Dedicated to the Contemplative and Mystical wisdom at the core of all traditions, including Judaism, Christianity, Sufism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, and to the core of our own mystical Heart within.
Exploring how Silence and the Contemplative Way infuse into our ordinary everyday active lives, how Awareness manifests itself, and how we can respond to the call to rest into the divinity within.

Showing posts with label Surrender. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Surrender. Show all posts

Friday, 19 June 2015

Staying With It





Don't surrender your loneliness 
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.
Hafiz



Once you have committed to being lived, to being moved, to being surrendered, you must stay with it, you just must. I'm not sure there is a choice anyway. We all honestly know when we are in a mental spin and obsessing over trivia, and when a truly painful transformation is taking place within us. You can't unknow your Self and the promptings of Spirit. A greater emptying out is going on inside. Even more letting go is possible, infinitely possible. All holding and hiding spaces become illuminated. It is no longer possible to hold or to hide anything, or to operate with such sustained effort. Effortlessness and Surrender demand everything of you and from you. You know they're right! The absolute scent of Truth and Presence confirm this.

To soothe those throbbing painful places, is to stay with it. To resist figuring it all out, is staying with it. To allow yourself to admit this current awfulness is happening, that this turmoil is all-consuming, yet somehow necessary, is bravely staying with it. It is beyond bravery. It is an accepting of our failure, our unknowing, our inadequacy, our innocence, our humanity.


Where to from here? Keep staying with it. Then, stay with it some more:
Pick some easy steps from the list of Contemplative Practices.
Locate your breath. Find the physical throb in the body. Breathe.
Softly tap the chest and heart.
Go for a gentle walk.
Pray. A Heart Without Words is heard.
Talk to a spiritual adviser.
Get some flower essence remedies to soothe the emotions. I find the Australian Bush flower essences excellent.
Allow a moment of lightness - Envelop yourself in re-runs of The Waltons, and Little House on the Prairie (Feel free to substitute!). My own version of this includes a warm blanket and home-made Rice Pudding (don't overdo it!).
Be your own comforter - sometimes, absolutely no-one will understand.
Follow the reassurance of routine. Go about the daily duties and demands, as normal. Keep going.
Go Beyond the Shadows.
See The Highest Good.
Remember, This Too Shall Pass.


Stay With It. You will emerge - even less that you are now, even lighter, and ever more graced. Our need of God, is met.


I Am With You Always
Matthew 28:20

Wednesday, 29 April 2015

The Grace of Surrender






I remember first being introduced to meditation in my 20s, and for some reason, in spite of an often restless mind, I also had a strong sense that I was somehow coming home. As I persevered with my initial clumsiness, I found myself looking forward to the ceremony of sitting, allowing my restlessness to soften, and wait. What I couldn’t name at the time was the experience of Presence which then enfolded me, and drew me back in expectation for the next sitting. I also didn’t recognise at that time the seeds of self-kindness which were being sown.


Twenty years later, I look back at my younger self, and have to admire the humble innocence of a young adult finding her own way in life. I look back amazed at the disciplined practice I enjoyed then. I can still be a little restless. I suppose I am also older and hopefully a little wiser. Surrender comes easier now. Life has brought many joys and storms in the intervening years, each one cracking open the heart ever wider. Life has shown I am not in control of the vast majority of events unfolding in my life. Life has also shown that a force of gentleness and providence was with me throughout these years. The lives of my family were held and a pull towards truth, simplicity and trust was moving through us.


I realised some years ago that it was no longer possible to limit my daily practice to one or two periods of meditation, or regretfully none at all on occasion. I needed more help in the in-between times. I found I needed to reconcile the remainder of my day with the peace and serenity I felt during meditation. Slowly I noticed a inner pull towards a more contemplative way of living, the turning and surrender of each moment into prayer and devotion. This practice became a welcome anchor at difficult moments, and a celebration at times of breakthrough.


I still struggle with the discipline needed to sit in meditation and Centering Prayer. I welcome but no longer cling to the consolations which can come. I don’t always feel the strength of Presence which I felt in my younger years. I now seek to simply rest in Silence, rather than seeking a felt experience of Presence.


Though it may go against our nature, the act of surrendering is Nature itself. One moment and one season surrender into the next. The cycles of life surrender into each other. Birds and animals know this instinctively. They are led by inner rhythms dictated by Nature. We also see this graceful process unfolding in many people. They grow in wisdom and acceptance as they get older, and are often recognised by their strong sense of humour about Life's ups and downs. Surrender has made them humble and adaptable. They have witnessed many people making their final surrender from this life. They know that Life is to be lived, enjoyed and revered, moment by moment.



