Sample #2 from ‘God-Breathed: How to Root a Meditative Practice in God’s Breath and Name.’

To order ‘God Breathed.’ Click here. For more information on the book and opportunities to engage the practices live, click here.

Chapter 5

I am a teacher.  One of my favorite things to teach is the respiration  process of animals and plants.  It is something beautiful, the efficiency and interdependence.  As we shall see, it’s possible to infer implications of startling complexity.  Yet, at its root, it is quite simple: we breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide. Plants do the opposite.

  We each need the other.  The world would quickly run out of available oxygen without our green friends.  The world would soon run out of available carbon dioxide without us animals.  

It’s such a beautiful system.   We’ve got no use for CO2.  Plants have no use for O2.  We each depend on this thing that the other no longer needs.  On a theological level, there is something very interesting going on here.  Let’s begin with the mere observation that the whole system is so exquisitely coordinated.  Evolution has designed an object lesson in interdependence.  

But from there, move on to the idea that our breathing is a way of saying God’s name.  Is it possible that the plant’s breathing is, too?  If we assign to our breath-parts the sounds “Yah” as we inhale oxygen and “weh.” as we exhale carbon dioxide, then  plants are saying that name in reverse: “Weh” as they inhale carbon dioxide,  “Yah.” as they exhale oxygen.

In a profound and important manner, as I say one half of God’s name, and the plant says the other half of God’s name, the plant and I are saying God’s name together.  As I say “Yah” the plant says “Weh.”  As the plant says “Yah” I say “weh.”  This strange bond, this connection, has an element, or two, which remove it even further from the sorts of names that are normally said.  This strange name is said simultaneously, both syllables at once.

It ought to be acknowledged that  there are some ways in which these observations  oversimplify.  For one thing, unlike animals, plants don’t “breathe” constantly.  They “create” oxygen while photosynthesizing, and not at other times.  Secondly, though we will sometimes focus on a single plant, bush, shurb, etc. and  for simplicity and convenience, we’ll visualize the balance between ourselves and that single  plant.  It’s unlikely, in reality, that our oxygen needs will be exactly met by that plant; it’s similarly unlikely that the plant’s carbon dioxide needs will be exactly met by the carbon dioxide we produce.  It’s still a helpful image, though.  It’s a stand-in for the numerous plants we depend on, for the numerous animals the plant needs.  

it’s worth  simplifying in our minds.  The basic principle that we are in a reciprocal relationship with plants still holds up.  Visualizations follow the logic of dreams.  It’s a logic that is difficult to express in words, but a logic nonetheless.

Today’s practice is an opportunity to connect with our photosynthesizing siblings.  It would work by simply picturing plants in general, by objectively knowing that there are living creatures who breathe opposite us.  But a first, wise step is to imagine a specific plant.  Perhaps a favorite tree.  If you can do this meditation in the presence of a houseplant or sitting at the trunk of an actual tree, that is so much better.

Practice #5) Breathing with a Plant

1.  Release your responsibilities for this time and find your center.
2. Take three deep, cleansing breaths.
3. Now, bring your plant friend to mind.  Study it either with your physical eyes or in your mind’s eye.  Love this plant if you can.
4. As you inhale, breathe in the oxygen which was breathed out by your plant.
5. As you exhale, realize that this exhalation, which would be poisonous to you, is exactly what this plant needs.
6.  Repeat steps 4 and 5 for two more breaths.  
7. Sit in relation to your plant, recognizing your interdependence as you breathe together.
8. Seek to be fully present to each of your breaths in the moment, as you breathe with your plant for the next three breaths.
9. Consider with this next inhalation that you and the plant are saying God’s name together, two almost-syllables said simultaneously.  The oxygen from the plant and to you, God’s two-part name said all at once.
10. With that exhalation see that you and the plant are once again saying God’s name together, this time switching which part of God’s name each of you is responsible for.  
11. For the remainder of the time you have left for this practice, breathe with the plant in whatever manner feels best: focusing on the interdependence, this breath, or saying God’s name together.
12. When you are nearly done, release this practice and sit in a time of wordless union.

