A member of my extended family is going through a difficult time at the moment and if I’m honest the prospect of writing a few lines about 5 minutes of silence seems a pretty low priority. The last couple of days have been hard to keep motivated to find the time and it’s hard to persevere.
I’ve just been sitting for the past couple of minutes, staring into space wondering what to write. I realise that the initial excitement of newness has worn off and the practice of intentional silence is requiring effort. I have lost some of the rhythm. This is the point at which I could easily give up.
As I reflect on that loss of rhythm I realise that this silent practice needs a clear purpose or reason in order for me to embrace it and commit to the discipline of it. I guess it is most life-giving when it allows my soul to connect with something bigger than me.
It then feels more urgent and neccessary and something that I can draw on when circumstances become difficult.