When my friend Home first introduced me to the idea of sitting in silence and stillness, I was skeptical and a little confused.

At the time I was a chronic doer. I found my worth and value in being “busy” all the time.

The thought of stopping even for a second didn’t make any sense to me.

Why would anyone want to do that?

What could I possibly get from closing my eyes doing nothing?

I didn’t get it.

But deep down, I was also curious. The way Home carried himself and how I felt around him was a sense of grounding and peace I had never experienced before at that point in my life. There was so much space within and around him and yet he seemed to get stuff done.

That was when my relationship to my quiet practice began.

Let’s just say it was tumultuous at first.

My courtship with silence and stillness started at the leadership retreat where I met Home. One evening at our last retreat, we were instructed that we would be alone with ourselves for 24 hours.

My first reaction?

I freaked out…inside.

I went to bed that night in a panic.

I couldn’t sleep.

There were many moments I felt I couldn’t breathe.

I was not at all comfortable being alone with myself.

I was not at all comfortable with doing nothing.

I was afraid of what I would find deep inside.

But eventually as time passed, I was able to find my breath.

Or my breath found me.

I was going to be okay.

A year later I signed up for my first silent retreat…only this time it was 10 days.

No phone, no computer, no books, no journalling, no talking, no eye contact with others.

It was just me and me, alone with my own thoughts, emotions and sensations.

Basically, I was left to stew in my own sh#t.

It wasn’t fun…at first.

When all my usual distractions were taken away, I realized how truly unpeaceful I was.

My thoughts were chaotic, diminishing and loud. It was like watching a movie in fast forward and reverse the whole time.

It felt like I was going crazy because I couldn’t stop the manic flow of my thoughts. It was a mental detox and my skin was crawling.

All I could do was sit there and be with the discomfort of it all.

This dis-ease lasted for a few days. I remember looking forward to sleep each night because then I could at least get a break from my thoughts.

Not always the case.

But despite the pain that was coming up, time was on my side.

Moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day, I started to settle into myself.

I was coming home…for the first time.

Then on Day 6, something miraculous happened.

The thoughts just stopped.

I was in the space between.

I was in the middle of this vast space but I felt connected to myself and everything around me at the same time.

My eyes were closed yet blinded by this bright light that lasted only a few seconds but it felt so much longer.

I felt safe, loved and happy deep deep within me…I was alone and I wasn’t doing anything.

My point of view changed in that moment.

It turns out what I feared was…the life inside me could be that good.

Now there can be no excuses - no one, no thing, no circumstance to blame.

I’m responsible for my own happiness.

Better yet, happiness is what I’m made of…I only have to remember.

Now over 14 years later, my relationship to my quiet practice continues to thrive.

Not a day goes by that I don’t spend time alone with myself…to reconnect with that inner source that could never be replaced or be taken away from me.

It lives permanently inside and I draw from it every day.

I may disconnect many times still but I always know what I need to do.

So…

Why would anyone want to do that?

To be fueled from deep within and engage with life outside from that full place inside.

What could I possibly get from closing my eyes doing nothing?

Everything…that matters.

I get it now.