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Hello, friends, Stillness is a gift. I’ve been thinking about this lately. What do I remember or reconnect with when I am quiet and still? Our culture is an anti-stillness machine – for the mind, at least, and often for the body and breath, which follow the state of the mind. Think about it: Our screens and the attention economy keep our bodies relatively still, often in unconsciously terrible postures that later make us wonder why we have a sore back or achy shoulders. Meanwhile, our minds are overloaded with external content and messages… at the risk of crowding out our own internal beliefs and wisdom. We probably consume more external messages, words, and visuals than ever before in human history. And yet, we're reading less long-form content. I recently read an article in The Atlantic called ‘The End of Reading is Here’. (Highly recommend.) One of the points that really struck me was how our brains adapt to what we repeatedly ask them to do. In other words, our brains master what we practice. So, what are we practicing? Are we training our brains for distraction or focus? For constant stimulation or the ability to be quiet? For division or connection? For criticism or compassion? For consuming endless streams of information or actually sitting with something long enough to absorb, contemplate, and understand it? Attention is one of the many things our brains do. And whether it’s splintered or focused, our brains get better at what we practice most. And stillness is something we can practice, too. I believe the two are deeply connected, which is one reason so many people find meditation difficult. We’re asking ourselves to be still and to focus our attention on one thing. For most of us, that’s pretty much the opposite of what we’ve been practicing all day long. A client recently shared something with me that illustrates this beautifully. She’s noticed that the more regularly she practices Restorative Yoga, the more deeply she can settle into it. It takes less time for her to drop into that wonderful state of deep rest and spaciousness. But when she hasn’t practiced for an extended period of time, she finds it harder to settle her body and quiet her mind. She needs longer to “get there,“ and the practice generally feels less deep and satisfying. This is exactly the kind of brain and nervous system training I’m talking about. She’s practicing stillness. She’s practicing attention. And over time, her capacity for both grows. We often act as though our distracted minds are beyond our control. But they’re most certainly not. Of course, we’re up against some pretty powerful forces. Our phones, computers, smart watches, social media feeds, streaming platforms, and the 24-hour news cycle are purposefully designed to keep pulling us back. They are addictive by design. (And if you think I’m being dramatic, try going wholly screen-free for 24 hours.) There’s a reason it’s so hard to resist – it all caters to how our brain works. There’s an entire thriving economy built around capturing and monetizing our attention. And let’s be real, when we’re exhausted from work, responsibilities, and all the things, the path of least resistance is pretty appealing. It’s easier to scroll on the couch than to engage in something that asks more of us. But easier – while evolutionarily beneficial when we needed to conserve energy for the next big hunt – is not necessarily better for us in the modern era. So I’m wondering:
❓ What are you practicing every day, whether you realize it or not?
❓ How long can you focus your attention?
❓ How long can you be still (when you aren’t asleep)? Because whatever we’re practicing, we’re getting better at it every day. With heart and curiosity,
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