Fifth Reading Practice

Isaiah 55 says that the hills will break out into singing.  The tendency is to receive verses like this as being merely symbolic.  But notice how much power you are ceding to others, when you allow them to dictate the terms of what should be taken literally and what should be taken metaphorically.  There’s a way in which debates about the meaning of the bible are quite fascinating to watch.  It seems to me that there is a certain group of people who act as though their badge of honor is the ability to take every story in the bible in a literal, naive, face value sort of way.   When a closer look is taken, though, it becomes clear that this group, (who wanted to take the seven days of creation or the story of Noah quite literally) are quite willing to take other statements much more symbolically.  My experience is that those who are most ready to see the bible’s narratives as always literal will resist taking literally  phrases like ‘God is love.’

Of  course, most of us agree that the phrase ‘the mountains and hills will burst into  song’ does not mean that a set of lips will appear in the dirt and that these lips will suddenly begin to make musical noises.  However, there are many sorts of things this phrase can mean.  If the most literal are not easy to take seriously, this does not mean that we ought to instantly default to the most symbolic.  Many of these highly symbolically ways of receiving these words diminish the potency.

  It seems to me, the question is rarely, ‘Who is taking scripture literally and who is not?’  More often, the real question is, ‘What portions of the bible is this group taking literally?  What portions of the bible is that group taking literally?’

Today, we will focus on a holy imagining approach to this chapter.  Sometimes, this sort of practice is better for more narrative selections from the bible.  In this particular case, the practice works well, though.  This is because even though Isaiah 55 doesn’t tell a story, it is filled with sensory imagery.  Our procedures will be to read the entire passage through once.  Then, we will reread a handful of verses at a time, pausing at each step to engage our imagination and experience these descriptions through our senses.  

As you find your center for this practice, take a few deep breaths.  Read through the passage once in its entirety.  Now, after taking a few breaths, bring to mind times you have been thirsty.  Don’t just think about being thirsty.  Feel what it was like on your tongue and throat.  Consider how it took over your attention.  Think about the moments right before you got that refreshing ice water, popsicle, or blender drink.  Then, think about what it’s like to be hungry.  If it’s not too painful, think about a time you haven’t been able to get to food even though it was around.  Now, let your thirst and hunger be satisfied in your memory.  Bring to mind the feelings in your body when you get the things you were so desperately craving.  Don’t rush through this.  Let yourself dwell on it.  Live inside of it.  Recall multiple examples if you’d like.  

Now, read verses 1-7.  Take a few deep breaths.

Bring to mind the night sky.  See the swirling of the milky way, as if you are watching from somewhere far from city lights.  A crisp wind brings in clouds, and rain begins to fall.  Feel it dampen your clothes.  It is cold, bracing, and slowly, the dropping temperature turns the rain to snow.   Find yourself dressed appropriately for this weather; you are ready for it.   See it fall; feel it land on your cheek.  Take your time imagining this.  Sit with the image.  Relish it.  Enjoy it.  

Now, see the rain falling again and landing to nourish a field of grain.  In your mind’s eye, see the grain harvested and pounded into flour.  Now the flour is mixed with other ingredients to make bread; it’s being cooked.  See this being eaten, warm.  Imagine the feel of the texture of the bread on the tongue.  Let this be a true occurrence of holy imagining.  Don’t rush through this critical step of truly imagining.  Feel it in your body.

Read verses 8-11.

Read it again if you need to.  Let it connect to that last sequence of images.  Do it slowly.

See the mountains and hills.  See the trees and the bushes.  If you’ve been somewhere like this recently, imagine this specific place.  See the breeze gently moving the plant life.  Breathe a deep breath in the forest in your mind.  And listen.  Really listen.  Deeply listen.  There is a song.  Where does it come from?  What does it sound like?

Read the remainder of the chapter.