To welcome and to let go is one of the most radically loving, faith-filled gestures we can make in each moment of each day. It is an open-hearted embrace of all that is in ourselves and in the world.
Mary Mrozowski, Contemplative Outreach Founder


Thursday, 19 March 2015

Easter Renewal

Essay published in Spirituality magazine, March/April 2015.




The gloriously scented bluebell



Easter is probably my favourite liturgical time of the year. At some point many years ago, I realised that a wonderful sense of wellbeing and enthusiasm comes over me at this time of year. It is also matched by the warming springtime, longer days, daffodils and bluebells. This sense of wellbeing arrives at Easter, and follows on from a quieter Lenten time of inner transformation and prayerfulness.


I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than the bluebell I have been looking at. I know the beauty of our Lord by it.
Gerard Manley Hopkins


Lent has traditionally been a time of prayer, fasting and helping others (almsgiving), when we engage in a period of renewal, and try in our own way to echo the 40 days our Lord spent in the wilderness, praying, fasting, and being tempted. It culminates at Easter when we take time to meditate on His Passion, and to celebrate His Resurrection.


It is a time of cleansing and sacrifice, of doing without unnecessary luxuries and of consciously trying to give up unhealthy habits and behaviours. Some people decide to give up something specific such as smoking, alcohol, chocolate or sugar, or at least to limit their levels of consumption. Others look towards their actions and try to give up bad habits, negative attitudes, unhelpful thinking or other limiting behaviours. Still others decide to take up a positive habit for Lent – getting more exercise, eating well, helping others, showing random acts of kindness, or offering their time to volunteer at a local organisation.


What I noticed about this season is that even if we find ourselves too busy or too stressed or for any reason unable or uninterested to engage consciously with this renewal, the renewal seems to happen anyway, albeit with probably a little more resistance from ourselves. Life energy is renewing itself, and we all benefit. God, as Life, is emptying us out, clearing out the cobwebs, and preparing for a freshness in our direction, in our thinking, and in our lives. It prepares us for a new beginning. It is an internal time, a time of releasing old and unwanted habits. We are being renewed from within.


This inner renewal can be far from easy. It can be a time of intense frustration, where nothing goes according to plan, and obstacles appear around every corner. It is a time of following, rather than leading. It is a time of sensitivity, of recognising our limitations, our flaws and our compulsions. We can gain great self-awareness during this time, and become wise to our tendencies and habitual reactivity to life. We can also become weary and despairing. This weariness is a good thing, as it makes us reluctantly accept and admit our limitations. Through an inner consent and surrender, we are then more open to welcoming God’s Way into our lives and circumstances.


Fasting has been a tradition in many cultures and religions throughout the centuries, cleansing the body, clarifying the mind, and renewing our spirit. Apart from food, the act of going without can mean abstaining from overindulging in work life, sport, TV, computers, tablets, Facebook and other technology. It can also mean noticing and trying to balance or curb our emotional responses at work and with loved ones, such as losing our patience, getting angry, or falling into despair.


The difficulties we may experience during Lent humble us and make us more aware of our weaknesses and imbalances. Through perseverance and prayer, we are echoing the temptations of Jesus in the wilderness, his prayers to his Father, and his overcoming of the temptations in the desert. We can often feel that parts of us are dying off at this time of year. It is the dying off of the old stale parts of us. It stirs a desire in us for the purity and simplicity of God’s love. It awakens in us a desire for prayer and devotion. We gain patience for the weaknesses of others. We may even find it easier to help others at this time. Through sacrifice, our internal needs are simplified.


By Easter, there is a great forward thrust in life, in nature and within ourselves. The darkness of winter gives way to the light of spring. The land becomes warm, crops are sown and vegetables are planted for the seasons ahead. We notice the quality of light changing, the length of our day, and daylight saving heralds a burst of evening light and activity. We feel back to our old selves, but better, because humility stays with us, and we remain sensitive to others needs. We are more generous with our desires. We want something, but because it benefits more than just ourselves. This season surrounds us with a sense of holiness and goodwill and acceptance of self, others and our circumstances. We are blessed and renewed.



Image from Wikimedia Commons

Sunday, 8 March 2015

Going Beyond The Shadows



Beyond The Shadows




There are times when we fight with shadows that don’t even exist. Then, there are times when we shock ourselves by the darker sides of our nature. We see that we contain openness and closed-mindedness and closed-heartedness. We contain dark and light, love and hate, peace and rage, acceptance and rebellion, hope and despair, success and defeat, approval and rejection. It seems the deeper we go into one polarity, the wider we can also swing in its equivalent polarity. We prefer the "nicer" places, and try and avoid the "darker" places.

