Please note my use of mixed pronouns is intentional. This shakes me up and serves to remind me that I am valuable as a woman.
-----
The god I call God is just and worthy of imitation: I would willingly, with all that I am, bow down before such a god.
She is heartbreakingly beautiful and as tangible to me as my own breath. She resonates, and I resonate with her.
This resonance is how I define its love. It /is/ and allows me /to be/ with it.
His connection with me is quark-to-quark and impossible to break, despite all the stupid things I do. I do not deserve to be loved so deeply, but I am.
I strive to deserve this by being hands for the resonance and love others as deeply as I am able. I stink at this, but I brush off my dirty knees when I fall and try again. And again.
If it's possible to get closer than that, I'd say she's even closer to the worst humans among us. Her compassion is greater for them: the universe likes equilibrium.
He waits for us to notice he's been there all along. He is there for those who don't acknowledge him. The humming of the universe in inescapable.
I do not deserve to be loved--touched--so intimately, but I am.
Touched in the Head, or Finding God in Daily Life
This comes from a friend. I found it beautiful and wanted to share it. (Thanks Cathy!)
---
I grant that I am unjustly sentimental about mundane things like oatmeal and hand-knit socks. There's a reason that the word "touched" -- pronounced "teched" -- is synonymous with "soft in the head" and I am it. I just don't make the distinction that a lot of Church People (I manifestly am distinguishing these from Christians) seem to, between secular and spiritual.
I have seen the hand of God and heard His voice in encouraging smiles from strangers, Mary Oliver's Wild Geese, bald babies, freckles, French roast, a well-designed vacuum cleaner (my children are so tired of my asking them to admire good engineering of everyday things), Beethoven's Ninth, and a three-point shot from half court at the buzzer.
I thank the good Lord every morning, sometimes before I even brush my teeth, that I wasn't in church during that Notre Dame-BC game, because there was more of God in the Flutie-to-Phelan pass in than there would have been in any Eucharist.
I have felt the love and presence of Christ more often in my knitting group than in a whack of womens' Bible studies collectives.
I think there is more "Godly leadership" in getting up at 8 in the morning to watch a bunch of 5 year olds run around in the rain and more or less play soccer than in teaching a month of Sunday schools and serving on a "worship team", whatever that is.
I am thoroughly convinced that the Kingdom of God, when it is attained, will come about more through the efforts of those cranky, fiercely loving women in support hose who smell like Southern cooking than the whole caboodle of self-appointed "evangelists".
I know. I can go to hell in seven languages for this perspective. But do you know what? I do not think God minds when we allow ourselves to experience something that brings us to our feet, touches us, pricks at our conscience, or even just redeems our bad morning, and we name it after Him. We could do a whole lot worse by Him.
Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Starting this blog
I've started this blog as an attempt to share the blessing of Centering Prayer. I hope to share my experiences, challenges, and insights associated with this ancient form of prayer.
May the God of peace be with you! May you feel Love's arms around you this day!
May the God of peace be with you! May you feel Love's arms around you this day!
How did I learn about Centering Prayer?
Some years ago I had a little spitfire Irish nun as a spiritual advisor. She had the most amazing presence: very centered and grounded, drawing a person into The God of Stillness.
Over the course of our relationship, she introduced me to Centering Prayer. She spoke of Ruah, or God's divine breath. She taught me to spend daily time just sitting in God's presence, not asking for anything or praying for anyone. Not overtly praising God. Not talking to him with words at all. She taught me to just sit with God as a child, to run to his lap as a trusting child runs to his father's or mother's lap.
Over the course of our relationship, she introduced me to Centering Prayer. She spoke of Ruah, or God's divine breath. She taught me to spend daily time just sitting in God's presence, not asking for anything or praying for anyone. Not overtly praising God. Not talking to him with words at all. She taught me to just sit with God as a child, to run to his lap as a trusting child runs to his father's or mother's lap.
Is Centering Prayer "Transcendental Meditation" or another form of Eastern meditation?
No!
TM asks people to empty their minds, to empty themselves.
CENTERING PRAYER asks people to quiet their minds so as to be filled with their awareness of God. Centering Prayer is a lovely way to choose to turn more completely toward God, to increase intimacy with him. It is a way to more fully acknowledge--and allow him to strengthen our awareness of--our already-existing and subordinate connection to him.
TM asks people to go deep within themselves. ("Imagine that you're on an elevator going down, down, down....")
CENTERING PRAYER does not ask you to "go within yourself"; going within yourself requires *you* to be in control! It does not ask you to bury yourself in yourself; it helps you to bury yourself in God! CP helps us to strengthen our spiritual connection to God, not the self, by disciplining the mind and body. CP helps us to sense God's presence more completely, to increase our spiritual awareness of him throughout our day, thereby giving more and more control to HIM!
TM, similar to Hindu meditation, asks people to essentially hypnotize themselves, merging with the universe of which "god" is a part.
CENTERING PRAYER asks people to quiet the mind and the will so as to hear God and be "in the Spirit" more completely, to rest in him. The relaxation that often accompanies centering prayer is spiritually restful and is NOT the type of self-hypnosis that leaves a person spiritually vulnerable. (I know of many ways to relax that aren't evil! In fact, God wants us to learn to rest in hm!) Transcendental meditation's goal is for a person to enter a zen-like state and actively attempt to "merge with the universe". But CP does not have you focus on the relaxation--that would have you take your eyes off your purpose: to focus on being with God. Any associated sensory experiences are just side effects of this rest, not the goal.
TM leads people to believe that they can be merged with "god" or become like gods.
CENTERING PRAYER acknowledges that God is separate from us, the Creator of all. Centering Prayer doesn't merge us with God; it strengthens our awareness of our already-existing, subordinate, spiritual connection to him.
TM and similar types of meditation encourage people to believe that since "god" (part of the universe) is in us, then we can reach out (pray) to god IN us.
CENTERING PRAYER acknowledges that although God dwells within us, He cannot be contained there. Centering Prayer has us reach out and connect to God from within the depths of our selves.
CENTERING PRAYER does not have people "capture" God within themselves. That's not possible. But if you believe we were made in his image and are souls merged with flesh, then we have a spiritual connection to God who is separate from us. However, our busy minds get in the way and the incessant demands of physical life interfere with the spirit!
