silence

Advent 3: Three Lit Candles

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December 19, 2023

Silence.

When I was in spiritual direction training, each of our monthly sessions began in silence.

Each of us enrolled in the program entered the gathering space quietly. We greeted each other with hugs or smiles or nods of our heads and then, sitting in a circle, we sat in silence. Not just for 30 seconds, but for minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Never quite long enough for me.

I loved that time. Needed that time, and how surprising that was, for I had driven the six hours, often alone, from Cleveland to Lebanon, PA the night before and then retired to my small, dorm-like room in the retreat center. A night of silence.

How could I desire yet more silence?

I recall our program director saying, “Let’s move into silence.” (That was over 25 years ago, so I can’t vouch for the complete accuracy of my memory.)

MOVE into silence. Such an interesting concept, that is. The idea that we are called to MOVE into silence. To enter silence deliberately, intentionally.

Is that what the Wise Ones did as they followed the star? Did they hold on to the reins of their camels and lumber along in silence, only nodding to one another at a moment of decision? And somehow they got just where they needed to be.

I remember another journey taken mostly in silence. It was December of 2002, almost Christmas, and I was driving by myself, as I often did, from Cleveland to Minnesota. My mother was dying of colon cancer, and it was clear this would be her last Christmas. She seemed to be doing well at the moment, but I knew how quickly that could change.

Normally, I listened to the radio in the car, following the NPR stations as I drove that 14 hour journey. Sometimes I listened to an audio book. On that trip, however, I drove in silence much of the time. I thought about what I would say at my mother’s funeral. I conversed with God about all that had occurred in recent months, but most of the time I just drove. I moved forward in silence, into silence.

The silence helped prepare me for whatever was ahead.

Each Wednesday evening during Advent our congregation gathers for evening prayer, and during the service we sit in silence two different times. A gong is struck, an invitation to move into silence, and other than a child’s squeaks or the brief rustling as we settle into the quiet, the sanctuary is silent.

We are silent together.

Perhaps the time until the gentle tinkling of the bells signals the transition from silence to the next stage of the service feels long for some of those present. It is never long enough for me, even though much of my days are spent in silence, working at my desk, reading in the snug, meditating at the beginning of the day. There is something different about sitting in silence with others, however.

When we are silent together, we create silence and respond to silence, enlarging and deepening it. We rest in it, but also awaken to its gifts. I am aware of the breathing around me and feel supported by that life. I sense the Presence among us.

I felt that when I sat in silence with my spiritual direction colleagues all those years ago. I feel that at the beginning of a spiritual direction session when my directee and I sit in silence. And I feel that way Wednesday evenings when we sit in silence in the barely lit sanctuary.

I suspect the Wise Ones felt that as they followed the star in silence. Perhaps the camels were even silent.

May you create space in your life for the gift of silence.

An Invitation

What role does silence play in your life? I would love to know.

NOTE:

I will post on Thursday, December 21, but then will take a week off to honor the Christmas holiday. I will return the week of January 1.

Some Days Need More Than One Spiritual Practice

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March 7, 2023

Some days feel like this.

And perhaps like this:

Even the Buddha can have an off day.

What I first need to remember is that it is March in Minnesota, and even those of us who love winter become weary of yet another forecast of more snow.

The next thing I need to remember is what helps when I feel a bit blue or antsy and itchy or bored (that happens rarely for me) or worried or disappointed or overwhelmed or….

I admit my first response often is chocolate. Or a grilled cheese sandwich is good, too.

Or if I have been working at my desk, especially if the writing is not going well or if I feel overwhelmed by the TO DO List, which seems to have too many DO NOW items than can physically be done NOW, I try to remember to close the laptop, walk down the garret stairs, and move into the snug to read my current library book. If I could, I would go for a walk, but oh yeah, there’s the snow and ice and a memory of falling and breaking an ankle. The snug will have to do.

Eventually, I remember what helps –even more than chocolate.

I take a deep cleansing breath. More than one. I close my eyes lightly, not tightly. That may seem like an unnecessary reminder, but notice how you feel when you close your eyes tightly. Your whole face squinches up, ogre-like, and instead of breathing, you hold your breath. So close your eyes lightly, not tightly. And then breathe in and out gently, finding your own rhythm.

Often that is enough. I breathe my way to relaxing into the next step or the loving outlook. Or feeling beloved myself.

But sometimes that isn’t enough, and I need to move to the next step in my spiritual practice repertoire: Sitting in silence.

