Beneath The Stillness

Introducing Carol Rogers-Shaw

by Michael Kroth, Profound Living Curator

With her first essay, Carol becomes our third regular contributing essayist to Profound Living. When you read Beneath The Stillness you will wish I had asked her months ago to share her thoughts with us. Her language is beautiful, her thoughts are illuminating, and her message is edifying.

Learn more about Carol on our " Profound Essayists " page under the "More" tab.

Beneath The Stillness

by

Carol Rogers-Shaw

I grew up in a suburban development surrounded by woods. Through those woods was Still Lake, where my older brother and his neighborhood friends played ice hockey in the winter, where my best friend and I would creep along the forest paths in late spring smelling the honeysuckle and chewing on wild mint leaves. We often watched a lone mink slide through the water looking for fish, or a garter snake slink across our path. We built tree forts by bending saplings and piling logs from downed trees. We hid beneath the leaves in silence.

There was always something forbidding about Still Lake. We didn’t tell our mothers where we were and never shared how we would turn and run wildly back home if we came upon a stranger on the path around the lake or heading across the open field on its far bank. As cliché as it sounds, I guess we sensed the danger of still waters that run deep, but we were also drawn to the mysterious, the unknown. We were excited by the risk. At that time, the serenity of the lake masked the dangers in our world.

Today I live near Mirror Lake, another body of stillness and beauty. Often when I walk the dog early in the morning, as we round the corner by the boathouse, there is a clear view of the placid lake, reflecting the blue skies and white clouds in its glass smooth surface. Standing alone on the shoreline feels like peering over the edge of the world. I now sometimes feel a sense of exhilaration at the thought of leaping into a vast unknown, the majesty spread out across the lake. I wish for the joy of falling in blissful slowness through reflected clouds.

It’s a desire to escape, from worries, from fears, from uncertainties. I feel a need to experience beauty and lightness without remembering those dangers I didn’t recognize as a child but knew lay beneath the tranquility. Now I see them too clearly: the violence, the pain, the tragedy, the despair of our world. But the grandeur of the tall green pines, the loftiness of the mountains in the distance, the haunting call of the loons on the lake also offer a balm for the soul. The splendor of nature reinvigorates and gives me strength, hope, and determination. Breathing in the cool air and reflecting on the vista spread across the water reassure me that there is an answer. So instead of pretending to fall into oblivion, I turn toward town, enjoying the rising sun and slight breeze, and feeling once again I can face the troubles ahead, yet unknown in the early morning quiet. Still waters do run deep, but what is important is what one chooses to do about what’s within the hidden depths, where one finds the courage to rise above, and how one reaches out for the promise nature reminds us is there.

Cover Photo Credit: Carol Rogers-Shaw