Be Still

Most of us will only sit still when our attention is arrested by something in front of us, be it a TV screen, a computer monitor, a smartphone, a tablet or, for the old-fashioned amongst us, a book. Without external visual or auditory feed we quickly become restless. We have become very accustomed to a near-constant input of information, entertainment, or their unlovely spawn, infotainment. Our smartphones alert us when someone we barely know has tweeted about something we care even less about. Taxis and buses are installed with in-vehicle TV screens to give passengers adverts to gawp at. iPads provide digital distraction on trains so people need not look out of the windows any more, and no doubt the windows themselves will soon be replaced with OLED panels promoting the latest 3D blockbusters.  We are losing the space to allow ourselves just to be.

A place like Pilsdon is an antidote to this epidemic of absorption in media and social networks. For a start, my mobile network Three has forgotten to supply any coverage to ground level so I can only get signal when I’m in my attic room. Not only am I no longer interrupted by all those people trying to call or text me (sorry everyone), I’m also released from the urge to check constantly for news or email updates as was my habit in more connected times. I’ve chosen not to have a telly in my room and I usually only bother going to the TV room when there’s a general gathering around the box for an occasion e.g. the Grand National, Euro 2012, Wimbledon or a Downton Abbey episode. Saturday Night films are an exception when the cloth cover is removed from the TV in the library, the furniture rearranged and a box of chocolates cracked open.

The rhythm of four short services a day in the church encourages a stepping-out from our activities and sitting still together in a quiet place. Depending on who is leading, some services are mostly communal recitation of liturgy, Psalms and prayers, whereas others are predominantly silent. It allows us the space to re-order our thoughts, to reflect on the day so far, and to submit our whole selves to God. There is no external visual or auditory input to distract, persuade, amuse or inform. There are no music bands to mess with our emotions, no preachers to inspire or irritate us, and no expectations of social interaction. Of course Nature won’t allow herself to be ignored as she occasionally sends into the chapel a couple of loud buzzing flies, and even arranged once for a young toad to hop from behind a straw bale seat. These sometimes get incorporated into the prayers.

In recent weeks I have taken sitting still to a whole new level by becoming a life drawing model for our resident artist. I hasten to add, at the risk of disappointing some readers, that it wasn’t a nude painting; as you can tell from the picture above I did at least have my cap on. We must have had at least eight or nine sittings, each lasting no less than an hour and some nearer two. Part of the time we spent in conversation so I assume he wasn’t drawing my mouth at the time. Occasionally we listened to podcasts on the lives of Brahms and Sibelius and some sittings were spent in near silence. I had to keep my gaze fixed on a single point across the room. If it had been an energetic day my eyelids would become heavy but (I think) I managed to stay awake.  At the end of each sitting it was fascinating to observe how much more of my likeness had appeared on the canvas, although as he only did my eyes at the end I did appear like something from Invasion of the Body Snatchers until that point. I am pleased with the result, he seems to have captured the essential characteristics of my fizzog. Next week, the full frontal. (One quick way of losing all your readers).