The Art of Stillness

The Art of Stillness 
By Pico Iyer 

Sitting still is the real deep entertainment.  Real profound and voluptuous and delicious entertainment.  The real feast that is available within this activity.  This seems to be the the most luxurious and sumptuous response to the emptiness of my own existence. 

Being in this remote place of stillness has nothing to do with piety or purity.  It is simply the most practical way he's found of working through the confusion and terror that has long been his bedfellows.  Sitting still and listening to the crickets deep into the night is the closest he's come to finding lasting happiness, the kind that doesn't change even when life throws up one of its regular challenges and disruptions. 

Going nowhere is the grand adventure that makes sense everywhere else. 

Sitting still as a way of falling in love with the world and everything in it.  Going nowhere as a way of cutting through the noise and finding fresh time and energy to share with others. 

With machines coming to seem part of our nervous system, while increasing their speed every season, we've lost our Sundays, our weekends, our night off...  More and more of us feel like emergency-room physicians, permanently on call, required to heal ourselves but unable to find the prescription for all the clutter on our desk. 

Stillness is not just an indulgence for those with enough resources -- it's a necessity for anyone who wishes to gather less visible resources.  Going nowhere is not about austerity so much as about coming closer to one's senses.  Talking about stillness is really a way of talking about clarity and sanity and joys that endure.  

Going nowhere is not about turning your back on the world; it's about stepping away now and then so that you can see the world more clearly and love it more deeply. 

The idea behind Nowhere -- choosing to sit still long enough to turn inward -- is at heart a simple one.  Our peace of mind lie within.  As Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius reminded us more than two millennia ago, it's not our experience that form us but the ways in which we respond to them. 

So much of our lives takes place in our heads -- in memory or imagination, in speculation or interpretation -- that I think I can best change my life by changing the way I look at it.  The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another. It's the perspective we choose -- not the places we visit -- that ultimately tells us where we stand.  It matters not where or how far you travel, but how much alive you are. 

At some point, all the horizontal trips in the world can't compensate for the need to go deep into somewhere challenging and unexpected.  Movement makes richest sense when set within a frame of stillness. 

As soon as I went to vigils in the chapel, the silence was much more tonic than any words could be.  What I discovered, almost instantly, was that as soon as I was in one place, undistracted, the world lit up and I was as happy as when I forgot about myself.  Heaven is the place where you think of nowhere else.  Finding what feels like real life, that changeless and inarguable something behind all our shifting thoughts, is less a discovery than a recollection. 

Spending time in silence gives everything else in my days fresh value and excitement.  It felt as if I was slipping out of my life and ascending a small hill from which I could make out a wider landscape. 

Simplifying one's life to extract its quintessence is the most rewarding of all pursuits I have undertaken -- Matthieu Richard. 

A man sitting still is alone, often, with the memory of all he doesn't have.  And what he does have can look very much like nothing. 

"All the unhappiness of men arises from one simple fact: that they cannot sit quietly in their chamber." Blaise Pascal, French mathematician and philosopher. 

After Admiral Richard E. Byrd spent nearly five months alone in a shack in the Antarctic, in temperatures that sank to 70 degrees below zero, he emerged convinced that "Half the confusion in the world comes from not knowing how little we need." 

The point of sitting still is that it helps you see through the very idea of pushing forward; indeed, it strips you of yourself, by leading you into a place where you're defined by something larger.  

The need for an empty space, a pause, is something we have all felt in our bones; it's the rest in a piece of music that gives it resonance and shape. 

With every return to Nowhere, one can begin to discern its features, and with them its possibilities, a little clearly.  The place has moods and seasons as rich as the pulsing, red-dirt spaces of Australia's outback, as varied as the clouds you can see in a James Turrell Skyspace. 

One of the strange laws of the contemplative life is that in it you do not sit down and solve problems: you bear with them until they somehow solve themselves.  Or until life solves them for you.  

It's only by taking myself away from clutter and distraction that I can begin to hear something out of earshot and recall that listening is much more invigorating than giving voice to all the thoughts and prejudices that anyway keep me company 24-hours a day. 

And it's only by going nowhere -- by sitting still or letting my mind relax -- that I find that the thoughts are far fresher and more imaginative than the ones I consciously seek out. 

The point of gathering stillness is not to enrich the sanctuary or mountaintop but to bring that calm into the motion, the commotion of the world. 

And why were so many hastening to concerts delivered by a monk in his late 70s?  Perhaps they longed to be taken back to a place of trust - which is what Nowhere is, at heart - where they could speak and listen with something deeper than their social selves and be returned to a penetrating intimacy.

In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow; in an age of distraction, nothing can feel more luxurious than paying attention; and in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.   

