meditation

Preparing for Morning Meditation Time

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

July 16, 2024

NOTE: If you have already received this post, my apologies. I am trying to fix some technical difficulties.

Some mornings need no preparation.

I make the bed and brush my teeth and head into the snug for my morning meditation time. I read a devotion or two, write in my journal, and sit in the silence, praying with words or simply an open heart. Closing my eyes, I breathe in and out, gently, finding my own rhythm.

Some days I sit there longer than others, but no matter the length of time, I feel more prepared for the day. More open to whatever is planned. And whatever is unplanned. I have learned over the years that if this morning time is absent from my day for more than two or three days, I am not as present to the movement of God in my life or even my own movements. I tend to trip or slip or become fuzzy or light-headed–metaphorically, but sometimes even actually. This morning time is key to my functioning, to my balance, to finding my own rhythm and being able to respond to the rhythms swirling around me.

But some days I need to prepare myself for the ritual preparation for the day. Yesterday was one of those days perhaps because of the upsetting weekend events and the ensuing commentary and knowing that the Republican convention was about to begin.

I knew I needed to calm myself before I could calm myself!

Shouldn’t making my bed and going for a walk be enough? Well, no, for frankly those feel like “shoulds” in my life. I wish I didn’t think about my morning walk in that way, but as long as this heat smolders me, I’m afraid the walk is something to check off my list more than a pleasure. I plod forward and try to remind myself to notice the gardens and wish summer blessings to dog walkers and those dashing to their cars with kids destined for daycare, but I just feel sweaty.

Sometimes I admit there is an unexpected delight. One morning last week I was trudging along, wishing I was on the return route, and I heard a sweet, slightly off tune voice singing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” A little girl, maybe age 4, and her Daddy were walking behind me to the daycare center across from the Catholic church in our neighborhood. She repeated the verse about the cow several times and didn’t always include “E-I-E-I-O,” but no matter, I was honored to be her audience. I felt blessed.

Unfortunately, I experienced no such treat Monday morning and felt only self-righteous about exercising in spite of the heat and the on-again, off-again sprinkles. I was not ready to enter meditation and I knew it. What to do?

I cut daisies for a new bouquet on the dining room table.

I swept the walk and the steps leading to our front door.

I took a shower.

And then I was ready, and I entered the snug and my morning meditation time.

Now I realize that morning meditation time does not require preparation. It is normally a “come as you are” activity, but sometimes I know I will benefit even more from that time if I can bring some small slice of serenity into the space. These brief clearing the space moments are not distractions. They are not ways of putting off what I know I must do, but, instead they are part of a progression, a procession into the meditation time.

Prayers for These Days

Turning to the light
the light turns to us.
Moving toward the source
the source moves us.
Holding on to hope
hope holds on to us.
            Padraig O'Tuoma in Being Here, Prayers for Curiosity, Justice, and Love

Prayer of the Day, Sunday, July 15, 2024
O, God, from you come all holy desires, all good counsels, and all just works. 
Give to us, your servants, that peace which the world cannot give, that our hearts may be set to obey your commandments; and also that we, being defended from the fear of our enemies, may live in peace and quietness, through Jesus Christ , our Savior and Lord. Amen.

An Announcement and a Request

I learned last week, thanks to a reader, that my posts are not appearing on my website. Those who subscribe or find me on Facebook or are on my email list receive the posts, but if anyone goes to my website https://livingonlifeslabyrinth, the last post published was on June 13, 2024. I have requested help from WordPress, but that was not helpful, and I have watched some YouTube videos, which also did not solve the problem. I may end up using the Geek Squad at Best Buy, but that involves leaving my laptop with them, and that just isn’t convenient right now.

So here’s my plan: a time-out. I always wonder when these kinds of interruptions and/or technical issues arise if I am getting a message to do something else or not do anything at all. I have been a blogger for 15 years or so and perhaps it is time to end that chapter of my life. I don’t think so, but I need to sit with that question. Summer seems like a good time to do that.

So I am taking a break.

At the same time if anyone in the St Paul area has a suggestion about someone who is in the business of solving all things technical and will make a house call, I am open to recommendations.

May all be well with you and I wish you summer blessings.

An Invitation

What activities prepare you or lead you to times of focused meditation? I would love to know.



