"When man's consciousness is restricted only to the immediate vicinity of the human self, the deeper roots of his nature do not find their permanent soil, his spirit is ever on the brink of starvation, and in the place of healthful strength he substitutes rounds of stimulation. Then it is that man misses his inner perspective and measures his greatness by its bulk and not by its vital link with the infinite, judges his activity by its movement and not by the repose of perfection -- the repose which is in the starry heavens, in the ever-flowing rhythmic dance of creation."
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The Gift of Silence
Meditation is our effort to be silent --- but in meditation we experience silence as something that is given to us, a gift. The silence of meditation is rich and full. It is more than the absence of sound because the silence we ourselves create is only a prelude to the deeper silence that is given to us.
The gift of silence means freedom -- freedom from the worried and the cares, the anxious hopes and the deep regrets that burden our soul. This freedom is genuine. It is not an escape from reality but rather a liberation from unreality. We spend most of our lives looking back on the past or anticipating the future. Meditation roots us, instead, in the present moment, the only moment that really exists. It enables us to appreciate every moment of our life for what it truly is -- a fresh, new gift from our Creator.
The gift of silence also means freedom from the din and the noise that are clanging in our heads. "Free me, O Lord," wrote Saint Augustine, "from the chatter that I suffer deep within my soul." In meditation, the busy thoughts that plague us are stilled. The raging storm within is calmed. "Be still and know that I am God," wrote the Psalmist -- and in the stillness of meditation we come to experience God as a source of hope in the midst of our disorder and chaos.
The gift of silence is unity, harmony. We are at one with everyone and everything that exists because we have let go of whatever divides us, whatever separates us -- every barrier that we've built up around our small, frightened ego. In meditation we just be -- with God's own being -- and so we are at one, we are in harmony, with God and with all that shares, as we do, in God's own being.
The gift of silence means being yourself, without excuses to yourself or to anyone else. Silence banishes the "tempters" and "accusers," the distractions that take us off our course and the fears that prevent us from moving forward. In meditation we neither boast of our virtue nor grovel because of our sinfulness. We stop doing anything and allow God to continue to shape us in God's own image and likeness. By simply being ourselves we come to discover who we really are, and since all that God made is good, we discover our own essential goodness. We can delight, as God delights, in the unique creation that we are. Like the Psalmist we can exclaim, "I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made!"
From the tradition:
"A brother came to Abbot Pastor and said: Many distracting thoughts come into my mind and I am in danger because of them. Then the elder thrust him out into the open air and said: Open up the garments about your chest and catch the wind in them. But he replied: This I cannot do. So the elder said to him: If you cannot catch the wind, neither can you prevent distracting thoughts from coming into your head. Your job is to say No to them."
"Abbot Pastor said: Any trial whatever that comes to you can be conquered with silence."
The gift of silence means freedom -- freedom from the worried and the cares, the anxious hopes and the deep regrets that burden our soul. This freedom is genuine. It is not an escape from reality but rather a liberation from unreality. We spend most of our lives looking back on the past or anticipating the future. Meditation roots us, instead, in the present moment, the only moment that really exists. It enables us to appreciate every moment of our life for what it truly is -- a fresh, new gift from our Creator.
The gift of silence also means freedom from the din and the noise that are clanging in our heads. "Free me, O Lord," wrote Saint Augustine, "from the chatter that I suffer deep within my soul." In meditation, the busy thoughts that plague us are stilled. The raging storm within is calmed. "Be still and know that I am God," wrote the Psalmist -- and in the stillness of meditation we come to experience God as a source of hope in the midst of our disorder and chaos.
The gift of silence is unity, harmony. We are at one with everyone and everything that exists because we have let go of whatever divides us, whatever separates us -- every barrier that we've built up around our small, frightened ego. In meditation we just be -- with God's own being -- and so we are at one, we are in harmony, with God and with all that shares, as we do, in God's own being.
The gift of silence means being yourself, without excuses to yourself or to anyone else. Silence banishes the "tempters" and "accusers," the distractions that take us off our course and the fears that prevent us from moving forward. In meditation we neither boast of our virtue nor grovel because of our sinfulness. We stop doing anything and allow God to continue to shape us in God's own image and likeness. By simply being ourselves we come to discover who we really are, and since all that God made is good, we discover our own essential goodness. We can delight, as God delights, in the unique creation that we are. Like the Psalmist we can exclaim, "I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made!"
From the tradition:
"A brother came to Abbot Pastor and said: Many distracting thoughts come into my mind and I am in danger because of them. Then the elder thrust him out into the open air and said: Open up the garments about your chest and catch the wind in them. But he replied: This I cannot do. So the elder said to him: If you cannot catch the wind, neither can you prevent distracting thoughts from coming into your head. Your job is to say No to them."
*
"Abbot Pastor said: Any trial whatever that comes to you can be conquered with silence."
from Thomas Merton, The Wisdom of the Desert
Monday, February 27, 2012
Meditation Is Not Complicated
It may be difficult for newcomers to believe that meditation is as simple as it seems. The temptation is to complicate it. But people who have meditated for a while say that it gets simpler as they go along. Learning to meditate means learning to do less and less.
