“Dwell as near as possible to the channel in which your life flows.”
Henry David Thoreau
What is Thoreau talking about? Where else could I be? Aren’t I always in the channel of my life?
Sadly, no. I am often pulled away by the pressures of the moment, the expectations of others, or even my own fear of facing the totality of who I am. Thoreau knew that the noise of the world can distract and overwhelm and that without a conscious return to the channel, we are set adrift.
The channel Thoreau describes is the true me, the essence beneath the fickle appearance at the surface. When I rest in the channel of my life, things flow. I align with an inner compass of values, passion, and purpose that guides my actions. The signal of my inner compass is strong but quiet, humming at a low vibration. Unless I pause to listen, it is easy to float with the tide and pass it by.
Thoreau advocated solitude, refreshing his own channel by retreating to the quiet of Walden Pond. Time spent in nature is wondrous and rejuvenating, but we don’t have to spend a year in the woods to touch what Thoreau is describing. I can listen in stillness wherever I am. For me, silence is the key.
Silence is the place where deep listening is possible. It is the ground to every figure, the background upon which the other layers of life are built. When we are still enough to sense the silence beneath everything, we find a world that is glowing, rich with possibility, far from empty. We find the channel from which our life flows.
Silence is not entered by force, but by allowing things to settle, to let the noise of activity tire itself out, like the tantrum of a two-year-old. Sitting still for even a moment can be enough for the door to open. What happens when I just sit? Strangely enough, I often choose to “just sit” when I am most distracted, frenetic, my mind in a whirl of motion that is spinning but going nowhere. When I choose to sit at those moments, I let the whirlwind take me. I just sit and listen.
Sometimes, my mind rages at my inactivity. The urge to get up and “do” something is overwhelming, like the tantrum of a two-year-old. But other times, I savor the chance to rest, to let my muscles relax into the weight of gravity. Luscious, luxurious.
I notice that if my mind is too frenzied, it helps to place my attention on the physicality of my body, especially the warmth in the area of my heart. As things begin to quiet, my breathing steadies, I find the thread. A sliver of silence starts to fill the room. I build on that. You could call this in-the-moment practice meditation, and that would not be wrong. I think of it as simply cultivating silence, a faculty we can strengthen a minute at a time.
Thoreau says to “dwell” in this place of inner truth, implying I can reside here permanently. That’s something I’m working on. For now, I enjoy the time I spend here.
Photo by Getty Images on Unsplash
Beautifully said.
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