Finishing the Program and Continuing On Day by Day by Day by Day

"Oh! Turkeys!" Bruce, one of our facilitators suddenly exclaimed in the beginning of his presentation on our final weekend of the Contemplative Formation program  at Mariandale. We were on the ground floor, and the windows looked out on an area where the ground was actually higher than our floor, so we had a clear view of the three turkeys that appeared just outside the window. "Oh my!" he exclaimed, as two of the turkeys suddenly felt in the mood for propagation. It was a comedic highlight of the last three days we would all spend together.

I have been putting off this final blog about the Contemplative Formation program, because I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. I have just had lunch with my friend Mary Ann, and I think she helped me with a few perceptive questions.

When I said that the program had been life-changing, she asked me in what way, as she felt I had been very contemplative for years. I think that I've been unaware of this, actually. I admit that I've had other people (including my spiritual director) tell me this as well, since I started the program. But the label was not one I would have given myself. So what I gained in particular from this program was a realization that being contemplative on a daily basis for the rest of my life is what I really want. By using the label "contemplative" it gives a real sense of direction to my journey.

Previously, I was reading a lot of religious texts, trying various practices, praying for others, going to church, etc., but merely because I felt drawn to it, but not because I knew what I was doing. I was taking a scattershot approach to becoming more spiritual: reading this book or that, trying one type of prayer or another, but not really having a method to my madness. It was only when I heard our facilitator of the small group say to us about three months into the program that "You have been called to this since birth ..." at that moment, I really felt "yes, this is what I want and this is what God wants for me." The search for a roadmap is over, but I still have a long journey ahead of me.

My life has changed, because each day I try to be awake to God's blessings and presence in the people around me. I think of my personal heroes, missioners who gave me full attention when we were together, and I strive to do that with the people I encounter. It's not always easy. After church recently, a man who occasionally comes to my church sat across from me at the coffee hour and began to speak to me. He engaged in a long rambling story, and I soon realized he had some serious psychological issues, but the only gift I could give him was to listen. He occasionally asked me questions, but since I couldn't follow his train of thought, all I could do was nod. When he finally finished his discourse, the only thing I could think of to say was, "I am glad we [the church] were able to provide you with a short time of peace in this tempestuous world." He thanked me, and we parted with good feelings.

I used a quote from Pope Francis in one of our acknowledgment letters recently, and it seems appropriate here: "Whatever we have can bear fruit if we give it away - that is what Jesus wants to tell us - and it does not matter whether it is great or small. The Lord does great things with our littleness." I felt pretty little in my time with the gentleman at my church; I just pray for great things to result. I hope he will return, we are all broken and we all need places where we fill welcome.

I was pleased with the final bit of our last weekend; we had an actual graduation ceremony, which I didn't expect. It reminded me of MKLM's Covenant Signing ceremony for new missioners. The missioners are called forward one by one, sign the Lay Missioner Covenant in front of the staff, and then receive a hug from the Director and their witnesses. Then all missioners, current and former, recite the Covenant together. For our graduation, we were called forward to receive a prayer shawl and a congratulatory hug from the facilitators, then we signed a book containing the names of all who have completed the program, and the facilitators read us a pledge to be Contemplatives.

After ten months containing many hours of discussion and sharing, doing practices each day, it felt a fitting end as we all committed to remaining pilgrims on the journey toward God and helping others find their way. I have a confidence now that I didn't have before. An ability to face death with peace in my heart, and an understanding that there will be ups and downs along the way, but the journey will be ever forward. I can't wait to find out what's around the next corner. Pray for me, and I'll pray for you.

 

If You Want to Be Happy, Practice Compassion

The theme of our retreat this month was "Compassion, Healing and Gratitude." You would think that I would be in for a pleasanter experience than the previous weekend retreat, whose theme was "Suffering," but I seem to always find a way to surprise myself.

Let me begin by stepping back a few weeks. We had our last small-group Contemplative meeting in April, and we have drawn ever closer as a group over the previous months, so I decided to bake a cherry pie to share and celebrate, using the pie carrier I had been given by group member Carol.

Fortunately, it came out well, and everyone seemed to enjoy it (plus I managed to bring a couple of pieces home for Mary). The group has provided such a warm, accepting presence as we shared our good times and bad along this contemplative journey, I shall miss them, but perhaps we can continue somehow afterwards. The weekend began this month with Carol, a small-group member, taking me aside to thank me for the pie and inviting me to eat dinner with her at one of the tables outside, which was a real treat that we repeated (even when our meals were in silence) over the weekend, since we had beautiful weather. We were joined by another member of our group, Pat, as well.

