I spent last weekend alone at the beach house. I painted walked, sat on the dock, swam, read and biked. It was quiet in my mind and around me. Nothing but silence and Sage, my 75 pound German Shepherd who panted and looked at me with a quizzical nod as if to say, 'Well, so what a we gonna do?’ No plans—quiet—still.
I teach psychology at DeVry University and discussed with my students how inundated we are with technology and busyness—constant constant something. We use ipods, iphones, ipads, and everything in between to distract us from present living. Communication has evolved to texts rather than face-to-face conversations or a simple phone call. We multitask in our busyness—talk on the phone, text, listen to music, watch television, eat—all at the same time.
I passed a driver, on my way to my weekend getaway, he was swerving all over the road and driving barely 45 miles an hour. I assumed he was drunk. While I passed his car I glanced in his direction and saw he was bent over in text mode while driving! Busyness—we are buried in the rush to do something at all times to avoid the silence—stillness.
I ask my students to imagine spending a few hours in a room with nothing but themselves. What would you do? Most respond with: I would go crazy or what would be the point. The point is to be with your self quiet to to hear nothing and just be. It is a form of meditating in your wakeful state with no agenda rather than running and hiding from our self.
When quiet long enough you begin to hear more than when you're avoiding silence. You hear the birds sing and feel the breeze against your skin and smell lilacs and jasmine and appreciate the deep orange lilies. You hear your heart beat and become aware of your own breath. When was the last time you focused on your breath? Do you ever forget to breathe? Are you running so fast through life that you don't stop to feel the present moment? Often we are caught between what we did yesterday and what we will do tomorrow—not existing in the space called now.
After a long day of nothingness, late at night I floated in the pool and watched the stars twinkle and the crest of the moon slip behind a cloud as the warm water lapped against my skin. Not far off the waterway meets the sea—dolphins swam by, and out in the distance I heard the hum of boats. I plunged under deep shimmying to the bottom of the pool, gliding as the dolphin might: free—silent—magnificent in the moment.
Yes, I spent the weekend alone at the beach house in silence. It was fruitful. My mind was quiet and peace filled me. I smile as I think of Sage resting, taking deep breaths and exhaling with long sighs; all stretched out embracing our quiet time as much as I did.
Now back home in my busyness I look forward to our next adventure—to return to the dock and take in life through stillness. I am ready to paint, walk, rest, pray, and quiet my mind and all that is around me. I am ready to return to nothing but silence and Sage, without an agenda...quiet and still.
Photos by: Dr. Lisa Ortigara Crego
I teach psychology at DeVry University and discussed with my students how inundated we are with technology and busyness—constant constant something. We use ipods, iphones, ipads, and everything in between to distract us from present living. Communication has evolved to texts rather than face-to-face conversations or a simple phone call. We multitask in our busyness—talk on the phone, text, listen to music, watch television, eat—all at the same time.
I passed a driver, on my way to my weekend getaway, he was swerving all over the road and driving barely 45 miles an hour. I assumed he was drunk. While I passed his car I glanced in his direction and saw he was bent over in text mode while driving! Busyness—we are buried in the rush to do something at all times to avoid the silence—stillness.
I ask my students to imagine spending a few hours in a room with nothing but themselves. What would you do? Most respond with: I would go crazy or what would be the point. The point is to be with your self quiet to to hear nothing and just be. It is a form of meditating in your wakeful state with no agenda rather than running and hiding from our self.
When quiet long enough you begin to hear more than when you're avoiding silence. You hear the birds sing and feel the breeze against your skin and smell lilacs and jasmine and appreciate the deep orange lilies. You hear your heart beat and become aware of your own breath. When was the last time you focused on your breath? Do you ever forget to breathe? Are you running so fast through life that you don't stop to feel the present moment? Often we are caught between what we did yesterday and what we will do tomorrow—not existing in the space called now.
After a long day of nothingness, late at night I floated in the pool and watched the stars twinkle and the crest of the moon slip behind a cloud as the warm water lapped against my skin. Not far off the waterway meets the sea—dolphins swam by, and out in the distance I heard the hum of boats. I plunged under deep shimmying to the bottom of the pool, gliding as the dolphin might: free—silent—magnificent in the moment.
Yes, I spent the weekend alone at the beach house in silence. It was fruitful. My mind was quiet and peace filled me. I smile as I think of Sage resting, taking deep breaths and exhaling with long sighs; all stretched out embracing our quiet time as much as I did.
Now back home in my busyness I look forward to our next adventure—to return to the dock and take in life through stillness. I am ready to paint, walk, rest, pray, and quiet my mind and all that is around me. I am ready to return to nothing but silence and Sage, without an agenda...quiet and still.
Photos by: Dr. Lisa Ortigara Crego
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