Moving into Stillness

As the year comes to a close, nature is blanketed by snow in parts of the northern reaches of our planet. For me, winter always offers a time for stillness yet allows my inner exploration. Perhaps it's because the days are short and the nights are long, just like the stream that flows beneath the ice and snow on the banks in this photo from this morning in Bend, Oregon—inner movement beneath the stillness. 

Being able to stop, be in silence and not have to do more is precisely what I needed to restore my essence, vitality, and spirit. Here, I offer my inner dialogue and gratitude and hope you find some of what I mention here helpful. 

The first question that comes to mind is, "Why am I doing it?"



I feel a responsibility to share with the world the knowledge and wisdom passed down to me from teachers of the wonderful, healing, and spiritual traditions of Chinese medicine and Taoism. I believe and know deep in my heart that the world can be helped and saved from unnecessary illness, suffering, and outright human-made destruction. 

Second, "Am I applying what I am teaching others?"

If I am not embodying the teaching, I have not integrated it into my life. So here are the changes I made in this past year. 

I have focused on my self-cultivation—devoting consistent time and energy to studying the Tao, connecting with nature, and practicing meditation, qi gong, and tai chi regularly so I feel healthier and am spiritually evolving.  

I have tried to balance my family, work, and personal responsibilities and avoided being too stretched in any direction. This has always been a challenge throughout my life, but now that I have stopped working 12 hour-days, it's much easier to do. 

The extra time and energy have allowed me to devote myself to service on behalf of our healing and spiritual traditions—mainly activities of Yo San University and College of Tao, be it administration, speaking, writing, volunteering, and teaching retreats around the world. 

Third, "Does it have to be done now?"

Life should be lived as an evolution, not a revolution, but some people choose the latter and flame out. Even though I thought I chose the former unconsciously, I was living the latter for most of my working life. 

I confessed my workaholism publicly a year ago. So now, besides showing up for my patients, I don't set deadlines for myself on projects. It will get done eventually, and that's ok. As Lao Tzu reminded us in his Tao Teh Ching classic, "…the farther you go, the less you know. Thus, an integral being knows without going, sees without looking, and accomplishes without doing."

Fourth, "Is it perfect?"

Nature is perfect, but only because she's constantly changing—birth, growth, decaying, and dying, and then regenerating, again and again, evolving and changing. Nothing stays the same, and yet she completes herself in due course. Perfection is not a static state but a constant change and evolution pattern. 

Let's not waste precious time, energy, and emotion trying to make everything "perfect" but rather recognize the flow of energy or life force permeating all things. We can begin planting seeds and then allowing the natural cycle of genesis, growth, pruning, and being, even allowing it to be fallow and die temporarily so that it can reawaken and revive at the right time. Instead of intervention and control, we should learn to be and facilitate by removing blockages so that nature may manifest in all her splendor and glory. 

My realization of this happened when I was young. I struggled for several years with perfection to get my first book, Tao of Nutrition, published. It was not until my father reminded me that's what a second edition is about and that I could let go of my mental construct of perfection, which was blocking me from finishing it. Now the book is in its third edition, 37 years later.

And "To whom do I feel gratitude?" 

I give thanks to the divine for my life force and the benevolent sustenance that the universe and earth have provided. I give thanks to my parents for birthing and nurturing my life. I give thanks to my family, who shows me every day how to be a better son, brother, spouse, and father. I give thanks to my patients, students, friends, and supporters who have enlightened me more than I have given.  

Finally, I give thanks to winter for reminding me to move into stillness so that I can restore and be ready when the snow melts and gives way at the right time for spring reawakening.