Following Foolproof Directions

/ nagneberg48 / Leave a comment

July 9, 2024

Monday morning. “Really?” I moaned when I looked at the clock. 5:30. I wasn’t ready to fully enter the day, but on the other hand, I knew if I went back to sleep, I would sleep later than I wanted to. After all the Monday list was long.

What did I do? I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. For another hour and 15 minutes. I’m usually getting ready for my morning walk by then. Oh well.

I made the bed. At least I had accomplished one thing, I reassured myself. Little by little I did what needed to be done in order to go for a walk. I admit I don’t’ head out on a walk eagerly. I really prefer sitting in the snug, reading my current book. But going for a morning walk is on the list, and it is good for me. Some writers say they love having written, more than actually writing. Well, I am happier when I’ve completed my walk more than when I am actually walking. I must say, however, that right now what a pleasure it is to see the exuberant gardens in so many homes.

Once home, dripping in sweat, because that’s what my body does, even when it is only warm and not hot, the next step was to take a shower. The bathroom with the shower is on the lower level of the house, which is not where my clothes closet and dresser are located. Normally, that is not an issue, but yesterday I needed to return to the first floor not once, but twice to get what I needed to be fully clothed.

Ok, I was finally ready to enter the day.

On my list was to make egg salad, and I was proud of myself for cutting the chives before taking my shower and washing off the insect repellant needed when I walk. You see getting to the chives, once visible, but now hidden among other fully grown plants, is no small task, and I had jungled my way to them. (Yes, I know “jungle” is not a verb.)

I have foolproof directions for hard boiled eggs.

  • Place eggs in large pot and cover with cool tap water.
  • Bring water to boil, lower heat and simmer for five minutes.
  • Turn off heat and let eggs sit in water for five minutes.
  • Drain. Fill pot with cold water.
  • To peel, tap each end on a board, roll egg between hand and board to crackle the shell.
  • Peel under running tap water and let cool to room temperature.

The directions are only foolproof, however, when they are followed.

First mistake: when the water boiled, I set the timer on my phone to five minutes, but I forgot to press “start.”

Second mistake: After wondering how long the eggs had been simmering, I set the timer again for five minutes and AGAIN–I kid you not–forgot to press “start.”

I have no idea if I estimated the time as too long or not enough, but when I tried peeling the eggs…well, let’s just say, I needed to start all over. And I did, and this time, I focused on the directions, and guess what? They worked, and I made delicious egg salad for sandwiches.

By this time it was already midmorning, and normally, I would have written my Tuesday post and would be ready to work on Thursday’s post or another item on my list–a list this week that is longer than any previous week this summer. Yesterday, however, I had no idea what to write.

Here’s where the day shifted.

What I most needed was to follow my own foolproof directions.

  • Close my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and take a deep cleansing breath
  • Continue breathing gently, in and out, finding my own rhythm.
  • As thoughts and ideas, worries and concerns enter my head, invite them to step aside. They will be there later, if I need them.
  • Remain in the stillness, the silence, the spaciousness and allow the presence of God to enfold me.
  • When it is time, and I will know when it is time, I take another deep cleansing breath and open my eyes.

I know these directions are foolproof, so why is it I forget to follow them? Why do I resist? Why do I forget that in order to be the movement of God, I must welcome and notice the movement of God.

I am not suggesting that the rest of the day proceeded smoothly and that I accomplished everything on my too long list, but I did write this post. I enjoyed an egg salad sandwich for lunch. I met with a client whom I love, and I was able to be present to her. I checked off a few small items on my list. I had time to read in the snug. And most of all, I moved through the day in a more grace-filled way.

Sometimes it just takes following directions.

An Invitation

What are your “foolproof directions”? I would love to know.

Summer Blessings, Summer Routines

/ nagneberg48 / 2 Comments

June 25, 2024

My favorite way to begin a summer day is first to go on a walk and then to return to our side patio, an area I call “Paris, for devotion time. I have not followed that routine often yet this summer, although most days I have gone for a walk. Often, however, by the time I return it is raining or threatening to rain. How good it was Monday morning to say to myself, “Do it, Nancy. Go to Paris.”

And I did, after first bathing in a natural essence insect repellent spray.

