Practicing Quiet

Upper West Side - New York City

It is early morning on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The sun has yet to break the tree line over nearby Central Park.  When it does, it will flood my tiny apartment with the warm, orangey glow that signals it is time to hop in the shower and get ready for work. But the time before that is my favorite part of the day. It is when the moon, and sometimes even a few stars, lingers above the courtyard below. It is the small sliver of time between waking and the hustle and bustle of life...ringing phones, email alerts, appointments to make, deadlines to meet…before anyone wants anything from me.

Three sharp beeps on the coffee machine signal 5:45 a.m. I roll out of bed and breathe in the intoxicating scent of my favorite freshly brewed Dunkin Donuts coffee. I head for the kitchen and pull the carafe from its altar, and pour a cup of the steaming hot, early morning nectar into my favorite oversized red ceramic mug. Throwing the soft blue blanket, a gift from a close friend, around my shoulders, I retreat to my favorite Pottery Barn, Malabar chair, that I found last year on Craig’s List for a steal. And then I sit... quietly, cupping the hot mug, and slowly sipping. I close my eyes and take in the glorious quiet that is morning. Except for the faint chirp of a bird in the tree outside the window, and the gentle hiss of the radiator, the room is magnificently silent.

This is a ritual I’ve been starting my day with for about 9 months now. Sometimes I sit for 15 minutes and other times I stay for an hour. Some days I read a passage from Mark Nepo’s amazing work “The Book of Awakening,” other times I meditate to a Tara Brach podcast, some days I write in my journal, and still other times I just sit and take in the nourishing quiet and focus on breathing, in...and breathing out...

I used to think I didn’t have the time to do this. I’d get up with just enough time to shower and change, then rush out the door, fighting against and bemoaning the hoards on the subway and the long lines to get breakfast. But now I make the time, because whether I sit for 10 minutes or 60, this daily habit has changed my life.

It doesn't seem like anything is happening while I am sitting. But what I've noticed is that when my feet hit the New York City pavement I don't seem to be rushing along with the crowd as I once did. I go at my own pace, even as crazed subway riders dart around me, I walk along evenly, without rushing. It seems this coming awake with the natural rhythm of the world allows me to get in touch with what’s happening inside of me and as a result I am less concerned with what other people are doing.

One of my favorite ways to spend the time is to make mental lists about things for which I am grateful, family, friends, a lovely conversation the day before with a colleague, a memory of a great play I saw the night before.  Still other times I just sit there and watch the light slowly fill the room as I sip my coffee. It's a gentle, purposeful way to become a part of life rather than trying to catch up to it.

I suppose, like Yoga, the breathing part of this simple quiet time is what is most significant. And by doing this “practice” every day, I have started to associate breathing with a calm, peaceful, sometimes even joyful state. It’s not always conscious, I am not going around thinking about how peaceful I am all day. But I’ve noticed that my body has started to associate breathing with a more centered approach to life. I once had a friend say “You need to wear your life like a loose garment.” Now I know what she meant.

My quiet practice has helped me, as Tara Brach says, to “notice” events and emotions rather than react to them. And it is a “practice” for sure. In other words, I am never perfect. I get royally pissed off sometimes! Like when people walk down a crowded city sidewalk on the left side, it drives me crazy!  This is not England! We walk and drive on the right hand side!  But the difference with my quiet practice is that now, I am much more aware that in every situation, good or difficult, I can choose to respond in quiet way. I now refrain from blurting out you’re on the wrong side! … well, most of the time anyway.  Life feels so much simpler and enjoyable now.

When I saw this recent “New York Times” article on the Joy of Quiet I knew I was on to something. This idea of taking time to go inside in order to function better when you are outside is gaining traction. This is not to say I expect that I will reach some internal nirvana where life is always joy and happiness. I once had the mistaken belief that if I regularly meditated, life would eventually get to some even, stress free place. The quiet practice has taught me that there is no "there" to get to. It is what is here now that matters. Now my goal is to stay present to the moment longer. And when I leave the present and start darting around in my “to do” lists, bills, and other concerns, I notice, at least sooner than before, and then remember to get back to breathing, to quiet...to me.

Become a member or follow by email and share the ways you find quiet in your life.

I hope you'll come back soon!

Kellie
artofliving@kellietabron.com

Welcome to "The Art of Living"

 
Welcome to my blog "The Art of Living." For many of us, recent years have been challenging, spiritually, financially, physically, it seems, more than usual, life has included our share of struggles. Whether it’s dealing with aging relatives, a lost job or career, a business failure, a serious illness, instead of cruising to the next stage of life, many of us, including me, are literally starting over.

While the tendency might easily and understandable be to lament such a situation, I have decided, instead, to see these circumstances as an opportunity, armed with precious knowledge and experience, to begin again.

I have noticed particularly among my women friends, although many of my male buddies seem to be experiencing the same thing, that they’ve started to focus more on living life on their own terms. Having put aside our own needs for the first half of the journey, whether it was in deference to family members, friends, employers, and essentially anyone else who needed anything, we’ve started putting our own needs first.

In 2011, I started making it more about me. Some by choice, some by circumstance, I simply let go of everyone and everything in my life that didn’t honor who I was and who I wanted to be. It wasn’t easy. It’s sometimes hard to see that something isn’t working for you, and it’s harder still to walk away from habits, especially relationships with people who have been a part of your life for a long time. After I essentially cleaned house, what was left was a big empty, and sometimes incredibly lonely, space that I have since been refilling with a life of my own creation.

Now, some months later, however difficult it was, and sometimes still is, I have never been more certain of anything…letting go of what wasn't working for me was the smartest thing I've ever done. This is not to say that when someone or something needs my attention that I don't make myself available, I do. But I got into the habit of being there for everyone, no matter what the personal cost, and while I believe life is meant to be about service, I don't believe it should necessarily be at my personal expense. There is no 1:1 reciprocity in life, but one must also be open to receive.

This is not an advice column. I’ve started this blog because I’ve learned quite a lot about myself in the past few years and I sense there are many others out there in a similar space who have much to share. Here, I will offer some of what I do to make my life less of a series of “have tos” and obligations and more of a work of art.And whatever your situation, whether you’ve been giving too much, trying too much, accepting too much, or asking for too little in your own life, I hope that you’ll find something here you can use to nurture your own existence or share ideas that have helped you make art in your own life.
Take what you need and leave the rest. Visit again, comment, discuss, I hope you come back soon.

Kellie
artofliving@kellietabron.com