As much as I know this time of quarantine is about slowing down and diving in deep within the self, I have to admit that I often have moments during which I feel like I’m falling behind—not doing enough, not producing enough, not taking advantage of every second of time in quarantine to create something profound. I should be writing more, creating more programs and workshops, starting a new project, taking up a new hobby, baking cakes. At the very least I should be deep conditioning my hair, giving myself a facial and a pedicure, wine and cheese zooming with friends, and getting at least 5 miles on the treadmill.
Some days, from the moment I open my eyes, to the moment I close them at night, I am often plagued with a zillion thoughts of “should be’s and have-to’s. And if I’m being honest, this isn’t new. This has been the story of my life. Should be and have to do something profound ALL. THE. TIME. Or else. Or else what, you ask? Or else, I am an epic failure.
What I’ve learned on my healing journey is that some of my most profound experiences have come from stillness—from not doing anything at all. From not seeking to create, or uncover, or discover. Rather, just “being” with myself in silence and in stillness.
I’ve learned that it takes extraordinary courage to sit with ourselves, to watch our minds tell its tale and rattle off its fear-based conditioned thoughts, and not react to any of it. To just be with it. It takes confidence to sit on your throne while the rest of the world proceeds, and not react to any of it. Reacting is the easy way out. Calm-abiding is the work.
Today, as I struggled to remember this, I call upon the medicine of Eagle, always my teacher and guide, who shows me the importance of stillness. Eagle can perch on the same limb for hours, no need to rush. No need to move. As Eagle sits, he further hones his gifts of vision, fearlessness, and strength. He sits; though is alert, aware, and his instincts and intuition are on. From the vantage point of where he sits, he has perspective—seeing the big picture, yet he is also grounded in the moment and completely aware of all that is happening around him. He doesn’t react unless he needs to, and he is ready to take flight when the moment is right.
So as I sit here, perched on my throne, in my sweats, with unwashed hair and chipped-polished toes on my thickly-callused feet, I am honing my own gifts of intuition, grace, and calm-abiding. I breathe. I just breathe. Trusting that I will spread my wings and take flight when the time is right.
In the meantime, I will just “be,” and trust that is all I have to do. And I offer this as an invitation to anyone out there who needs this reminder: Just be. Trust. Your magnificent presence alone is enough.