One of the resets that has become vital to me during our bi-annual quiet retreats involves daily prayer. For decades, I practiced regular centering prayer (https:// centeringprayer.com/) and then one day I quit. There wasn't any clear reason for this, except that it prefigured a midlife meltdown of sorts, in which I questioned most of my longstanding commitments. The late Robert Bly, channeling C.G. Jung, regularly told his men's mythopoetic gatherings that if men didn't address our puer aeternus archetype (https://www.jungian-confrerie.com/ phdi/p1.nsf/supppages/8209?opendocument&part=17) by about age 50, facing and owning our shadow side honestly and abandoning our desire to live as an Icarus for the 21st century, we would either reach old age as cranky, old cynics or else embarrassing fools buying red convertible cars, chasing young lovers, and dressing as if we were still 22. His book with Marion Woodman, The Sibling Society, described generations of contemporary sisters and brothers without many competent mothers, father, and wisdom-keeping elders anywhere on the horizon. So, while my crash was ugly, and took a ton of counseling, tears, and contemplation, in retrospect, I give thanks to God for it.
Part of the collateral damage of this journey for me, however, was my disconnect from the discipline of daily contemplation and lectio divina. As some of my Zen friends say: only when the student is ready will the Buddha appear - and I sense that this student is once again ready. Currently, I'm using Prayers for the Domestic Church by Fr. Ed Hays. Today's liturgy struck a deep chord within:
The redemption of the world, the removal of injustice, and the spread of unity among all peoples is beyond my limited abilities. Lord, help me to examine how I have failed to redeem that small part of the world that did touch my life today. (pause for silent reflection and sacred gesture) In holy unity, with my heart at peace and surrounded with gratitude, I now enter into a sacred stillness.
After nearly a decade of avoiding the practice of deep contemplation, I pray that I am ready again to be still and know... Walking quietly by a Vermont waterfall in the cool sunshine yesterday provided another gentle affirmation - as did today's rain - and St. Jon's gospel for the Feast of the Ascension. Lord, may it be so within.
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