It is a relatively quiet week in my life... a week I might take as an invitation to savor and to still, or a week I might choose to impatiently fill up with new activity.
So often I, like so many others, avoid the quiet of these in-between times, boasting my frenzied list of activities as if it was the proof of my life's worth. And yet, it is there- in the in-between less active moments- when those finer jewels of utmost worth finally have a chance to be noticed and treasured.
Now there is no running away from the longing of my soul, and the need it has whispered of late to slow down, listen, wait. And so I wait, at times restless and fidgety, but resisting the temptation to fill the space with noise. I know that this is gestation time, a time for inner unfolding. I keep my eyes open for miracles- like the trees on my walk to work this morning- wet with quiet rain, calling me back to my breath, back to the moment, back to present awareness. And then- suddenly- the wild release of brown wings! A bird of prey shakes loose from the shackles of green- an owl blooms from these branches, from a bouquet of overhead leaves.
This is the time to notice, to pay deeper attention. It is not only the earth which calls me to listen. It is also my deeper self. In silence I can hear more clearly the still small voice that calls me to act boldly in faith; in stillness, I can also notice the hurting places in me, the places in need of healing and growth... and, like an emerging plant, I hear the whisper to turn, turn, turn toward renewal and light.
In this time I notice my longings, my calls-- the pull toward prayer, its intimate conversation; the whisper that this is something others long for too, and that it is something we might do together; the tender movement to create that safe space for many a shy soul.
This is the work I have been doing- not only for myself, but also with others in my congregation. I only know how to do this inner work because I've had to do it for myself. I have known what it is to be a frenzied burnt-out volunteer in the not-so-distant past. And I have had guides who have taught me to breathe, to slow down, to wait, and to listen. And the same is true for other members....the seeds have already been planted. Now it is our turn to continue the work- to create safe space for the soul in a place that can too often succumb to the seduction of frenzied activity, to till the soil, and to nurture the spiritual seeds of our congregation .
A few weeks ago I facilitated the first session of the spiritual deepening group we have begun. Nine people gathered in the sanctuary, and curiously and boldly began our journey together. More have signed up since. There were tender moments when I was moved in awe by our intimate sharing (especially in smaller circles), and I realized how vulnerable and how radical this work really is. I have come to believe that small group ministry is the most important work of a congregation; it is the contemplative ground, the inner work, and deep connection which nourishes our healing action in the world. Our group agreed to gather monthly, with partnerships and practices between. In addition, I have committed to a once a month Sunday morning offering of contemplative silence and sharing for any who wish to join prior to the service. This past Sunday, one woman responded to my last minute invitation, and the conversation between us was rich and open. This time may evolve to include a prayer group, as there have been some now, growing in number, who heave expressed a desire to pray- whether this means a conversation with God or simply the expression of deepest heart longings, offered to the silence.
So we are daring to contemplate and pray, and daring to speak about it. Yes daring...in a public sense, because we are speaking these things aloud. In the book I am reading now by Margaret Guenther, The Practice of Prayer, she writes that we are more comfortable talking about sex and death than we are talking about our personal prayer experiences... She's an Episcopalian priest, so that's probably even more true for UU's!
And yes, daring...because the dive into inner work strips away our masks and disguises. As I explore the topic of prayer more in depth this month through reading and discipline, I am finding the work to be an arduous clearing of inner garbage! I come face to face with my inner self, and take an honest look, naked before God. I see the places where I tell white lies, hide, manipulate, act in anger and in neglect. I see the people I pretend not to notice, the places I choose to be selfish. This noticing and this confessing too is an integral part of the prayer. This is not shame- I am still a believer that "You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.", that line from Mary Oliver's famous poem. But I still see and feel sorrow- without excuse- because I must see all if I am going to be honest and see what I need to repair and change.
So this is the waiting time... not a vacuous empty time, but a time of deep soul work, actually. And I am grateful for the support of many companions on the journey.
So often I, like so many others, avoid the quiet of these in-between times, boasting my frenzied list of activities as if it was the proof of my life's worth. And yet, it is there- in the in-between less active moments- when those finer jewels of utmost worth finally have a chance to be noticed and treasured.
Now there is no running away from the longing of my soul, and the need it has whispered of late to slow down, listen, wait. And so I wait, at times restless and fidgety, but resisting the temptation to fill the space with noise. I know that this is gestation time, a time for inner unfolding. I keep my eyes open for miracles- like the trees on my walk to work this morning- wet with quiet rain, calling me back to my breath, back to the moment, back to present awareness. And then- suddenly- the wild release of brown wings! A bird of prey shakes loose from the shackles of green- an owl blooms from these branches, from a bouquet of overhead leaves.
This is the time to notice, to pay deeper attention. It is not only the earth which calls me to listen. It is also my deeper self. In silence I can hear more clearly the still small voice that calls me to act boldly in faith; in stillness, I can also notice the hurting places in me, the places in need of healing and growth... and, like an emerging plant, I hear the whisper to turn, turn, turn toward renewal and light.
In this time I notice my longings, my calls-- the pull toward prayer, its intimate conversation; the whisper that this is something others long for too, and that it is something we might do together; the tender movement to create that safe space for many a shy soul.
This is the work I have been doing- not only for myself, but also with others in my congregation. I only know how to do this inner work because I've had to do it for myself. I have known what it is to be a frenzied burnt-out volunteer in the not-so-distant past. And I have had guides who have taught me to breathe, to slow down, to wait, and to listen. And the same is true for other members....the seeds have already been planted. Now it is our turn to continue the work- to create safe space for the soul in a place that can too often succumb to the seduction of frenzied activity, to till the soil, and to nurture the spiritual seeds of our congregation .
A few weeks ago I facilitated the first session of the spiritual deepening group we have begun. Nine people gathered in the sanctuary, and curiously and boldly began our journey together. More have signed up since. There were tender moments when I was moved in awe by our intimate sharing (especially in smaller circles), and I realized how vulnerable and how radical this work really is. I have come to believe that small group ministry is the most important work of a congregation; it is the contemplative ground, the inner work, and deep connection which nourishes our healing action in the world. Our group agreed to gather monthly, with partnerships and practices between. In addition, I have committed to a once a month Sunday morning offering of contemplative silence and sharing for any who wish to join prior to the service. This past Sunday, one woman responded to my last minute invitation, and the conversation between us was rich and open. This time may evolve to include a prayer group, as there have been some now, growing in number, who heave expressed a desire to pray- whether this means a conversation with God or simply the expression of deepest heart longings, offered to the silence.
So we are daring to contemplate and pray, and daring to speak about it. Yes daring...in a public sense, because we are speaking these things aloud. In the book I am reading now by Margaret Guenther, The Practice of Prayer, she writes that we are more comfortable talking about sex and death than we are talking about our personal prayer experiences... She's an Episcopalian priest, so that's probably even more true for UU's!
And yes, daring...because the dive into inner work strips away our masks and disguises. As I explore the topic of prayer more in depth this month through reading and discipline, I am finding the work to be an arduous clearing of inner garbage! I come face to face with my inner self, and take an honest look, naked before God. I see the places where I tell white lies, hide, manipulate, act in anger and in neglect. I see the people I pretend not to notice, the places I choose to be selfish. This noticing and this confessing too is an integral part of the prayer. This is not shame- I am still a believer that "You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.", that line from Mary Oliver's famous poem. But I still see and feel sorrow- without excuse- because I must see all if I am going to be honest and see what I need to repair and change.
So this is the waiting time... not a vacuous empty time, but a time of deep soul work, actually. And I am grateful for the support of many companions on the journey.
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