The moment I heard "Falling Slowly" I knew it was a song of the heart. Fr. Richard Rohr sometimes speaks of falling as an essential ingredient on the way to spiritual wholeness. Falling upwards is how he puts it, conjuring the paradox of failing and surrender as the doorway to serenity and gravitas. He sometimes uses the phrase "breathing under water" too to mean much the same thing.
It’s a gift to joyfully recognize and accept our own smallness and ordinariness. Then you are free with nothing to live up to, nothing to prove, and nothing to protect. Such freedom is my best description of Christian maturity, because once you know that your “I” is great and one with God, you can ironically be quite content with a small and ordinary “I.” No grandstanding is necessary. Any question of your own importance or dignity has already been resolved once and for all and forever.
To live and move and have our being slowly is an acquired blessing. Some are gifts that accompany aging, while others require a different intentionality. The three components that help me cherish each day include emptiness, order, and softness. Your practices may differ but all of them help us to consciously become smaller within a culture that is addicted to grandiosity.
+ Emptiness: In my world living into a balanced day requires that I befriend emptiness. This may be different where you live, but here there are always too many options to fill up my time. In the supermarket, there are too many types of pasta, too many brands of tooth paste, too many packages of light bulbs and soap and deodorant. On TV there are too many channels - and as Springsteen used to sing: "there's 57 channels but nothing's on!" On any given day, I find that there are too many choices of things to do, too. We call it being busy - and most of us have a love/hate relationship with busyness. Many feel as if our lives are too busy. At the same time, however, we know that our busyness gives us a sense of importance in ourselves and with others. Deep down, we like it when somebody says, "I know how busy you are, but could we just find time for...?"
This busyness we impose upon ourselves. Other busyness comes from our places of work, our families, or our volunteer commitments. As one who has wrestled with busyness as an addiction, I know how hard it is to unplug from the buzz. I once found great satisfaction in making long, detailed lists of everything I had to accomplish, and then scrupulously checking things off as the day ripened. The more I crossed off, the more value I had for myself and those I was serving. "Look how incredibly productive I have been!?!" Employers love it when we become obsessed with proving our worth through tasks and grind ourselves to the bone. Work-a-holism is one of our socially acceptable addictions - and the modern economy demands it.
Incrementally I have been experimenting with honoring emptiness rather than busyness as part of each day. I started this practice 25+ years ago and am still learning the beauty of "no." Saying "no" and building-in emptiness gives shape to my calendar, my music, my prayers, and my priorities. I am still a novice but find help through a wonderful little song Donovan wrote for Zeffirelli's Francis and Clare film, "Brother Sun, Sister Moon."
+ Emptiness: In my world living into a balanced day requires that I befriend emptiness. This may be different where you live, but here there are always too many options to fill up my time. In the supermarket, there are too many types of pasta, too many brands of tooth paste, too many packages of light bulbs and soap and deodorant. On TV there are too many channels - and as Springsteen used to sing: "there's 57 channels but nothing's on!" On any given day, I find that there are too many choices of things to do, too. We call it being busy - and most of us have a love/hate relationship with busyness. Many feel as if our lives are too busy. At the same time, however, we know that our busyness gives us a sense of importance in ourselves and with others. Deep down, we like it when somebody says, "I know how busy you are, but could we just find time for...?"
This busyness we impose upon ourselves. Other busyness comes from our places of work, our families, or our volunteer commitments. As one who has wrestled with busyness as an addiction, I know how hard it is to unplug from the buzz. I once found great satisfaction in making long, detailed lists of everything I had to accomplish, and then scrupulously checking things off as the day ripened. The more I crossed off, the more value I had for myself and those I was serving. "Look how incredibly productive I have been!?!" Employers love it when we become obsessed with proving our worth through tasks and grind ourselves to the bone. Work-a-holism is one of our socially acceptable addictions - and the modern economy demands it.
