Toward inner and outer peace

My soul is buffeted, even tormented and mauled by the thought-beasts that try to drag me into the spaces and places outside of me. These spaces are increasingly crowded by obligations and demands and worries---full of thoughts that want to make me believe I'm always behind, never good enough, always living from a deficit. Unless I make space between the me-who-I-really-am and the mind-made-me, the false self constructed by these thoughts, I'll never live well. The thought-beasts will be always nipping at my heels.

This is no way to live.

Today, I'll pass through the narrow gate of my heart. Throughout the day, I'll pause and breathe my prayers again and again, drawing these maverick thoughts down into my heart. They'll meet Christ there.

Perhaps a few will be still, be silent . . . simply be . . . along with the rest of me.

And those that won't? Well, I'll refuse to follow them. I'll let them go, muttering as they march stubbornly onward.

from my journals, September 25, 2007

Unceasing prayer is not quietism

Another journal post on the practice of unceasing, interior prayer. From September 16, 2007:

The path I follow in contemplation, the prayer of the heart, is not mere quietism. It is not transcendental meditation or emptying or relaxation. It certainly transcends. It does empty. And it often relaxes. But it's more. It is active. In fact, it is warfare.

It aims at the deepest form of asceticism, the highest form of freedom.

It aims to watch the rising of thoughts as a fly fisherman watches for a trout rising for the fly. I take told of each thought before it lures me away, and pull it instead, down toward Christ within my heart.

I draw thoughts in and down, following the breath, until, in the presence of Christ, they give up their pretensions; in the presence of Christ, they're made nothing in comparison to Love. I practice loving God alone, beyond all thought, Who alone satisfies. All thoughts become as nothing to me.

This is not relaxation. But it does lead to rest---the hesychia of purest prayer.

In this practice habits are formed, and from habits comes virtue---that inner freedom from all false loves. Virtue is the unceasing, instinctive love of Love Herself. In loving no other thing---truly no-thing---we have Him-Who-is-Everything.

I pray this way so that I may be bound to God in each and every moment---and not to my false self and the lower loves which are driven unconsciously by the unceasing lure of relentless, untethered thoughts. This way there will be no created thing between God and me---not even a single thought that clouds my vision of Him, not even a solitary passion that shades my heart from the splendor of Her.

Begin with a simple, affective, preparatory prayer

In the previous post, I wrote that Richard Methley urged us to begin the brief episodes of simple prayer scattered throughout the day "with a simple, affective, preparatory prayer." Here's one of my little poem-prayers I offer when I begin my morning prayers. It recognizes the wild dogs that bite and nip at my heals---the distractions that keep me unfocused and scattered. And it summons me to the one thing that really matters.

We never know what hounds us so, until the desert kills the dogs. Then naked and alone we cross the narrow gate, and find the kingdom known as God's.

Arrived, we owe no debt to yesterday, No anxious glance tomorrow's way. The present gives us all we need, for here and now our hearts are freed to love, and from Your river stoop and feed.

Toward a simple rhythm of daily prayer

Okay, so here's a lesson from the 14th century to the 21st. Maybe you'd prefer something a bit more modern, up-to-date. I assure you there's nothing more up-to-date for the living of these days than some instruction from a century a lot like our own---instruction that's been treasured now for some seven centuries. Richard Methley, a teacher of the life of prayer in our turbulent world, describes his own practice of daily prayer (this comes from James Walsh's introduction to the Cloud of Unknowing, pages 17-18).

Methley instructed those who seek God to go to their accustomed place of prayer, concentrate the whole attention on God, hide from every creature, close the eyes, and begin with a simple, affective, preparatory prayer (like the Jesus Prayer).

His own habit was to get away from the distractions of daily life for three brief episodes---at dawn, noon, and just before sleep---for up to 15 minutes. Just a brief and simple dip into the Holy. He practiced a longer season after supper---a half hour.

My own practice has settled into a similar rhythm. Most people, with a little renovation of their lives can improvise on this instruction. Lots of folks do similar things with other occupations---reading the paper, smoking breaks, watching TV, a Starbucks run.

You may tell yourself you have no real time to pray. Frankly, you'd be surprised at how much time you actually do have. But you'll have to put a little muscle behind shifting things around.

The key is not to bite off more than you can chew as you're making the renovations.  A little time here and there goes a long, long way.

What prayer is meant to be

It seems to me that so much of my praying is rather tame, routine.  And that's not wholly bad.  Expecting to soar in ecstasy always is, frankly, a little hard on the equipment we mortals are given.  But ecstasy does come to those who wait.  Even once in a blue moon is enough.

Teach Us To Pray

And this is what I saw—

Leviathan leaping, full length, in radiant delight, up from the dark depths of Mystery.

The night sky, clear; the moon full, casting its silver light across the whale-fractured sea.

And then she crashes, full length. A million silver shards dancing their holy glee.

As she disappears again into the dark, silent depths, to soak in Thee.

Why then pray like some dead fish in this, God’s sea?

Dance, fly, play, plunge. That’s what prayer is meant to be.