The weekend had begun on a warm note, and continued that way as our first lecture dealt with compassion's role in the contemplative life. I found this quote from Rachel Naomi Remen particularly resonant: "Helping, fixing, and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. When you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul." I see the contemplative life as being one of observing and praying primarily, preparing yourself to be available when you are called to serve.

We were joined at Mariandale this weekend by a group of Zen Buddhist archers. There was about a dozen of them, and they were men and women from a wide range of ages. They used what appeared to be traditional Japanese bows (long bows taller than the archer). They began by holding the bow above their heads, slowly pulling it down to eye level, releasing the arrow, and standing still for a few moments after the shot. Although they had targets set up, hitting the targets didn't seem to be the point.

Most shots fell short or passed over the targets. One of our facilitators asked one how they knew if they had made a "good shot;" she replied that it was more spiritual rather than measuring success by the physical result. It appears that all cultures/religions have their contemplatives.

Another highlight of the weekend was walking the labyrinth. There is a Chartres-type labyrinth on the grounds at Mariandale. During previous weekend retreats, I have made a point of walking the labyrinth on my own during free periods. As I walk, moving close to and then away from the center until I finally arrive and then head outward, my main focus has been the distance between me and the center, repeating the Jesus prayer ("Holy Jesus, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.") throughout the trip inward and outward. This weekend, we walked the labyrinth as a group leaving space inbetween. My concentration focused on my fellow pilgrims, not the labyrinth itself. I never knew who I would next pass close to, and I wondered if we could safely pass those going the opposite direction when we returned from the center, as the pathway was quite narrow. Of course, I quickly learned that all one has to do is step outside the pathway to let the other pass. I also discovered that the contemplative aspect of walking the labyrinth began as soon as we left the meeting place with the intention in mind. This state of mind continued until we had made our way back to the room to discuss what we had felt. The group experience was very different from the solitary one, as my perspective went from looking inward to concentration on my fellow travelers and their journey.

 The most difficult part of the weekend for me was "Gazing at Icons." We were asked to gaze at the icon of Jesus pictured above. The facilitator spoke for the first few minutes about Jesus' eyes and how we should imagine Jesus peering inside of us. We should welcome him in to every part of our being. This was followed by an extensive period (perhaps 15 minutes) of silence. My reaction was not what I would have predicted. I felt very uncomfortable as I imagined Jesus penetrating into my darkest places of guilt and shame. I did not want to share those places with Jesus. This is not a problem I've experienced before. I am well aware that we are all broken, with dark, secret places inside, but during this exercise, I felt a very primitive, emotional response. The period of silence crept by, my only desire being for it to end. When it finally came to an end, we were called to share our experience with two of our fellows. My partners were Pat, from my small group, and Jalyn, someone I didn't know very well. I wasn't sure if I could share with them, particularly Jalyn. I waited to be the last to speak, wondering if I could come up with some other story to tell. When my turn came, I decided I had to be honest. Both Pat and Jalyn were more compassionate in response than I expected, describing my story as "beautiful." We ended with hugs (I'm always on the lookout for hugs).

Afterwards, I had a session with my spiritual director Jeanine, who suggested I had more self-exploration to do. I'm certain of that, and it appears it will take more time to be comfortable with myself than I thought. But that's the beauty of being on a journey that never quite ends; there's always more to learn. I should give credit to the writer of this blog's title: the Dalai Lama. The full quote from the workshop handout was "If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."

Contemplative Development Retreat: The Mystery of Suffering

We had the first retreat weekend as part of the Contemplative Development program since November in April. As I rode up to Mariandale with Br. David and Br. Don we discussed how we would undoubtedly remember faces, but not people's names. Fortunately, we had name tags.

I had wondered what it would be like after only seeing my small group compatriots (and frequently not the whole group) over the last few months, but everything from checking in to my now refurbished room to picking up materials and eating dinner made the last gathering seem more like last month than five months ago.

The rooms now feature "magic blinds," which had everyone wondering how do we lower and raise these with magic? Apparently magic only refers to not using a cord. You place your hands on the lower part of the blind and lift up or pull down and they move accordingly. Disappointing in the magic department.

The sink, on the other hand, "magically" turns itself on and off as you place your hands beneath it. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to recognize a toothbrush; so in order to wet my brush, I had to place a glass beneath the faucet and then rush the toothbrush underneath the faucet before the water stopped. I think I prefer to live in a non-magic world.

