Just. Be.
- Kristen Fischer
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
Remember that nice warm February day we had? That day we all went outside and took a walk? I did that too. I left the dogs at home, for once, and just walked freely down to my favorite spot – Big Bay Beach. I took the zig zag path down to the water, walking intentionally to the very farthest spot to turn around so I could very intentionally get the best cardio coming back up. (Do those 10 extra steps really matter!?).
I love when you’re scaling down the ramp, you can actually feel the lake flavoring the air with a sneaky coolness, as if to say, “You’re here now, in my world.”
I got down there and was surprised by how calm the lake was. The ice damns were looming on the beach, but nothing was whirling and twirling in and out. The beach pebbles were left unstirred for the day. There were some fallen trees just peeking out of the surface but no waves. Just the softest of ripples, as if the lake was taking great care to breath shallow, gentle breaths. There was an audible stillness filling that cool air; A visible sense of serene made possible by a wild, dark body of water that seemingly decided to stop.
It decided to stop.
And stopping made everything it normally touched seemingly…different. The lake wasn’t causing anything. It wasn’t rearranging the pebbles or boring holes in the ice, or chasing the birds to make them squawk. But it was still there, taking up its vast space in a beautiful, silent way.
Craving another round of that liquid stillness I was inspired to walk down and back up again. It felt good in my muscles and ears and hair to walk thru the stillness and hear my heart beating in my ears.
Sometimes I am the wild lake. And I am NOT still. I am busy, and swirling and pushing and making. I am a powerful, capable force that people appreciate – my family, my friends, my community – and I’m happy to be the big, vast lake. A seemingly unending source of fuel for the ones I love.
But sometimes…maybe I should be still. Sometimes, maybe, we should be still.
Still, to let the people around us feel our presence in a different way. What if, sometimes, we calmed ourselves – not in private – but among our families, our community, to just “be” and not “do?”
In our music classes, we ring a bell each week and ask you to find someone to snuggle.
Sometimes children take this moment to show me their hand, ready for their post-class handstamp. Sometimes there’s a little one who’s simply NOT having it. Sometimes there’s “light switch drama” that needs to get worked out. But almost ALWAYS…we’re able to collectively create a stillness. It’s only 2 minutes out of our 45 together, but those two minutes of stillness change the atmosphere drastically. Those 2 minutes give us permission to Just. Be. Any antics during class, the hectic drive into the studio, the forecasting of what’s ahead – those things fade into the stillness. And when we are still, our children (for the most part) become still. I’m inspired to discover that stillness more often – and I invite you to try it with me, even if it’s just those 2 minutes in class each week. Allow those two minutes to calm your thoughts. See if you can feel the air change – imagine that stillness washing over you and your little ones from head to toe. Be present in those still moments. I am confident that stillness will fuel us all to be the awesome, powerful humans we are every other moment of the day.
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