CENTERING PRAYER should always keep you focused upon God as Creator, God as Love, God as our strength and our shield. Just as fasting allows us to strengthen our will and decrease our body's control over the mind, Centering Prayer gives us tools to stop the swirling and experience the fullness of God's nearness, love, and strength.
TM asks people to empty their minds, to empty themselves.
CENTERING PRAYER asks people to quiet their minds so as to be filled with their awareness of God. Centering Prayer is a lovely way to choose to turn more completely toward God, to increase intimacy with him. It is a way to more fully acknowledge--and allow him to strengthen our awareness of--our already-existing and subordinate connection to him.
TM asks people to go deep within themselves. ("Imagine that you're on an elevator going down, down, down....")
CENTERING PRAYER does not ask you to "go within yourself"; going within yourself requires *you* to be in control! It does not ask you to bury yourself in yourself; it helps you to bury yourself in God! CP helps us to strengthen our spiritual connection to God, not the self, by disciplining the mind and body. CP helps us to sense God's presence more completely, to increase our spiritual awareness of him throughout our day, thereby giving more and more control to HIM!
TM, similar to Hindu meditation, asks people to essentially hypnotize themselves, merging with the universe of which "god" is a part.
CENTERING PRAYER asks people to quiet the mind and the will so as to hear God and be "in the Spirit" more completely, to rest in him. The relaxation that often accompanies centering prayer is spiritually restful and is NOT the type of self-hypnosis that leaves a person spiritually vulnerable. (I know of many ways to relax that aren't evil! In fact, God wants us to learn to rest in hm!) Transcendental meditation's goal is for a person to enter a zen-like state and actively attempt to "merge with the universe". But CP does not have you focus on the relaxation--that would have you take your eyes off your purpose: to focus on being with God. Any associated sensory experiences are just side effects of this rest, not the goal.
TM leads people to believe that they can be merged with "god" or become like gods.
CENTERING PRAYER acknowledges that God is separate from us, the Creator of all. Centering Prayer doesn't merge us with God; it strengthens our awareness of our already-existing, subordinate, spiritual connection to him.
TM and similar types of meditation encourage people to believe that since "god" (part of the universe) is in us, then we can reach out (pray) to god IN us.
CENTERING PRAYER acknowledges that although God dwells within us, He cannot be contained there. Centering Prayer has us reach out and connect to God from within the depths of our selves.
CENTERING PRAYER does not have people "capture" God within themselves. That's not possible. But if you believe we were made in his image and are souls merged with flesh, then we have a spiritual connection to God who is separate from us. However, our busy minds get in the way and the incessant demands of physical life interfere with the spirit!
CENTERING PRAYER should always keep you focused upon God as Creator, God as Love, God as our strength and our shield. Just as fasting allows us to strengthen our will and decrease our body's control over the mind, Centering Prayer gives us tools to stop the swirling and experience the fullness of God's nearness, love, and strength.
What is centering prayer to me?
Centering Prayer is all about sitting with God, as his child. It's all about a childlike trust in his presence. It's not about verbal conversation with God at all. It's not even about feeling his presence. It's about choice. It's about thoughtfully and purposefully putting yourself in him. Eventually God will begin to "speak" to you in a powerful, wordless, connected way; learning to quiet your spirit and mind allows this to happen. As time goes on you'll be able to transfer to daily life the closeness gained during your Centering Prayer time. It becomes easier to be aware of God's presence throughout your entire day.
Here's a hint: As you go about your day, try to notice yourself breathing. Each time you notice yourself breathing, think of God's presence being even closer than your own breath. He is closer than your body's cells jutting up against each other.
An essential part of Centering Prayer is your holy word, something to focus upon while training the busy human mind to be quiet. Pray for clarity and / or contemplate your present self, your current spiritual state. Choose a word that describes your greatest need or angst. Over the years I have used words like forgiven, loved, still, and 'I'm here' (as in "I'm here that's the best I can do.") This word, not spoken aloud, gives your mind a focal point.
Sr. Adeleine recommended using a timer while practicing Centering Prayer, thus minimizing the human tendency to wonder "How long have I been doing this?" Start with just 5 minutes, gradually working yourself up to 20 minutes at a time.
Just before starting your timer, make yourself comfortable in a sitting position, in a quiet, secluded place. (I used my closet for years, and now I go to my basement.) If you like, say a beginning prayer, asking God to be with you completely and intimately. Then start your timer. I suggest training yourself to relax, taking even breaths and thinking only of your sacred word. As you catch your mind thinking--this will happen a lot in the beginning, gradually lessening over time--do not pass judgment upon yourself. Simply laugh and think, "Oh, well. I'm human!" and come back to you center where God connects with you, thinking only your sacred word. Do your best to not think of the timer; eventually you will forget all about it.
I hope that Centering Prayer will bless you richly and give you the stillness and sense of God's presence that all of us need, especially in this hectic world of ours. I'm especially hopeful that we busy parents can continue to find strength and peace in him, by learning to be aware of God all day long. This is what "being in God" is all about to me. :-)
Here's a hint: As you go about your day, try to notice yourself breathing. Each time you notice yourself breathing, think of God's presence being even closer than your own breath. He is closer than your body's cells jutting up against each other.
An essential part of Centering Prayer is your holy word, something to focus upon while training the busy human mind to be quiet. Pray for clarity and / or contemplate your present self, your current spiritual state. Choose a word that describes your greatest need or angst. Over the years I have used words like forgiven, loved, still, and 'I'm here' (as in "I'm here that's the best I can do.") This word, not spoken aloud, gives your mind a focal point.
Sr. Adeleine recommended using a timer while practicing Centering Prayer, thus minimizing the human tendency to wonder "How long have I been doing this?" Start with just 5 minutes, gradually working yourself up to 20 minutes at a time.
Just before starting your timer, make yourself comfortable in a sitting position, in a quiet, secluded place. (I used my closet for years, and now I go to my basement.) If you like, say a beginning prayer, asking God to be with you completely and intimately. Then start your timer. I suggest training yourself to relax, taking even breaths and thinking only of your sacred word. As you catch your mind thinking--this will happen a lot in the beginning, gradually lessening over time--do not pass judgment upon yourself. Simply laugh and think, "Oh, well. I'm human!" and come back to you center where God connects with you, thinking only your sacred word. Do your best to not think of the timer; eventually you will forget all about it.