 But the joys of being back on retreat made up for the lack of magic in the room. In spite of the fact that our topic for the weekend was suffering. I wasn't sure where this topic would lead us. After dinner together on Friday (where we were able to talk and renew acquaintances), we met and began talking about the "mystery of suffering." My first thought was, "What mystery? Suffering is about pain, what is so mysterious about that."

After the presentation, however, I started to write in my journal about the suffering Mary and I went through together and how that mysteriously brought us closer afterwards. Which to me means that when you've been through it together and somehow come out together on the other side, you learn about each other. You grow in trust and love. Since you're not going to make it through this life without suffering, you need to learn where you stand with the loved ones in your life. Who will be there for you and who won't? What are you capable of facing? More than I thought. You learn how to be there for each other, and what you can offer to others. To me, the mystery of suffering is that it brings you closer to others and teaches you when you can help others and when you need to pull back.

The next morning at prayer, Father Jack told a story of a monk who goes to the abbot and says he is ready to commit to the contemplative life. The abbot tells him, "You have to commit yourself to the contemplative life every day, day after day after day." That particularly resonated with me as I realized that this program will be over very soon now. After that it will be up to me. I will have to commit day after day after day for the rest of my life. Simply by making that commitment, I hope to be able to keep on the path, to continue this pilgrimage for the rest of my life.

Then we talked about Julian of Norwich, an anchoress who spent her adult life in a ten-foot-square room, with three windows: one into the church, one looking out at the city streets, and one to which people would come and ask her to pray for them or to give them advice. We were asked what window we're spending our time looking through these days. For me, it's the window out to the street. I've been taking time on my commute these days to pray for the other people on the bus and the train. I observe them and pray for them to be well (as Julian said, "All will be well.") Too often you think of the other the people on the bus and train as inconvenient at best. This one has been talking on their phone the whole ride; this one is crowding me; and this one is in the way or too slow as I go to get off the bus. So I try to remember that each person has a life as full and vivid as mine. I want them to be happy, to have a good day. I still get annoyed, but now I catch myself and remind myself that I can't know what they're going through and just as much as God loves me, She loves this "annoying" person. I now look forward to praying for them. Gaylen, who did a wonderful presentation on Julian of Norwich, suggested I use Julian's words as I gaze at each person, "All will be well, and all will be well."

Next we talked about how we are called to open our eyes to the suffering around us. I thought of our missioners who feel called to ease the suffering of the truly needy in the other parts of the world. Many of these missioners suffer themselves, from loneliness and feeling inadequate to suffering real pain from injuries to being physically attacked. I am reminded of a hymn our missioners like to sing, "We are called to love tenderly, we are called to serve one another, to walk humbly with God." It's a difficult call, but the rewards outweigh the difficulties, I think. It's too easy to forget that Jesus called us to love one another as we love ourselves. He said that's how they'll know we are His disciples.

We finished the weekend with a Visio Divina discussion of Jesus and the ten lepers (see the painting reproduced above). Visio Divina is a new process to me; a variation of Lectio Divina, which I'm more familiar with. You look at a painting of a Biblical story and then describe what you see in the painting without thinking about what it means. Then you read the Biblical passage the painting depicts, and try to figure out what God is telling you through the story. Then you read the passage again, and pray to God asking for guidance on his precise wishes for you today. Finally you read the story one more time and just meditate, opening yourself to hearing God's reply. It can be very powerful, and I love the painting, which shows the lepers celebrating being cured and heading off to the temple (perhaps), as Jesus instructed them. The one on the far right, however, is pausing. He will go back to Jesus to thank him personally. This gesture will ensure his place in Heaven. To me this says to always remember that Jesus or God is the source for all my blessings. I need to thank Him (Her) at every opportunity,

Which means that I need to thank God once again for bringing me to this program. It continues to change my life in so many positive ways. I hope that in the future I will learn more and more, and I will strive to have a community of some of my fellows in the program where we will continue to share stories of the journey and to pray with each other. Let me close with a picture of my favorite contemplative vision each weekend: The Hudson River. May God bless you and keep you!

Progress Along the Pilgrim's Road: The Contemplative Development Program

The photo above is the latest of Gaynell's creations for our "altar" table. Each time we meet, Gaynell (one of the facilitators) creates a unique design to mark the season or the topic of discussion. We recently had a small group meeting around this table, and I found myself staring at this particular arrangement of wood and stone. I was drawn to the harshness and different angles; it felt particularly "Lenten" to me.

I have always been drawn to what I might call the "stark" beauty of particular places we have visited over the years, such as in Newfoundland, Iceland, and northern Scotland. These places are the most awe-inspiring to me. So I see beauty in this table design.

