(Orig. posted in Jan. 2012.)
When I was in graduate school, I learned that the best way for me to get to the other side of muddled thinking was through bodily movement (commonly referred to as “kinesthetic learning”). If I was stuck on a conceptual problem, I could rely on my daily runs, hikes up a mountain trail, or cross-country skiing to offer my brain the necessary fodder; invariably I would get a piece of the solution to the intellectual puzzle with which I was grappling as my limbs moved through space. (Being outside in fresh air helped too!)
What I recognize now is that my heart’s modus operandi is stillness. Even as it pumps out my lifeblood in rhythmic movement, my heart asks of me steady moments of quietude and inactivity. For good physical health, I must engage in aerobic activity to keep that thumper thumping effectively.
For emotional and spiritual vitality, I need only sit quietly so my heart can find its voice. My heart’s wisdom becomes evident during the noiseless lulls in my day. Sometimes meditation is a means to this; sitting in a particular posture voicelessly watching my thoughts go by and following my breath’s patterns offer my Heart (the soul place) what it needs. Often, stillness in Nature opens my heart to its deepest truths.
I had a dream last night: I am standing still at the base of a gloriously huge tree, the largest tree I have ever seen! My open palms rest on the gnarled bark and lingering on my tongue is the nuttiness of a fiddlehead I have just eaten. The mysterious wind is brushing against tens of thousands of pine needles. My deep inhalation is filled with the musty, pungent odor of sodden soil and decaying wood. And I look up into the endless enormity and unbelievable grandeur of this towering beauty. I am perfectly unmoving. I hear my heart begin to sing.
The heart’s voice can be made audible through silence and stillness.
