What does it mean to stay steady...

when everything around you is stirred?

There’s a story in the Gospel about Jesus and the apostles in a boat in the middle of a raging sea. His followers are panicking. Jesus is sleeping. He’s still, inspite of what is thundering around him.

The mind is that sea. It roils and rises, stirring up all the gook on its bottom. Rife with sharks and scary things. One thought catches another and before long our whole world is churning.

How does one stay still within its midst?

Yoga Sutra 1.2 has an idea.

Yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ

This sutra is often translated as: Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.

But “yoga” is not forcing the mind to be empty. It’s noticing what is moving and returning to the deeper presence beneath it. Be still and know that I am.

Jesus wakes and says to the storm, Peace, be still. And it stills.

But for us, the practice begins before we can say anything to the storm.

It begins in noticing whether we have become it. It begins with awareness, with self-study, and with daily practice.

Jesus modeled how to meet the storm. He fasted. He prayed. He held space for others. Through his service—what in yogic philosophy we might call Bhakti—he brought people back to a deeper understanding of what life could be. He brought them to that still point.

Peace.

A place in us. Not something we force.

The Sutra and the Gospel meet in lived experience: when we stop feeding every thought wave, we can remember the deeper water beneath it.

Just for today, when the mind begins to churn, I can pause.

I can say quietly:

Peace, be still.

Where are you right now?

I can feel the still point beneath things

I’m noticing the waves, but not fully steady

I’m in the churn

I don’t know yet, but I’m here for it

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