We all have unloving qualities. We can rage against the flow of our lives. We can criticise others' weaknesses and interpret how they further complicate and frustrate our lives. We can blame Life and God for our difficulties and in spite of that, find no relief. We can move through our days and not once get beyond ourselves, our needs and demands. In spite of being dedicated to self-awareness, we lose control of our objectivity, we lose our patience, we get angry, we feel self-righteous or ashamed. Can we get over ourselves!

As we lapse in our Contemplative practices, our meditation, our awareness of Silence, our gaze and consent to Spirit, we land into the shadows, into upheaval, disharmony and chaos. It is inevitable. Restlessness is the natural way of our mind and emotions. We won't change this reality. Contemplation gently reminds us again to take the focus off ourselves and the events of our ever-changing lives, to widen our gaze, and plant it on Presence, on Stillness, on Silence, on Spirit, on whatever or however God is manifesting in our lives.

The shadows remind us we have become compromised. They help tire us again of our restlessness and self-centredness, and return our hunger for balance and harmony. They remind us not to settle for anything less than awareness and trust in the higher order playing out in our lives.

We are multi-flawed human beings, with plenty of shadows. Humility and surrender allow us to admit them, to admit our forgetfulness and our lapses, and to seek forgiveness from ourselves and our loved ones who witness our flaws up close. Circumstances not going our way mostly reveal that our way is insufficient and incomplete, and perhaps not loving to everyone concerned, and would therefore not serve us well, either. We are softened and emptied out even more, ever more.


The way of Love and Harmony will always win out, and we end up being thankful this is the case. It's never about us. It's always about how Love is unravelling itself in us.



When our attention is on ourselves, in the image-blindness of the ego, everything is a distraction from God. When attention is in God, with the vision of faith, everything reveals God to us.
Laurence Freeman OSB, The Selfless Self


Thursday, 26 February 2015

Lead Kindly Light



Stained Glass at Mount Melleray Abbey



The Pillar of the Cloud

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom; Lead Thou me on.
The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead Thou me on. 
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene; 
one step enough for me. 


I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou shouldst lead me on; 
I loved to choose and see my path, but now lead Thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will: 
remember not past years. 


So long Your power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on, 
o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till the night is gone; 
and with the morn those angel faces smile 
which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

John Henry Newman, at sea, 16th June 1833
Lenten Compline Hymn, Mount Melleray Abbey



I was very blessed to join in a prayerful retreat at Mount Melleray Abbey, near Cappoquin, where the above hymn was sung by the monks at the Compline office (evening prayer). It was composed by John Henry Newman in a period of turmoil, as he struggled to get home to England from Europe, and to pursue an inner pull to transform the Church. He endured loneliness, illness and a deep yearning to begin his quest, though he did not yet know what truly lay ahead for him.

I am in great gratitude for the presence of these inspiring Cistercian monks, who honour and live out their devotion to God, Love, Silence, Community and Contemplation, and allow us to join in and anchor ourselves there too. We know not what lies ahead for us, but by anchoring ourselves in the strength of our prayers, our deep inner knowing, and Silence, we invite and embody Rest.


Wednesday, 18 February 2015

Retreat






If the Cross is deeply contemplated, it is saying that love is supreme, and that the darkness and the apparent unfairness of life can be endured. In the Cross, love is able to speak ... speak to any human situation, whether of loss, of persecution, of disillusion.
Fr. John Woolley


As we begin the Lenten season, it reminds me again to look within, to recognise those unhelpful hiding places and defensive positions, those habitual reactions to others and to life, and to seek Love's comfort, Love's help, Love's understanding, Love's patience, Love's company, Love's solitude, Love's resilience, Love's invitation to surrender and overcome, Love's rest


Friday, 13 February 2015

Silence



God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken 
And yet so profound, and so loud, and so far,
That it thrills you and fills you in measures unbroken -
The unceasing song of the first morning star ....
Joaquin Miller, The True Poet


There was a beautiful calmness this week, a gentle invitation for the Spirit into Silence. It was restful, with a grateful recognition of peace, simplicity and community. And then, typically, a familiar moment of turmoil arrived, with its not-so-welcome recognition of panic, confusion and isolation. It amazes me how our default polarities sit so closely together, pulling us from one extreme to the other.

The spiritual masters, saints and mystics have recommended for hundreds and thousands of years, that we consciously place our attention on Silence and Presence, rather than on the story or object of our disharmony; focus on the Presence rather than on the circumstances of the turmoil; focus on the background Silence in which this is all taking place. In this way, the circumstances are acknowledged, allowed and absorbed into the entire background, rather than so dominating our foreground that we cannot even sense Silence as the background.

