going deeper during this next phase of sheltering in place...

Since it has become abundantly clear that we will be "sheltering in place" for the

foreseeable future - the current regime's blathering, self-promotion, and lies not withstanding - I want to use the next few months to: 1) reconnect with my upright bass, 2) do some work with Quebecois French, and 3) create a new personal ritual of morning contemplation that includes chanting the psalms, centering prayer, honoring the rhythms of creation, and taking in new poetry. The other night I read in Richard Rohr's  From Wild Man to Wise Man - an insightful, modest book about male initiation which I apparently read when it first came out but found it to be new to me this time, too - that older men on the journey into wisdom find we can "no longer fake prayer, but need prayer to survive." 

That rings true to me - especially because I finished Christine Valters Paintner's The Soul of a Pilgrim: Eight Practice for the Journey Within last night, too. I started it in February, before the lock down, read parts of it in March and then put it aside for three months. This happens to me a lot - a repeating pattern and/or broken record for over 30 years - that is in play once again. Returning to the text, I read: 

As creative people, we are filled with the best of intentions. We are inspired with big visions and a longing to express ourselves in the fullest possible way. We begin a project - whether writing a book, painting a canvas, composing a song, planting a new flower bed, or starting a new project at work - with enthusiasm and full of confidence. Somewhere along the way, our energy starts to wane and our creative inspirations become a source of frustration. It hangs over our head as a symbol of our failure as an artist... (So what) are the circumstances of life that seem to conspire against your best laid plans? What are the thoughts which rise up in response? What are the judgments you hold about yourself... that seem to sabotage your ability to recommit to the journey?

I know that I get bored easily. My spiritual director in Tucson used to tell me to quit being so scattered - stop searching for new ways of going deeper - and work through the boredom. He was right, of course, but I still liked to experiment as more of a dabbler rather than a disciple. The upside of monkey mind is a wide path of creativity; the downside is a lack of depth. Paintner's notes that "the pilgrim's and monk's path is to always begin again - even when we keep falling back to sleep." Such is the charism in the parable of the Prodigal Child (Luke 15: 11-32.) The call to return, the joy of God's welcome, and the reality of beginning again - and again - is built upon the image of a feast. Bounty. Celebration. What I am starting to sense in my heart, and have known intuitively for decades, is that when the "student is ready, the Buddha appears." I have had to wander in the desert of my own creative distractions until I was ready to come home. It has been a LONG season of wandering. Not wasted time, but not as life-giving as going deep. Or maybe I should say deeper.

Last year at this time, I began an on-line course with Cynthia Bourgeault. Her

introduction to the "wisdom way of knowing" was the catalyst for making this shift a year later. So was getting my second tattoo in Montreal: it was all about the balance of creation. Together these experiences made it clear that to grow into the blessings of sacred wisdom I must use the time-tested tools of those who have made the journey before us. These include: 

1) Practicing the "three-centered awareness" of integrating the heart, with the mind and body. In the Benedictine realm this is called ora et labora ( prayer and work). "If balanced heart is your goal, it's a good idea to spend an intentional part of each day doing some simple physical labor... so that we come back in touch with the physical earth all around you and inside of you." For me, this would include tending the earth in our yard and garden, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, and making simple but necessary home repairs. I know I need this and have made it foundational.

2) Meditation. Here's where I have been both lazy and scattered. I used to sit in meditation twice a day for 20+ minutes 20 years ago, but have only engaged in this discipline intermittently over the past five years. Sometimes, yes, but not consistently. Bourgeault writes, "centering prayer is based entirely on patterning into the subconscious the gesture of surrender, which is the most direct and powerful way known to awaken the heart." So true - and now is a good time to use the solitude and quiet to head back home.

3) Sacred chanting. All sacred traditions include a way of embodying the soul of meditation. "What meditation accomplishes in silence, chanting accomplishes in sound: it wakes up the emotional center and sets it vibrating to the frequency of love and adoration while feeding the body with that mysterious higher "food" of divine live." (Cynthia Bourgeault, p. 105, The Wisdom Way of Knowing) One of the realities I have missed since retirement has been our weekly Eucharist where we sang and prayed the Psalms. I have not done this in solitude, so it will be new.

4) Lectio divina. And this is where I am still a Maverick because in addition to the Scriptures I want to add poetry to the mix. It would do me well to ponder poetically the lectionary readings for the week. But without the addition of some NEW poetry I sense my need for the novel would short-circuit this time of going deeper. So it will be both/and rather than either/or.

Add some bass playing and French into the mix!? Both Di and I are aching to get back to Canada and this time I may even be better able to communicate.  Nous verrons!