I hope that Centering Prayer will bless you richly and give you the stillness and sense of God's presence that all of us need, especially in this hectic world of ours. I'm especially hopeful that we busy parents can continue to find strength and peace in him, by learning to be aware of God all day long. This is what "being in God" is all about to me. :-)
How to Practice Centering Prayer
(These instructions were proposed by Basil Pennington, and I adapted them from a Wikipedia entry. It's not exactly how I was taught, but these instructions offer a decidedly Christian method of practicing this type of prayer. Non-Christians may adapt by replacing any Christian terms with simply 'God'.)
1. Sit comfortably with your eyes closed, relax, and quiet yourself. Ask God to be with you and to help you to open yourself completely to him.
2. Seek a sacred word that best supports your sincere intention to be in the Lord's presence and open to his divine action within you (i.e. "Jesus," "Lord," "God," "Savior," "Abba," "Divine," "Shalom," "Spirit," "Love," etc.).
3. Let that word be gently present in your mind, a point of focus for your thinking. This takes time, practice, discipline, and God's grace. :-)
4. Whenever you become aware of anything (thoughts, feelings, perceptions, images, associations, etc.), simply return to your sacred word, your mental anchor, and with God as your spiritual anchor. Ideally, you will reach the point where you are not engaged in your thoughts, only engaged with God's presence. Keep practicing! As you make concentrated efforts to learn to be in the spirit, to learn how it "feels", the easier it gets to recognize him in the busy moments of daily life.
1. Sit comfortably with your eyes closed, relax, and quiet yourself. Ask God to be with you and to help you to open yourself completely to him.
2. Seek a sacred word that best supports your sincere intention to be in the Lord's presence and open to his divine action within you (i.e. "Jesus," "Lord," "God," "Savior," "Abba," "Divine," "Shalom," "Spirit," "Love," etc.).
3. Let that word be gently present in your mind, a point of focus for your thinking. This takes time, practice, discipline, and God's grace. :-)
4. Whenever you become aware of anything (thoughts, feelings, perceptions, images, associations, etc.), simply return to your sacred word, your mental anchor, and with God as your spiritual anchor. Ideally, you will reach the point where you are not engaged in your thoughts, only engaged with God's presence. Keep practicing! As you make concentrated efforts to learn to be in the spirit, to learn how it "feels", the easier it gets to recognize him in the busy moments of daily life.
5 minute prayer times
It's hard sometimes to get in a significant prayer time, what with three short people in the house, LOL. Plus, I've been disciplining myself to exercise each morning. I haven't yet figured out how to balance exercise with morning prayer time, both of which seem to be needed in the a.m.
This morning I squeezed in 5 minutes of total quiet time with the Lord. I just sat in the teeny master bathroom on the cold floor, leaned up against the door, and said, "I'm here, Lord!" I've been able to carry that closeness throughout most of the morning, except when I turned away from God and lost my temper with the kids over yet another mess. Sigh.
Good thing I don't have to be perfect. :-)
This morning I squeezed in 5 minutes of total quiet time with the Lord. I just sat in the teeny master bathroom on the cold floor, leaned up against the door, and said, "I'm here, Lord!" I've been able to carry that closeness throughout most of the morning, except when I turned away from God and lost my temper with the kids over yet another mess. Sigh.
Good thing I don't have to be perfect. :-)
The stillness after a big snow or on a hot, hot day
Those of you who live where it snows, you know how everything gets muffled outside after a big snow? How it's unbelievably quiet? If we listen carefully, we can "hear" God in that stillness. Does he talk in words in that quiet place? Well, I can say for sure that he doesn't talk in words to me in that quiet place. The stillness is itself a conversation, a place where we can "Be still and know that [he] is God." Just feel God's gaze and know that he is God.
For those of you living in the deep south, do you know the stillness that's outside on a hot, hot day? (You know the kind of heat where you can actually see the heat rising up from the ground?) When no one is outside and, perhaps, the only thing you hear is the drone of air conditioners? You can sit in that stillness, let the heat penetrate to your bones, and just feel God's gaze and know that he is God.
God's peace is present in the stillness of your heart. Do you know what else is present? Your knowledge that he is there, caressing you all day long. What a comfortable thought.
For those of you living in the deep south, do you know the stillness that's outside on a hot, hot day? (You know the kind of heat where you can actually see the heat rising up from the ground?) When no one is outside and, perhaps, the only thing you hear is the drone of air conditioners? You can sit in that stillness, let the heat penetrate to your bones, and just feel God's gaze and know that he is God.
God's peace is present in the stillness of your heart. Do you know what else is present? Your knowledge that he is there, caressing you all day long. What a comfortable thought.
Practicing Stillness, or Getting Enough White Space
In our busy lives, do we even know what stillness feels like? Do we find it downright difficult to be truly still, with our minds doing overtime keeping up with it all?
We exercise our minds by reading, building things, stimulating discussions, and the like. We exercise our bodies through physical exertion and practicing self-control. We exercise love by acting in love when we don't feel very loving. What about stillness? When are we exercising that?
If God tells us to "Be still and know that I am God", then are we obeying him? Just like anything valuable in life, it takes practice. We must practice being still. Like physical exercise that gives benefits that we carry throughout our day, stillness exercises give benefits that we can take with us.
The more we practice stillness, the easier it gets to find it in the midst of daily life's moments. In these still moments we can truly know that he is God and with us in the details.
Have you practiced being still today?
We exercise our minds by reading, building things, stimulating discussions, and the like. We exercise our bodies through physical exertion and practicing self-control. We exercise love by acting in love when we don't feel very loving. What about stillness? When are we exercising that?
If God tells us to "Be still and know that I am God", then are we obeying him? Just like anything valuable in life, it takes practice. We must practice being still. Like physical exercise that gives benefits that we carry throughout our day, stillness exercises give benefits that we can take with us.
The more we practice stillness, the easier it gets to find it in the midst of daily life's moments. In these still moments we can truly know that he is God and with us in the details.
Have you practiced being still today?