This is a practice of prioritising Presence over the restless, ever-changing, often weary landscape of our minds. It is the repetitive action of placing our attention on God, on Silence, like the hall light we leave on through the night while we sleep. Ramana Maharshi tells us to concentrate on the light, rather than on what is illuminated by the light. This is our permanent landing place. This is certainly one reminder I constantly use, and somehow, I recognise my true Self there, in recognising God, and an ease comes to the Spirit.


In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.
Mahatma Gandhi


Silence, as Presence, as Beingness, is the background which holds all else, and into which everything is absorbed and dissolves. It is Silence in the presence of turmoil, peace, fear, frustration, joy, disappointment and inconsistency. It is Silence in spite of noise, interruption, disharmony, joy, progression, success. It is the Silence within which our inner knowing is revealed.

In an attitude of trust and silence, we bow everything to God. Contemplation confirms that a higher order of balance and harmony is working its way out in us and in Life itself. These moments of turmoil take us beyond Resilience. We just need to keep our eye on the light, and watch it continue to shine forth in and around us.


Returning to silence is returning to peace.
Returning to peace, the world reharmonises itself.
Lao Tzu



Sunday, 8 February 2015

The Highest Good




The highest good is like water,
nourishing life effortlessly,
flowing without prejudice
to the lowliest places.

It springs from all 
who nourish their community
with a benevolent heart as deep as an abyss,
who are incapable of lies and injustices,
who are rooted in the earth,
and whose natural rhythms of action
play midwife to the highest good 
of each joyful moment.
Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching



We don't always know what's good for us. We don't always flow with our circumstances. The flow of life can feel like a raging torrent, or a calm sea, oscillating in pace and intensity. At times we are exhilarated, at others we hang on for dear life. It is what it is, and it is constantly moving and changing. We can find ourselves resisting the movement, unable to accept situations, or becoming impatient and forceful in our efforts.

Our lowliest places do best when allowed to exist, when allowed to voice their imbalances and prejudices, their efforts and injustices, their hopes and dreams, their disappointments and joys, their difficulties with being. This is what it means to be ordinary, to be human. We cannot nourish and balance these places until we understand them.

We have all met people whose actions come from goodness and we see the results in our communities and families. When we catch ourselves out of sync with Life's rhythm, it is often these people who help bring us back into balance. They make us laugh when we get too serious, they comfort us when we're struggling, they demand integrity and honesty when we are unwittingly lying to ourselves. They live Life, and are the best version of us.

Contemplation confirms that there is a goodness and benevolence underlying everything. Our experience shows us that Life is moving in the direction of balance, harmony and equanimity. It is not subject to negotiation, cajoling, or force. It has an all-embracing wisdom. It is effortless, yet active. Divine work is taking place. Our job is to stay in the river, and keep swimming. We are a necessary part of the flow.


Thursday, 29 January 2015

Thomas Merton

Thomas Merton


Thomas Merton was born on 31 January 1915. Worldwide seminars and gatherings are planned on this date and throughout this year to commemorate his centenary and honour his spiritual legacy.

Thomas Merton was born in Prades, France. His father was an artist from New Zealand, and his mother, also an artist and diarist, was American. He suffered much bereavement and isolation in his younger years, losing his mother to illness at age 6, and his father at age 15. His only sibling, a younger brother, died serving in the second world war when Thomas Merton was 28, shortly after joining the Abbey of our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky as a Trappist monk. He also had health troubles from time to time, and was once gravely ill with sepsis.

He had grown up with very little faith or religious training, though his father possessed a deep faith from his Church of England upbringing in New Zealand. Thomas Merton had always admired the ruins of the many monasteries surrounding him in rural France, and at the age of 18 was suddenly engrossed by a visit to the many churches and basilicas in Rome, and even remarked during his visit to a Trappist monastery there, that he would like to become a Trappist monk. Around this time also, he began a lifelong resonance with the poetry of William Blake.

He moved numerous times with his father in his early years - from France to New York, Bermuda, back to France, and then settled for a period in London. His writing endeavours began as a young teenager in a French boarding school where he wrote two novels, and continued once in London by becoming one of the editors of the school magazine. After his father died, he went through a wreckless phase partying and socialising, adjusting to his independent life, and travelling around Europe.

He attended Cambridge University under the support of his guardian, a friend of his father. He had very little sense of faith at this time, and even held the Catholic Church and institutional Church structures generally, in disdain. His guardian elected to send him back to New York in an effort to curb his excessive ways, and after he had finished his exams, he duly relocated back near his maternal grandparents and enrolled at Columbia University in New York.