This past month has been marked by slow growth in my contemplative spirit. What I have been most conscious of is a growing appreciation of the people around me. Taking public transportation, I spend a lot of time among "strangers." I am striving to spend time each bus, subway, and commuter train ride to pay attention to my fellow travelers. Too often I think of other people during my commute as annoyances: talking too loudly, crowding me, blocking the doors ... I struggle to look at each person now and say a silent prayer for them to be blessed and to have a good day.

I'm not saying I don't still get frustrated or angry, but now I usually catch myself and remember that they have lives as full as mine, with desires, loves, tragedies, hopes and fears. I try not to be too quick to judge others or to take umbrage at what they do. So if you think about it, say a prayer for me to be patient and loving.

I was also reminded at the last meeting that while there are three more weekend retreats (one next week, the first since November, I can hardly wait), there is only one more small group meeting left, and my fellow pilgrims are hoping for a pie. I think I can manage that.

I'll be through with the program in June, which is a little frightening: Will I be able to continue my work?  But I think I will. The rewards have been such, I can't imagine myself just dropping the practices. I'm always trying to find more time to do the various practices I have begun and those I wish to try. I didn't know what I was going into, but I believe that God called me to this, and She will remind me if I get lazy.

Be well!  God bless you! Happy Lent!

Sweet Gifts on the Journey

Basket Contains a Rack so You Can Carry Two Pies!

I went to the latest small group meeting for the Contemplative Formation program at Mariandale feeling that I had little to say. Each month when we don't have a weekend gathering of the whole group, five of us meet with our facilitator (Janet for our group) for a couple of hours. The meetings have proved exceptionally helpful in my making progress along this pilgrimage to a contemplative life.

We tell stories of what's been going on in our spiritual lives since the last meeting. We speak in turn listening carefully to what our pilgrim-comrades say. After everyone has spoken, we each share what was particularly relevant and meaningful to us in what we heard the others say. This is all done in a quiet, prayerful way. It's amazing to me how far each of us has traveled along this path, and while our journeys are separate, they provide insight and guidance for each other as well. A real fondness for and closeness with each other has grown among us.

The last couple of meetings had been particularly emotional and shell-shattering for me, but I felt this month had been so quiet and uneventful, I was almost embarrassed to speak about it. As I listened to the others speak, I felt my reflections growing. When my time came, I spoke about my latest conversation with Jeanine, my spiritual director, who advised me to take a break from self-examination and to take time to just observe God's creations without expectations. I also realized that I had been pushing through the required readings, trying this practice and trying that, almost in a rush to the "finish line," whatever that is. I needed to let go, to forgive myself for not being as "productive" as I might prefer.

Once I began speaking about this, I discovered that God has been doing her work with me all along, even without my asking (which is actually the whole point of this process). I spoke about how when riding the bus to work, I've been putting down my book about halfway through the ride and using the final minutes to observe my fellow passengers and to love them and to pray for them. I wish them a happy day bringing them that much closer to their dreams, free from harm and pain. When I actually spoke about it at the group, I realized how much this was affecting me as well.

There is a podcast I love, Two Feminists Annotate the Bible, in which two young women, an Anglican priest and a Bible class teacher, are going through the entire Bible and providing their insights and reactions. The priest, Jordan, spoke recently about how people have said to her, "Well, if we're all going to heaven whether we behave well or not, why shouldn't I just do whatever I want?" Jordan's response is that when you do what God wants you to do, you are rewarded in this life; to which I say, "Amen," with all my heart. Since beginning this program, I have felt God is giving me such an incredible gift, for no reason other than she loves me. A prayer I've been using recently for centering prayer includes the thought: "God doesn't love you because you are good. God loves you because she is good."

Basket has two handles for carrying

As a side note, the pictures I include this week are of a gift from one of the members of the group. I have over the course of the program talked about how I bake apple pies for the mission candidates here at Maryknoll, a sort of farewell gift of home to them before they go overseas. Baking these pies has become more and more a spiritual practice on my part, holding the missioners in my prayers as I go through each step in the process. When I mentioned this, my fellow pilgrims in the program responded, "We like apple pies, too." This week, small group member Carol gave me the basket pictured and told me it was a "pie carrier," something her mother used and that was given to her. She doesn't bake, so she thought I should have it. So our next weekend retreat (in April), I think I will have to bake two pies (there are 25 of us), one apple and one cherry, and use the carrier. It will be kind of a thank-you for this tremendous gift the program has been to me.