Peeling layers, kind of like Superman
Can you think of a positive time when you felt completely vulnerable? Do you remember how it felt? Was it kind of like being naked, but in a good way?
We pile on personality layers for various reasons, becoming someone we weren't supposed to become. Over time we think of our layered self as being the real deal.
Granted, some of these layers are cultural, including norms of expected behavior in varying situations. But what about the layers that just distort who we are? What about the layers that interfere with our ability to Love properly?
When I act in anger towards one of my children and then I come to myself afterward, it feels as though I have a raincoat on while inside. When I refuse to really listen to my husband's perspective, I have retreated into my inner self and left him far behind. In these situations (and many others) I have lost touch with my better self, putting barriers between my dearest and me.
The human condition makes it impossible for us to get away totally from these erected walls, but that doesn't mean we should just accept their inevitability. I believe that it is preferable to seek daily to tear them down or, better yet, to seek daily to avoid erecting them at all. We will never perfect this art of openness, but we can choose to take up our cross daily and keep trying.
This sounds all well and good, but how can we do this? What is a practical way to stay vulnerable towards our loved ones?
I believe this: the more we know what it feels like to be open with our loved ones, the more we can transfer this knowledge to our daily relationships with them. But like practicing an instrument to get good at it, we must practice being vulnerable. I don't think we can master this vulnerability solely through daily, familial interactions.
We should feel the safest with The One Who Knows Us, who is there in the quiet. So training ourselves to be totally vulnerable with God is the place to start. Seeking total openness to Love--in small daily doses--is the best training there is. In our prayer "closet" we can train ourselves to be totally quiet, to trust as a child, to sit in God's presence and let him wash over us.
And let the layers fall away.
We pile on personality layers for various reasons, becoming someone we weren't supposed to become. Over time we think of our layered self as being the real deal.
Granted, some of these layers are cultural, including norms of expected behavior in varying situations. But what about the layers that just distort who we are? What about the layers that interfere with our ability to Love properly?
When I act in anger towards one of my children and then I come to myself afterward, it feels as though I have a raincoat on while inside. When I refuse to really listen to my husband's perspective, I have retreated into my inner self and left him far behind. In these situations (and many others) I have lost touch with my better self, putting barriers between my dearest and me.
The human condition makes it impossible for us to get away totally from these erected walls, but that doesn't mean we should just accept their inevitability. I believe that it is preferable to seek daily to tear them down or, better yet, to seek daily to avoid erecting them at all. We will never perfect this art of openness, but we can choose to take up our cross daily and keep trying.
This sounds all well and good, but how can we do this? What is a practical way to stay vulnerable towards our loved ones?
I believe this: the more we know what it feels like to be open with our loved ones, the more we can transfer this knowledge to our daily relationships with them. But like practicing an instrument to get good at it, we must practice being vulnerable. I don't think we can master this vulnerability solely through daily, familial interactions.
We should feel the safest with The One Who Knows Us, who is there in the quiet. So training ourselves to be totally vulnerable with God is the place to start. Seeking total openness to Love--in small daily doses--is the best training there is. In our prayer "closet" we can train ourselves to be totally quiet, to trust as a child, to sit in God's presence and let him wash over us.
And let the layers fall away.
I'll have a little mustard, please
As humans, are we not called to be God's hands on earth? (And even if we don't believe in any gods, doesn't natural law call us to be Love to one another?) As the monk/singer John Michael Talbot writes, "Christ has no body here but yours." What does that mean exactly?
Are we supposed to work up enough faith in order to bring God down to earth? Are we supposed to Name It and Claim It to see the magic?
I don't think so. It's not about us, after all. It's also not that much about others. It's really about the connection, the material Love, that is brought into existence when we act in love. So, how do we act in love?
Jesus told his disciples that all we needed was faith the size of a mustard seed. That's a pretty small seed, yet it becomes something large and fruitful over time with proper care. I think that a mustard seed portion of faith is the equivalent of taking a baby step. We just need to take that first step towards The One Who Knows Us and say, "Okay, here I am." We make the choice, and we will not be alone as we move / are moved ahead.
So where is he? Where do we go as we take that baby step, holding our tiny seed, learning to do this thing called 'acting in love'? Do we look to the heavens...or to we look to earth? Where is God so that we can do his work, this thing called 'acting in love'?
This is where the connection thing breaks down. We look in the wrong places. Because we're so busy with life, we assume that we should busy ourselves with God's work. We mistakenly think we're responsible for making a grand game plan...and hope that God shows up. We busy our minds so much that we fail to hear him in the voices of those around us or in the stillness within us.
As a consequence, we lose the opportunity to give god materiality, to make god real, to make god, God.
How do we make God material? By not looking for him: he's already here. We don't have to look for him. We don't have to make plans. We don't have to be something. We just have to connect and act. It's the connection, the material Love, that is brought into existence when we act in love.
I think we're supposed to see God in those around us and be God's hands to them, thereby connecting us to them through Love. At these times Love is real, material, and quite visible.
I think we're supposed to jump in feet first, hope for everything, and expect nothing.
I think we're supposed to just take a baby step and say, "Here I am."
I think we need to take a step and find ways to bless others and let that do the talking.
We just need faith the size of a mustard seed. Though a little bravery won't hurt.
Are we supposed to work up enough faith in order to bring God down to earth? Are we supposed to Name It and Claim It to see the magic?
I don't think so. It's not about us, after all. It's also not that much about others. It's really about the connection, the material Love, that is brought into existence when we act in love. So, how do we act in love?
Jesus told his disciples that all we needed was faith the size of a mustard seed. That's a pretty small seed, yet it becomes something large and fruitful over time with proper care. I think that a mustard seed portion of faith is the equivalent of taking a baby step. We just need to take that first step towards The One Who Knows Us and say, "Okay, here I am." We make the choice, and we will not be alone as we move / are moved ahead.
So where is he? Where do we go as we take that baby step, holding our tiny seed, learning to do this thing called 'acting in love'? Do we look to the heavens...or to we look to earth? Where is God so that we can do his work, this thing called 'acting in love'?