 He became quite dedicated to his studies there, and had some prominent and inspiring lecturers, including Mark van Doren and Dan Walsh, who became lifelong friends. This was also a time when he began studying the philosophies and theologies of the world in great depth. He also began to truly explore Catholicism and mysticism in earnest during this time, and began to pray again. He was greatly impacted by the writings of Étienne Gilson, Gerard Manley Hopkins, CS Lewis, the lives of the saints, and meeting with lecturers and philosophers such as Jacques Maritain.

During this period, he followed a strong internal pull to join the Catholic Church, and in 1938 he was baptised and received Communion in Corpus Christi Church in New York, followed by his Confirmation there the following year. This strengthened his vocation and he began to speak to religious advisers about the prospect of joining an order and becoming a priest. Partly due to his wreckless phase in England, he was initially rejected by the Franciscans, causing him much grief. However, his faith and prayer life continued to deepen and with it the certainty that he wanted to become a priest.

Having completed his MA in English from Columbia University, he began teaching at St. Bonaventure University in New York. The University still holds a volume of Thomas Merton's materials. He also became briefly involved as a volunteer with Friendship House in Harlem, working with its founder, Catherine de Hueck, and was greatly affected by the poverty and conditions there. He was very impressed with the impact Friendship House was having, especially on the children.

In 1941 Thomas Merton went on an Easter retreat at the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky, a Trappist Cistercian Abbey, which impacted him profoundly. He felt drawn to the Silence of the contemplative order there, in spite of the severe Trappist traditions, and finally, on 10th December that year, he arrived at the Abbey and applied to join the order. After three days in the guesthouse, Thomas Merton was accepted, and so began his monastic journey and his development as one of the world's most profound thinkers and communicators of Contemplation and spiritual wisdom. He was ordained Fr. M Louie in 1949.


It is a great thing when Christ, hidden in souls ... manifests Himself unexpectedly by an unplanned expression of His presence. Then souls light up on all sides with recognition of Him and discover Him in themselves when they did not even imagine He could be anywhere.
From The Sign of Jonas


He was a prolific writer, and has written over 60 books as well as hundreds of poems, essays, journals and letters. His autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, became a bestseller, and inspired many others to seek out their own vocation. Other popular works include New Seeds of Contemplation, No Man is an Island, The Secular Journal, Mystics and Zen Masters, and The Way of Chuang Tzu. There have been numerous posthumous publications and it is believed there is still an enormous body of work as yet unexamined, which will hopefully be published in the future. His topics ranged from Contemplation to monastic spirituality, interdenominational faith, peace, non-violence and civil rights. I have found his most inspiring material to be his own self-reflections in his body of personal journals, and books such as The Sign of Jonas and Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander. He is one of the most influential Catholic writers, and his relevance and inspiration in today's world is exemplified by the publication of over 40 books about him in the past two years.

A year before he died suddenly from accidental electrocution in Bangkok where he spoke at an inter-faith conference, he set up the Merton Legacy Trust, naming Bellarmine College (now University) in Louisville, Kentucky as the repository of his material. A Thomas Merton Centre was set up there in 1969 and is now located in the Library at Bellarmine University, and houses over 50,000 items in a vast collection of his written works and memorabilia. He died on 10th December 1968, exactly 27 years to the day since he entered the Abbey at Gethsemani. At that time, he was in a profound place of good health, expansion, clarity of mind, with a tremendous contemplative heart.


... the greater grace for each individual is the one God wills for him. If God wills you to die suddenly, that is a greater grace for you than any other death, because it is the one He has chosen, by His love, with all the circumstances of your life and His glory in view.
From The Sign of Jonas


He was a true academic, with the patience and determination to write to experts in all fields across the US and the world, to get the deepest possible understanding of matters philosophical, theological, psychological, religious, and linguistic. He also had skills in photography, poetry, calligraphy, drawing, and languages, and translated many manuscripts from Latin, and French.

He corresponded, researched and examined the mystical dimensions of the other world religions, including Buddhism, Zen philosophy, Sufism and Hinduism. He wrote books on Buddhism and Taoism, and many Buddhist monks were invited to visit him at the Abbey. He corresponded in writing and became friends with DT Suzuki, Thich Nhat Hanh and the Dalai Lama. In 1968, having received permission from his Abbot, he embarked on an extensive Asian tour, including a visit to Dharamsala in India to meet the Dalai Lama. The Dalai Lama felt he had found in Merton what it meant to be a true Christian, and concluded that there were very few Christians to have as deep an understanding of Buddhism and Zen as Thomas Merton. He was fascinated to recognise the depth of spiritual experience present in these Eastern traditions, and equated it with his own. He could recognise and saw examples of the contemplative life in these traditions.

