It might seem counter-intuitive for a travel writer to write about going nowhere,
but not for Iyer. He's not walled up in a tiny hut like Hildegard of Bingen. He actually goes places and sees people but more for meditation than sightseeing. He's exploring his mind rather than unfamiliar scenery and terrain.
I found myself recently craving literal 'stillness' because of a painful bruise on my side that I acquired during a slapstick-worthy fall. I read Iyer's short book about Stillness while I was being still. How clever am I? I thought of other kinds of stillness: I decided not to travel this year. I've been traveling a lot lately and I want a year to be home and still. I want to think about where I've been and mindfully write about the experiences and what I learned and what I was thinking about. Of course that's not literal stillness, but I kind of stillness of the mind. I took a couple of walks over Thanksgiving weekend, before I took the epic tumble, and I found myself thinking about where I was walking, what I was seeing, and my memories of those places with no distractions or worries from my everyday life. I had a Thanksgiving dinner to prepare, assignments to grade, and a hundred other things to do, but I was nicely focused on my walks. I was in the moment.
And then I read the little Pico Iyer book and thought about all these ways to be still and how important they are as I was sitting as still as possible. And I was still as I contemplated the gentle photos by Icelandic photographer Eydis S. Luna Einarsdรณttir which separate each of the book's sections. You may be thinking that I've spoiled the fun of reading a short book like this meant to be read in one sitting (according to TED). I haven't, really. TED wouldn't have any thing to do with puny ideas that could be spoiled in a simple blogpost, and there's no way my words could come close to stirring up your mind as Pico Iyer's words will. So read this worthwhile book, and watch this worthwhile companion talk:
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