For those never having been in the Carolinas in the spring, this lemony-yellow film on the table and chair is pine pollen. I know because I can see the pinecones and the catkins filled with large yellow ‘blossoms’ of the stuff. If I’m lucky I can see the blossoms explode and watch the fine talc-like particles swirl out of the branches when a breeze catches them just right. In 1967 Jimi Hendrix released a song, Purple Haze. In the spring in the Carolinas, it’s a yellow haze.

It’s actually fascinating to watch how it settles on things so quickly and quietly, and in such huge amounts … when you’re not trying to keep things clean. Every morning, I go out to clean off the larger glass-topped dining table on the deck with glass cleaner. I do one side and by the time I’ve finished the second, the first is soft again with dust. I can literally pile it up into tiny mounds that look like sifted flour. We run our car through the car wash and by the time we get home it’s hard to tell we’ve made the effort. These are not exaggerations. I walk outside and come in feeling gritty. Any standing water has a marbled effect from the film of various shades of yellow floating on the top. From late March until late April, the air is infused with pine pollen. It appears and simply just, ‘is.’

I thought of that yesterday while I was doing one of my Lenten observances, a 20-minute sit meditation. This is a new practice I took on this year through the Center of Action and Contemplation. When I signed up, I thought it would be a guided meditation on a book I have by Fr. Richard Rohr, the founder of the CAC. I was wrong. When I tuned into the first session (it’s live streamed), after an introductory prayer, Rohr went quiet. For a long time. So long, I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep or the video had frozen. I got antsy and almost reached for my journal but forced myself not to. I was supposed to be meditating. I kept hitting the ‘play’ arrow on my screen and I’d see where Fr. Rohr had shifted position, but he was still quiet. After 20 minutes he opened his eyes, had some closing remarks that did tie in with his book, and that was it. Twenty minutes of quiet. That’s when I got it.

Each week a different CAC faculty member leads the meditation with this centering prayer: Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I am. Be still and know. Be still. Be. Is there a difference between quiet and still? According to Webster, the two words are close and can be somewhat interchangeable, but I wonder. One can be quiet and remain busy with crossword puzzles, crocheting, reading, journaling, listening to music, doing yoga, etc. Being still is devoid of even all that quiet activity. One of the synonyms Webster lists for still is tranquil.

Is being still a lost art? My Grandpa Schmitt and an elderly neighbor whom we knew as Grandpa Stone were models of being still. I can picture them both simply sitting, watching … being. Grandpa Schmitt on his second story porch, smoking his cigar or pipe, with birds and squirrels scampering around the trees just outside his reach. Grandpa Stone in his lawn chair beneath a cherry tree watching I’m not sure what because there was little to no traffic on our street during the day. When I think of being in their presence during those times, tranquil would describe how I remember them. While I do sit on my deck and just be sometimes, more often than not I have a book of some kind with me.

How many of you are comfortable simply sitting with your hands empty, your voices mute?

Now that I know what’s going on, the last few Sundays during the 20-minute sit meditations I’ve not been fidgety to grab my journal. I’ve settled into the breathing and the contemplative mood. There are people from all around the globe participating in the meditation at the same time and there’s a sense of a connected contemplative breath. The feeling is much like what I felt on my Camino with so many pilgrims from around the world. Even though we were walking, so not quiet in the sense of inactivity, that feeling of community and being collectively connected to something sacred and bigger, was stronger than our individual connection to whatever god or God we’d brought with us. It was powerful with a sense we were putting some good out into the universe, maybe blanketing the earth like the stillness of pollen.

I know today is the last Monday of the month and that’s usually Book Review Monday!, unfortunately I’ve not read much this month. I’ve mentioned in previous posts I have several projects in the works and a couple of them are coming to fruition in April … which is National Poetry Month so that might give you a hint as to what’s been keeping me busy! Will tell you about some of them next week. I hope you have a great week and for those of you in the Carolinas, only another month or so more of this yellow haze then we can open our windows!