The Grating Expanse of Stillness

The Grating Expanse of Stillness

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I set my alarm for 4.30am so I could go hike my favorite trail today. I had mixed feelings because it’s busy on a regular summer day, but the 4th of July weekend…I wasn’t sure.

Then, I woke up at 1.30am and couldn’t get back to sleep, so turned off the alarm and decided if I woke up early enough to get a parking space, I’d go and if not, I’d just stay home and skip the stress of the throngs of people.

I finally went back to sleep and slept until 6.09am, about the time I needed to be pulling into a parking space at the trail head. Whatever. I didn’t want to be around a ga-zillon people anyway and drive through the park with the insanity of traffic on this busy weekend.

But I miss the trail and miss the full day it takes to hike it….considering the day starts at 4.30 when I wake and then the hour long drive to the trail head, the 3 hours up and 2.5 hours down and then trying to pull out on the highway that runs through the park and the inevitable stoppage of traffic if someone takes a curve too fast. Two…three hours waiting for wreckers, rangers, and ambulances isn’t that unusual. So…gardening for me today.

I’m an active person who finds hiking in these mountains a wonderful way to engage with Nature and burn off my inner crazy. Stillness isn’t easy for me…at least on a meditation cushion. 

I enjoy stillness through yoga…a sort of moving stillness that is at the same time grounding and expansive. But perhaps my most still moments are when I’m hiking the steep trails through upper elevation forests of fir and spruce trees. I’m physically exerting myself significantly, yet the trees and rocks and moss ground me deeply into their place so I can soar.

Traditionally we think of stillness as sitting and ‘doing nothing’ and letting our mind still. My mind is at its stillest point when I am in Nature, connecting viscerally with everything around me. That’s when everything aligns and calms within me. But sit me on a cushion and tell me to be still and silent and my mind screams at the grating expanse of stillness. 

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