Category: Inner peace

Spring Stillness and Sound

One sunny day this past April, I spent several hours walking among the trees, flowers, dells, and ponds of my favorite nature sanctuary, Mt. Auburn Cemetery. Spring is pure paradise at Mt. Auburn: Leave your physical form at the front gate and become one with the spirit of seasonal rebirth all around you! There is an underlying stillness that fills the air. Even the birdsong and wind through the trees seem to arise from that stillness.

I could feel it in my own heart as I listened to the trilling of hundreds of American toads at Halcyon Lake and sat next to the sunning turtles at Willow Pond. My eyes closed, I sensed both the life-force energy and the profound silence within the sounds of spring. All motivation for movement of any kind fell away. I stopped taking the occasional nature photo—it felt like a distraction. 

I was reminded of visiting the Hopi mesas in Arizona, where the indigenous people there ask that visitors not use cameras or take pictures. I can remember a sense of relief and letting go into the immediacy of the experience. No striving to record what was happening, just a release into Presence, fully connected, heart and soul. The Hopi in their wisdom know that this is the essence of daily life, being fully present. This memory filled my awareness as I opened my eyes and saw the turtles with their heads raised to the warmth and light of the sun. In sitting with them, I too was fully present.

Temples, spiritual sanctuaries, and libraries usually request that visitors observe silence while there. Cemeteries too ask for quiet, in respect for those who have passed and those who may be grieving. I feel that Mother Nature asks this of us as well in all natural settings. When the noise of traffic, machinery, and human voices falls away, there is just silence, the essential stillness of the human soul—where we come home and know fully that we and Nature are one.

In springtime, at a place like Mt. Auburn, where life visibly renews itself in the flowers and trees and the migrating birds, I experience this most profoundly. My inner spirit is also renewed listening to the infinitely varied voices of Nature all around me, which are somehow part of the silence. As I walk, eyes, ears, and heart fully open, any residue of mental separation disappears: no subject or object; no this and that. Stillness and sound are One, within me and everywhere else.

Deep Dive or Distraction?

More and more these days, I find myself seeking empty space, deeper stillness within me and outside me. There are so many distractions in our lives now: news updates, emails, texts, apps, ads, online videos and articles, mental lists, busy streets, crowded stores. It can be a real challenge to find a place of silence and solitude where the mind and heart can be at rest. A sanctuary for the spirit.

Perhaps the key is to carry that sanctuary within. I don’t have to “seek” if it’s always inside me. And the more awareness I have of my own inner stillness, the more I experience it everywhere. Every sound can be a meditation bell calling me to quiet Presence. Every breath a softening into silence.

So my spiritual “practice” now involves asking the inner questions: “Does this take me deeper?” “Does it touch my heart and soul?” If not, it’s probably a distraction that it’s best to acknowledge and then let go of. Perhaps a hundred times a day. But with every letting go, I release with greater ease and go deeper. Deeper into nothing…

What is there to say about nothingness, within which eternity lies? We were there before we were born, and we’ll be there again after death. Actually we are there now too, but we are not fully aware of it. On a spiritual path, we gradually open our consciousness to the fullness of nothing, the depth and sacredness of it. As we grow older, we may realize there really is no separation, and in doing so feel a desire to consciously experience it completely within our lifetime: Emptiness and fullness as One. Oneness as all.

The poet William Blake expressed this seeming dichotomy perfectly: “To see the world in a grain of sand/And a heaven in a wild flower/To hold infinity in the palm of your hand/And eternity in an hour.” Maybe the poets and sages are the wayshowers here. In addition to the small children and wise elders who see oneness without a word spoken.

 All this is within each of us, in this present moment. Empty your hands and your mind, and stand alone with nothing but silent spirit surrounding you and within you. On the other side of distraction is the deepest experience possible of All That Is. This is heaven on Earth; this is everything, everywhere; before, during, and after life. Nothing in all its fullness.