Replay some of these images in your mind.  Breathe deeply, and carefully progress through all of them: The thirst and the quenching of that thirst.  The rain, the snow, the fields, the bread.  The mountains and trees and most of all the song, the beautiful song.  Don’t let the brevity of this summary imply that your mental replay ought to be short.  Take the time that you ought to take.  

If you’d like, read through the chapter one more time.  Luxuriate in the sensory images in it.  

Some Reflections on How This Practice Went For Me

One of the things that came to me intensely was the importance of self care.  I spent many years of my life trying to get by on the bare minimum.  We didn’t have many resources, then, and scrimping and saving within limits is a good thing.  In my case, though, what began as a healthy attempt to be productive and reasonable ended with a constant desire in my own self to try and get by on less and less.  I operated in a world that was dominated by need and want, back then.  I saw the universe as a stingy place.

I found the opening lines to be an invitation to enjoy myself, to take my pleasure as something important.  The line about ‘labor.’ Also stuck with me quite a lot.  I know that some people in the world have to work soul-crushing jobs just to survive.  But others choose soul-crushing in order to make a few dollars more.  It doesn’t seem like God wants that.

As I look at these verses, I realize I tend to experience God as very… dour.  And faintly disapproving.  Especially when God starts in on the ways he has reached out to his people.  I tend to get this feeling of, ‘The grown up is talking now.  My enjoyment is not a very important thing.’ But I found it so refreshing in this verse.  The way I received God’s words were that God’s location in history, the ways he spoke to the ancient Israelites, this is not more or less important than my own experiences of joy.  God isn’t just calling out people like Moses (or me) to do things we don’t want to do.  God’s way isn’t just a list of fun things I am not allowed to do.  God, in fact, endowed me with splendor.  I don’t know exactly what those words mean but they sound like an invitation to more joy and fun than I would usually credit God for.  

There’s some pretty famous verses in the middle of this chapter.  They are about the ways that God’s thoughts are not my thoughts.  I continued to see them as partially meaning the sorts of things I always had.  One thing they are saying is that my little brain can’t comprehend the fullness of God.  And I’m good with that.  But reading it in context, and trying to experience this all deeply, I got more than just this out of those words.

Given the invitation early in the chapter to come, buy, and eat, and given the explanation that comes next, about how even the rain falling from the sky nourishes before the water returns to the clouds, I received a real message that the parts of God I don’t understand are not things to be afraid of.

Generally, when people quote those words about God’s ways not being my ways, I have a thought.  I think it’s generally intended.  That thought is ‘Watch out!  Be careful.  If God is beyond your understanding, there’s no telling what you might accidentally do that won’t end well!’

But it’s so clear, here, that God is trying to make the point that while the universe is more complex than we can imagine, this complexity is for us.  We benefit.  God figured out a way to make the water cycle nourish and care for us.  Random drops falling down the sky bring life to us.  If there can be such wonderful, luxuriant, efficiency that increases our pleasure even in something as simple as rain falling from the  sky, surely God has hard wired the universe in other ways for us.

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Sample #1 from ‘God Breathed.’

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Chapter 6

I was given a small, almost silly gift.  It was a small magenta and orange porcelain possum with an opening in his back for a tiny plant.  Though I love nature I had never been responsible for a plant before.

For those first couple days the plant felt like any other little trinket that might clutter my desk.  But then I  noticed that its little leaves were a little browner, a little more brittle than they had been when I received the plant.  For a moment, my ambivalence turned to annoyance.  I would have to water it.  I didn’t have to water my stapler, or the mug which held my pencils.  This wasn’t just any little dust collector; this was going to take some work.  

Then I got worried.  I  found myself wondering just how much water I was supposed to give it.  And how often.  And what would happen if I got it wrong.  I am usually a pretty relaxed human being.  Suddenly I was tense.  People who were supposed to know about these things were frustratingly vague.  I followed their vague instructions as precisely as I could.  Have you ever tried to be precise about vagueness?  It doesn’t really work.

