Contemplative Prayer

It's a somewhat generic term. Much like meditation in that respect.

The general practice is to simply place yourself somewhere, for a given period of time, remaining silent and still. Following the breath, or focusing on a repeated word or phrase can also be used.

The idea here, within a Christian context, is to connect to the reality all around you. To get out of the discursive, thought-based, in-your-own-head sort of consciousness, and enter into a connection with the full reality of your being, and thus, God.

It's hard to describe. It's simple to do, but very, very hard to do as well.

At worst, it's 30 minutes of pure unadulterated BS flying through your head, odd and sometimes scary physical sensations, fear, terror, pain, and horribleness. But you sit there anyway. That's the important thing.

Sometimes it's easier, peaceful, and beautiful.

At best, it's neither of those, but something else entirely, which is extremely hard to describe.

But you sit there anyway. That's the important thing.

Getting up again

I have been struggling with keeping my commitments in the latter part of this week. I haven't been keeping up with the offices. I skipped going to the gym yesterday. I've been very tired, and somewhat absentminded, and distant.

This, I think, serves to remind me that this is hard, but also that this is what I need to do. Looking back, the days when I was being faithful to the office, I felt better. But it's also draining, which means that I need to make sure I'm staying faithful to other things, like getting enough sleep, and listening to my body when it says "you need to rest."

This Sunday is Palm Sunday. I'll be serving as a sub-deacon. I'm excited, and a little bit scared, even though I've memorized the actions I'll be performing.

I also came across Psalm 22 by accident. Crushing.

That's what I was looking for

I had an inkling that it would come to this.

Just got back from the noon celtic service, which is followed by contemplative prayer. It was just wonderful. I feel so good. I really, really need that silence in my life.

No doubt, it will change and make things come up, or provide some other opportunity for me to fail and pick myself up again. But that's all to the good.

It's very odd for me - for years and years, I couldn't stand the idea that I needed to be specific places at specific times, or do certain things every day. It seemed oppressive. Now, it's comforting, and deeply needed. I still don't wear a watch, but organizing my days around stable points seems to really anchor me in the present moment, and help me reset when I get too far afield into stress and anxiety. Getting up at the same time each day (including the weekends). Prayer at regular intervals throughout the day. Working out 5 days a week. Eating food already prepared, and not rushing through a fast food line to get something to just feed my body, and not my soul, like a relaxing lunch or dinner does.

I think, maybe, this is working.

Morning Routine

I got up a bit earlier than I usually do, to have time to start the day right.

Said the morning office, somewhat slower than I often have, and ate some breakfast. It takes about as long as it takes to brew coffee to say the office - an interesting thing to note as it seems like it takes much longer than that.

What I'm finding is that I say an office, and then I later in the day forget that I have, and then I am reminded that, no, in fact, I already have done. I think that this is part of the process of trying to learn how to smoothly move between the sacred and the secular that is one of the most important parts of this exercise.

Failure comes so soon

I completely failed to do much of anything with this yesterday. I did at least read the lectionary selections for yesterday, just now.

But, I'm willing to accept the idea that the purpose isn't to succeed, but rather to fail over and over, and still keep trying.

8 bad thoughts, after Evagrius Ponticus

I've been reading Kathleen Norris' Acedia and Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life.

She talks about the 8 "bad thoughts" identified by monks of the 4th century. According to one of them, Evagrius Ponticus, these are:

• gluttony
  
• lust
• avarice
• sorrow
• anger
• discouragement
• vainglory
• pride

These were later turned into the seven deadly sins by Pope Gregory the Great.

She focuses on acedia, or "discouragement/apathy". This was subsumed into sadness by Gregory, but she thinks that it deserves it's own place. I can't help but agree.

The wisdom of this strikes me, both of giving acedia it's rightful place, and also as a total structure. At the risk of sounding like a first year psychology student who thinks they have every malady they study, I see myself in all of these things. They really form a matrix, and all point at the same thing - our essential brokenness, which I believe that God would like to heal. All of them separate us from God, which is a good enough definition of sin for me.

Morning Prayer - IV Lent Friday Year I

I said compline last night, before going to bed. I didn't quite manage not to talk after saying it. I couldn't sleep, worried about this and that in my life. But overall, it was good to get back to it.

It almost seems as if my brain has a default setting of saying "But, but, but" and it takes a fair amount of effort to bring it back to the words, to being quiet. Expected, but also always surprising to me.

Morning prayer this AM - much imagery of sheep and shepherds.

I have never been comfortable with this imagery. "I'm not a sheep" I think. "I'm independent, I'm powerful on my own terms. I'm not something that needs finding, or keeping, or gathering."

Of course, I am lying to myself. I do need to be gathered. To be found. It hurts to be reminded of it.