I am being given the opportunity to be still and the chance to stay in the "now". I am in bed, healing from hip replacement surgery that I had two weeks ago. I get up from time to time, so I'm not always lying bed, so it wouldn't appear that I am always still. Yet, I am learning, Stillness is an inner process. Stillness is a spiritual practice. Stillness is an Art.
The hip accident happened two and a half years ago. This was a time in my life that was the antithesis of stillness. My entire attention was outside myself. My inner feelings were buried deep inside and I was being distracted by a flurry of activity that kept me busy and outwardly-focused.
The pickup was filled to the brim with garbage and we were on our way to the dump. A strong wind blew the truck nearly off the road. When we got to where the garbage was to be unloaded, we were on top of a mountain where the wind almost blew us over.
Half-way down the garbage we picked up a sheet of plywood and I grabbed the front with my right hand, the top with my left--thinking that my partner had done the same on the other side. Just then the wind shot a blast of wind and caught the board. The next thing I knew, I was being picked up backwards and thrown off the truck in slow motion. There was nothing I could do--the situation was totally out of my control.
I landed on my right hip with a loud "thud". It took me a few minutes to catch my breath and get my bearings. My response, because my focus was outside of myself was predictable: I got angry. I lifted the board off of me, denied help from the people gathered around who had seen the accident, got back up in the truck and finished unloading the garbage until it was gone.
I did go the doctor a few days after and was reassured that nothing was broken. Unfortunately, the fall started a hasty process of arthritis and degeneration of the hip. Within a half year, walking caused severe pain that only got relief from cortisone shots and daily over-the-counter medication.
Several months ago the doctor administering the shots sat me down and said it was time for surgery because the effectiveness of the shots had decreased too much. Ex rays taken by the surgeon validated a serious and quick decline. Bone on bone warranted time to have surgery.
I had surgery on April Fool's Day and was released from the hospital on Easter. After being home a week I began to embrace the healing process I was undergoing. I grasped and accepted the following: healing was going to be a gradual process toward rejuvenation instead of degeneration, the pain would gradually get better and I need to follow my pain-management plan so that I can achieve my physical therapy goals, I cannot avoid being in touch with my internal feelings, I am alone in bed spending many hours a day with myself and there is nothing to do but be with myself.
The first challenge of "being still" was differentiating between physical pain and internal feelings. After several weeks of learning this distinction, the main "feeling" that dominated my moment-to-moment existence was boredom.
Underneath the boredom was anger. This anger got in the way of my being still until I gave it my undivided attention and listened to what it had to say. It was furious to be dealing with this amount of pain. I didn't like the feeling of being old and being betrayed by my body. It didn't like doing nothing and just lying in bed. It didn't like being so exposed and vulnerable. It was afraid I won't get better.
Under the anger was a growing stillness. The more I listened to and acknowledged and moved out of the anger with love and reassurance, the more still I have become. With the stillness comes silence. I am, for the first time in my life, becoming fond of and comfortable with silence and stillness and "doing nothing". Within their realm is a huge space that is full, accepting and totally complete. It a simply being in the now with no past and no future. Stillness is the experience of the now in this moment.
There are many moments in the day that I spend in this space of Being with Stillness. I am actually becoming so fond of it that when it is broken and my attention is drawn outside of myself, I feel agitated. Being still is growing on me and feels like an Art.
Being still is also a spiritual practice. Being in the moment surpasses the physical plane. It also moves aside the external "noise" and activity and gives way to infernal experiences. This process feels like a paradox and is the height of self-discovery. Simple but moving, complex but still, experiences of life are transcended in these interwoven, juxtaposed feelings that are the soul's living in the now.
I am grateful to be given this time to practice and become more familiar with my spiritual life. I feel compassion and contentment spilling over where judgement and agitation with life used to be. I am happy to be learning about the inner process of being. I like being still.
The hip accident happened two and a half years ago. This was a time in my life that was the antithesis of stillness. My entire attention was outside myself. My inner feelings were buried deep inside and I was being distracted by a flurry of activity that kept me busy and outwardly-focused.
The pickup was filled to the brim with garbage and we were on our way to the dump. A strong wind blew the truck nearly off the road. When we got to where the garbage was to be unloaded, we were on top of a mountain where the wind almost blew us over.
Half-way down the garbage we picked up a sheet of plywood and I grabbed the front with my right hand, the top with my left--thinking that my partner had done the same on the other side. Just then the wind shot a blast of wind and caught the board. The next thing I knew, I was being picked up backwards and thrown off the truck in slow motion. There was nothing I could do--the situation was totally out of my control.
I landed on my right hip with a loud "thud". It took me a few minutes to catch my breath and get my bearings. My response, because my focus was outside of myself was predictable: I got angry. I lifted the board off of me, denied help from the people gathered around who had seen the accident, got back up in the truck and finished unloading the garbage until it was gone.
I did go the doctor a few days after and was reassured that nothing was broken. Unfortunately, the fall started a hasty process of arthritis and degeneration of the hip. Within a half year, walking caused severe pain that only got relief from cortisone shots and daily over-the-counter medication.
Several months ago the doctor administering the shots sat me down and said it was time for surgery because the effectiveness of the shots had decreased too much. Ex rays taken by the surgeon validated a serious and quick decline. Bone on bone warranted time to have surgery.
I had surgery on April Fool's Day and was released from the hospital on Easter. After being home a week I began to embrace the healing process I was undergoing. I grasped and accepted the following: healing was going to be a gradual process toward rejuvenation instead of degeneration, the pain would gradually get better and I need to follow my pain-management plan so that I can achieve my physical therapy goals, I cannot avoid being in touch with my internal feelings, I am alone in bed spending many hours a day with myself and there is nothing to do but be with myself.
The first challenge of "being still" was differentiating between physical pain and internal feelings. After several weeks of learning this distinction, the main "feeling" that dominated my moment-to-moment existence was boredom.
Underneath the boredom was anger. This anger got in the way of my being still until I gave it my undivided attention and listened to what it had to say. It was furious to be dealing with this amount of pain. I didn't like the feeling of being old and being betrayed by my body. It didn't like doing nothing and just lying in bed. It didn't like being so exposed and vulnerable. It was afraid I won't get better.
Under the anger was a growing stillness. The more I listened to and acknowledged and moved out of the anger with love and reassurance, the more still I have become. With the stillness comes silence. I am, for the first time in my life, becoming fond of and comfortable with silence and stillness and "doing nothing". Within their realm is a huge space that is full, accepting and totally complete. It a simply being in the now with no past and no future. Stillness is the experience of the now in this moment.
There are many moments in the day that I spend in this space of Being with Stillness. I am actually becoming so fond of it that when it is broken and my attention is drawn outside of myself, I feel agitated. Being still is growing on me and feels like an Art.
Being still is also a spiritual practice. Being in the moment surpasses the physical plane. It also moves aside the external "noise" and activity and gives way to infernal experiences. This process feels like a paradox and is the height of self-discovery. Simple but moving, complex but still, experiences of life are transcended in these interwoven, juxtaposed feelings that are the soul's living in the now.
I am grateful to be given this time to practice and become more familiar with my spiritual life. I feel compassion and contentment spilling over where judgement and agitation with life used to be. I am happy to be learning about the inner process of being. I like being still.