But it seemed like things went ok.  I don’t think I was imagining it when it seemed so much greener the next day.  That was around the time I name my plant.  Frank, it turns out, is the plant’s name.  Yes, I know that is silly.  No, I am not kidding though.  My plant’s name is Frank.

People talk a lot about the idea that you should never name something you’d like to be rid of.  That’s worth noting here.  It’s part of the testament of the power of a name.  If God’s name is the inhale and the exhale then in the act of identifying this is so, we grow closer to God.  Just like you don’t want to name that stray if you wish to not be heart broken if he leaves, so too we grow bonded to God as we realize that we have been saying God’s name all along.  So too, did I grow bonded to Frank once I realized that was the plant’s name.

Previously, we explored the idea that God identified Godself to Noah with some words that are sometimes rendered as ‘I am.’   The strangeness of the answer implies an almost-rebuke; God, it seems, is not the sort of being who has a normal name.  Later in the bible one of the interesting dynamics to follow, as Jesus faces off with demons is the importance of names.  Jesus often asks demons their names.  They sometimes seem to think the fact that Jesus doesn’t know those names means he has no power over them.  They sometimes mock and taunt Jesus with the fact that they know Jesus’ name.  

Names are important things.  Perhaps there is something about particularity in all this.  A related Buddhist concept is sometimes translated as thisness and thusness.  If I think of it as ‘plant.’  It is just the same as thousands of other plants sitting in a tacky little planter.  When I give it the specific name ‘Frank.’ now I notice the ways that Frank is different from all those other plants; he has four leaves clumped together here; she has a tendril circling around a portion of the ceramic there.  There is a yellow-ish spot at that place.

It might seem like this doesn’t quite apply to God.  After all, most of us don’t believe that there is a whole bunch of Gods to choose from.  It doesn’t seem like giving God the name ‘Yahweh’ separates God from a bunch of others.

However, it’s a little more complicated than that.  

I have lots of ideas of Gods in my head.  I’m not like an ancient Greek, really.  It’s not the case that I think a bunch of Gods exist, and this one is in charge of this thing, and that God is in charge of that thing.  But…. there is still a pantheon in my mind.

There is the idea of an angry bearded fellow in my brain.  He has been smiting folks left and right.  There is the idea of a primal force at the start of the universe who watches impassively.  He is wearing a white robe.  There is nebulous shadow figure, beyond all my words and descriptions, transcendent of everything.

The one I name YWVH has some things in common with each of those.  But not everything.  This God is as close as my breath; moreover, this God’s name is my breath itself.  The very nature of the action tells me some things about this God; this God is necessary for my life.  This God is mysterious but intimate with me.  This God’s name is unsayable, and yet it is always said.

Have you ever breathed with somebody?  Really breathed with them?

Sometimes, when I am having trouble sleeping, I tune into the rhythm of my wife’s breath.  I will try and time it just so, matching her inhales and her exhales.  When I do this, sometimes I can drift right off to sleep.  

Have you ever had someone talk you through a meditation?  When someone says ‘inhale…. Exhale’ it is hard for  to resist.  And so frustrating when their guidance isn’t at a pace that we find natural.  There is something so soothing about coordinating the timing of our breaths with others.

This next practice invites the practitioner to first breathe with those around us.  We then find ourselves breathing in relation to plants.  Gradually, the practitioner widens the scope of their mind’s eye, picturing the self in a larger and larger web of interactions.

I find that something happens to me as I picture scenes like this.  There’s a sort of parallel with watching a certain type of shot in the film.  It’s almost a visual cliche; usually the last shot in the movie.  It might start as a close-up shot, but then it pulls back, further and further, and with distance  we lose the details on the things that were just a moment ago so clear.  We lose the specifics of the individuals and see the whole neighborhood, pull up through the clouds, see the outlines of the  continent, and eventually even pan back and away from the planet itself.  