What characterised him most in his latter years was tenderness and holiness. He taught the novice monks, and strengthened a bond of brotherhood. He championed the saints - St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, The Cloud of Unknowing. He had been transformed internally from a wreckless youth to a contemplative, prayerful monk. He was quick to admit his failures. He felt tremendous pain for his failings, but through it showed his humanness and humility to re-affirm his faith, time and time again. He was very restless for many years, and battled with an internal pull to leave the Cistercians and join the Carthusians. He struggled constantly with the call to write, eventually realising his very Being, his very Peace depended on continuing to write. He understood that sanctity for him was precisely through the challenges and difficulties he faced with writing. He had many arguments with his early Abbot regarding a desire for his own Hermitage on the grounds of the Abbey. This was finally granted in his final years, and is now preserved for visitors to the Abbey. I think it is his failings and struggles which most inspire and help me, knowing that he too struggled with his weaknesses, knowing God's emptying process was taking place in him.

He warned against spiritual self-indulgence, quietism, and retreating from life. That is not contemplation. It is the bearing with life, the surrender to life as it is, day by day, and the courage to go through the challenges and joys, which allow ourselves to be utterly emptied out of our superficial exterior selves, and to finally rest in God, in Being, in Truth.


No life requires a more active or more intense formation, a more ruthless separation from dependence on exterior support, than the life of contemplation. 
From The Inner Experience


His was a fully questioned life. His experiential awareness brought him from a place of no faith, to a place of surrender, tenderness, clarity and ultimately to a place of deep love.


Photograph by John Howard Griffin

Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Withdraw yourself from all care

Withdraw Yourself


Presence speaks in many wordless ways. The events of our life as they unfold are the clearest words. Life is endlessly speaking wisdom into our hearts. Life is challenging us to allow even greater ease, even greater freedom, disguised as hardship and limitation. Once allowing is allowed, it presents our deepest places yet longing for freedom, longing to be allowed. Present all to the Presence that breathes wisdom and clarity into our being. We will know what to say when the time is right.



Withdraw yourself from all care; trust not in yourself but in Him; do not be anxious or solicitous to perform great works for Him until He leads you Himself, by obedience and love and the events which His providence directs, to undertake the works He has planned for you and by which He will use you to communicate the fire of His love to other men.
Thomas Merton



Sunday, 18 January 2015

The First Snow

The First Snow of the Season



The New Year has started with an urgency to put some sense on what lies ahead for us in 2015. Resolutions, prayers, hopes and wish lists are made. Decisions are finalised. We're determined and confident, yet mildly unsure and perhaps overambitious.

Mondays are often like that. We get an overview of what our demands are for the full week ahead, and often catch ourselves trying to get it all done by Monday evening. By Tuesday, we have made steady progress. On Wednesdays, we find time for a cuppa, and to reach out to a friend. On Thursdays, we wonder what all the fuss was about on Monday, as we find the demands diminishing, our perspective shifting, and we sail easily through lists and emails and housework and activities. By Friday, we are enjoying the bigger picture. The weekend gets busy with non-routine, with family time, with walks, with some sacred time, and we seek out time, places and people to balance and inspire us. Inevitably we find ourselves slowly gathering momentum, and by Sunday evening we're getting organised wondering how we will manage it all again next week! 

I sense the Tuesday energy kicks in around mid-February. Wednesdays are probably around Easter. Thursdays are May. Fridays are early August. Saturdays are late September/early October, and Sundays are November and December. Then there's the opposite rhythm of the Southern Hemisphere (It's probably a Thursday or Friday there now), and the rhythm of the Earth as a whole, and on and on to infinity.

There's nothing like Nature's Rhythm to interrupt the cycle of our routine. The first snow came into our lives this week with much childish fun and excitement. There were moments of Glee! We also had delays and cancellations and had to re-think our plans. Icy roads, car trouble, frozen water pipes, heating problems (or cooling problems if you're like my friends in Australia) all cause havoc. Cancellations in transport, work, school or even an appointment to the doctor can frustrate and delay our tightly planned schedules.

I've started to not worry about delays and cancellations. I've seen many last-minute re-directions come into my life, swerving me from going off on unnecessary tangents, or perhaps saving me from untold anguish. They are Blessings in disguise. Life is interrupting us to bring us home. It's not vital to finish what you are doing this very moment. It really isn't. It will get done. Change your energy. Get out and move, or get home and rest.

An Irish cup of tea is one of my most valuable companions. I've endured and celebrated many of my deepest trials over copious cups of tea! Even when I became too upset to eat, I could always handle a cup of tea! The tea makes me sit down and look out the window, across the fields to the horizon. It makes me stand at the doorway and listen to the birds outside. It makes me take a deeper breath. It makes me sigh. It makes me take a moment. It makes me share a moment with family or friends. It soothes the effort and the trying inside. It moves me into a place of trust and surrender. There's always water in the kettle!



