With the 1 year anniversary of Mom’s passing upon us, I’ve been reflecting a lot this week about the last year… heck, the last 32 years. When I get into this type of mood, I often look to distract myself with a lot of things, but typically Ted talks are on the top of the list. I find that they offer a means to not only learn something new about the world, but often ones self. It’s one reason that I frequently shared Ted talks with Mom–and why I can’t help but share The Art of Stillness today.
Pico Iyer points out something that many of us forget in our busy world–the need to just be still. The need to reflect. To analyze. In some cases, to come to terms with–and possibly heal from–the many events of our past and present so as to be best prepared for the future. While I’ve always valued time to sit without worry and just think, I don’t know that I ever truly appreciated the importance it can hold to some–especially Mom.
After Mom decided to retire I knew she needed time to just sit, relax, and most importantly heal from the many years she had given of herself to her work–far too often without the appreciation she so rightfully deserved. I was happy to see her just decompress and take life easy for a time, visiting with friends, going out to lunch, etc. However, at some point those outings began to wane, and I became more concerned about the amount of time she was spending alone, locked away from the world.
I knew there were many things she’d love to do yet in life and so I started pushing, hoping that she might take the opportunity that retirement presented to her and explore the world in the next chapter of her life. I simply didn’t understand the need for her to sit still and reflect, to learn more from her past and herself, because I didn’t realize that’s exactly what she was doing. She was sitting still, but that didn’t mean she was necessarily idle in that stillness.
Luckily, I never pushed too hard and Mom never shut me or those she loved out of her life completely, she just felt safer tucked away in her home–living life on her own terms finally. Even as her health quickly slipped away from her, we spent hours talking–often late into the night–whenever I was home. She did the same with many friends at all hours of the day via the internet and phone. Towards the very end, when Mom was in the care facility and it was clear we had far less time in front of us than either of us had imagined a mere 2 months earlier, I would spend time with her talking about a little bit of everything.
Sometimes, she was too tired and we didn’t speak much at all during my visit and that was OK. It was enough to simply spend the time together, practicing our own Art of Stillness. While there was nothing said at times for hours, in that stillness I could still feel that strange connection we’d always shared. Even today, after a year I cannot say that connection has been severed. There are times when the phone rings, and I fully expect to pick it up and have her be on the other end because I feel her presence almost as strongly today as I have all my life.
Mom always said I had an “old soul” and suspected that it wasn’t the first time our souls had crossed paths. I fully expect that she was right and that I will always feel as though she’s with me–guiding and loving me–and that someday, our paths may very well cross again so that we can continue to teach and learn from one another.
Until that time, I invite you to join me in taking some time from your likely busy day today (and every now and then going forward) to practice the Art of Stillness and reflect and fully appreciate the time that we had with Vicki and all those who have touched our lives.
I know that simply because this chapter in her life has closed, she has given me many more chapters of knowledge to draw upon if I will but take the time to sit still, reflect, and continue to learn.
Rest assured, Mom–you mattered in this world, you made an impact, you accomplished much more than you thought, and you’re missed dearly.