Mary blesses basket

Deepening Our Inner Silence Leads to Surfacing of Wounds We've Kept Hidden

The photo above is the latest of Gaynell's creations for our "altar" table. Each time we meet, Gaynell (one of the facilitators) creates a unique design to mark the season or the topic of discussion. We recently had a small group meeting around this table, and I found myself staring at this particular arrangement of wood and stone. I was drawn to the harshness and different angles; it felt particularly "Lenten" to me.

I have always been drawn to what I might call the "stark" beauty of particular places we have visited over the years, such as in Newfoundland, Iceland, and northern Scotland. These places are the most awe-inspiring to me. So I see beauty in this table design.

This past month has been marked by slow growth in my contemplative spirit. What I have been most conscious of is a growing appreciation of the people around me. Taking public transportation, I spend a lot of time among "strangers." I am striving to spend time each bus, subway, and commuter train ride to pay attention to my fellow travelers. Too often I think of other people during my commute as annoyances: talking too loudly, crowding me, blocking the doors ... I struggle to look at each person now and say a silent prayer for them to be blessed and to have a good day.

I'm not saying I don't still get frustrated or angry, but now I usually catch myself and remember that they have lives as full as mine, with desires, loves, tragedies, hopes and fears. I try not to be too quick to judge others or to take umbrage at what they do. So if you think about it, say a prayer for me to be patient and loving.

I was also reminded at the last meeting that while there are three more weekend retreats (one next week, the first since November, I can hardly wait), there is only one more small group meeting left, and my fellow pilgrims are hoping for a pie. I think I can manage that.

I'll be through with the program in June, which is a little frightening: Will I be able to continue my work?  But I think I will. The rewards have been such, I can't imagine myself just dropping the practices. I'm always trying to find more time to do the various practices I have begun and those I wish to try. I didn't know what I was going into, but I believe that God called me to this, and She will remind me if I get lazy.

Be well!  God bless you! Happy Lent!

Contemplative Development: A Hawk Announces a Breakthrough

You may know that over the years I have had a number of memorable encounters with hawks. In fact, I like to think of the hawk as my Spirit Animal. Well, I had not encountered any hawks close up for a couple of years, until the night before my latest Small Contemplative Group Meeting. I was waiting for the bus when I noticed this hawk sitting about twenty feet up in a nearby tree. Suddenly it dropped out of the tree and swooped into a nearby bush, scattering a number of little sparrows. I didn't see it for quite awhile, so I assumed it had been successful and enjoying its meal. Eventually it did come out and flew off down the road.

I posted this on Facebook and my friend Keith said it sounded like it was a Cooper's Hawk. I looked the Cooper's Hawk up on Wikipedia, and learned that this diving into brambles or bushes to seize prey was the typical hunting procedure for this bird, but this is also dangerous for the hawk, leading to broken bones and  even death as it plunges through branches and by the trunks of plants. It made me think of God sending an angel to the first Cooper's Hawk, saying, "Fear not! I have wonderful news, God has designed you for this type of hunting, where you plunge into bushes and brambles to catch tasty prey!" To which the Hawk replies, "Really? Is this a good idea? Wouldn't I be better off flying up high and diving down on mice in the wide open prairie? Or how about flying very fast and catching other birds in flight? Do I really have to fly into bushes and brambles?" And the angel says, "God loves you, and has made you this way so that this type of hunting is best for you. I think you'll find that the tastiest prey hides in bushes, and you will be the only bird able to catch and eat them!" So the Hawk shrugs and says, "I believe God loves me. Her will be done!" The End.

So the day after my hawk encounter, I had the most memorable and perhaps life-defining time of the Program at our Small Group Meeting. All along I have found the Program inspiring and moving, but I have had doubts from the beginning. Do I really belong here? Do I have the ability to be a Contemplative? Will this really change my life? Or six months after the program finishes, will I have forgotten all about the practices I have been taught and planned on using. Will life become a blah, day by day drudgery?

As we were each discussing our feelings since the last retreat, I was once again inspired by the words of my fellow pilgrims, admiring their insight and their ever-growing commitment to the Contemplative life. As I waited for my turn to speak, I thought of the various happenings in my life over the past month and tried to think of what was most relevant. I finally chose the story of my baking a pie for the mission candidates at Maryknoll: how I found myself thinking of each candidate, trying to see their faces in my mind, and how I prayed for each of them as I gathered together the dough, sliced the apples, rolled out the dough, and laid each piece of apple, one by one, within the pie shell. I then put the pie in the oven, and the smell of apples and cinnamon filled the apartment, reminding me of the process and for whom I was baking the pie. As I told the candidates, the pie probably didn't taste any better, but it made the whole process more sacred for me.