This is where the connection thing breaks down. We look in the wrong places. Because we're so busy with life, we assume that we should busy ourselves with God's work. We mistakenly think we're responsible for making a grand game plan...and hope that God shows up. We busy our minds so much that we fail to hear him in the voices of those around us or in the stillness within us.
As a consequence, we lose the opportunity to give god materiality, to make god real, to make god, God.
How do we make God material? By not looking for him: he's already here. We don't have to look for him. We don't have to make plans. We don't have to be something. We just have to connect and act. It's the connection, the material Love, that is brought into existence when we act in love.
I think we're supposed to see God in those around us and be God's hands to them, thereby connecting us to them through Love. At these times Love is real, material, and quite visible.
I think we're supposed to jump in feet first, hope for everything, and expect nothing.
I think we're supposed to just take a baby step and say, "Here I am."
I think we need to take a step and find ways to bless others and let that do the talking.
We just need faith the size of a mustard seed. Though a little bravery won't hurt.
Heroes and Flowers
Do we have to do large, heroic things for God? Who defines what is "large"? Humanity?
Jesus taught that only those who could become like children would enter His kingdom. I don't think he meant "simple mindedness" or "intellectual simplicity". I think he referred to the humility of children.
It doesn't occur to young children to make things complicated. They just act, trusting that the details will be covered for them. They show humility. They expect that their little efforts will bear fruit.
Therese of Lisieux figured this out at a young age, and she carried this childlike humility with her into adulthood. She knew that heroic acts or great deeds weren't necessary to please God. She knew that it was the little things that personified Love and gave Love form. She knew that just taking baby steps--and giving them to Him--was enough. Therese's "Little Way" was all about doing just this: doing every little thing for God just to please Him. Nothing more. If we could do this even a little each day, think of the practical repercussions for those around us.
I think Therese's "Little Way" is just another way of saying, "Take a small step towards God, offer him yourself, and get out of the way."
I don't know about you, but getting my mind out of the way is my problem. I think too much about stuff that doesn't matter in the scheme of things. I waste precious life moments making plans instead of quietly listening. My intellect has been exercised far more than my skills at stillness.
However, I have high hopes. I have hope that, over time, God will change in me this active-thinking-to-stillness ratio. I have hope that I can continue to discipline my mind by practicing stillness in the form of Centering Prayer. I have hope that I can stay in him throughout my day and content myself with giving to him every little thing I do, like flowers.
If God ever does ask me to do something that seems heroic in the world's eyes, then all I really need to do is take a small step towards him and say, "I'm here, Lord". And get out of the way.
Jesus taught that only those who could become like children would enter His kingdom. I don't think he meant "simple mindedness" or "intellectual simplicity". I think he referred to the humility of children.
It doesn't occur to young children to make things complicated. They just act, trusting that the details will be covered for them. They show humility. They expect that their little efforts will bear fruit.
Therese of Lisieux figured this out at a young age, and she carried this childlike humility with her into adulthood. She knew that heroic acts or great deeds weren't necessary to please God. She knew that it was the little things that personified Love and gave Love form. She knew that just taking baby steps--and giving them to Him--was enough. Therese's "Little Way" was all about doing just this: doing every little thing for God just to please Him. Nothing more. If we could do this even a little each day, think of the practical repercussions for those around us.
I think Therese's "Little Way" is just another way of saying, "Take a small step towards God, offer him yourself, and get out of the way."
I don't know about you, but getting my mind out of the way is my problem. I think too much about stuff that doesn't matter in the scheme of things. I waste precious life moments making plans instead of quietly listening. My intellect has been exercised far more than my skills at stillness.
However, I have high hopes. I have hope that, over time, God will change in me this active-thinking-to-stillness ratio. I have hope that I can continue to discipline my mind by practicing stillness in the form of Centering Prayer. I have hope that I can stay in him throughout my day and content myself with giving to him every little thing I do, like flowers.
If God ever does ask me to do something that seems heroic in the world's eyes, then all I really need to do is take a small step towards him and say, "I'm here, Lord". And get out of the way.
I Am.
Think of a time when you were very aware of your mind, perhaps working hard to memorize something, do a math problem, or follow directions. Do you remember how mentally focused you were? Is that a relatively familiar state?
Think of a time when you were very aware of your body. Maybe you were learning a new dance routine or sport, trying to carry a heavy tray while waiting on tables, or keeping your balance on a ladder. Isn't this, too, a relatively familiar state?
Now think of a time when you were very aware of your spiritual heart, that part of you that doesn't think or feel, but connects you to others intimately or to God in prayer. Is this harder to imagine? Why do you think that is? I think it's because we don't have ample opportunity to exercise this aspect of ourselves.
Most people who pray spend time in mental prayer: contemplating scripture, interceding for loved ones, or praying an organized prayer like the rosary. These definitely sharpen our ability to connect spiritually. As Teresa of Avila wrote: "Mental prayer...is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him Who we know loves us." However, wouldn't you consider mental prayer to be, first and foremost, a verbal conversation?
Recently I was comforting my daughter when she got hurt. As I held her in my arms and talked to her about what happened, she said something to me that reminded me of spiritual connection. She said, "Don't talk, Mommy. Just hold me." She just wanted to be held close and connect with me intimately, to feel safe with me. Nothing more.
I don't know about you, but I long to feel safe in today's frantic world. I long to be able to tell someone, "Don't talk. Just hold me." But then I think, "But I'm a grownup; I'm supposed to be strong", thereby giving up my right to pursue simple spiritual comfort.
The God called Love tells us to be like children. If you believe he made humans in his image--soul and body--then please realize that he acknowledges our right and need to pursue simple spiritual comfort; made us that way. He made us to commune with him.
Remember this: when God first revealed himself to Abraham so long ago, he said his name was "I Am."
I want simple spiritual comfort from I Am. I want to just be with him. Don't you?
Think of a time when you were very aware of your body. Maybe you were learning a new dance routine or sport, trying to carry a heavy tray while waiting on tables, or keeping your balance on a ladder. Isn't this, too, a relatively familiar state?
Now think of a time when you were very aware of your spiritual heart, that part of you that doesn't think or feel, but connects you to others intimately or to God in prayer. Is this harder to imagine? Why do you think that is? I think it's because we don't have ample opportunity to exercise this aspect of ourselves.