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The Photography: 

The images in this book were all taken by Icelandic/Canadian photographer Eydis Luna Einarsdottir.  Einarsdottir began her visual journey at a young age, influenced by her father -- an avid photographer -- her artist mother, and the Icelandic light and landscape.  Detail, contrast, and simplicity best describe her photography. 


Artist's Statement: 

Stillness, the word itself brings me right back to one of the few places I have ever found perfect stillness in mind and body: Iceland. 

Every year I travel from my home in Vancouver, Canada, to Iceland.  I don't stay in the city much; instead, I head out to my parents' quiet lakeside cabin to take a rest from the self-imposed stress of my life and to experience peace and quietness. 

To me, these travels are not so much a photographic exploration as a time to visit with my parents.  The camera simply comes along.  However, with the breathtaking views and beautiful light Iceland offers, a stop here and there is inevitable. 

As soon as I take out my camera I find that stillness within, that deep sense of peace that I crave every day.  I get lost in such a beautiful way that it's hard to describe.  It's as though I find a piece of me that I had lost without really knowing that I lost it.  As I sit quietly looking through the viewfinder, my senses become heightened.  The smell of the earth makes me feel grounded; the sound of waves crashing or grass rustling in the wind or the bleating of a lone sheep in the distance makes me feel so alive; and the vastness of what I see makes me feel expansive.  This is what it is like to be in the Now, which is really just to be still in mind and body.  They are not an attempt to capture the perfect image, but to capture the feeling I experience as I witness the things in front of me.

Stillness Speaks

I found these notes I took back in 2012.  Quite interesting to read now...

Stillness Speaks

by Eckhart Tolle

Silence and Stillness:

Do you need more knowledge?  Is more information going to save the world, or faster computers, more scientific or intellectual analysis?  Is it not wisdom that humanity needs most at this time?  What is wisdom and where is it to be found?  Wisdom comes with the ability to be still.  Just look and just listen.  No more is needed.  Being still, looking, and listening activates the non-conceptual intelligence within you.  Let stillness direct your words and actions.

Beyond the Thinking Mind:

1.  The human condition:  lost in thought.

2.  In you, as in each human being, there is a dimension of consciousness far deeper than thought.  It is the very essence of who you are.  We may call it presence, awareness, the unconditioned consciousness.  In the ancient teachings, it is your Buddha nature.

3.  Become at ease with the state of "not knowing."  This takes you beyond mind because the mind is always trying to conclude and interpret.  It is afraid of not knowing.  So, when you can be at ease with not knowing, you have already gone beyond the mind.  A deeper knowing that is non-conceptual then arises out of that state.

Who You Truly Are:

1.  It matters whether you succeed or fail in the eyes of the world.  It matters whether you are healthy or not healthy, whether you are educated or not educated.  It matters whether you are rich or poor -- it certainly makes a difference in your life.  Yes, all these things matter, relatively speaking, but they don't matter absolutely.  There is something that matters more than any of those things and that is finding the essence of who you are beyond that short-lived personalized sense of self.

2.  All the misery on the planet arises due to a personalized sense of "me" or "us."  That covers up the essence of who you are.  When you are unaware of the inner essence, in the end you always create misery -- it's as simple as that.  When you don't know who you are, you create a mind-made self as a substitute for your beautiful divine and cling to that fearful and needy self.  Protecting and enhancing that false sense of self then becomes your primary motivating force.

3.  When you know who you truly are, there is an abiding alive sense of peace.  You could call it joy because that's what joy is:  vibrantly alive peace.  It is the joy of knowing yourself as very life essence before life takes on form.  That is the joy of Being -- of being who you truly are.

4.  Most people's lives are run by desire and fear.  Desire is the need to add something to yourself in order to be yourself more fully.  All fear is the fear of losing something and thereby becoming diminished and being less.  These two movements obscure the fact that Being cannot be given or taken away.  Being in its fullness is already within you, Now.

Acceptance and Surrender:

1.  "Doing one thing at a time" is the essence of Zen.  Doing one thing at a time means to be total in what you do, to give it your complete attention.  This is surrendered action -- empowered action.

2.  Surrender becomes so much easier when you realize the fleeting nature of all experiences and that the world cannot give you anything of lasting value.  You then continue to meet people, to be involved in experiences and activities, but without the wants and fears of egoistic self.  That is to say, you no longer demand that a situation, person, place or event should satisfy you or make you happy.  Its passing and imperfect nature is allowed to be.  And the miracle is that when you are no longer placing an impossible demand on it, every situation, person, place or event becomes not only satisfying but also more harmonious, more peaceful.

3.  When you completely accept this movement, when you no longer argue with what is, the compulsion to think lessens and is replaced by an alert stillness.  You are fully conscious, yet the mind is not labeling this moment in any way.  This state of inner nonresistance opens you to the unconditioned consciousness that is infinitely greater than the human mind.  This vast intelligence can then express itself through you and assist you, both from within and from without.  That is why, by letting go of inner resistance, you often find circumstances change for the better.