Forever and Ever…

When I was five or six years old, I began having a recurring nighttime thought that terrified me. I described it to my mother as “The world goes on forever and ever.” My mind froze with fear when that perception arose in my consciousness, and I sat bolt upright in bed shaking my head frantically to get rid of it. My mother tried to help by suggesting I distract myself with happier thoughts. Her loving presence comforted me but did not erase the underlying feeling of terror and overwhelm. Years later I called it fear of infinity or eternity.

It felt like I was looking into the farthest stretches of the universe, an infinite void with no beginning and no end. As a child, I had no language or framework for that. It was so huge, so vast, I felt lost, engulfed. As a young adult, I ran from it, attempting to avoid its appearance in my night thoughts. Eventually I embarked on a journey of spiritual seeking, trying to come to some understanding of the nature of life/death, and resolution of my own existential despair—the grief beneath the fear of “forever and ever.”

Over the years, various teachers, in particular Panache Desai, helped me see infinity in a more positive light—indeed as light, as spirit. I was looking into the darkness, but within the darkness was the light of eternal Spirit, which cannot really be understood but only experienced. A five-year-old child staring at that limitless space does not recognize it as God or Spirit but rather as the unknown; emptiness. Something to be feared. Only recently have I begun to see my child’s vision as a soul gift, which set me on a life path of searching for the meaning of life and learning about Spirit’s presence.

I have tremendous gratitude for that gift, for the awareness it has brought me through so many spiritually expansive experiences. Yet there still remains a kernel of sadness within me as well. A recognition that life’s mysteries can never be solved. Many Native American cultures teach that only in complete acceptance of the “Great Mystery” as such is there peace. I’m finally reaching that view now, and I realize it is all part of my soul’s plan for my life.

For years, I thought that I could “solve” the mystery, and my nighttime fear of infinity would disappear entirely through “understanding” God. This was partially true: deeper soul awareness and trust in the wisdom of Spirit softened the edges and frequency of the fear. Ultimately, however, I am learning that only in full acceptance of life as is, as profound divine mystery, does total inner peace arise. I still have passing moments of sadness or grief about the nature of human life and death and “forever and ever.” At those times, the only “answer” is acceptance, surrender, complete letting go. If I take a deep breath and look up, seeing the infinite blue sky with my soul’s eyes, I feel peace. And perhaps that’s the greatest wisdom of all. 

Andrea Gibson: After Life

“I am happiest on the road, when I’m not here or there, but in between, the yellow line running down the center of it all like a sunbeam.”
–Andrea Gibson

I was not familiar with the work of dynamic spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson until after they (preferred nonbinary pronoun) transitioned in July 2025 from ovarian cancer. In November, I happened to see the trailer for a documentary film about Andrea called Come See Me in the Good Light. Next, I stumbled upon a clip of their friend Tig Notaro reading part of Andrea’s poem “Tincture.” Moved to tears, I found the entire poem online and read it through twice, continuing to weep. The kind of tears I had never experienced in quite the same way before: sorrow simultaneous with celebration of life. Andrea’s poetry encompasses both of these in extraordinary ways.

Thus began my hours-long journey across the web, watching every video I could find: Andrea’s poetry performances; Andrea and partner/wife Megan Falley (also a poet) being interviewed; Megan revealing her own feelings after Andrea’s passing; the trailer from the film and the song “Salt Then Sour Then Sweet,” sung by Sarah Bareilles and Brandi Carlile (with Andrea’s words) at the film’s end. Andrea’s website (andreagibson.org) showcases their vividly diverse poetry (lyrical, incisive, humorous, loving). The first poem I heard/saw was “Love Letter from the Afterlife,” written to Megan. I was audibly sobbing by the fourth or fifth line. I’ve listened to it many times since, and it still feels like the most beautifully wise poem ever written. I have been reading poetry all my life but have never run across any quite like hers.