So after everyone had told their stories, and we had shared what resonated with us about each other's stories, Janet, the facilitator brought the gathering to a close. She talked about how she could tell that we were all making excellent progress, each in our own way, and how God had been calling us to this, all our lives, from birth until now. And you know, for the first time I thought, "I believe it. This is real!" I felt a rush of excitement (and still feel it now). I think I have fully accepted that this is really God's call for me.

So God sends me the Hawk, who tells me, "Do not be afraid, for I have wonderful news. God has chosen you to be a Contemplative and has provided you with the tools you will need to make the final transition." And I respond, "Really? Now that I'm 66 years old? Couldn't God have prepared me for this years ago? Say when I graduated college, so I could have a full life of being a Contemplative?" And the Hawk says, "No. You can't just become a Contemplative. You have to live and learn until you're ready. It takes many years of life and experience before you can truly been a Contemplative." "But did I really need to go through all that misery, and all those years of being an atheist, wandering in the wilderness? What good did that do me?" The Hawk says, "I know it was hard for you, but now you will be fulfilled and you will be able to help so many other people. God loves you, has loved you, and will love you forever. Now you have your reward." And I say, "I believe God loves me. Her will be done."

The End

 

Come Sit With Me

Second Retreat Weekend

Mariandale Contemplative Formation

 Each weekend we have a theme or two. This weekend was "The Bench." We were all to imagine a bench in our lives. A place to sit and contemplate; a place to look deeply at the real.  You can sit on the bench and watch the sunrise or sunset, you can look at the wonders of nature, you can watch and love your fellows made in God's image, you can read a book, meditate, and/or pray.

                      

The reason it's a bench and not a chair is you need space to invite others to join you. The contemplative life does not have to be a lonely one, you need a bench to share God's gifts with others. To just spend a little time together with someone you love. I've included a photo of my favorite Mariandale bench. I'd love to share it with you sometime.

This weekend was a couple of weeks ago, and the fall colors added to the joy of the experience. We have plenty of things to learn about, but we also have plenty of time to enjoy the beauty of where we are, and since it's usually done in silence, there's little to distract you from the simple act of watching and contemplating. The material we discuss is sometimes loaded with details that can be overwhelming, but you have the time to absorb and digest what you've been given. This is an experience that fills me with bliss.

I always pick particular socks for the weekend. This time, people obviously noticed. One of the facilitators gave my ankle a light kick when she saw my Jesus Socks. Another brought them up at our dinner Saturday when we were allowed to talk. Positive feedback from all.

We continue to discuss various techniques, such as Lectio (and Visio) Divina. Lectio is done by reading a passage of scripture and listening for the impact, asking what it means, asking what God is saying to me, praying for God's guidance on how to respond, and then committing to a personal response. Visio, which I've never heard of before, is a similar practice, but using a painting instead of or along with the scripture. We had a lengthy discussion about the story of Mary's encounter with Elizabeth when they are pregnant with Jesus and John the Baptist. I've enclosed the painting we used. There was much talk about how Mary and Elizabeth's embrace was strictly feminine, yet I think I could see the Prodigal Son and his father in a similar posture.

I know being contemplative is not for everyone, although I find myself sharing with anyone who will listen. I'm thankful the program allows me to meet and get to know twenty-four other people who are as inspired by it as I am. Contemplation is frequently depicted as a solitary state, and there was a time when desert monks went off into the wilderness to be alone with God, but two of the greatest mystics, Brother Lawrence and Thomas Merton kept up long and loving correspondences with others. Thomas Merton traveled the world to share God's message.

I read a book by a Quaker many years ago who loved meditation because you could do it with anyone, no matter what their faith, because it was a silent sharing of worship, each with their own thoughts/prayers. I think the shared silence and meditations among the group is similar. Janet, one the facilitators emphasized early on that we are each on our own journey, together yet still separate. Friendships may result, but that is not the object of the program.

I am not doing this just to have a closer personal relationship with God. I am doing this to be a better person, to be closer to others. I want to love in a more selfless way and to understand to what work God has called me to. We are called to love God and to love others as ourselves. Jesus said if we do that, we have met our obligation to God. Her love for us is so great, and She wants us to love her back.

Due to renovations to the living quarters at Mariandale, our next retreat weekend won't be until April. It is a challenge to maintain my practices for the next five months, but I will be checking in with my Spiritual Director Jeanine and meeting with my small group for a couple of hours monthly. I pray that will be enough to keep me growing. I'll let you know.

