Stillness is invaluable. Quiet feeds the soul.
Surviving cancer, all I wanted was to move. Run, ride, climb, dance, walk, create – anything to be in motion. I wanted to reclaim all of the lost months, the days and weeks when – sliced, diced and filled with poison – my body insisted on withdrawal, inertia.
Almost three years on, moving still seem likes an imperative. As if the only way to be truly alive is to constantly push and challenge my body – and soul – through being in motion. As if the definition of living is forever moving toward something, an uncertain future beyond our control. But in the push toward tomorrow, what happens to the now?
Last night, I sat still – in various peculiar poses – for an hour and a half of yin yoga – a far cry from my previous experience with more aerobic forms of vinyasa yoga.
Quiet, stillness, focus on the present moment: so essential, but so easily over-looked. It was a blessing indeed to be brought to that place of clear-mindedness, of being centered on the now.
Pose, and counter-pose. I have no plans to stop moving. Running feeds my soul. A vigorous pre-dawn vinyasa workout provides a vital boost. But last night, I found a way to be still that didn’t feel like a betrayal of my survivorship, or leave me restless, itching for movement.
In the stillness, perfection.