On a walk this dark fall morning, one particular thought floated by. A gentle double-dog dare for the day: it said, today could be lived in this quiet.
I listened to a few habitual responses bubble up and pop. They said, today is a busy day. And, who can know what the day has in store.
But that sweet dare had a different quality. It wasn’t anything I’d thought so clearly before. It was clear, simple, and persuasive. The day could be lived in this quiet.
This was guidance.
What I’ve learned in the quiet of today is the quiet persists with my welcoming attention. The quiet persists behind the song of the birds and in the shriek of sirens rushing down the hill. Whatever anyone said to me hosted quiet as well. And I heard hearts humming in their words.
So, while the day proved busy and twisted into unforeseen terrain, it remained as serene as the dawn. I think of afternoons alone beside a still lake, in awe of mountains, trees, sky showing themselves above and below. Today, the lake remained still.
Which is to say, life can move and move and move. And if we learn to keep still, quietly listening, we’re in for a lovely day.
This, we can learn, whenever we choose.