I began by reading Padraig O’ Tuama’s opening prayer in his book Being Here, Prayers, for Curiosity, Justice, and Love. This book is my companion this month. Each of the 31 daily meditations begin in the same way:

Turning to the day
and to each other
       We open ourselves to the day
       and to each other.

This is the day that the Lord has made
and a day we'll have to make our way through.

...

        Because this is a way of living
       That's worth living daily.

Each day O’ Tuama offers a reading, a piece of scripture, a collect of the day, and a “Remembering Prayer.” Often I reread the Remembering Prayer before going to bed at night.

In my post “Tree Work,” https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/3582 I shared the form for writing collects:

  1. Address someone or something
  2. Say more.
  3. Ask one thing.
  4. Say more.
  5. End.

In that post I shared a collect I wrote addressing the trees and since then I have occasionally written other collects. Sitting in Paris yesterday morning, I wrote, 

Oh, Pleasing "Paris"
provider of sanctuary,
even as I peer beyond the entrance,
my place of inspiration,
of contemplation,
may I enter this day,
in the same way I enter this space:
open to beauty,
open to a new day, a new week,
open to moments of pause,
open to the Presence.
Amen.

I wrote in my journal. I reread a chapter in Emily Freeman’s How To Walk into A Room, The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away. I read this book fairly quickly in May, underlining so much and noting questions and sections that demanded more reflection. Sitting in Paris, I was ready to enter into deeper conversation with that book.

Today’s chapter, “Remembering Your Path,” reminds me once again to name my personal core values: “What embodies you with God and gets you back to yourself?” (p. 72). I paused and allowed the words I have identified for myself to rise yet again.

Being a presence.

Knowing the Presence.

This morning time–walking and sitting in Paris–brings me into the present, strengthens the way I live in the world, and deepens my awareness of the movement of God.

Once again I was ready to walk through our garden gate, where a Swahili word is posted, “karibu,” which means “hospitality.” I was ready to be present to the fullness of the day.

An Invitation

What summer routine increased your awareness of the movement of God? I would love to know.

Leaning into Holy Week

/ nagneberg48 / 7 Comments

March 26, 2024

Entombment (1603) by Caravaggio

Late in the afternoon, since it was the Day of Preparation (that is, Sabbath eve,) Joseph of Arimathea, a highly respected member of the Jewish Council, came. He was one who lived expectantly, on the lookout for the kingdom of God. Working up his courage, he went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. Pilate questioned whether he could be dead that soon and called for the captain to verify that he was really dead. Assured by the captain, he gave Joseph the corpse.

Having already purchased a linen shroud, Joseph took him down, wrapped him in the shroud, placed him in a tomb that had been cut into the rock, and rolled a large stone across the opening. Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of Joses, watched the burial.

Mark 15: 42-47 (paraphrased by Eugene Peterson in The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language)

Many years ago the Cleveland Museum of Art hosted a traveling show of treasures from the Vatican. Entombment, a large painting by Caravaggio, was one of those treasures. We were living in Cleveland at the time and were among the crowds of people who attended this exhibit. Our son Geof, who is a graduate of the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, became our unofficial guide as we moved through the galleries. In his quiet voice, he pointed out aspects of the paintings I would surely have missed otherwise. Many people listened to an audio tour prepared by the museum, but even so I noticed a number of people paying attention to what Geof was saying and watching where he was pointing.

How true that was when we entered a room where the only painting was Entombment.

After spending time gazing at the painting, trying to take in the lifeless body of Jesus, the grief of those in attendance, and the strength and struggle of the men as they placed the body in the tomb, Geof suggested we move to the left side of the painting and kneel–not as an act of adoration and devotion, although I remember feeling that, but in order to experience the painting from a different perspective.

Joseph of Arimathea seemed to be looking right at me, asking for my help. I was in that tomb, too, positioned to receive and to ease the body onto that hard slab of rock. When we eventually left that room, that tomb, I noticed others taking the same posture as Geof had shown me.

The Passion Story

During our Sunday morning worship service, Palm Sunday, the Passion Story according to the Gospel of Mark was read. How many times have I read the story in the quiet of my own space, heard the story, seen the story performed, even read aloud for others the story? I know this story, and yet, I am always stunned by the story. Sometimes I imagine myself as Peter, denying three times his relationship with Jesus. Or might I have been one of the Chief Priest’s servant girls who questioned Peter, “You were with the Nazarene, Jesus.” Sometimes I am the woman pouring the expensive perfume over Jesus’ head. Sometimes I am one of the disciples in the room preparing the Passover meal. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to carry the cross as Simon of Cyrene, did.