So don't pay attention to the meaning of your mantra, Maranatha. Just pay attention to the sound of the word repeated silently in your mind and heart.
Ma-ra-na-tha. Repeat your word slowly. Stress each syllable equally. Listen to the sound of the word.
Thoughts will come -- good thoughts, bad thoughts, "urgent" reminders, or even grand spiritual insights. Ignore them all. Just keep saying your word. Let go of thinking completely. Don't stop repeating your word.
Images, too, will come and go. Ignore them, let them go. Let your eyes relax, and continue repeating your word.
Once you come to see that meditation is prayer, you will stop "trying to pray" when you are meditating. You won't say your word to a God whose image is somewhere in the back of your head. You'll simply repeat your word as you pay attention to its sound: Ma-ra-na-tha.
Don't misunderstand me: "Simple" doesn't mean "easy." (I'll say more at another time about the difficulty of meditating.) "Simple" means uncomplicated, not composed of parts. Your goal is one thing only: to listen to your word as you repeat it.
From the tradition:
So don't pay attention to the meaning of your mantra, Maranatha. Just pay attention to the sound of the word repeated silently in your mind and heart.
Ma-ra-na-tha. Repeat your word slowly. Stress each syllable equally. Listen to the sound of the word.
Thoughts will come -- good thoughts, bad thoughts, "urgent" reminders, or even grand spiritual insights. Ignore them all. Just keep saying your word. Let go of thinking completely. Don't stop repeating your word.
Images, too, will come and go. Ignore them, let them go. Let your eyes relax, and continue repeating your word.
Once you come to see that meditation is prayer, you will stop "trying to pray" when you are meditating. You won't say your word to a God whose image is somewhere in the back of your head. You'll simply repeat your word as you pay attention to its sound: Ma-ra-na-tha.
Don't misunderstand me: "Simple" doesn't mean "easy." (I'll say more at another time about the difficulty of meditating.) "Simple" means uncomplicated, not composed of parts. Your goal is one thing only: to listen to your word as you repeat it.
From the tradition:
"A person still subject to physical impulses has not yet been crucified with Christ,
and if he still drags natural thoughts along with him,
he has not yet been buried with Him.
How then can he be raised up with Christ
to live in newness of Life?"
Ilias the Presbyter
Saturday, February 25, 2012
How to Meditate
However unfamiliar this way of meditating may seem, it's deeply rooted (as we'll see) in Christian tradition.
Sit down. Sit still and upright. Close your eyes lightly. Sit relaxed but alert.
Silently, interiorly -- in your mind, not aloud -- begin repeating a single word. We recommend the ancient prayer "Maranatha" ("Come, Lord"). Recite it as four equally stressed syllables: ma-ra-na-tha. Listen to it as you repeat it, gently but continuously.
Do not think or imagine anything, spiritual or otherwise. Do not think of the meaning of your word. If thoughts and images come, these are distractions at the time of meditation, so return to simply repeating your word.
Meditate each morning and even for 20 to 30 minutes.
The best guide to meditation is the writings of Fr. John Main, OSB, especially Word into Silence.
From the tradition:
Sit down. Sit still and upright. Close your eyes lightly. Sit relaxed but alert.
Silently, interiorly -- in your mind, not aloud -- begin repeating a single word. We recommend the ancient prayer "Maranatha" ("Come, Lord"). Recite it as four equally stressed syllables: ma-ra-na-tha. Listen to it as you repeat it, gently but continuously.
Do not think or imagine anything, spiritual or otherwise. Do not think of the meaning of your word. If thoughts and images come, these are distractions at the time of meditation, so return to simply repeating your word.
Meditate each morning and even for 20 to 30 minutes.
The best guide to meditation is the writings of Fr. John Main, OSB, especially Word into Silence.
From the tradition:
"When you are praying,
do not shape within yourself any image of the Deity,
and do not let your intellect be stamped with any impress or form;
but approach the Immaterial in an immaterial manner,
and then you will understand."
Evagrios the Solitary
High Desert?
"High desert" refers to a desert climate at high altitude (that was easy, wasn't it?), which in Santa Fe is 7,000 feet. The altitude and the cooler temperatures mean that the flora and fauna are different from what you find closer to sea level -- for example, you'll find none of the noble saguaro cacti here. (If Google Images is accurate, the cactus at the top of this page does grow here.)
And we do have a real winter, with daytime temperatures often in the 40s. Fortunately, the sun usually shines brightly. At night, the temperature is likely to drop down to the 20s.
This blog is likely to focus on matters spiritual rather than political, but I can't swear I'll always resist the temptation to share some "far left propaganda," as my conservative friends call it. ("Far left" is better applied to my roommate, who's convinced the government is out to get us. I just listen and smile; disagreement would be pointless.)
And we do have a real winter, with daytime temperatures often in the 40s. Fortunately, the sun usually shines brightly. At night, the temperature is likely to drop down to the 20s.
Downtown Santa Fe
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