Most people who pray spend time in mental prayer: contemplating scripture, interceding for loved ones, or praying an organized prayer like the rosary. These definitely sharpen our ability to connect spiritually. As Teresa of Avila wrote: "Mental prayer...is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him Who we know loves us." However, wouldn't you consider mental prayer to be, first and foremost, a verbal conversation?
Recently I was comforting my daughter when she got hurt. As I held her in my arms and talked to her about what happened, she said something to me that reminded me of spiritual connection. She said, "Don't talk, Mommy. Just hold me." She just wanted to be held close and connect with me intimately, to feel safe with me. Nothing more.
I don't know about you, but I long to feel safe in today's frantic world. I long to be able to tell someone, "Don't talk. Just hold me." But then I think, "But I'm a grownup; I'm supposed to be strong", thereby giving up my right to pursue simple spiritual comfort.
The God called Love tells us to be like children. If you believe he made humans in his image--soul and body--then please realize that he acknowledges our right and need to pursue simple spiritual comfort; made us that way. He made us to commune with him.
Remember this: when God first revealed himself to Abraham so long ago, he said his name was "I Am."
I want simple spiritual comfort from I Am. I want to just be with him. Don't you?
Slow down this elevator, please
Ever notice how elevators—especially older ones—don't stop precisely? They have to "find" the exact stopping place, and it's not a perfectly smooth process. While this is happening, the elevator bounces above and below the final stopping place for a few moments while shock absorbers slow it down. In science this is known as "damping".Do you ever feel like you're on an elevator with old, shot dampers? I don't know about you, but I could use some damping in my life. I could use something (or Someone) to absorb some of life's shocks for me and slow things down.
Things get so busy that I just don't know who or what needs my attention NOW. I have too many decisions to make and there are too many choices. Even when I do make what *I think* is the correct choice, the elevator I'm on is taking its sweet time coming to a complete stop. I can't find the center so I can focus on just. one. thing.
I think this happens to all of us, every day. When we are uncentered, we are more vulnerable to the effects of our busy, busy lives. Life bounces us around. We find it more difficult to stay focused on loving consistently and maintaining our priorities effectively.
Learning to center ourselves on The Still God centers us. We find it easier to stay in the present, to focus on the center of things rather than all the extra. As we become more centered,
l-i-f-eees-l-o-w-seed-o-w-n. Our choices don't seem to fly by so fast, and we can actually see which things are the most important.
The more we center ourselves on the stillness, the more centered we become generally: we allow God to be the dampers that slow US down. The Still God can be the dampers we need. If we let him.
The more we center ourselves on the stillness, the more centered we become generally: we allow God to be the dampers that slow US down. The Still God can be the dampers we need. If we let him.
Outlasting
Do you remember hearing about the some of the survivors of the Indian Ocean tsunami? You know, the ones who tied themselves to a tree to keep from being swept away? I remember wondering how they had the presence of mind to do such a thing in the midst of such terror. It would have been so easy to just give into the terror and try to run or give up.
One such survivor was Dorothy Wilkinson. She had been (and still is) a marathon runner. Here is a quote from her story: "When you are running a marathon, you learn to block out the pain and focus on what you have to do to cross the line. I instinctively got into that mode...."
I think we can learn from her. No, we can't all go out and train for the Boston Marathon! But St. Paul tells us that we are running a race. We do need to train ourselves to "block out the pain and focus on what [we] have to do to cross the [finish] line."
Another tsunami survivor, Mark Brandon, wrote of the focus and tenacity of the doctors treating the injured. "The local hospital staff was incredible and all of them, plus one European doctor, were so overwhelmed by the drama unfolding, but yet they really maintained their posture and went about helping people in order of prioritized injuries. I will never forget that." Apparently there was a good reason for the 36 hour shifts during doctor's residency training...
So, how are we to focus ourselves enough to ignore the pain until we cross the finish line? How are we to focus ourselves enough to maintain our posture and clear head in the midst of life's problems? St. Paul tells us to run the race, to fight the good fight of faith. What does that mean to us, today?
Life's trials are our training ground. We cannot run from them, nor should we even try. We must run toward our problems, allowing ourselves to hold onto God-as-we-understand-him in the midst of them. The more we embrace our challenges, the more we can do as Dorothy Wilkinson did: We can instinctively "get into that mode" because we know how to do it. We know what it feels like to hang on and outlast. Since these trials are what make us need God, we should learn how to play this game.
There are many ways for us to train for this: scripture / holy book study, gratefulness, giving Love existence through our actions, centering prayer.... We can learn how to center ourselves on God and learn how to hold on. The more we understand what it feels like to be centered, the easier it becomes to remain centered, focused, and clear-headed while we treat the sick and injured around us. The more we practice "getting into the mode" of outlasting, the easier it is to actually stay centered enough to outlast the tsunami coming at us.
I can train my mind by replacing my negative thoughts with God's thoughts. I can train my body by making sacrifices & fasting. And I can train and reinforce my awareness of God's nearness by practicing Centering Prayer.
One such survivor was Dorothy Wilkinson. She had been (and still is) a marathon runner. Here is a quote from her story: "When you are running a marathon, you learn to block out the pain and focus on what you have to do to cross the line. I instinctively got into that mode...."
I think we can learn from her. No, we can't all go out and train for the Boston Marathon! But St. Paul tells us that we are running a race. We do need to train ourselves to "block out the pain and focus on what [we] have to do to cross the [finish] line."
Another tsunami survivor, Mark Brandon, wrote of the focus and tenacity of the doctors treating the injured. "The local hospital staff was incredible and all of them, plus one European doctor, were so overwhelmed by the drama unfolding, but yet they really maintained their posture and went about helping people in order of prioritized injuries. I will never forget that." Apparently there was a good reason for the 36 hour shifts during doctor's residency training...
So, how are we to focus ourselves enough to ignore the pain until we cross the finish line? How are we to focus ourselves enough to maintain our posture and clear head in the midst of life's problems? St. Paul tells us to run the race, to fight the good fight of faith. What does that mean to us, today?
Life's trials are our training ground. We cannot run from them, nor should we even try. We must run toward our problems, allowing ourselves to hold onto God-as-we-understand-him in the midst of them. The more we embrace our challenges, the more we can do as Dorothy Wilkinson did: We can instinctively "get into that mode" because we know how to do it. We know what it feels like to hang on and outlast. Since these trials are what make us need God, we should learn how to play this game.
