Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Stillness, Intentions

On Easter Sunday, we went to the 7 a.m. sunrise service, which took place outdoors in front of the church. We didn't actually see the sun rise; the sky went from dark gray to lighter gray, the fog and mist obscuring any of the sun's rays.

Midway through the service, there was a moment where we were asked to be silent and just listen to the morning. And I realized that it was the first time in a long time — maybe even ever — that my mind remained completely still, allowing the cool breeze to wash over me as the birds and crickets competed for the right to sing.

And I thought that maybe I need to get up this early more often, watch the sunrise and just breathe. One of the things on my Life List is that I'd like to learn how to meditate, to keep my mind still for a little while every day. I have a friend that is always going on meditation retreats, and we've talked about what it means for a Christian to meditate, something that is traditionally seen as an Eastern religious practice. He says that he sees the act of meditating almost as another means of prayer or communication with God; a time of listening.

I'd really like it if I were better at the listening than the asking.

But I'm almost afraid to start, because I worry that one morning, the warm covers and soft bed will be too hard to leave, and I'll never find the motivation to start again. I'm afraid to start because I know that eventually I'll forget, or put it off until tomorrow, until it becomes just another thing that I've tried and failed to keep up.

Most of the time I have good intentions, big ideas, but too little follow-through. I wish I were better at following through.

What are you afraid to start?

(Linking up with Mr. Thomas and Me and The Florkens.)