BE STILL

     It is amazing how radically different people behave in the wilderness.  The discipline of silence is no longer a chore but a desire. Indeed, if the things we call chores do not become joys, you will not be happy or spend much time in the wilderness.  I even become quickly tired of soft radio music playing in the background; something I do often in Manworld to drown out all the competing voices.  This morning, as I look out upon the Trinity River, the orchestra of comprised of many species of water fowl provide a stirring in my soul rarely captured by Manworld offerings.  I wonder if that squirrel scampering through the trees can hear its footsteps.  I love the flap of a duck’s wings on the water prior to lift off.  When I go canoeing with others, listening and the resulting silence is as natural as the sun rising in the morning and the stirring of the air before its warming rays.  I believe the constant noise humans impose on themselves and others is one of the greatest reasons so few people in the world claim and live as though they have a personal relationship with God.  “Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10  Even children, who naturally behave as though they are the center of the universe, can become comfortable with silence.  (Excuse me but more than fifty Cormorants just landed and their croaking calls are worth a pause) How do children develop such behavior?  Because their parents, who bother to take them into the wilderness, encourage them to be silent.  Children hear whispers like, “Listen to that, do you know what that is, and talk softly or you'll scare away the deer.”  Children are praised when they share the reward of silence.  Children witness, in the life of their parents, the thrills of their immersion in the wilderness.
No wonder so few people live as though they have a personal relationship to God.  “Be Still and know that I am God,” is a promise.  I wonder if that regal looking large white pelican who just floated by can hear her own breath?