Omit to Commit is all about the resources needed to opt into (and out of) behaviors, such as time, traditions (individual or group behaviors), trust, and treasures. By regularly making and breaking habits, life becomes more fulfilling and satisfying. I’m drafting a book called Omit to Commit, and in 2024, I’m posting research/your ideas/themes on the 20th of every month.
“Be still and know that I am God” comes from Psalm 46:10. I’ve written on my higher power before, such as this summer’s post on learning to say no by asking 3 questions. Last year, I also wrote about presence in an “inner compass post.” What do I know? God exists, regardless of my acknowledgement, citing of source, or knowledge.
What happens to me, here right now, during stillness? Active listening… Right now, I’m listening to the soft, whirring wind brushing against my green-yellow-teal hair. I’m listening to my heart tha-umping on. All gifts.
Am I listening for God’s call? Perhaps He isn’t as loud as my heart’s tantrum. Maybe he has different plans than what’s right in front of me and has a much longer, larger view. I do not know.
But I do know that when I sit and focus on one thing at a time, I am gentler with myself. I am present to who, where, and what are immediately in front of me. And spend less time anticipating what is ahead. This last one is remarkably challenging, as a planner, student, colleague, and girlfriend.
Stillness includes surrendering the yet unknown.
The future is an infinite sea of potentials. As much as I expect goodness for the days and months and years ahead, the only true knowledge I have is this very moment.
And yet I still believe, in myself, in people, in God. I am making a regular practice of rituals that make today feel and look more like me, so future me has tools and talents (resources, in previous Omit to Commit language).
Time affluence for moments of stillness, like scribbling and sketching last Friday under a tree, are not guaranteed. But I am glad to have made time for such moments of still serenity throughout the summer. Scheduling solitude may seem silly, but I hope to continue to make time for stillness when school starts again next month.
Whether it’s this regular writing thing, running, learning a new skill at the library, or pausing to picnic, I am taking life one moment at a time, one day at a time. Intentionally making space to learn, listen, and love. To restore my relationship to my child self who poured through journals and books all night, writing, reading, doodling. I’m still here, writing that book for her.
Who are you listening to?