This story has room for each part of me. Each aspect of ourselves.

This time as Joseph of Arimathea’s actions were described, I remembered that Caravaggio painting and how my son had invited me to be in that scene, that moment.

I wondered about my openness, my willingness to receive.

When have I held someone else’s loss? How have I held my own losses?

How have I prepared the tomb for my own death?

Christine Valters Paintner in her new book, A Different Kind of Fast, Feeding Our True Hungers in Lent, invites us to enter the scene. “Help carry the weight of his body.” I see Joseph and his companion strain to hold that deadweight. How am I asked to lighten that load? To share that burden?

I don’t recall thinking much about the others depicted in the painting, but Paintner suggests:

Stand by the tomb as the mourners lay Jesus’s body to rest. Rest in the silence with them for a while. When the time feels right, consider engaging in conversation with one or more people there. Ask them what they have seen, how they feel, what they are going to do now. Have a dialogue with the garden, the plantlife, the tomb itself, Jesus’s body.

Sit inside the tomb for a period of time. Rest into the waiting. Recognize those places in your own life where you await new life.

p. 214.

This is what these Holy Week days are about–to see and to know ourselves in the story. To discover a new perspective and to lean into the new life awaiting us.

May these coming days deepen your awareness of the movement of God in your life.

An Invitation

When have you heard or experienced something familiar in a new way and gained a new perspective? I would love to know.

Lenten Overload

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

February 19, 2024

“Ash Wednesday was almost a week ago and yet, I still don’t feel settled into Lent.”

That’s how my February 28, 2023 post began, and the sentiment expressed there fits me this year, too. https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/1780,

I felt prepared for Lent this year. I really did. After all, I had consulted my list of Lenten meditation books in my personal library and gathered some key ones. In addition I ordered two new books (of course)–Jesus, Guide of My Life, Reflections for the Lenten Journey by Joyce Rupp and A Different Kind of Fast, Feeding Our True Hungers in Lent by Christine Valters Paintner.

I even thought about a specific Lenten practice to note daily in my journal people, places, and things as a way to increase my awareness and become more present. Have I done that yet? Nope. Not really.

Instead, I feel overwhelmed.

My email inbox is full of beautiful and meaningful Lenten reflections –Joan Chittister, Richard Rohr, Nadia Bolz Weber, Diana Butler Bass, Steve Garnaas, Rosemary McMahon, Oasis Ministries, and others. And I am tempted by other new books: Field Notes for the Wilderness by Sarah Bessey, You Are Here: Keywords for Life’s Explorers by David Steindl-Rast, The Eloquence of Silence by Thomas Moore, Beguiled By Beauty, Cultivating a Life of Contemplation and Compassion by Wendy Farley, and Being Here: Prayers for Curiosity, Justice and Love by Padraig O’Tuoma.

Even the New York Times’ Sunday opinion section had an essay about Lent, “What We Give Up Makes Us Who We Are by Molly Worthen.

So many thoughts. So many suggestions.

So much to read.

What to give up? What to add on? So many ways to think about this time of the church year and about this season of my life. So many more items for my To Do list.

Time to back up.

First, I thought about the meaningful Lenten practices of recent years — lightening my physical load. For two years I challenged myself to let go of books in my spirituality and theology library–at least one book each of the 40 days of Lent. How good that felt and how that has become part of my ongoing practice. I no longer need to keep every book that enters the house.

Last year I extended that ‘letting go” to a big stack of magazines I have kept. I paged through each issue, saving some articles or images to perhaps use with the writing group I facilitate. The only complete issues I kept were the ones in which an essay I had written had been published. Do I miss them –not at all?

So is there any other THING that needs decluttering? Ah yes. At the beginning of this year I decided to begin two projects.

  1. To finally go through all our photos–sort, organize, order and even compile some of them into thematic Shutterfly books.
  2. To reread all my journals, beginning with my first one from 1976, and decide what to do with them.

