Take a Breather
Sometimes sitting still is the best response to everything else happening in and around us. We need to take a breather, literally pausing to just breathe, to feel the breath going in and going out of us.
At the moment, there are a lot of us who are overwhelmed by chaos. We have a President who tweets several times a day whatever he decides to spew forth, and many of us find ourselves in a constant state of reaction. There is no indication that anything is going to change in the time being.
Breathe.
Not every exclamation needs a response. Sometimes it needs a sacred, "Oh, well..."
Here in California, the drought broke. Now we seem to be in the midst of the opposite--a deluge. We fret over aging dams, full rivers, and more rain. We begin to see why in ancient times, the Central Valley transformed into an inland sea this time of year.
Breathe.
Note that, as Jesus himself said, "The rain falls on the just and the unjust"--rain is part of creation, coming and going.
Elsewhere, folks are dealing with life as it is. There is illness. There are job stresses. There are family issues. There is aging. There are transitions. We stare at the ceiling too many nights, unable to shut our minds down enough to rest.
Breathe.
Whatever is happening will pass into something else. As Ecclesiastes reminds, "There is a season for everything..." What is now will be something else soon enough.
Just breathe.
In.
Out.
That moment of stillness actually helps us regain our focus and reclaim clarity.
In sitting still, we can refocus on our own neighborhood or home, recentering on the piece of the world where we actually live. Who needs help? Who needs a friend? Who needs protection? Who needs to be fed? Sitting still helps us see them, know them, and then formulate a response we can actually enact.
In sitting still, we can think about what might be needed should the floods come. Last week, Californians rose to help one another, welcome one another, and care for one another as the Oroville Dam captured us. Generosity flowed like water. There was hope. There was shelter in the storm.
In sitting still, we can calm ourselves to deal with our more intimate storms. We can find the words to say. We can find the ability to listen. We can center on the compassion necessary for resolving whatever lay in our laps. We can allow God to speak in the darkness, "Be still and know that I am God."
So, just sit.
Breathe.
All shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
At the moment, there are a lot of us who are overwhelmed by chaos. We have a President who tweets several times a day whatever he decides to spew forth, and many of us find ourselves in a constant state of reaction. There is no indication that anything is going to change in the time being.
Breathe.
Not every exclamation needs a response. Sometimes it needs a sacred, "Oh, well..."
Here in California, the drought broke. Now we seem to be in the midst of the opposite--a deluge. We fret over aging dams, full rivers, and more rain. We begin to see why in ancient times, the Central Valley transformed into an inland sea this time of year.
Breathe.
Note that, as Jesus himself said, "The rain falls on the just and the unjust"--rain is part of creation, coming and going.
Elsewhere, folks are dealing with life as it is. There is illness. There are job stresses. There are family issues. There is aging. There are transitions. We stare at the ceiling too many nights, unable to shut our minds down enough to rest.
Breathe.
Whatever is happening will pass into something else. As Ecclesiastes reminds, "There is a season for everything..." What is now will be something else soon enough.
Just breathe.
In.
Out.
That moment of stillness actually helps us regain our focus and reclaim clarity.
In sitting still, we can refocus on our own neighborhood or home, recentering on the piece of the world where we actually live. Who needs help? Who needs a friend? Who needs protection? Who needs to be fed? Sitting still helps us see them, know them, and then formulate a response we can actually enact.
In sitting still, we can think about what might be needed should the floods come. Last week, Californians rose to help one another, welcome one another, and care for one another as the Oroville Dam captured us. Generosity flowed like water. There was hope. There was shelter in the storm.
In sitting still, we can calm ourselves to deal with our more intimate storms. We can find the words to say. We can find the ability to listen. We can center on the compassion necessary for resolving whatever lay in our laps. We can allow God to speak in the darkness, "Be still and know that I am God."
So, just sit.
Breathe.
All shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
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