Andrea’s words bridge life, death, and eternity seamlessly, using details recognizable from my own life, from everyone’s life. It all flowed together perfectly as I listened, crying at the heart-wrenching pathos and absolute splendor of life on Earth. Sadness and joy as one inseparable experience. At the end of the afternoon, I felt as if everyone I had ever known had died and come back to life. All at the same time. Everything inside me and outside me as One. That may not make logical sense, but that’s the best way I can describe the experience. Even my tears held the precious poignancy of all life in them.

And then there’s the film. After hearing/seeing all these pieces of Andrea’s life and work, I watched Come See Me in the Good Light, where it all comes together in an extraordinarily honest, funny, and beautiful telling of their (and Meg’s) journey with cancer. Once again, loss of life and love of life are presented as one experience in a way that is both heart-breaking and heart-opening. They share what they went through (for several years) with such vulnerability, humor, and loving sweetness. I laughed, I cried, I felt what they felt right along with them.

 Andrea’s description of coming to inner acceptance and neutrality about so much that had previously “mattered” struck a chord in my own life (I lived through breast cancer a few years ago). They felt parts of their “identity” fall away as they settled into soul awareness. Nothing was as important as the present moment, fully lived and appreciated. I still hear Andrea’s deeply expressive, musical voice at their last poetry performance in Denver in 2024 (shown in the film), the entire theater as one, cheering, laughing, crying, immersed in love.

I believe Andrea Gibson came to Earth to erase the dividing line between life and death. Between all dichotomies, actually. A perfectly nonbinary life and afterlife. Woven into the tapestry of the universe with precisely orchestrated timing for humanity’s deeper awakening. Thank you, Andrea, for your love letter to us all.

“Love Letter from the Afterlife”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmZHLvq-gDg

“Acceptance Speech After Setting the World Record in Goosebumps”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XK-hb_bjqU 

Trailer from Come See Me in the Good Light: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0B8sjxR7Mo

Rose of Sharon art above by Anne Katzeff

Patience, Peace, Kindness

These words have become my “mantra” lately. A summation of what I wish to focus on as I live my life moment to moment, day by day, year to year. The three work in tandem, each informing and amplifying the others until together they become an unbroken and unbreakable whole. When I am at peace, I usually feel patient; when I am both peaceful and patient, I am more inclined to be kind. We sometimes forget that these qualities are within us all.

Patience: Major life events, such as waiting for results of a medical test or for news about a possible job offer, require patience. I also find that I need to engage with patience daily on a smaller scale. When I’m cleaning up spilled food or a glass dropped on the kitchen floor, I have to pause and remember that this accident is very small in an overview of the day’s events. When someone says something that triggers irritation in me, I take a deep breath and step off the inner thought train leading to needless anger. There are countless times throughout the day when patience is the wisest response, with the happiest outcome. May I remember that.

Peace: If there is noise outside my windows or upsetting news on the TV, I try to remember that peace is an internal experience, not dependent on external circumstances. This is a big one because the peace that we carry within us radiates outward to circle the globe. It begins with each of us. Resentment, irritation, and anger feed on themselves to become friction and fighting between friends and eventually countries. If we truly want world peace, we have to get in touch with the core of peace in our souls and live it fully with each breath we take and with each person, friend or stranger, we encounter in our lives.

Kindness: If I were asked to name one quality that could make our planet a more harmonious place, I would say “kindness.” Kindness engages the heart, and the heart is sourced in pure love. If we are continuously kind, we gift those around us with love, which touches their hearts as well as our own. Together, we move forward in life as one, not separated into opposing “sides.” A kind word or gesture can make someone’s day; a smile can lift the spirits, given and received. It’s easier than you think to shift the energy all around you to a positive vibration.

Of course, the key is to remember. That’s why I have made these three words into an inner “mantra” that I repeat inside my mind and heart as much as possible. With every repetition, they become more deeply a part of my daily life. It’s only my own forgetfulness that excludes them.  If you and I realize that patience, peace, and kindness are exactly what we would like to receive ourselves on a regular basis, then that could be a springboard to remembering. And in remembering, gratitude too fills the heart, encompassing all three.