Finding Stillness In What Flows Both Ways

A Meditation + Writing Prompt

Not long ago I moved into an apartment that’s perched above the Hudson River just north of New York City.

The river is about a mile wide here and a mesmerizing fluid expanse stretches between where we’re situated and the bank on the other side of the river. I often drop whatever I’m busy with, entranced by the tides, the drifting clouds and, with autumn, the changing leaves.

I used to live in Northern California surrounded by ancient redwood trees. I couldn't help but think about life in 1000-year increments. I used to say that I lived on Tree Time.

But now I seem to be on Sky Time and River Time, learning an entirely new language.

My dining room table looks out upon the Hudson and it’s a favorite spot to meditate.

The Hudson was originally named Mahicantuck—the river that flows both ways—by the native Lenape to describe how the saltwater from the ocean at New York Harbor mixes with fresh water from tributaries as far as 150 miles upriver.

The varying directions of the tidal flows are part of what makes the river so captivating.

I was recently meditating, tracking the tides, when seemingly out of nowhere tears suddenly sprang to my eyes.

This happens sometimes.

I’ll be sinking beneath the chatter of my mind and settling into deeper, quiet places when a painful thought or feeling pushes its way to the surface. A memory bubbles up, or an unrelenting expectation about who I “should be,” or a fear about the state of the world.

The flood of emotion can take me by surprise, like bumping into something unexpected when walking in the dark.

In the silence of that morning, as I let the tears roll down my cheeks, a boat came into view heading south toward New York City. The river is a surprisingly busy thoroughfare of barges and container ships, fishing boats, sail boats, and sometimes ferries.

My tears were rolling, the river was flowing, and the boat was clipping along.

But then the boat seemed to slow to a stop in line with where I sat and, almost imperceptibly at first, it started to turn toward me. Over the course of many minutes the bow swung a long arc, as if changing direction.

The direction of my sadness changed, too, as I became riveted by what this boat might be doing.

How come it didn’t drift with the south-moving tide? Had it dropped anchor? There’s no marina where I live and I’ve never seen a boat stop smack in the middle of the river. So what was it up to?

This turn felt somehow connected to a turn within me, to a turn in the world. The moment held a confluence of the rush of forward motion, how much energy it can take to stop, what it means to change direction.

The question: Where are we heading?

When the boat was almost fully facing north, I felt a flush of relief that it would finally move on again. I waited in eager anticipation to see it finally start to pick up speed.

But the boat didn’t head north. It simply faced in its new direction and sat stationary. And I thought, “Huh. Isn’t that just it?”

So much happens in the turn.

It can be important to sit before we move on.

Stillness can be motion, too.

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A Simple 3-Step Meditation + a Writing Prompt

Do you find that with so much happening in the world right now it’s really easy to get swept up in the tides of news, social media, fear, being busy—motion? Yeah, me too.

Here’s a super simple 3-step meditation that you can do anytime, anywhere to help you drop anchor and settle into a moment of stillness.

You don’t have to be a master meditator. You don’t have to go on retreat. You don’t have to take an hour. Ten seconds will do if that’s all you have. Here’s what you do:

1. Drop anchor: Stop whatever you’re doing and feel your feet on the ground, or your bum and your back in your seat. You can do this while standing in line at the grocery store or sitting at your desk or in your car at a stop light. It may take a moment to shift your attention from whatever it’s busy with. That’s okay. The key here is to move into a felt sense of your body connected to the earth or your seat.

2. Breathe: Take a deep breath into your lower belly. Let your lower belly expand into a big, full, happy Buddha belly. Hold your breath for 1-2-3 seconds and then release. Do this three times.

3. Notice what’s going on within and around you: As you drop anchor and breathe, simply notice the streams of activity around you. What’s happening with: Your thoughts, the weather, people, silence, noise, the play of light and shadow, feelings within your body, your heart. Whatever is happening, simply notice.

That’s it! Three deep breaths can help to slow your constant motion and offer a rest. The best part? You can do this anywhere, at any time of day, for as long or as short as you like. You can also do it many times a day. The more, the better.

Use this as a writing practice, too. Choose one of the writing prompts below. Once you drop anchor and take your three belly breaths, free write your answer for as long as you like:

• What stories have been driving you lately?

• Are you in the midst of a turn in your life?

• What anchors you in the midst of the turn?

• What new story wants to be told?

Drop me a line or leave a comment below and let me know: what is true for you?

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