The Roar of The Quiet Time

Quiet: Still; calm; motionless; not easily agitated or disturbed.


I have only a casual acquaintance with any of those concepts. The words stick in my craw and I don't even know what a craw is or if I have one or if it's possible for anything to get stuck in it, especially a word. I am all about the motion. I am all about getting moving, doing something, getting something accomplished. This in itself is not a bad thing. It does hamper the Quiet Time, however, which is by definition a time to not be moving. That's what "motionless" means.


Theory: Sit down in a comfortable chair in a secluded spot. Our literature suggests closing your eyes and imagining a peaceful setting, like a beach or remote mountain top or the mosh pit of a violent punk rock band. Try to avoid the driver's seat of a moving automobile or your place of employment. You can pray when you're doing something else but that's cheating. It's like listening to someone while watching TV. It can be done but it isn't very effective and it's rude as hell. "Hey, Higher Power, thanks for saving me from a horrible alcoholic death. Talk loud because I'm watching 'Dancing With The Stars.' "


Reality: I can feel my engine revving as I sit. I want to go. I have things I need to accomplish. I project out long lists of things that have to be done right this minute. I wonder how I'm going to get them all done and what order I should do them and what I need to do when I get them all done perfectly. Sometimes at the end of the day I reflect on how agitated I was while working through my list of things that absolutely, positively had to be done.

It's bad enough that most of things aren't that important -- it's a crime that I spend so much time thinking about them.