There are many ways for us to train for this: scripture / holy book study, gratefulness, giving Love existence through our actions, centering prayer.... We can learn how to center ourselves on God and learn how to hold on. The more we understand what it feels like to be centered, the easier it becomes to remain centered, focused, and clear-headed while we treat the sick and injured around us. The more we practice "getting into the mode" of outlasting, the easier it is to actually stay centered enough to outlast the tsunami coming at us.
I can train my mind by replacing my negative thoughts with God's thoughts. I can train my body by making sacrifices & fasting. And I can train and reinforce my awareness of God's nearness by practicing Centering Prayer.
Static cling is a sure thing
Do you like change? I love change. The right kind of change. I hate the other kind.
My greatest sadness in life is this: everything is always changing. Don't get me wrong: I like new foods, a new (flattering!) pair of pants, new ideas, a new movie, a new paint in the kitchen. But other kinds of change just suck the life right out of me.
I feel weaker when relationships change. I feel weaker when I watch my kids grow up from one minute to the next. I feel weaker when I leave people behind after a move. I feel weaker when I watch loved ones die and change my life. I feel weaker when this slippery life thing just keeps on going even when I want it to stop, at least for a while.
I find some small comfort in the midst of this weakness when I remember that loss serves to remind me that I had something valuable to begin with. Fr. Corbin Eddy, in Who Knows the Reach of God? says
What comforts me in the midst of my losses is believing that God doesn't change. I live with the hope that upon death, this slippery life will settle down.
But what of today, right now? I will hold onto Love as God with all that I am, even when my faith in him fails me. I will cling to Love, I will hold fast to the idea of Love, who is all good. When I struggle with anything at all, I will remind myself that Love never changes. I will let him carry me close. I will rest my heart throughout the day and let him engulf me in his nearness.
My greatest sadness in life is this: everything is always changing. Don't get me wrong: I like new foods, a new (flattering!) pair of pants, new ideas, a new movie, a new paint in the kitchen. But other kinds of change just suck the life right out of me.
I feel weaker when relationships change. I feel weaker when I watch my kids grow up from one minute to the next. I feel weaker when I leave people behind after a move. I feel weaker when I watch loved ones die and change my life. I feel weaker when this slippery life thing just keeps on going even when I want it to stop, at least for a while.
I find some small comfort in the midst of this weakness when I remember that loss serves to remind me that I had something valuable to begin with. Fr. Corbin Eddy, in Who Knows the Reach of God? says
"...recognize mourning as the other side of love. Developing close relationships is risky business. We mourn only because we treasure the preciousness of that which we have lost. There’s something very human and beautiful about that."
What comforts me in the midst of my losses is believing that God doesn't change. I live with the hope that upon death, this slippery life will settle down.
But what of today, right now? I will hold onto Love as God with all that I am, even when my faith in him fails me. I will cling to Love, I will hold fast to the idea of Love, who is all good. When I struggle with anything at all, I will remind myself that Love never changes. I will let him carry me close. I will rest my heart throughout the day and let him engulf me in his nearness.
I breathe. Most of the time, anyway
In my last essay I wrote: I will rest my heart throughout the day and let him engulf me in his nearness. If you're anything like me--a homeschooling mom with too much to do--you're probably thinking, "But how am I supposed to remember to rest in him? Hindsight is 20/20."
So how do we remember to rest in The God of Stillness in the midst of daily chaos? Maybe you are the picture of serenity and always aware of your actions, but I am not. Often I notice much too late that my foot is in my mouth, that I've put on a layer of self between me and my husband or children, or that I'm caught up in my own plans instead of waiting on God. What to do?
We must train ourselves so that we know what resting feels like, and we must find a way to remind ourselves to rest in him. We need to set an alarm.
What alarm?
Do you breathe? I do, pretty regularly I might add. Do you ever notice yourself breathing? Probably not. Our breathing, though, can be a sort of alarm clock. What if you told yourself each and every morning that "When I *do* notice myself breathing today, I will remember that he is near so I can rest in him." Could that work?
I have a challenge for you: Tomorrow morning right after you get up, practice centering prayer for five minutes. Purposefully center yourself, remain quiet, and begin training yourself to know what rest feels like. At the end of your five minutes, ask God to remind you to notice your own breathing during the day. Later on when you're in the middle of _______ and you notice that you're breathing, call to mind what rest and stillness felt like during centering prayer time.
This is an effective way to learn to carry the stillness with you.
So how do we remember to rest in The God of Stillness in the midst of daily chaos? Maybe you are the picture of serenity and always aware of your actions, but I am not.
We must train ourselves so that we know what resting feels like, and we must find a way to remind ourselves to rest in him. We need to set an alarm.
What alarm?
Do you breathe? I do, pretty regularly I might add. Do you ever notice yourself breathing? Probably not. Our breathing, though, can be a sort of alarm clock. What if you told yourself each and every morning that "When I *do* notice myself breathing today, I will remember that he is near so I can rest in him." Could that work?
I have a challenge for you: Tomorrow morning right after you get up, practice centering prayer for five minutes. Purposefully center yourself, remain quiet, and begin training yourself to know what rest feels like. At the end of your five minutes, ask God to remind you to notice your own breathing during the day. Later on when you're in the middle of _______ and you notice that you're breathing, call to mind what rest and stillness felt like during centering prayer time.
This is an effective way to learn to carry the stillness with you.
Connection, not words
God has no body here but ours. He needs us, just as we need him. Love becomes material when we act in Love. It's a great, symbiotic relationship.
Now more than ever, I feel called to be the Face of Love to others. All the words in the world don't really matter; in the end the only thing that matters is connection and love.
Our world is so disjointed, so disconnected. Our kids are addicted to video games, we spend so much time in our cars, and we're so overwhelmed at day's end that all we really want to do is use our favorite method of escape.
I feel called to connect. I feel called to look into others' eyes and be there with them, sharing moments of calm. I feel called to let God's presence within me flow to others.
I don't feel called to preach. I don't feel called to talk about my beliefs at every turn. I don't feel called to look for people to convert.