Because we are finite and limited, as we see the full outlines of the big picture, we lose the particular details we were able to entertain.  When we see the curves of planet Earth, we no longer witness the particular details of the tableau where we began.  We can’t see the specific people or scene where the shot began.  

We can take a wider view of nearly anything.  It doesn’t even have to be visual.  I can start by focusing on the work day of a particular person.  While I’m focused on this, I might want to  know about this person’s schedule, job description, and performance.  But I could take a wider look.  I could focus on how this person’s job interfaces with the organization he works for.  I could wonder about how the organization fits into the wider community where it is head quartered.  I could wonder about how the community functions within the wider society, and how the various societies interact with each other.

It’s easy to see the individual as the most relevant level of organization.  I can understand why most of the shots in a movie or designed to follow along specific people.    I suspect that this is because where we naturally identify with our consciousness, and therefore our sense of control.  I am composed of cells, and the cells make up tissues, and the tissues make up organs, and the organs make up organ systems.  The organ systems make up my individual self.  And my self is a part of a family.  And my family is part of a community.  And my community is part of a nation.  And the nation is part of a planet, and the planet is part of a solar system.

This description could continue onward, in either direction.  But I suppose you are taking my point.  The individual is just one level of description.  Because my consciousness is more or less in control of my own individual self it’s easy to see this as the natural level of importance.

A camera, or a visualization which lands somewhere else is an important reminder that there are elements which make up the individual that I identify with.  They are important reminders that this individual is a constituent of wider systems.  This is an important thing to focus on, a reminder.  In our practice below, we reinforce our experience of our connections with all the living things.

In the description below, I have tried to take on particular scenario of where a person might be, in relation to others.  It so happens that I live on the second floor of a 3-floor apartment building.  If you live in a substantially different area, it might make sense to alter the ways in which you are widening your awareness.  The main thing is that we begin by picturing ourselves and gradually widen our perspective to include an increasing number of people.  

Before the prior practice, we explored the idea that even if the visualization is not literally specifically true, there is still value to it.  As we explored our interconnections with the plant, we overlooked the fact that plant’s don’t literally exhale constantly.

For today’s practice we’ll engage in a similar act of symbolic visualization.  Of course, at any given time a person might be inhaling or exhaling.  At this exact moment, probably half the people you know are doing one.  Perhaps half the people you know are doing the other.  As stated previously, sometimes a person might coordinate the timing of their breaths with someone they are with. 

In the practice today, we’ll imagine that we are exhaling and inhaling with other people.  Literally, of course, this is probably not true.  But on a symbolic level, it helps us to remember.

Practice 6) Breathing With Other People

1.  Release your concerns and worries for this time.  
2. Take three deep breaths.
3. Take a moment to consider where the nearest person to you is.
4. Imagine that single person, breathing.
5. With your next inhale, imagine that the two of you are inhaling together.
6. With your next exhale, imagine that the two of you are exhaling together.  
7. Repeat steps 5 and 6 for as long as you would like.  Try to experience this breath that you are breathing together; don’t settle for the abstraction of breathing together in general.  Dwell inside this breath, right now, with them.  It is a unique thing.  
8. In your mind’s eye, widen your perspective.  Come to picture the entire floor that you are occupying  Consider first all the other people animals present.  Breathe at least three full breaths with them.
9. Now, think about the plant life within this area.  Imagine the ways that the plants breathe opposite the animals, each supplying the other with what they need.  Breathe at least three full breaths.
10. Widen the picture in your mind, again.  Perhaps now, you will consider the living things within the building you occupy.  Breathe three breaths with all the animals and plants.
11. Imagine the block you are living on: All the people and animals and plants in the buildings, all the people and animals and plants in between the buildings.
12. Widen the range of your imagination this one last time.  Take in as a wide a vantage as you can, holding in your mind all the living things in this part of your town or city.  Love this interconnected web of beings as best as you can.
13. Now, quickly!  Bring your mind back to just your own self, your body sitting in meditation.  See yourself.  But still connected.  Still part of that web.

To read a second passage from this book, click here.

