stillness
the absence of movement or sound.
I hear the pounding
of my heart, the raspiness of my breath, the saliva I swallow in a desperate
bid to get some moisture in my parched throat. I hear the air around me move in
my ears, its sound changing everytime I move. I cant help but be aware of the
rustle of my clothes, the tinny beat of the music forming a rhythmical
background and my body moves through space and time, of its own accord.
“Dear
god, cant that child sit still for two minutes.”
“What do you feed
her, she has so much energy?”
“You are supremely
hyperactive aren’t you?”
“You are constantly
bouncing off the walls!”
“God, the inside of
your head must be a technicolour movie.”
For as long as I can
remember, I have been moving. And moving fast, running, jumping, leaping,
turning, ducking, somersaulting, rolling.
Imagine one of those
fast moving chase sequences from an action film, where the hero and the villain
are “parkouring
( is that a legit word?)” their way, through a beautifully set montage,
aesthetically captured by an ace cinematographer. That’s ME, moving through
life except, the montage is not always beautiful, nor is it always aesthetically
captured in my mind. I guess most of you can relate.
I have always had a
deathly fear of stillness. Of not doing anything with my hands, legs, mind,
body. I used to equate stillness with death and death is one of my biggest
fears. What if my time comes to a close before I do everything that I want to
do, see the world, experience life to the fullest?
By chance, I happened
upon the Tao Te Ching and started reading it. I saw this quote, “Be still, Stillness
reveals the secrets of eternity” by LaoTzu and was intrigued. Now, here was
this ancient philosopher, whose very existence is half myth, and constantly
debated upon, who had written/compiled all these words about the self, our
inherent nature, awareness of the self etc. But these were all paradoxical,
unconventional, left to the reader’s perception.
I read the Tao as
much as I could, and then it receded to one particular corner of my mind, as
life took over. Yet this particular quote stayed with me.
I decided to try it
with what I know best – dance.
A fast-moving routine
– running and jumping and melting and falling an turning and sliding, then a
sudden slow down (this in itself was hard), and then complete stillness – in
the middle of a piece.
I still heard my heart pounding, my
breath rasping, air whooshing, the rustle of my clothes, the music rhythmically
challenging me to get moving. But as I struggled mentally to stop my limbs from
twitching, I felt my blood and my energy distribute slowly through my body like
one of those alien takeovers, where the substance just slowly encompasses the
whole being. One of the final scenes from the movie, LUCY, comes to mind.
In that moment, I
knew how powerful stillness was. Because without that moment of stillness, when
everything reduces to that pinprick of light inside us, we lose our momentum to
start again. Stillness gives us that perspective, that control, a moment to
catch your breath and that practical ability to pace yourself before you move
again.
Its like that moment
when you are on stage, in the darkness, right before the lights come on, and
the music starts playing. You take your place, your heart is pounding, there
are butterflies in your stomach, your mouth is dry, and your legs feel wobbly.
Then the stillness overtakes you, brings your intention into sharp focus. You
close your eyes, take a deep breath and start moving.
