had enough, I imagine he laughed and woke up from the mind-numbing effects of ego grasping. He then touched the earth, the ground of his awareness, and she spoke a kind acknowledgement of his awakening.

We walk upon a planet that teaches us everything we need to know. She is always inviting us, calling us, to remember our interconnection with all life—but it requires stillness to listen. Once we have truly heard, we will never cease to listen even in the midst of our busyness. Of course, we need to be good stewards of our hearing through gratitude and compassion, the breath of our wisdom. 

By the way, the tile of the film is…Still.