God Breathed: How to Root a Meditative Practice in God’s Breath

Purchase ‘God Breathed’ in print now here. It will be available as a Kindle ebook on June 27. There are 3 ways to preview this new book, in addition to the information here and at Amazon:

• Participate in the Facebook Live kick off on Sunday June 27 at 10 AM, Eastern Time. (EDT.) That will happen at the Faith-ing Project Facebook Page.
• Join either (or both!) of our zoom-based introductory meditation sessions. The content of both will be the same but it would be great to see you at both if you enjoy the first one. These are done at quite opposing times and days to accomodate multiple time zones and schedules. The first is Friday, June 2nd, at 7:00 PM EDT; the second is Sunday, July 11 7 AM EDT. For an invitation with a zoom link, free of charge, please fill out a contact form at the top of this page or email otherjeffcampbell7@gmail.com.

God reached down and breathed into the dirt and the first human was created. God gave a name that we sometimes translate as ‘Yahweh.’ but which might better be translated as the act of breathing itself. Jesus breathed over his disciples. These are not abstract theological principles. They are experiences you can live.
In this introductory guide, you’ll be invited on a journey to deepen your experience of God’s presence by breathing with God and naming God with each breath. You’ll be invited to breathe in harmony with people, other animals, and plants and build your connections with each group.
To order the book click here. To recieve a zoom link fill out the contact form at the top of the page. To preview some of the practices available in the book, click here.

Book of Grief, Gratitude and Love

Introduction

The world does not need another book which is quietly assured that you need to be more loving, grateful, or aware of your grief.  Prescriptions of this type have likely caused more problems than they have solved.

Most of us are quite ready to hear our faults when someone approaches us in the right way.  When we are approached and told that we ought to do this, or that, we are sometimes eager to do whatever it is we “should” have been doing all along.  

So we adopt whatever it is that is being pitched.  Praying more.  Morning affirmations.  Taking action in the world.  Giving longer hugs.  Eating more vegetables.

Certainly all of the above are good ideas for some of us.  Maybe most of us.  But if we begin them because someone told us to, we are likely to end them soon.  We are likely to feel betrayed when they don’t deliver an end to our hurts, disappointment, and loneliness.  We are likely to demonstrate a comparatively shallow level of commitments.  I can’t speak for you, but I can tell you something about the way my mind operates.  There is a thought, deep down:  If there is a problem for everybody, and this book offers a solution for everybody, even if I go only half way, I am better off than most everybody else.

Somehow, you ended up reading these words.  There was probably something in the title that connected with you.  But I would like to begin from a place of honesty.  It seems like that is the best indication that maybe this is something in these pages for you. It seems to me that most of the people I know have some struggles with grief, gratitude.  And these two are doorways into love. 

It is not easy to walk into grief.  To engage in practices that invite this experience in?  That feels like driving toward the foreboding clouds that threaten to unleash their fury at any second.  There is something primal within us that is whispering that this is a really bad idea.

My experience is that this opens up an experience of fullness.  It is good.  A life lived in this manner is not easier.  This introduction is not a condemnation of who you are and how you have lived.  You will not become morally superior to the people not engaging these practices no matter how thoroughly you master them.

 

This book did not come together in quite the same way as the other Faith-ing Project Guides.  It began with a sense that gratitude is an important thing and this area had not been covered in those other books.

Gratitude is incredibly important.  But it didn’t feel like a book of practices only focused on gratitude was the right way to go.  It needed a little something more than that.  And it was in a discussion with someone close to me that it was observed that there is a powerful relationship between grief and gratitude.  They seem, in a sense, like proverbial opposite sides of the same coin.

This felt mostly right.  It seemed like it was close to  perfect.  I spent a few days sitting with this possibility, the idea of creating a book of practices built around both of these experiences.  What I began to reflect on was that the thing that joined them together, the coin itself, is Love.