For me that means moving to my Girlfriend Chair in the garret and allowing myself to be enfolded in silence. The majority of my garret time is quiet. I don’t work with music playing, and especially in the winter with the windows closed and the kids next door off to school, all is calm, all is still. I sit with my feet firmly planted on the floor, and I feel the silence enfold me. Sometimes it is so quiet, I can hear my inner voice, the voice I hope echoes the Divine. I listen. I really listen.

Often it is surprising what I hear.

“I love you. Now and forever.”

“Send your love to someone else.”

“Enough. You have enough. You are enough. Enough”

“Trust yourself. You are doing good work. Just stay on the path.”

“Really? You are willing to spend your precious time whining.”

Or if I’m really lucky, “Have another piece of chocolate.”

Sometimes I write in my journal during that silent time or read some sacred words. And prayer of one kind or another is sure to follow.

Whatever has caused my restlessness or anxiety hasn’t disappeared because I have turned to one (or two or three) of my spiritual practices, but I am more centered. I am more present.


We realize that we are in the center, and that from there all that is and all that takes place can be seen and understood as part of the mystery of God’s life with us…’All these other things,’ which so occupied and preoccupied us, now come as gifts or challenges that strengthen and deepen the new life that we have discovered.

Henri Nouwen

I am my silence. I am not the busyness of my thoughts or the daily rhythm of my actions. I am not the stuff that constitutes my world. I am not my talk. I am not my actions. I am my silence. I am the consciousness that perceives all these things. When I go to my consciousness, to that great pool of silence that observes the intricacies of my life, I am aware that I am me. I take a little time each day to sit in silence so that I can move outward in balance into the great clamour of living.

Richard Wagamese, Embers, One Ojibway’s Meditations

An Invitation

What spiritual practices help you return to the center? I would love to know.

Going with the Flow

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September 20, 2022

Since returning from our Labor Day weekend road trip to Cleveland, the days have been full. Notice I said “full,” not “busy.”

For me “full” indicates choice. What do I choose to do? What do I prefer to do? What brings meaning into my life and in what ways do my choices have potential meaning for others?

“Fullness” versus “busyness” reminds me to pay attention. When am I responding from my essence, from the person I hope to be, was created to be, instead of responding out of duty or obligation? Obviously, sometimes a task simply needs to be done, but the more I open to the life I think I am asked to live right now, the more those tasks fall into place.

All that being said, during these last two weeks I have needed to use my time and energy well, moving from task to task deliberately and intentionally and calmly. And that’s the way the next couple weeks will be, as well.

As I have moved through these days, I have thought about my word of the year, rhythm, and also the flow I hope to experience.

Word of the Year: Rhythm

As you listen closely for your deepest call, what are the greater rhythms to which you must accommodate yourself.

Christine Valters Paintner

You may recall that my word of the year is “rhythm.” I’ve been more aware in the last few months of how I need to respond to the rhythm of a day–what is planned and required in a day–but also I am more able to notice and create my own rhythm.

For example, I know my rhythm becomes raggedy and I begin to unravel when I don’t begin my day meditating, praying, reading sacred texts. Doing that faithfully, allows me to adjust my preferred rhythm to the needs of the day. At the same time immersing myself in slow silence also helps me adjust the needs of the day to my own rhythm. Much to my amazement when I ground myself in that spiritual practice, the needs of the day and my needs accommodate one another.

When that happens, I experience flow–when one thing streams into another naturally and easily.

A Reminder

Sometimes I need a physical reminder, an illustration of what flow looks and feels like.

We spent the weekend at the home of friends who live in northern Minnesota, and one afternoon we cruised their beautiful lake. We were the only ones on the water, except for a few loons, who have not yet migrated.

My favorite part was going through a narrow and shallow channel to enter another lake. Our friend turned the motor down and guided the boat under the low bridge, reminding us to keep our hands inside the boat and to lower our heads.

How appropriate was that–to bow our heads as we crossed a threshold.

Pause and bow your head.

Rest in the silence.

Experience the flow.

Discover the rhythm.

Often when I lead a guided meditation instructing participants to breathe deeply in and out, I include the phrase, “find your own rhythm.” I think I need to add, “Feel the flow. Notice the flow around and through you.”

This morning when I closed my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and breathed in and out, gently and deeply, finding my own rhythm, I imagined the shallow water in that channel, and I remembered the feeling of unrushed, undemanding, gentle and yet noticeable flow.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me–watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

The Message, Matthew 11: 28-30

May I live my life that way.

An Invitation

When have you experienced flow? I would love to know.

Note:

Here is my post on my Word of the Year: https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/362