Incrementally I have been experimenting with honoring emptiness rather than busyness as part of each day. I started this practice 25+ years ago and am still learning the beauty of "no." Saying "no" and building-in emptiness gives shape to my calendar, my music, my prayers, and my priorities. I am still a novice but find help through a wonderful little song Donovan wrote for Zeffirelli's Francis and Clare film, "Brother Sun, Sister Moon."
If you want your dream to be
Take your time, go slowly
Do few things but do them well
Heartfelt work grows purely
If you want to live life free
Take your time, go slowly
Do few things but do them well
Heartfelt work grows purely
Day by day, stone by stone
Build your secret slowly
Day by day, you'll grow too
You'll know heaven's glory
These days I strive to do "few things, but do them well." I walk with a sense of emptiness. It is a spiritual practice NOT to rush. Some of this is organic because I'm older and sometimes have a grandchild beside me. Or my sweetheart and the infirmities she manages so well. But even by myself, emptiness shapes my quest to move slowly and notice what's going on all around me. Same goes for the TV I watch, the books I read, the music I play, the meetings I attend, the news I listen to, the purchases I make, and the food I eat. Less continues to become more, quality over quantity is essential, and each commitment deserves to be wrapped with a measure of emptiness or silence before and afterwards so that I might appreciate the beauty and value of each event.
To gain control of the world of space is certainly one of our tasks. The danger begins when in gaining power in the realm of space we forfeit all aspirations in the realm of time. There is a realm of time where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord. Life goes wrong when the control of space, the acquisition of things of space, becomes our sole concern.
Some 30 years ago our small family started to practice Sabbath keeping while I was pastor of an inner city congregation in Cleveland. I quickly learned that religious people like the idea of the Sabbath more than the practice - especially if it limits the pastor's availability. Stanley Hauerwas has described the modern pastor as "a quivering mass of trembling availability." And he is right. Some of those in the congregation became indignant and harsh when I made it known that I wouldn't be answering the phone or making unnecessary pastoral visits on my Sabbath. It was a constant source of tension that was not resolved. In subsequent pastorates I was up front from the beginning that not only would I honor the Sabbath and keep it holy, but I would devote a full day to prayer and writing in anticipation of Sunday worship. That was my second lesson in taking control of my schedule and discovering the blessing of order. As the late Eugene Peterson advised in Working the Angles (a book written to help pastors reclaim order): "If you need to spend an hour each week with Dostoevsky, then make sure it is in you calendar! Same with prayer and family time, too." Peterson practiced what he preached: he took every Friday away from the fray to walk with his wife in the wilderness, pray in the quiet of his study, and feast with loved ones at day's end. His witness gave me courage and clarity for the final 20 years of ministry.
There is a realm of time where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord. Life goes wrong when the control of space, the acquisition of things of space, becomes our sole concern.
+ Softness: The blessing of living slowly includes cultivating an inward/outward softness. I know of no better description than Cynthia Bourgeault's clarity in her brilliant book on Wisdom. Considering the practice of surrendering self in real life, she writes:
When the attitude of prompt surrender has become permanently engrained in a person while still in bodily life, that person becomes a powerful servant of humanity - a saint, in the language of the Christian West - whose very being radiates blessing and spiritual strength... Surrender means to "hand oneself over" or "entrust oneself." It is not about outer capitulation, but about inner opening. It is always voluntary, and rather than an act of weakness, it is always an act of strength... Maintaining an open, inner gentleness, even in in the face of perceived threat and reversal, immediately connects you with the whole multispectrum knowingness of your heart... (So) the most direct and effective (way to practice this is) in any situation in life, confronted by an outer threat or opportunity, you can notice yourself responding inwardly in one of two ways. Either you will brace, harden, and resist; or, you will soften, ripen, and yield. If you go with the former gesture, you will be catapulted immediately into your smaller self, with its animal instincts and survival responses. If you stay with the later regardless of outer conditions, you will remain in alignment with your innermost beings, and through it, divine being can reach you. Spiritual practice at its no-frills simplest is a moment-by-moment learning not to do anything in a state of internal brace. Bracing is never worth the cost.
