Be Still
Japanese red maple tree
Dear Soul Friends,
Tucked into the northwest corner of Iona Abbey’s Cloister is a wooden bench with “Be Still” carved into the top rail. Directly above the bench nestled in an opening in the thick stone wall is a small replica of the ten-foot eighth-century Celtic Cross found in front of the Abbey.
One morning during my first visit to the tiny Isle of Iona on the west coast of Scotland in 2006, I wandered into the cloister after morning prayer. It was quiet. Most of those who participated in worship had left the Abbey to attend to the work of the day. It was too early for day tourists and the gift shop had not opened, so I was alone. Slowly wandering around the cloisters looking up at the stone carvings in the tall arches and pillars, I nearly tripped over the bench.
“Look at that,” I whispered as I sat down.
The Cloister was built as a place of peace. Enclosed within the stone walls of the Abbey the noise of everyday life is silenced. The cloister’s courtyard is open to sunlight and enables the visitor to watch as shadows dance across the lawn illuminating a statue of the dove of peace that stands in the center. It is the perfect place to sit and be still. It is the perfect place for a weary traveler to rest.
Are there places at home to find this much peace I wondered?
A few weeks after returning home, I bumped into a young mother who lives in my neighborhood. As a high school teacher and a mother of three teens, I wondered how she found peace and told her the story of the bench on Iona.
“I have another kind of cloister,” she said. “Whenever I go to the grocery store alone, I turn off my phone and my radio, park my car, and sit for five minutes with my eyes closed. I like to listen to the silence. My driver’s seat is my bench. I yearn for those moments.”
Do you have a bench, a chair, a favorite spot that offers you a place to be still? I hope so. Every soul needs a few minutes of peace.
May you be wrapped in the blessing of stillness. Stillness within and stillness without.
Deep peace,
Susan