Look across the fields to the horizon



Sometimes, beauty is so beautiful, we have to pause, whether it's Monday, Tuesday, April, May or November. The first snow - it is a new beginning, when the purity of the landscape and lives around us shine white and bright. It is a welcome interruption.


Beauty and simplicity preserve the spirit from distraction and lead it to God. Beauty leads to Contemplation and is a sort of sacrament of the eternal beauty of God.
André Louf


Find the rhythm of the day. Instead of time and task management, intuition can find the natural pulse and rhythm moving around and through us. An enormous sense of natural effort and progress merge in this rhythm. Tasks get done, but with a greater sense of well-being and inner quiet. Loosen the schedules and pause. A deep breath and a long look to the horizon can refresh and reconnect our attention inwards to re-align with that natural rhythm. Be Yourself. Be present to the Presence.

Contemplation tells us to allow the interruptions. Allow the setbacks. Allow the frustrations. Allow them all. Then, wait for the pulse, and begin again. Nature's Rhythm is eternal.



Nature's Rhythm



It's a New Year. May goodness, blessings and good fortune surround you this year.

Tuesday, 6 January 2015

The Deep Unknowing






O Innocent One who trembles
Your naked wound exposed
The silent heart is pounding
And pain of yearning burns

When all else fails and the heart sinks low
When others fall short in their reach
And you are left all alone

O pity of heaven upon me
And ears of all who can hear
Bring down your fortress over me
Fortify the walls and strengthen the gates 
And let Peace reign again once more

Stay
Breathe
Breathe deeper still
You are not alone
I Am Here
Let all be Mine, yes all

The pushing undone
The Silence quietens
The running slows

Listening,  
There is no place to hide
No stones left unturned
Only the bowing to the deep Unknowing.


 Image courtesy of imgkid.com

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Contemplation - A Definition


Nature as Contemplation


The word Contemplation holds a number of definitions in everyday usage:
  • The action of looking thoughtfully at something for a long time. Synonyms: regarding, examination, inspection, observation, scrutiny.
  • Deep reflective thought. Synonyms: thought, meditation, consideration, pondering, reflection.
  • Religious meditation.
From a spiritual perspective, here is a helpful definition for Contemplation:
  • A state of mystical awareness of God’s being (Merriam - Webster). A form of prayer or meditation in which a person seeks to pass beyond mental images and concepts to a direct experience of the divine.


It is awakening, enlightenment and the amazing intuitive grasp by which love gains certitude of God's creative and dynamic intervention in our daily life....It is the experience of "I Am."
 From: New Seeds of Contemplation


Today is the anniversary of Thomas Merton who died accidentally in 1968. He remains one of the foremost modern writers on Contemplation, and is considered by many to have beautifully and accurately captured in his writings the nature of Contemplation and the Contemplative Spirit of the ancient saints and mystics. He was primarily experiential in his writing, and it proves timeless in its essence:


Contemplation is not and cannot be a function of the external self.
Contemplation is not prayerfulness.
It is not the contemplation of abstract ideas.
It is not something to which we can attain alone, by intellectual effort, by performing our natural powers. It is not the fruit of our own efforts.
It is not a kind of self-hypnosis, resulting from concentration on our own inner spiritual being.
From: New Seeds of Contemplation


Contemplation seems to involve a continual inner "consent" whereby we offer to yield internally to the call to be transformed, to allow and trust the process of life. This inner "Yes" does not happen easily, and often goes against our instinctual nature to do it ourselves, to put into action all that we wish to exist for ourselves, to initiate change, to try and find happiness.

Most people find they reach some form of spiritual crisis or opening when they experience deep pain, or indeed deep love. Life presents us with Illness, Grief, War, Poverty, Famine, Relationships, Stress, Depression, Fatigue, the Joy in the much longed-for birth of a child, a Wedding Day, the deep companionship of a friend/partner who accompanies you through a season of change. All of these experiences can trigger deep Contemplation. Somehow, it is possible to emerge from these sometimes overwhelming seasons, utterly changed within, knowing we have been shown kindness, love, understanding, patience. Love itself accompanied us during these seasons, and we consented, albeit reluctantly initially.

Contemplative experiences, to me, are not designed to support a superficial external world, but instead pull us inside, they insist on stripping us of our self-reliance and independence, our external self, and lead us into our deepest places of weakness and vulnerability. We can even realise that we didn't volunteer for this. Yes, we may have prayed for happiness and ease in our lives, for protection for ourselves and our loved ones, for good health, for meaningful relationships, for purpose and meaning, for fulfilment, but we never imagined these might come through defeat, through utter helplessness, through despair, and even through joy, or miraculous breakthroughs.


