It is a 107 degrees outside, but the air is moist, the heavy air smells of sweaty tourists and gardenias. My feet are bare and my toes tiptoe like hot potatoes on the brown and crunchy pavement. Long lines are forming, the white lotus structure offers its petals as a welcome refuge to all.
I am seventeen years old, touring New Delhi with my family, about to enter into the Baha’i Temple, a tourist attraction because of the magnificence of 27 large free-standing marble clad petals arranged in poetic clusters. The heat starts to form a blanket around me, my shoulders droop, as my posture relaxes, walking upright a challenge because it feels as if the soles of my feet are on fire. I recall that at least twice, I’ve voiced my discontent to my parents, telling them I want to put my shoes on or what’s the big deal about this structure or can we just go home. We are here to show you the world, they respond, but my eyes roll as soon as they speak.
After spending ten minutes, feeling the gravity of the equator’s sun, I enter what is housed underneath the petals. In an instant, it seems the heat slipped away, the sweat evaporates from my brow, the white marble cools my feet like I am walking barefoot on ice. My eyes try to focus on my surroundings as I lick my lips and I need water to erase the salty aftertaste on my tongue.
My thirst is not quenched by drinking water, but the stillness acts as a temporary oasis. I am surrounded by an aura, something I know that is not of the material world. My body stands in the middle of the room, the space around it occupied by silence. There are chairs where reflection isn’t difficult, but inviting. Natural light emanates from above, the golden coins of sun rays shower my skin.
Even after 20 years, the quiet I experienced isn’t something I need to memorize. I believe something happened on that hot day, the sense of my awareness high, and although I have no pictures of this stillness, I still recall its extraordinariness and the omnipresence of grace.
And I wonder why I can recall this moment in my mind, the clarity of the experience looks at me like a mirror. I’ve defined the stillness I am searching for, but as much as I try I struggle to integrate it within my life, it is something I need to think about doing. It isn’t automatic. I continue to obsess about embracing the present, but the noise I create, the expectations I set for myself and others fuels interference into achieving silence of my mind.
I suspect I’m not ready yet; noise is something I still crave. The stillness won’t come until I am ready to be quiet.
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Have you experienced moments of stillness? Do you struggle to achive this stillness? Do you create noise for yourself? Are you aware of your own obstacles toward stillness?
Image by www.bildervonunten.de
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
The stillness won’t come until I am ready to be quiet. – you are exactly right…it took a while for that time to come to me. That is truly an awesome experience you described. Thank you for sharing.
This was beautiful! That you found stillness in 107-degree heat is amazing. I’m still searching for still, although I tend to find it in the very early hours of the morning, when it’s just me and a cup of tea.
My husband says Delhi is a hellhole; he spent his first years of life in Hyderabad, which is even hotter, but at least less crowded.
Post stroke everything for me has slowed down and taken on a different significance so that I simply worry less about everything and enjoy the moment I am living in far more. One of the up-sides of that awful event therefore is that the chattering monkey in my head has been largely silenced.
I wonder if practising meditation might help to more readily bring you that stillness?
(And your photo is beautiful by the way).
My moment of stillness came at an unexpected time. During a trip in Hong Kong, a friend and I took a ferry to Lantau Island to visit the ‘world’s biggest Buddha’. A crowded ferry ride, followed by a bus through the rolling hills, countless stairs and crowds lead me to an overwhelming sense of peace. I have never felt such calm within myself and I certainly cannot explain why it was that moment that consumed me. Although it did and I am still grateful to have that moment; gazing at the amazing rolling landscape and of course, a giant Buddha. The memory still mesmerizes me; thank you Rudri.
Beautiful story Rudri. For me the stillness and complete peace and tranquillity come when I get out into nature and hike. Seeing amazing scenery, walking and getting tired but in that I’ve done something good way not the usual day to day is it bedtime yet way.
On my recent trip to Bryce we visited Wall Street – at the head of the trail there were lots and lots of people but the further you walked into it, the less people there were. Crafted by nature from rock and the elements, it felt sacred and was just awe inspiring. In fact Bryce was a total stillness experience for me.
I’m not sure I know how to be still. I’m working on it.
What a poignant post. I’ve achieved brief moments of stillness in ancient, quiet places – in cathedrals, old homes, old-growth forests. I’ve found it in art. And sometimes (like at 4 a.m.), I’ve found stillness when I’m alone in my car and listening to music. Most of the time, I thrive on the noise – but the intercessions are both calming and invigorating.
I’m another who doesn’t know where to begin with the stillness. I often wonder what I’m afraid of, what horrible thing will curl up to me if I stop moving. I guess I’m not ready to find out.
I don’t often seek the stillness, but, much like your story, I find it in places that were hard to get to. After I married my husband, after the births of my two babes, and after the miscarriage. All three events had obstacles placed in my direction that often led me to those when-is-it-going-to-end thoughts, but when I entered that (metaphorical) space, I felt that peace you mention.
Beautiful post, Rudri.
Just beautiful, Rudri.
That stillness is elusive. I rarely find it when I seek it. It finds me, when I expect nothing. A moment in the color of the leaves on a road I travel every day. My son, as he sleeps – just before I wake him.
Fleeting moments, but very real.
Hauntingly beautiful post. I remember this visit to the Baha’i Temple, but my experience was far different than yours.
My thoughts go back to Dad, tip-toeing on the hot pavement, trying to weave in and out of the ragged pieces of fabric set out to protect the innocents soles of his feet, while he carried me in his arms. I remember wondering what this place could be, important and famous enough for Dad to take me in his arms, in the heat, and scalding Earth below, in order to as you put it, “…show [me] the world.”
In a sense, I guess, this is my moment of stillness.
Thanks for helping me remember this.
Wonderful description! As I read your words, I was right there with you, drooping in the heat.
Bombarded by stimuli all day long, it is very hard to find that stillness. Moms, tugged in many directions at the same time, surrounded by children of all ages who love to talk. It can be exhausting for my introverted self.
Thank you for a beautiful visual image to use when life becomes hectic.
Your writing is amazing. I felt the change in temperature with you. The stillness. The quiet. The peace.
Beautiful.
Beautiful description, Rudri. For a second, I felt like I was inside the marble lotus blossom, just as you described.
Great questions. I practice yoga regularly and it has helped with moments of stillness. But they are fleeting and fragile and it seems consciousness is sure to break them.
As for creating noise for myself, again, often when I’m conscious.
This is beautiful, Rudri. I’ve never been to the one in Delhi but there’s a Baha’i Temple here in Illinois, and I’ve been there a few times. Every time I enter the magnificent structure, I’m in awe and am often overwhelmed by tranquility. I know what you mean by the stillness that finds you in that temple, and I crave that feeling at least once every day.
But it’s probably one of the most elusive things in the world, especially during these over-scheduled, high-tech, information overload times.
Gorgeous. Stillness. Quiet. Moments which slip away from us all too easily.
Beautiful post!
a very beautiful post. i think we are all guilty of creating our own noise. i think it just takes a lot of practice.
there have been a few times in my life where i was so deep into my medidation that i did not hear anything; did not think anything. it was so quiet. i long for those experiences again. i hope you too are able to find some more quiet.
This is gorgeous. I love stories of travel. And I love that this memory is something you couldn’t snap a photo of or take home as a souvenir.
Except that you did.