Why I Sit Outside

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

“Be still and know that I am God.”

Psalm 46:10

These words came to me in my sit spot recently. They often come to me, and when they do I find comfort in them.

I go to nature, to my sit spot, to be still. To quiet my mind. To disconnect from the madness of the human world and find a connection with something older, deeper, wiser, and wilder.

Be still. Stop striving. Stop grinding. Just stop. Stop strategizing and planning. Be still. Feel the world. Listen to the wind and smell the air and the trees. Witness the world. Be still. Pay attention. Listen.

And know this, “I am God.”

As I sit and ponder these words I know that the me that is thinking is not “God”. I am only a drop of water in the great ocean. I know better than to try and elevate myself to the level of the one who fashioned the foundations of the earth, or designed the biology that is this body. No, I am not that. Not now. Not this mind.

“I am God.” You are God. You made me. I am your child. And you are so big and I am so small. My life is short, my reach is short, while your arm is so long. I see the vaulted sky, the stars, the power of the great oceans, and all that you have wrought and I am humbled and in awe.

World ages have come and gone. Great works of stone have been mysteriously raised up and brought down. Our memory of this world is so short. We have amnesia. We do not know what has come before us.

Be still. I see a Robin perched in the willow tree. The first Robin I have seen this winter. Deep snow covers everything. The stream is frozen solid. The suet in the feeder is gone, just scratch marks in the dust. It is so cold today. Is this how an ice age feels? Does it blow in unexpectedly like a guest who overstays their welcome?

Be still. I breathe. Let there be light upon this frozen world. As the wind blows I see so many points of light, each one an icy diamond, untraceable facets spinning in the cold, winter light.

When the darkness of this world casts its shadow on my Soul, and I find myself in times of trouble, I go where the juncos gather for suet. I turn to the mountain and listen to the pine trees talk to the westerly wind and I feel the Great Stillness that knows. May I rest in you, Great Knowing Stillness. My God.