A few years ago, I started a practice of “Silent Sundays”. Imagine the daily life of a monk who has made a vow of monastic silence. That was me. At least it was me one Sunday a month. No phone calls, computers, music or conversation. I’m not sure it ever really lasted a whole day, but I always came out the other side feeling nourished.

I have since gotten into a routine of slipping moments of silence into each day. I know I’m more calm than I used to be, but I still sometimes miss my days dedicated to stillness. Recently, I’ve been spending a lot of time at my computer and my body is responding: stiff neck, lower back pain, tight hip muscles.

Today I was ready for an extra long walk, with no one but me and a trail….and a few hundred thousand plants and creatures. I set out early and was pleasantly surprised that there was a light breeze, not always the case on a June morning in Phoenix. I was about ten minutes into my trek when I stopped. What was I doing? 

I suddenly realized I had been staring down at my feet since I arrived at the entrance of the preserve. All week long my eyes had been looking down – at my cell phone, at a book, at my computer. Here I was, doing it again. No wonder my body hurt!

I straightened up. I looked up. I reached my arms out wide. Wow! The sky was beautiful today. I saw ducks and geese as they flew from one pond to another. I saw blossoms at the end of branches, as if the trees were holding out their hands to proudly show me their colorful adornments. I stood for a moment and watched as the gentle wind encouraged leaves to wave and sparkle in the sunlight. I think trees are magnificent. The clouds billowed, gliding across a vastness of blue. I closed my eyes and imagined myself taking a ride on one; not caring where I ended up.

We tend to focus on the work in front of us or below us. Noise can seem endless. Something is always tugging at our attention. Don’t let it take all of your attention. Don’t wait until you hurt, like I did. Slip away to be open and quiet. And to look up.