... the deep, inexpressible certitude of the contemplative experience awakens a tragic anguish and opens many questions in the depths of the heart like wounds that cannot stop bleeding...This torment is a kind of trial by fire in which we are compelled, by the very light of invisible truth which has reached us in the dark ray of contemplation, to examine, to doubt and finally to reject all the prejudices and conventions that we have hitherto accepted as if they were dogmas.
From: New Seeds of Contemplation



Intuition, and finally certainty of what is not true paves the way for the certainty of what is. In letting go, wisdom grows. The experience of the impact of divinity grows. Such contemplative experiences have confirmed to the degree of unshakeable certainty that Life, that Love, that God is present in them. These experiences build certainty that whatever comes our way each day is an external happening. We steadily become more planted inside.


For the contemplative and spiritual self, the dormant, mysterious, and hidden self that is always effaced by the activity of our exterior self does not seek fulfilment. It is content to be, and in its being it is fulfilled, because its being is rooted in God.
From: The Inner Experience


The inner self, humble and content, speaks an inner word-less language. We realise that the inner self is expanding outwards into our external experiences. It is not contrived. It is a becoming of our true nature. We realise also that those seasons are moulding and shaping us, and we know this is ultimately a good thing. What is inside, is now becoming reflected outside. Transparency and alignment build. It is not our doing. Our inner consent is a response to an inner call.


We become contemplatives when God discovers Himself in us.
From: New Seeds of Contemplation


Wednesday, 3 December 2014

Shooting Stars

Look up or you'll miss it



As I drove home around 10pm last night a shooting star crossed the night sky in front of me. I was on a rural country road and there was no-one else there on this frosty night. House lights glowed from inside warm houses with closed curtains. The sky was bright with an almost full-moon lighting up the road.

A movement of light suddenly pulled my attention upwards. I blinked and leaned forward in my seat. The star shot ahead of me into the distance before exploding in silence in a flash of gold and then disappearing. I found myself catching my breath, and feeling quite lucky to have witnessed such a feat. How tiny we are in the grand scheme of things!

NASA post an Astronomy Picture of the Day each day of the year should you need a little reminder of the magic of Space and the size of our Universe. Downloadable Apps are now also available which point to the night sky and name the different constellations across the sky-scape.

As for the driver of a car on her journey home, I'm left feeling quite blessed that all the necessary conditions were present for me to see this shooting star. If you ask NASA, they will tell you that a shooting star is not in fact a star at all, but a meteor, caused by dust and rock burning up on entering the Earth's atmosphere. The Earth orbits the Sun once every 365 and a quarter days. Each year it passes through dust and rock clouds left in the wake of orbiting comets, and last night, a little speck of that debris burned up on my way home. Perhaps the most important condition of all was that I noticed the shooting star, and better again, my heart received it. In our busy lives, how many daily miracles occur unnoticed by us? 

The contemplative life asks us to surrender to each moment, one after another, again and again, and to develop a practice of noticing sacredness everywhere. The external world may not look any different, but a gentleness of Spirit wells up inside, together with a sense of wellbeing. The cultivation of this practice in itself fosters wellbeing in our Spirit. When the practice of every-moment-noticing eludes you, just surrender it all, even the practice itself. The act of surrendering will bring you home.

A gentle reminder to us all to stay here, stay mindful, stay present and notice the shooting stars.




Image courtesy of seamepost.com

Saturday, 29 November 2014

Take a moment and light a candle


Take a moment and light a candle



As our friends in the southern hemisphere settle in for a long summer ahead, of summer rain storms, high temperatures and humidity, we in the northern end of the world are seeing shorter days, dropping temperatures and a sense of hibernation approaching. We will soon see the shortest day of the year.

It is also a time when the frenzy of Christmas preparations begins in earnest. Plans are made for family gatherings. Children are frantically finalising letters to Santa. They may well and truly burst with excitement over the next few weeks. Parents take even deeper sighs. A joy underneath it all is getting ready to unleash. One of the most grace-filled times of the year approaches.

Yet, life continues. Loved ones pass away. Illness calls on our doors. Successes are celebrated. Hurdles are overcome. A homeless person sees a sandwich placed on his lap under his downturned eyes. Elsewhere, hard-earned presents are purchased and carefully hidden. Loneliness calls. Surprise homecomings from overseas beckon. Friends call for help. Busy lives make weary. The human experience continues.

In this moment, take a moment, and light a candle. Follow the pace of the flame. Let silence surround you, for a moment. Feel the natural heart-beat of life, today. Take a sacred moment to find your place in it. Catch your breath. Blend it with the silence. Contemplation allows all to unfold naturally. Lean back, just a little, and allow it.