Be Still
“Let me be perfectly clear.” Have you heard these words before? Politicians find them useful. But this isn’t about politics. It’s about something more important. It’s about being still…outside.
Let me be perfectly clear. “Still” in this context does not mean however or nonetheless. Perfectly clear…still means without moving and quiet. Perfectly clear, still also means calm. Together the still we are considering is a combination of no movement, quiet and calm.
Now that we are clear on what still means; let’s answer the question which certainly follows. Why still? This “still” is for outside. When we stop moving and are calm and quiet, things in the natural world resume normal activity. This still is like a rock thrown into a calm pond. The rock quickly disappears but the ripples spread. Be still outside. Wait till the ripples of your presence spread then disappear. This is the still we need to witness normal bird and animal life. It is worthwhile.
This kind of still takes two other things: patience and discipline. Not moving being calm and quiet is easy for five minutes. The ripples of our presence in the natural world go away slowly…a half hour and more can pass before wildlife resumes normal activity. Hurry up is not part of being still, neither is instant gratification.
This kind of still has large rewards. Yes, it is time consuming. But learning patience, and self-discipline along with discovering how to be calm, motionless and quiet while outside are life skills which apply in every other part of dwelling on planet earth. The greatest reward is the gift of seeing wild things going about life undisturbed. Being still creates memories which endure for a lifetime.
There is something which almost always helps me to be still while outside…a camera.
Yesterday I sat under an ash tree in our backyard…for an hour. I was about 10 feet away from the tree. I had concealed myself in a camouflage ground blind. When photographs of wild things are your objective, concealment is very helpful. Even with the blind, being still was my objective. Keeping movements to a minimum was a priority. Even while out of sight, no sounds came from my mouth. My focus was on the ash tree in front of the blind.
Within five minutes my stillness was rewarded with “wonder one.” Remember, everything outside is filled with wonder…and beauty. “Wonder one” was a white breasted nuthatch. For photographers, stillness means the difference between getting a good photo and missing the subject completely. The nuthatch paused just long enough to crack open a sunflower and eat the nut. That takes only seconds. Only one photo was good enough.
Then came the waiting and watching. All the while still. My ears alerted me to the second “wonder.” On my left, perched a distant twenty feet was a male downy woodpecker. Facing the morning sun, the white feathers of the bird’s front were visible. The photo which most appealed to me revealed the red bar of feathers on the bird’s head. It left undisturbed by me. It chose to fly down to the bird feeder for another sunflower.
Then, more waiting. Behind me, the spring sound of a male cardinal came to my ears. That was motivation to continue to be still even though my patience was draining away. I had already been sitting for more than thirty minutes. But, the potential of a cardinal in the ash tree before me kept me still, and waiting. A glimpse below the camera lens caught the movement of a bird. A second look revealed a blue jay. Now a blue jay is a very camera worthy subject, especially with a background of white snow. The blue jay has superb eyesight. It saw me move-inside the blind-just like that it was gone.
As my time of stillness approached the hour mark, my winter favorite cooperated. The black capped chickadees constantly visit the bird feeder. They are addicted to sunflower seeds-year around. I never tire of watching them. A black capped chickadee cleaning out another seed became “wonder three.” Serious stillness and concentration are required for a clear chickadee photo. After the shutter release my eyes returned to the ash tree. There was movement there-again. The winter fluffed fur of a gray squirrel caught my eye. The gray squirrel became “wonder four.” Look at the eye of the squirrel. While I was quiet, still, and very calm, the squirrel knew I was sitting on a chair covered by a blind.
Take my advice…be still. Teach your children to be still. Learning to be still requires patience and self-discipline. The rewards are fresh air, beauty, wonder and learning personal skills required to live on the blue planet. Remember I said this was important? One other thing happens when we are still…there is a strong possibility you will know Who made everything.
“Be still, and know that I am God…” Psalm 46:10
