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- Using the Sacred Glance in Centering Prayer
These words have kept me focused through the struggles of this week: “We awaken in Christ’s body as Christ awakens our bodies, Christ awakens as the Beloved, in every part of my body.”
“Now is the time to awaken, to clear the lens….”. The way the phrase is written, initially propelled me in the sink hole of “I have to do this”; finally day 5 ,rising from the murky muck, I knew, I know in the marrow of my bones: my part is to show up, be open and receive my awakenings, the clearing of my lens...consent is taking on new dimensions….Christ awakens our bodies each morning from the first moment of consciousness…. as I let welcome flow from my inmost being – with gratitude. I am grateful that Christ kairos timing wraps around my struggling in minutes, the days of chronos living.
A discombobulating kind of week; an unveiling, to pull the top of off something= Apocalypse; sitting side by side with this unknown blessing before this “slammed door of shattered hope” facing the direction of light with the help of the image provided, an apt image of the on fire forest ‘of my privatized worlds; I sit, sit, sit…..each consenting c.p. time, I sit, I sit….till… receiving is happening, KLINGING FREE kind of receiving…… just enough light to my next sit…..
The second antiphon for Vespers yesterday, November 11: “Lord if you still need me, I am ready for the task; your will be done”; An affirmative gift of consenting following a recent descent into a dark corner of my being; launched upon awakening this morning from a significant dreaming time….
As I am praying my way into this week, certainty as a hiding place is becoming rarer. My present moments are taken up with tasks at hand where “little dyings” are the norm where relinquishing the future into God’s hands plunges me into those dark corners of my being – I anticipate that the final dark corner, my final breath just might be akin to Mary Oliver’s heaven “yellow finches bathing and singing in the lowly puddle”. For now I “feel into my body, my life— surrendering into embracing each moment as it is. Each moment- grace of another little death.
Six chronos days of praying this week and here I remain at the door of my house with Jesus on the threshold. What has been happening is best expressed in the image- the tree, gnarled branches, spread out, somewhat unbalanced by the cyclonic forces from the left. The action though is in the trunk, splashes of orange and brown; the force, the energy is pushing up from beneath; grounding : ” someone else’s suffering is really our suffering at the deepest level”; the “poor me” of suffering is being swallowed by “togetherness of our all” in one gigantic lamentation, cries from the depth of the earth and the depths of human hearts.
Since 1977 the Zaccheus story has profoundly affected my life. Since then I have plumbed the depths of experiences of various word, “too short’, “hiding in the tree”; “lost”; As this week begins, I am in pause mode at the door of my dwelling Jesus threshold, “sad”, “powerless”……
” No matter how hard we try, we cannot seem to get God to respect our boundaries.” This morning awakening, slowly, from the edge of consciousness, a movement from dreaming into the Welcoming Prayer to full consciousness into praying it, I feel another step further liberating me from a rigid boundary I set these many years ago. So much “covid speak” in me and around me. This morning at the sign of peace I found myself enveloping with God’s Love ” all those difficult people” now, asking God to erase from not only my vocabulary “difficult people” but renewing my consenting to the Great Ambusher’s LOVE gentle blasting away my rigid boundary; that I may, too, be gentle.
“Our daily practices are how we avail ourselves of this ambush” I now can say what purgatory is ( not the end of life kind, but the great struggle between the false self and the true self; I am humbled how I would like to respond in kind; then at the moment I know my ambusher is at work; I just have to show up and engage with words and actions that catch even me by surprise. In my situation there is a lot of disruptive “covid speak”. The challenge is to keep addressing the injustice and be compassionate “to those who know not what they do.” Symeon’s words are me crying out to my ambusher. Come…come…. com… sometimes like clinging with the tips of one’s nails on to the side of the hill; come….until I know, connect…
I am so grateful for The Word of the Week opening me in unbelievable ways to my Beloved Ambusher. Loving kindness blessings to all you my companions and to those who put together The Word of the Week.
Linda “the edge of the singing bowl” spoken into my soul.
Ambushed by great Love took me into the unknown depths of darkness to an assured presence in a difficult situation supporting all involved. I had this sense that Great Love was saying I’ve got this. There was this movement from this is too too much for me/us to being held by I’ve got this.
Grateful to you Linda and all in our Word of the Week community.
A first perusal of this week’s Word of the Week, phrase “divine ambush” fit the difficult encounter experience this past Saturday. I experienced an aliveness of ‘being held”. Instead of being drained there is a flow of courage to engage in this situation of injustice. I usually flee bullies; now I face the bully with compassion “for they know not the harm they are perpetuate”. Today is Canadian Thanksgiving. So much to be grate for – trusting this Ambusher.
As my week is progressing I am ever so grateful for Thomas Keating encouraging words: the movement of c.p. is all the way to the last minute of a sit. God love this. Well it’s that kind of week for me. I got through a very difficult situation yesterday; tomorrow is even more difficult. There is no way except to plunge in trusting the Spirit. Burst of joy keep popping up. Out on a walk this week I come across a rose from the large bush in a neighbor’s yard just blooming it’s little heart out, still there after a -7c frost. If the rose can do it; with the Spirit pulling the great load I can do my little part. I am so grateful that you are my prayer companions.
Though it is too early in my praying the readings this week here where I live we are seeing the most brilliant explosion of autumn colors. There is joy, joy in my heart! The heavy lamentation mode of the these past two years+ can’t destroy this joy, joy in my hearts. My first glance at Barabara’s poem: “Joy unspeakable is not silent, it moans, it hums and bends… a hologram of God’s heart, a black hole of unknowing……” Deep in my being I could not traverse the deep and heavy lamentation without this joy deep in my soul! This week I have one of the most difficult things I have to do, calling two people to accountability. From the black hole of unknowing, this joy envelopes me in courage. Not alone I am only the humble instrument. I am so grateful we are praying these passages together.
This week the challenge/revelation ” to have the capacity to be the home of love”, was accepting an apology when none was offered; purgatory is here and now. What a wonderful/lifesaving companion: the welcome prayer. Though not one of our readings this week, I am grateful for the reading from the book of Job from this week’s common lectionary; Job and I Kindred spirits!
As I begin praying this week’s theme, another theme is surfacing: the chasm of indifference. My question and challenge, “my capacity to be the home of love”. In the next 6 weeks or so I am part of a discernment process where indifference and entitlement are deeply rooted in spite of everyone’s good intentions.
In the image this week, I see myself before the beckoning narrow door, crouched over, a hand over my eyes. Unaware, that behind me the soft colors of the “the foolishness of God” (1Cor1:25) are absorbing my ego program, one descent into the abyss, over an over. The red bar of the door, a sign of the availability of courage.