4.  Even within the seemingly unacceptable and painful situation is concealed a deeper good, and within every disaster is contained the seed of grace.  Throughout history, there have been women and men who, in the face of great loss, illness, imprisonment, or impending death, accepted the seemingly unacceptable and thus found "the peace that passeth all understanding."  Acceptance of unacceptable is the greatest source of grace in this world.

5.  When you fully accept that you don't know, you give up struggling to find answers with limited thinking mind, and that's when a greater intelligence can operate through you.  And even thought can then benefit from that, since the greater intelligence can flow into it and inspire it.  Sometimes surrender means giving up trying to understand and becoming comfortable with not knowing.

Nature:

1.  We depend on nature not only for our physical survival.  We also need nature to show us the way home, the way out of prison of our own minds.  We got lost in doing, thinking, remembering, anticipating -- lost in a maze of complexity and a world of problems.  We have forgotten what rocks, plants, and animals still know.  We have forgotten how to be -- to be still, to be ourselves, to be where life is: Here and Now.

2.  When walking or resting in nature, honor that realm by being there fully.  Be still.  Look.  Listen.  See how every animal and every plant is completely itself.  Unlike humans, they have not split themselves in two.  They do not live through mental images of themselves, so they do not need to be concerned with trying to protect and enhance those images.  All things in nature are not only one with themselves but also one with the totality.  They haven't removed themselves from the fabric of the whole by claiming a separate existence:  "me" and the rest of the universe.

Relationships:

1.  To know another human being in their essence, you don't really need to know anything about them -- their past, their history, their story.  We confuse knowing about with knowing that is non-conceptural.  Know about and knowing are totally different modalities.  One is concerned with form, the other with formless.  One operates through thought, the other through stillness.

2.  Most human interactions are confined to the exchange of words -- the realm of thought.  It is essential to bring some stillness, particularly into your close relationships.  No relationship can thrive without the sense of spaciousness that comes with stillness.  If spaciousness is missing, the relationship will be dominated by the mind and can easily be taken over by problems and conflict.  If stillness is there, it can contain anything.

3.  True listening is another way of bringing stillness into the relationship.  When you truly listen to someone, the dimension of stillness arises and becomes an essential part of the relationship.  But true listening is a rare skill.  Usually, the greater part of a person's attention is taken up by their thinking.  At best, they may be evaluating your words or preparing the next thing to say.  Or they may not be listening at all, lost in their own thoughts.

Death and The Eternal:

There is still a widespeard denial of death in Western cultures.  Even old people try not to speak or think about it, and dead bodies are hidden away.  A culture that denies death inevitably becomes shallow and superficial, concerned only with external form of things.  When death is denied, life loses its depth.  The possibility of knowing who we are beyond name and form, the dimension of the transcendent, disappears from our lives because death is the opening into that dimension.

Tranquility

Believe me, there is peace and tranquility at Yellowstone.  You just need to search long and hard to find it...

Yellowstone National Park
June 3 to June 5, 2016

The Burning Madness

I met this old guy at Yellowstone. When I visited Norris Geysers the first time, got there late in the morning. He told me he'd been there since 7am and he planned to stay there for the entire day. Every time when a geyser erupted, he would take out his little notebook and write down the time and duration of the eruption. He told me that he has been coming to Yellowstone twice a year for the past 25 years. He lives in Seattle and would drive over 700 miles to Yellowstone. Two times a year - once in May and once in September. He knows the names and eruption patterns of each and every single one of the geysers inside the park -- incredible. I stood there, listened to him, chatted with him, and then realized how vastly different people's lives are - it's fascinating, when you think about it!!!

As I watch, smell and listen to the burning madness around me, I wonder how on earth I am still here on this planet -- living... breathing... seeing... feeling... walking...

LIFE is a precious and enormous thing!!

Yellowstone National Park
June 3 to June 5, 2016

 

 

Let There Be Stars...

I once again challenged myself to embrace the darkness.  And this time, with additional threats from the hungry bears...

I took the first picture during the day just to remember how lovely the place was under bright sunshine.  However, at night, the place was filled with frightening silence and pure darkness -- even the waves in the lake stopped moving.  I drove the car to the edge of the water just so it's easily accessible.  I left two doors open just in case of a bear attack.  I repeatedly told myself that I was the only one here so there was "nothing" to worry about...  Then, I set up my tripod at the very left corner of the loading deck and began the seemingly LONG process of taking these photos.  Again, they are not perfect, but have been improved from what I was able to produce before -- that's all that matters.

Talking about craziness, I tortured myself in the dark not once, but twice during the 3 days I spent at Teton.

Jackson Lake, Grand Teton

June 1 & June 2, 2016