We Meet in Small Groups

By Choosing Contemplation You Choose to be Marginalized

I had my first small group meeting (held monthly; in between retreat weekends) on November 1st: our facilitator, Janet, passed out a sheet to us about what Contemplation is, and what it is not. Taken all at once, it seemed daunting, yet I'm sure that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing. The statement I'm using as my headline is from that sheet, and I find it the most daunting of all.

What does it mean, "to be marginalized"? I said at the meeting that after the first weekend retreat, I felt like Michael Palin at the end of the travel documentary, Around the World in 80 Days. He's sitting on the London tube and thinking to himself, "I've just been around the world in 80 days, and none of these people know it." He's ready to burst with the excitement of his accomplishment, but he also knows that few people, if anyone, on the train would care.

I am so excited by this program, feel so blessed, that I find myself talking about it to everyone I can. Most people's eyes start to glaze over after a couple of sentences. But one woman, who overheard my conversation at my church's thrift shop, was as excited as I was about what I was saying. She said, "You're right, you open yourself up to God, and your life will be changed in ways you can't foresee." She parted by offering me God's blessings.

My spiritual director, Jeanine, was also encouraging, saying she was glad to hear that I was evangelizing my experience, "Sharing the Good News." This is not something I have been comfortable with in the past. Episcopalians, in general, shiver a little bit when you talk about evangelizing, "That's something those other Christians do. We Episcopalians are too polite for that. If we have a good thing, people will know, and come join us." The question is, How will they know, if we won't talk about it?

But I also feel like Scrooge, as played by Alistair Sim, at the end of the movie when he says, "I don't deserve to be so happy. I can't help it. I just can't help it." The rightness of this experience, and the incredible excitement it is generating in me, make sharing it almost beyond my control. I just have to get used to people not being as interested in it as I am.

The glorious thing about the program is that there are twenty other people going through the same experience I am, so at least I can talk to them about it. In our small group meeting, we shared our experiences after the first weekend, and once again I found myself surrounded by thoughtful, supportive, and innovative thinkers. Brother David, who lives about two blocks from me in the Bronx and gave me a ride home from the first weekend, is also in my small group, so that was a special bonus.

And this coming weekend is Retreat Weekend #2 (of five). My journey to somewhere will continue. I hope it will continue to excite. Once I am re-energized, I will have even more to share with you as your eyelids flutter! Even if no one reads this blog, I feel it is helping me in the process.

So if you're out there, wish me well!

First Mariandale Weekend: So you want to be a Contemplative

I attended my first retreat weekend as part of the Contemplative Formation Program from Friday evening, September 28th, to Sunday afternoon, September 30th. There were 20 of us plus five facilitators.

The schedule went as follows: Friday, check in at 5:00 pm, dinner with conversation at 6:00, presentation at 7:00 followed by small groups to discuss, closing prayer at about 9:00 followed by silence through the night. Saturday, we had optional group meditation at 7:00 am, optional morning prayer at 7:30, silent breakfast at 8:00, presentation and small groups at 9:00, silent lunch at 12:15 followed by silent personal/integration time until 3:15 when we had our afternoon presentation and small groups, more silent personal/integration time at 5:00, dinner with conversation at 6:00, evening presentation and small groups at 7:00 pm, followed by evening prayer and silence beginning about 9:30 through the night. Sunday, we had optional group meditation at 7:00 am, optional liturgy with eucharist at 7:30, silent breakfast at 8:00, morning gathering and small groups at 9:00, closing prayer at 11:45, lunch with conversation at noon, and then home.

So quite a bit of time spent in silence. I took part in everything except the 7:00 am meditation. Saturday I woke up too late, and Sunday I spent that time gazing at the Hudson river. In fact any free time during the day I spent gazing at the Hudson.

 My overall impression was, "Wow, this is going to be wonderful, potentially life-changing." The facilitators and the participants all seemed wonderful. Everyone was incredibly honest, thoughtful, supportive, and insightful. Any doubts I might have had were chased away by the feeling that we were all there, imperfect, trying to find our way, and willing to pray for and help everyone else in any way we could. The periods of silence felt a little awkward at first, but at the end I said to one of the others, "I kind of want to hold on to the silence for as long as I can," and he said, "Me, too."

In our sharing sessions, I never knew what was going to come up when I began talking. Once I was close to tears as I remembered a very difficult time when Mary was in the hospital and our cat Ray was suffering from kidney failure. At another session, I remembered an encounter from a couple of years ago that I hadn't thought about for a long time. One of the lessons for me is that you never know where God is going to lead you, you never even really know if She's paying attention, but you know She loves you and is with you all the time, and you trust in that.