What have I done on those two projects? Well, the above picture is the extent of my work so far. I have gathered the bins of photographs and some of the earliest journals. They are partially hidden behind my comfortable chair in the garret where I can see them from my desk.

They are calling me, beckoning me.

I hunger to respond to them.

I yearn to let go of what is no longer needed.

Ah, my Lenten practice. To enter into these projects with contemplation and reflection. With my heart and soul. To pay attention to the movement of God in my life, as reflected in my inner voice. To approach these projects as more than physical decluttering and clearing of space. Instead, I hope to let go of what clutters my heart and mind.

I recognize these projects will take much longer than the 40 days of Lent, but this is a set-aside time to begin that journey.

To do that, however, I do need to let go of the need to read everything that comes into my inbox or to order all the titles that entice me or even to respond to all the worthy ideas and suggestions about approaches to Lent that come my way. I need to leave my meditation space a little sooner and take that contemplative attitude back into the garret where my projects await.

Finally, I need to be gentle with myself. I am aware that moving into the new year now takes a bit longer, and movement from winter to spring is always challenging for me. Perhaps this slower pace is my new normal.

And I need to remember that my word for the year is enfold/unfold. Lent will enfold me and Lent will unfold.

Stay tuned.

An Invitation

What spiritual practice is calling you? What yearning is beckoning you? I would love to know.

My Morning Meditation Shift

/ nagneberg48 / 9 Comments

April 25, 2023

In a recent post https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/1883 I documented how I rearranged furniture on the first floor of our home. Just because I felt like making a change. The most major of the changes was to move a desk, which I always refer to as my Lady’s Writing Desk, from the entry way into the snug. I confess I have rarely used this desk with all of its cubbies since we moved back to St Paul. Instead, I have almost exclusively used my desk in the garret.

Well, in its new location in the snug I find myself drawn to using it once again–not so much for writing blog posts or working on the content for the writing group I lead or for other writing projects, but perhaps for the use this desk was first intended: correspondence. Thank you notes and birthday and sympathy cards. And letters. This little desk is now stocked with note paper and stationary and favorite pens and stamps.

I love having a window on the world of our block, watching the neighborhood kids racing up and down the sidewalk and the dog walkers and joggers. Bruce even checks in with me much more than when I was tucked away in the garret.

I don’t like how the desk looks from outside the house looking in, but oh well.

In the past year I have worked hard to end my writing work life by 4:00 in the afternoon. I turn off the laptop and the lamp light and retire to the snug to read for awhile before fixing dinner. That is a good thing for me, but at the same time I have noticed a decrease in writing letters and other correspondence; something I have always enjoyed. I like writing at a desk, but if I return to the garret desk, I often end up working on other projects.

Because this desk is in the snug, I feel called to return to a part of my life that has given me so much pleasure in the past.

Another Change

Most mornings I head straight up to the garret, even before I get dressed, for my morning meditation time. I sit in the comfortable Girlfriend Chair, to pray, to meditate, to write in my journal, and to read sacred texts. During COVID when I wasn’t meeting in person with spiritual direction clients, I moved the chair into the larger space in the garret where I meet with most of my clients.

But guess what? My designated meditation chair in the garret is close, very close to my desk, and meditation often becomes muddled with work. Hmmmm.

In warm weather what I often do is walk first thing in the morning and move my meditation time into our Paris garden. But, alas, we have had one day of warm weather so far this month. and while the snow has finally disappeared and walking is possible, sitting in Paris is not. And who knows when that is going to happen.

While writing letters at my Lady’s Writing Desk on Saturday, I had one of those ah-ha moments, Why not start my day in the snug, instead of going up to my garret office right away. Another comfortable chair. Plenty of space to keep my meditation materials, and writing in my journal at a desk is much easier. And there will not be the temptation to answer email or dive into the day’s To Do list.

And it is a change. A change of scene often brings a change of perspective. A change shows me I can be flexible. A change often inspires creativity and problem solving, too. And, if it doesn’t feel right, I can easily move back into the garret.

And when I do go up to the garret later in the morning I will be ready to focus on my work.

So far, so good, but it has only been a couple days. Stay tuned!

Making changes doesn’t mean you’re not content. It means you’re paying attention.

Myquillan Smith

An Invitation

What change have you made recently that has enhanced your life? I would love to know.