(The Wisdom Way of Knowing, pp. 74-75)
Emptiness, order, and softness help me slow down. The more I slow down, the better rested I become. The more at rest I am, the better I can notice what is going on all around (and within) me. In a quiet and slow state, I am able to listen and be fully present with others. Rather than frantically rushing to accomplish my tasks, I have both the time and desire for connections. Henri Nouwen insists that solitude is the key to community and I believe he is right. When I am empty, ordered and soft the challenges around me become living opportunities to love God in creation instead of resenting the noise and reacting with anxiety. This poem by Julie Cadwallader Staub, "Blackbirds," expresses some of the gratitude I feel whenever I live within this blessing.
+ Softness: The blessing of living slowly includes cultivating an inward/outward softness. I know of no better description than Cynthia Bourgeault's clarity in her brilliant book on Wisdom. Considering the practice of surrendering self in real life, she writes:
When the attitude of prompt surrender has become permanently engrained in a person while still in bodily life, that person becomes a powerful servant of humanity - a saint, in the language of the Christian West - whose very being radiates blessing and spiritual strength... Surrender means to "hand oneself over" or "entrust oneself." It is not about outer capitulation, but about inner opening. It is always voluntary, and rather than an act of weakness, it is always an act of strength... Maintaining an open, inner gentleness, even in in the face of perceived threat and reversal, immediately connects you with the whole multispectrum knowingness of your heart... (So) the most direct and effective (way to practice this is) in any situation in life, confronted by an outer threat or opportunity, you can notice yourself responding inwardly in one of two ways. Either you will brace, harden, and resist; or, you will soften, ripen, and yield. If you go with the former gesture, you will be catapulted immediately into your smaller self, with its animal instincts and survival responses. If you stay with the later regardless of outer conditions, you will remain in alignment with your innermost beings, and through it, divine being can reach you. Spiritual practice at its no-frills simplest is a moment-by-moment learning not to do anything in a state of internal brace. Bracing is never worth the cost.
(The Wisdom Way of Knowing, pp. 74-75)
Emptiness, order, and softness help me slow down. The more I slow down, the better rested I become. The more at rest I am, the better I can notice what is going on all around (and within) me. In a quiet and slow state, I am able to listen and be fully present with others. Rather than frantically rushing to accomplish my tasks, I have both the time and desire for connections. Henri Nouwen insists that solitude is the key to community and I believe he is right. When I am empty, ordered and soft the challenges around me become living opportunities to love God in creation instead of resenting the noise and reacting with anxiety. This poem by Julie Cadwallader Staub, "Blackbirds," expresses some of the gratitude I feel whenever I live within this blessing.
I am 52 years old, and have spenttruly the better part
of my life out-of-doors
but yesterday I heard a new sound above my head
a rustling, ruffling quietness in the spring air
and when I turned my face upward
I saw a flock of blackbirds
rounding a curve I didn't know was there
and the sound was simply all those wings,
all those feathers against air, against gravity
and such a beautiful winning:
the whole flock taking a long, wide turn
as if of one body and one mind.
How do they do that?
If we lived only in human society
what a puny existence that would be
but instead we live and move and have our being
here, in this curving and soaring world
that is not our own
so when mercy and tenderness triumph in our lives
and when, even more rarely, we unite and move together
toward a common good,
we can think to ourselves:
ah yes, this is how it's meant to be.
credits:
+ https://hebroots.org/sabbath/
of my life out-of-doors
but yesterday I heard a new sound above my head
a rustling, ruffling quietness in the spring air
and when I turned my face upward
I saw a flock of blackbirds
rounding a curve I didn't know was there
and the sound was simply all those wings,
all those feathers against air, against gravity
and such a beautiful winning:
the whole flock taking a long, wide turn
as if of one body and one mind.
How do they do that?
If we lived only in human society
what a puny existence that would be
but instead we live and move and have our being
here, in this curving and soaring world
that is not our own
so when mercy and tenderness triumph in our lives
and when, even more rarely, we unite and move together
toward a common good,
we can think to ourselves:
ah yes, this is how it's meant to be.
credits:
+ https://hebroots.org/sabbath/
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