Today is one of those days that does not have a schedule. Don’t think I mean there is nothing to accomplish! Rather, there are no appointments in my calendar and no set time to do anything except respond to what steps up and asks to be next in line for completion. I know there is a trip to the bank and the grocery store to be accomplished and some more work on the workshop soon to come. There are phone calls and e-mails and laundry…You see how the day is likely to go. This is the perfect set-up, however, for the spiritual practice of living in the moment and letting go in response to what is asked of me. I have no way of achieving every task that is floating on my virtual list so my first task is making a determination to expect nothing except to be in the flow of the day. Proceeding from that center, I know that at bedtime God and I will be pleased with the result.
Again yesterday I was reminded of the importance of spiritual practice but this time that message came in a group gathering. Five of the seven members of our “practice circle” who were able to be present came together in Estelle’s lovely living room for what has become an increasingly important monthly meeting. As we first checked in with present events in our personal lives – some painful or difficult – we also expressed our gratitude for the sunshine and promise of spring (regardless of the 25 degree temperature and mounds of snow outside!) as well as our enthusiasm for being together.
When I was leaving the kitchen with my coffee this morning, one of my housemates asked, “What today’s blog topic?” My answer was as simple as it was true: “I won’t know till I get back upstairs.” So up I came. I sipped my coffee. I looked out the window. I wondered about a lighthearted line or two from the Sufi poet Hafiz. I read Alan Cohen’s entry for this date…Nothing felt right.
Today is the feast of Teresa of Avila. Because it is Sunday, always a “first class feast,” we don’t hear about Teresa this year. I find it difficult to let it go by, however, without some mention of this woman who is one of only four women thus far in the history of the Roman Catholic Church to achieve the title of “Doctor of the Church.” Sister Teresa was a mystic, but also very active, tireless in her work of reforming the Carmelite order of nuns in the 1500’s in the most rigorous – some thought too extreme – way. Her writings were extensive and her spiritual practice was constant, although for many years she suffered many physical illnesses and a deprivation of any spiritual consolation. She never despaired, even in the face of investigation by the Inquisition, and her writings are considered one of the great treasures of Christian mysticism.
The prayer we know as “The Lord’s Prayer” or the “Our Father” can be found in two of the four canonical gospels – Matthew and Luke – and, although translations vary, the wording of the two is virtually the same. What differs are the verses that follow. Luke, chapter 11, gives an example of what Jesus meant by telling a story. Today we have Matthew’s version which tells people how they are to act when doing spiritual practice – not looking gloomy and neglecting their appearance so people know they are fasting, etc. (That always makes me smile as I know how easy it is to moan to let others know when I am in pain from some small injury or distress…). I noticed something in between Matthew’s directives this morning, however, that surprised me and made me wonder if I will ever have a new thought that doesn’t touch on our relationships in today’s world situation. (See the past few entries of this blog.)
One of the best outcomes of my practice of centering prayer is the certainty that I have become less judgmental of persons and situations than I was 11 years ago when I began the practice in earnest. There are definitely times when I still jump to conclusions but that happens less often than in my earlier life. This morning I was reminded of this gift – and of the fact that I still have a long way to go before claiming “perfection” in this area. It came from a humorous story in Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, and was entitled “The Pig of God.” I hope you enjoy it and find the message as important as I do. You may have heard it before but it’s worth a second look (or a third or fourth…) so pay close attention.
Today I’m meeting with Cheryl, my co-facilitator of our summer series on Jan Phillips book, No Ordinary Time. Jan’s workshop with us was so inspiring that Cheryl thought it a good idea to keep that awakening going and it seems that others – myself being the most enthusiastic – agree. (Check the “
Sometimes my thoughts have a strange way of coming together. Often two or more unrelated things give me a basis for conclusion that make me scratch my head and say, “Where did that come from?” Today is one of those days – a serendipitous collision of a passing thought with the morning lectionary reading that may or may not “work” in the world outside my mind. Here goes:
Yesterday I was able to meet with my monthly “spiritual practices circle” for the first time this year. It was a lovely way to spend a slice of the day and a renewal of my conviction about the importance of deep listening and conversation. I was taken back to that privileged time this morning as I read some of Meg Wheatley’s comments in her book, Turning to One Another. Her point is something to remember in the complex and tumultuous times in which we live. I offer her words as a reflection that may open us in new ways in our interactions with others today – or any day.
I was just looking at some intercessory prayers for liturgies and was reminded of a common practices in our local Catholic Church (and many others, I’m sure). After the formally written intentions are spoken at Sunday liturgy the reader always asks, For what else shall we pray? and individuals in the congregation shout out their needs.