Finding a “Still Water” Mind

It’s been a turbulent month.

An exhausting week of author school visits capped by a bookstore event. A long-delayed layover flight that got my wife and I to our destination at 4:00 am. Caring for my dad as he recovers from knee replacement surgery. Helping Lisa’s elderly mom. Getting smacked hard by norovirus. An unexpected death in the family with corresponding funeral events.

Now that the storms have receded and a vague sense of normalcy has returned, I sit down to write this week’s personal development post only to find I have nothing to say. My gut feels empty, and my mind cluttered. That spark of an idea, sharpness of insight, or poignant life-lesson is missing.

Me while writing this post

As I write this, I’m sitting in my old bedroom at my Dad’s house staring out at the back woods, waiting for inspiration that isn’t coming.

Grasping at straws, I look through a seldom-used folder of blog ideas on my desktop and find a quote from a book I’m reading, Your True Home: The Everyday Wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh, by the great Buddhist teacher. It seems especially fitting for my state of mind:

“Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror that distorts the image? Your face is long, your eyes are huge, and your legs are really short. Don’t be like that mirror. It is better to be like the still water on the mountain lake. We often do not reflect things clearly, and we suffer because of our wrong perceptions. When we see things or listen to other people, we often don’t see clearly or really listen. We see and hear our projections and our prejudices.

We need to make our water still if we want to receive reality as it is. If you feel agitated, don’t do or say anything. Just breathe in and out until you are calm enough. Then ask your friend to repeat what he has said. This will avoid a lot of damage. Stillness is the foundation of understanding and insight. Stillness is strength.” (p. 117, Still Water)

I’m trying to regain that stillness. My external circumstances have calmed, but my mind remains a tempest. I take a deep breath. Walk the dirt road at the end of Dad’s long, winding driveway. Let the silence sink into my bones.

Waves still disturb the surface of my mind, but the wind is lessening. Stillness is coming. For now, I’ll wait and trust.

Are you in a turbulent season? Acknowledge reality. Embrace your feelings. Step away from what you can. Endure what you must. Breathe deep. Take a walk. Soak in silence. Trust that stillness is coming. If you do, you’ll soon find a measure of peace, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

Text excerpt from Your True Home: The Everyday Wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh published by Shambhala 2011, p 117