I simply feel called to connect and share God's love. We are Love's body on earth. We are the vessels that allow Love to flow to the isolated people around us. When we share a moment of "being" with the store clerk, being real and open, we can let Love flow through us to them. And we may be their only connection to Love in weeks.
This connection, and the kind words and smile that can accompany it, is a vibrant way to plant seeds. We may never get the chance to talk to them of our faith, but we can still share Love with them, give them this gift.
Now more than ever, I feel called to be the Face of Love to others. All the words in the world don't really matter; in the end the only thing that matters is connection and love.
Our world is so disjointed, so disconnected. Our kids are addicted to video games, we spend so much time in our cars, and we're so overwhelmed at day's end that all we really want to do is use our favorite method of escape.
I feel called to connect. I feel called to look into others' eyes and be there with them, sharing moments of calm. I feel called to let God's presence within me flow to others.
I don't feel called to preach. I don't feel called to talk about my beliefs at every turn. I don't feel called to look for people to convert.
I simply feel called to connect and share God's love. We are Love's body on earth. We are the vessels that allow Love to flow to the isolated people around us. When we share a moment of "being" with the store clerk, being real and open, we can let Love flow through us to them. And we may be their only connection to Love in weeks.
This connection, and the kind words and smile that can accompany it, is a vibrant way to plant seeds. We may never get the chance to talk to them of our faith, but we can still share Love with them, give them this gift.
Don't ask God to fill you up.
During my centering prayer time lately, I haven't been focusing on any special word. Instead I keep finding myself visualizing that I'm mug. I've been here before, but this round has been going on for about two weeks now.
Initially it went as usual, "God! Fill me up so I can overflow to my family and friends today!" And during any prayer time / study I managed to fit in, I'd find myself thinking as usual, "This time fills me up so I can get through my day."
However, my centering prayer /filling up/ experience is changing, and it's affecting how I see all of my focused time with my god, my whole life even. Over the course of this week the mug has been growing in size, and I keep finding my very Self becoming the ever-thinning sides of the mug, like a straw. Obviously this allows more and more room for I Am to fill me up, but I never get filled to the brim.
When I can tap into Love, then in the middle of the day I find that I still feel like this vessel and I'm still being filled. It's not like I've been filled to the brim in the morning and the level has been going down all day as the contents get used up. Not at all.
My conclusions? If I think I need to get filled by my god to get through the day, I have missed something crucial: I'm not supposed to feel satiated. I'm supposed to constantly feel like I'm being filled, like Love is flowing through me. I don't think my god wants me to ever feel completely filled. I'm supposed to feel a deep need to be filled by Love. I'm supposed to feel that I can never remain filled...without Love constantly pouring.
The more I get comfortable with the idea of becoming a straw, the easier it gets to let go of feeling drained. The more I am like a straw, the easier it is to be loving and give Love form.
Initially it went as usual, "God! Fill me up so I can overflow to my family and friends today!" And during any prayer time / study I managed to fit in, I'd find myself thinking as usual, "This time fills me up so I can get through my day."
However, my centering prayer /filling up/ experience is changing, and it's affecting how I see all of my focused time with my god, my whole life even. Over the course of this week the mug has been growing in size, and I keep finding my very Self becoming the ever-thinning sides of the mug, like a straw. Obviously this allows more and more room for I Am to fill me up, but I never get filled to the brim.
When I can tap into Love, then in the middle of the day I find that I still feel like this vessel and I'm still being filled. It's not like I've been filled to the brim in the morning and the level has been going down all day as the contents get used up. Not at all.
My conclusions? If I think I need to get filled by my god to get through the day, I have missed something crucial: I'm not supposed to feel satiated. I'm supposed to constantly feel like I'm being filled, like Love is flowing through me. I don't think my god wants me to ever feel completely filled. I'm supposed to feel a deep need to be filled by Love. I'm supposed to feel that I can never remain filled...without Love constantly pouring.
The more I get comfortable with the idea of becoming a straw, the easier it gets to let go of feeling drained. The more I am like a straw, the easier it is to be loving and give Love form.
Our Comforter, our Stillness, our Life
God is many things to us, but the one aspect of him that I often called to share is that of Comforter. The deepest yearning of my heart is to help others around me to learn Rest, to take comfort in the fact he is always there, as close as our own breath.
I've been at the bottom of a pit many times before, not really understanding fully how I got into it, and definitely not having a real plan re: how to get out. I've been at the place where I'm surrounded by people yet I'm lonely. Where outsiders would think I should be happy, but I'm not. Where I'm so exhausted emotionally and psychologically and I'm not even sure how I'll get through my day.
Have you ever felt as if you'd fallen into a pit with no way out? Help seems so far away as you sink deeper and deeper into yourself, your pain, your despair, your feelings of being completely overwhelmed, maybe even your depression? I've been there in times of grief, in times of overwhelming stress, in times of anger.
God feels far away at these times if we have embraced the idea that we must do ______ in order to reach God.
Many of us, regardless of our upbringing, have unwittingly embraced this formulaic concept of reaching God. We don't even realize we're doing it most of the time! We have somehow ingested the false notion that God needs us to do something substantial-- e.g. pray certain prayers or in a certain way, have "enough" faith, methodically confess our sins--in order to reach him. We don't have to reach him. He's a nanometer away!
Am I saying that praying certain prayers or in certain ways, having great faith, or confession of sins (either privately or as a Sacrament) aren't helpful? No! But I don't think they are necessary to reach God's gentle, comforting presence.
When we act as though we must do something to reach God, we are cheating ourselves out of our birthright! In fact, I will go so far as to say that we are being sinful. Who are we to think that we CAN do anything to reach God? I will go so far as to say something else: continuing to even think that we need to jump through hoops to be close to God moves us farther from him. To draw close to God, we need to come empty-handed, with humility, with nothing to give but ourselves. We may use prayers, confession, and worship to help us bear fruit -- but these things aren't required for us to just reach him. He's already here.
If I won the lottery and I could buy the right to people's hearts for just a few seconds (bear with my fantasy here for a moment!), I would want them to understand one thing: God loves us. Right now. Right here. Right where we are, what we are, who we are. He stands as close to us as our very own breath, and he waits for us.
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