“Soften the gaze,” is how Peter Russell describes it to Ian Lawton in the “Spirituality and Awakening” series wisdom@entheos.com . I resonate with that. Soften is easier for me than to try to release a thought. Soften helps me slide back into being. Softening helps me get rid of my thoughts and about thinking about my thoughts. Softening happens when I walk and when I’m doing the dishes. Softening gets me out of my head and into my heart.
Periodically I recommit to some kind of meditation practice, but alas, my best intentions dwindle after a few sessions or a few days. For one thing, I’m just not very good at following a practice that someone else has created and presented, although I’m well aware of their good intentions, as well as the benefits offered. We need people describing what they do so we have models, not models to follow, although follow we will, but models so we can create our own way. In fact, that’s what I do on this blog!
“Soften the gaze,” is how Peter Russell describes it to Ian Lawton in the “Spirituality and Awakening” series wisdom@entheos.com . I resonate with that. Soften is easier for me than to try to release a thought. Soften helps me slide back into being. Softening helps me get rid of my thoughts and about thinking about my thoughts. Softening happens when I walk and when I’m doing the dishes. Softening gets me out of my head and into my heart.
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In the Quiet Corner of Iona Abbey is a book of daily readings, compiled by Peter Millar, a long-time member of the Iona Community, in a little booklet entitled “Notes for a Pilgrim”. The page for the thirteenth day of the month includes the following by Laurence Freeman, Catholic priest and a Benedictine monk. I offer this for your mediation. Meditation is simple and practical. It is about experience rather than theory: a way of being rather than merely a way of thinking. Indeed, because of the profound change meditation can work in one’s life, it is even more than a way of prayer: it is a way of life, a way of living from the deep center of one’s being. Meditation is focused on Christ. This means that it is centered on the prayer of Christ, which is continuously poured forth in the Holy Spirit in the depth of each human being. Thus, in this way of ‘pure prayer’ we leave all thoughts, words and images behind in order to ‘set our minds on the kingdom of God before all else’. We leave our egotistical self behind to die and rise to our true self in Christ. Meditation does not exclude other types of prayer and indeed deepens one’s reverence for the sacraments and one’s reading of scriptures. My favorite meditation books. First on the list, The Bible. The Art of Prayer: An Orthodox Anthology. Celtic Daily Prayer: Prayers and Readings from the Northumbria Community. Baillie, John. A Diary of Private Prayer. Carmichael, Amy. Edges of Water. Chambers, Oswald. My Utmost for His Highest. Chambers, Oswald. Still Higher for His Highest. Harter, Michael, ed. Hearts on Fire: Praying with the Jesuits. Harvey, Andrew & Ann Baring, compiled by. The Mystic Vision. Lewis, C. S. A year with C.S. Lewis: Daily Readings from His Classic Works. Merton, Thomas. Through the Year with Thomas Merton. Tickle, Phyllis. The Divine Hours: Prayers for Springtime; for Summertime; for Autumn and Wintertime. "The Upper Room". Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart. My church offers a Wednesday evening service. The invitation is as follows: Join us Wednesday nights at 7pm for worship at "The Well." Throughout Lent these intimate and informal services will look at different spiritual practices that can be used anywhere: including church, home or work. Spiritual practices can be helpful to relieve stress, seek guidance, and give thanks throughout your life. Last Wednesday we experienced centering prayer. I do my own version at the cottage, but seldom do I pray in this way with others. Praying in community is mighty powerful and very different from praying alone. We pray with others in church, but centering prayer isn’t part of the service. I’d love more opportunities but I don’t want to commit myself to something formal or scheduled. Um, how self-centered is that? Much to consider. I’ve been working through The Art of Prayer: An Orthodox Anthology, a collection of ancient Orthodox writings compiled in the first half of the twentieth century by Igumen Charlton, a Russian Orthodox monk. I say working through because every morning I read a small section, no more than a page, and meditate on what it means to me. It is going to take me at least two years to finish the book, but that’s just as I want it to be. Each entry is a gem for contemplation, for prayer, for meditation. This morning’s reading Chapter IV, The Fruits of Prayer, by Theophan the Recluse. May the Lord give you the blessing of a strong desire to stand inwardly before God. Seek and you will find. Seek God: such is the unalterable rule for all spiritual advancement. Nothing comes without effort. The help of God is always ready and always near but is only given to those who seek and work, and only to those seekers who, after putting all their own powers to the test, then cry out with all their heart: Lord, help us. So long as you hold on to even a little hope of achieving something on your own powers, the Lord does not interfere. It is as though He says: ‘You hope to succeed by yourself—Very well, go on trying ! But however long you try you will achieve nothing.’ May the Lord give you a contrite spirit, a humble and contrite heart. One of the benefits in getting up at 5:30, is that regardless of all the holiday activities, my solitary morning prayer time is never compromised. Very few people get up that early, and if they do, they are into their own meditation ritual. Activities or parties start after a big late morning breakfast, so no interruption there. This season my prayer time has been more heartrending, more necessary, and more powerful than ever. As my faith grows, so does my desire to be with God and to ask for and receive God’s guidance. I’m still amazed at how each morning God’s presence returns to me, to the mind of my heart. Of course during the day I let it fly away. It disappears, but less often and for shorter lengths of time, so it seems. Tomorrow I’ll be settling in again at the cottage. For those of you who are wondering, What cottage? here’s the quick story. This is the fourth winter season that I have rented a cottage right on the ocean. It’s an hour and a half drive from my home, so I can easily go back and forth, and that is just what I do. Usually I’m at the cottage during the week and at home on the weekends. I love the silence, solitude and simplicity there. I watch the sunrise every morning--even when it’s cloudy. Also, in no particular order, I pray, read, write, enjoy jigsaw puzzles, walk the beach, and gaze at the ocean. I check my email twice a day, morning and evening, and I don’t talk on the phone. Sometimes I cover the clocks and live a timeless day. It is in this simple, silent life of solitude that I let go of the chatter (read judgments) in my head. Then, I can pray for others, which is why I go to there-- to pray and to be with God. This morning as I read this meditation on solitude by Henri Nouwen, it occurred to me that I often treat solitude as a goal, and end in itself, not as a gift that leads to a greater purpose beyond me. In solitude we can slowly unmask the illusion of our possessiveness and discover in the center of our own self that we are not what we can conquer, but what is given to us. In solitude we can listen to the voice of him who spoke to us before we could speak a word, who healed us before we could make any gesture to help, who set us free long before we could free others, and who loved us long before we could give love to anyone. It is in this solitude that we discover that being is more important than having, and that we are worth more than the result of our efforts. In solitude we discover that our life is not a possession to be defended, but a gift to be shared. It’s there we recognize that the healing words we speak are not just our own, but are given to us; that the love we can express is part of a greater love; and that the new life we bring forth is not a property to cling to, but a gift to be received. I’m here at the cottage praying that I’m doing what God’s wants of me, praying that I will keep hearing God, etc., etc. etc. “Too much talk,” I tell myself. I think I should be here, but I also feel I am letting people down at church. We are helping drive an elderly couple to their doctor appointments, and I’m not there to take my turn or to fill in for last minute requests. “How will they ever do without me?” I ask…. “Um, there’s my ‘savior complex’ appearing again.” I’m not writing this expecting any of you to come up with the answer for me. Rather, I’m writing to give you an idea about how someone thinks and prays through with this kind of spiritual dilemma, for I trust that most of you reading this go through something same but different. I write this blog so that you and I are not alone in this on this faith journey. Hearing someone else’s mental chatter might help you along the way, and if nothing else it sure helps me to put it out there. So here’s where things stand at the moment. 1) I’ve taken care of any logistics I can about the rides; 2) I’ve turned off my email for the day; 3) I’ve taken most of the morning for prayer and meditation--centering prayer and have prayed my prayer list; 4) I’m about to walk the beach, doing my best to stay in the present moment. |
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