Extra bonuses, the food is very good (particularly the fresh salad ingredients and the desserts), and two of the people in the program are Marist brothers who live in the Bronx, about two blocks from me. One of them gave me a ride home, cutting about 60% off of my commuting time! And I only found out that he was from my neighborhood when I had lunch with him on the final day.

My final group session was with just the men in the program, and the facilitator said that this would be the case for every weekend, because "men's spirituality is different from women's." I don't think I agree with that, but I've got no problem meeting in an all men's group once a weekend. Any thoughts on how men's spirituality would be different from women's spirituality?

I also realized by the end of the week that the program's goal is to help me become a "Contemplative," which despite the name of the program was a surprise to me. I hoped to deepen my personal spirituality, but I didn't think my purpose was to become a Contemplative (kind of a Mystic, second class), per se. But now that I think of it, I'm okay with that, in fact I'm excited about that. This is such a wonderful opportunity! Thank you, Sr. Maureen, for recommending this to me!

I'm ending with a picture of this little statue I found near the Sisters' graveyard. I'm not quite sure who she is, but I was immediately fond of her. Sometimes you can just enjoy the mystery.

Time to Say Yes

Four R's of Centering Prayer
Resist no thought
Retain no thought
React emotionally to no thought
Return ever so gently to sacred word

It has been a long month in the Bronx. After being accepted into the Contemplative Formation Program, I was excited and ready to begin! Four long weeks later, I'm still excited and ready to begin, but I was starting to feel that this day would never come.

This coming weekend will be the first of the five contemplative weekends I will be spending over the next nine months.  I have been preparing, but until recently have been uncertain about exactly what I should be doing or what was to come. This past Saturday was an orientation meeting involving three of the facilitators and ten of my fellow pilgrims on this journey.

As they came into the room, it became clear that we shared some characteristics: all white, all in our 40s or older. There were four men and nine women. As we talked about our personal spiritual practices, I realized that most of the people's practices were from a little to a lot "out there" compared to my traditional morning prayer, evening prayer, centering prayer. I began to think, "What am I doing here? Have I made a mistake?"

Fortunately, I had immediate and complete faith in the facilitators (one of whom had been my primary contact as I got through the application process), so I didn't make a bolt for the door. As the day passed, I realized that while we are traveling together, we are all on our own separate, individual journeys. Our obligation to the other pilgrims is to pray for each other and to encourage each other. I had a little practice doing that on Saturday, and I can certainly continue to do that. I also remember my recent session with my spiritual director, Jeanine.

I had wondered why Jeanine had scheduled my second monthly conference before the  program began. What new did we have to talk about? I assumed that a call after the first weekend would be more productive, but as the conversation progressed, I realized that Jeanine was preparing me with the goal of my getting the most out of the coming weekend that I could. We talked about how I should not be skeptical, but ready to say "yes" to any opportunity to grow. I should feel free to give myself as fully as I can to the experience.

Which reminded me of an incident long ago in college, when a friend tried to guide me through self-hypnosis, with the object of providing me with better concentration and less stress in my academic life. As she was guiding me through the process, my eyes were closed, my hand was half-raised, and then she suggested to me that I was unable to put my hand down. I promptly put my hand down. Surprised, she guided me out of whatever stage I was in and asked me what had happened. I said that when she suggested I couldn't move my hand, I thought to myself, "She's wrong, I can move my hand." She responded, "Noooo! You can't say 'no!' That way nothing happens. You have to say 'yes'!"

I wasn't ready to say "yes" back then. Now, however, if I want to get the most out of this program, I must say "yes." I must give myself freely to the experience and not prejudge. I mustn't set goals, for that will throw me off when I don't achieve them. I don't know what's going to happen inside me, it's a mystery. But I think whatever does happen will be progress, perhaps life-changing progress, so I shall do my best to ride the wave and say "yes."

A rabbi came to speak to us at Maryknoll once, and he referenced a sign by the road that he'd seen as he was driving up that morning: "God answers prayers." He said, "God does answer prayers! But the answers may not be what we thought they would be." But whatever God's answer is, we need to accept it and learn from it. We need to follow wherever God leads, because Her (I prefer the feminine--maybe I'm a little "out there" myself) wish for us is good. God loves us, and as long as I remember that,  it doesn't matter where the road takes me.

So as the first weekend looms in the near future, I am excited to begin. How will I feel next Monday? I can't predict, but I imagine I will be farther along the road toward that horizon where God waits for me.