Stopping to Listen: The Precious Present

"Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

by Robert Frost


Each year during the winter months in New England, I think about Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. The poem simultaneously quiets me and wakes me up. The rhythm of Frost's words reminds me of times in the woods, at a riverbank, or walking down my own street on a winter's night, when I just stand there in awe, watching and listening to the quiet of the night, the day, the moment. The stillness. Presence.

Life is so busy and so full, it's hard to remember the quiet from which all activity springs. While being in nature provides wonderful opportunities for heightened awareness, you can reflect on your surroundings anytime and anywhere. Stop now. Listen. What do you hear? Listen in between the noise of the office and your ever-spinning mind. Stop … Listen … Breathe … Be …

I hear the clock ticking, the cars outside my window, the gentle hum of my computer's hard drive, and I feel my body ratchet down a level. Each moment is so precious, I think, and yet …

We have promises to keep.

As you move back into the noise, keep the memory of the stillness within.