Be Still

This past summer, I had the opportunity to go camping with my son for a few days in the Rocky Mountain National Park. One of the mornings I woke up very early, started a fire and sat down in my camp chair and quietly listened.

There were squirrels chasing each other back and forth up the hill. Birds filled nearby trees and greeted the morning with song. As the fire crackled, I surveyed landscape and the beauty of the surrounding trees and mountains. A mule deer took a wide berth of my campsite with two fawns in tow. It truly did look like a painting as the sun slowly crept over the eastern mountainside and graced the meadow just below my campsite with a warm brightness. The memory is etched in my mind.

During the hour or so that I sat there, I fought to be still. I didn't want to miss a detail. I just sat there and took it all in. I tried not to even think or else my mind would race back to the cares of the world. I tried to remain present. I don't get to the mountains as often as I would like, so this morning I didn't want to spoil it by stirring around or thinking about what awaits me in the valley below when I return. I was still.

Later, after the sun was well established, my son emerged from the tent to join me. As we fired up the camping stove to start coffee, I reflected on how much I enjoyed that hour and how little time I spend being still as I had just been. The clutter of noises of everyday life drown out the things that might otherwise be noticed in times of stillness. But perhaps being still is exactly what I need to do more often. Just like the need for sleep and food and water are required to be healthy, perhaps I need to also be still. I am thankful for that morning and the reminder that not all moments need to be driven at top speed. But that sometimes to make the most progress on a journey one may only require absolute stillness.