Grief, Gratitude and love.    Yes.  That seemed entirely right.  To begin with, love can only be experienced in the context of gratitude.  How could we love someone we are not thankful for?  At the same time, being thankful for a person (or a thing, or an experience) seems likely to lead to an experience of love.  Gratitude and love seem quite likely to lead to each other and quite difficult to imagine apart from each other

.  Yet, true love also inevitably leads to grief. All of us will die.  Everything will change.  A mature, reflective view of love is about making the choice that it is worth it, it will be worth it, and it will have been worth it.  If we live a contemplative life we enter into loving truly aware of the cost.

It seems that grief without gratitude is bitter.  Meanwhile, gratitude without grief is shallow.  They seem to need each other to make love a viable experience.  

I hesitate to call “grief” “gratitude” or “love”  emotions.  Each of them is more than that.  Each of these three characteristics is one of the defining qualities of humanity.  Each… even grief…. Are the things that makes this life worth living.

This book has been built with a section for each of these three important characteristics.  .  Each section will begin with a few opening remarks and then progress to two different types of spiritual exercises.  The first spiritual exercise is rather specific to the topic of the chapter.  

These exercises will come primarily out of the world’s great spiritual traditions.  I was not surprised, when I wrote this book, that so many of these reflect my Christian orientation.  It’s not that  I feel that Christianity is any better than the other great religions.  I expected to end up with lots of Christian practices because these are the practices I am closest to, the practices I am most qualified to share.

 I was a little surprised to discover how many come out of the Buddhist tradition.  In my head I knew that the Buddhists have a profound psychology and many excellent tools for being fully human.  As I wrote this book, I was reminded of this and experienced it first hand.

The second type of exercise within each chapter will be a bit more general.  Many of these exercises come out of the growing discipline known as mindfulness.  Mindfulness emphasizes an awareness of our present circumstances.  It often does this by stressing the importance of listening to the wisdom of the body. One major obstacle to gratitude, grief, and love is finding ourselves lost in the past or worried about the future. 

When we are out of the moment, stuck in the past or the future, it might look  like grief, gratitude, or love.  But it is not.    Grief, gratitude and love are experienced in the present.  This is why mindfulness, with its brilliant emphasis on our senses, is so critical here.  When we find ourselves looking, listening, feeling, smelling and tasting, we are in the present moment.  Our senses do not have memories.  Nor do they have hopes, dreams, or fears about the future.  They can only report what is happening now. This is key to the work we are doing.

  I am sure that all of us will have an area we are more comfortable with than the others.  Many of us might feel comfortable expressing our love but have not worked through our grief.  Some of us might feel that gratitude comes naturally but love does not.  Though this is to be expected, I am certain that  an over emphasis on any one of them, at the expense of the others, is an unwise, unbalanced way to live.   The area that seems to be the least attractive to you is likely the one you need the most.   My hope for you, reader, as you read this book is that you will carry each with a full awareness.

This full awareness is an important thing. 

Before we dive into the sections presenting the practices around gratitude, grief and love, it is worth wondering, just how should this book be used?  Dozens of practices are presented here.  It is clearly not feasible to regularly maintain a practice comprised of all these exercises…  Yet, the whole point of what we are doing here is precisely that: to assist you in building your spiritual practice.

Consider this book a catalog of options that are open to you.  Just as you would not buy all the shirts in the clothes  section of a department store, just as nobody would buy every single shape of pasta available at their local grocery store, you will probably not build a spiritual practice out of every single practice in this book.

You would probably take a look at most of the shirts in the section of the department store.  Similarly, it is wise to examine all the practices contained in this book.  You might pile up a number of shirts and bring them with you into a dressing room.  Accordingly, I hope you will try most of the practices in this book.  After this process you might buy several shirts.  Some you will keep forever.  Others you might try out but ultimately  return.

I hope that you try out many practices from this book.  You might “return” some.  You might keep others, incorporating them into your long-term practice.

My sense is that when a person is ready to settle into a spiritual practice, it is important to commit to which specific practices will be used.   Ideally, the practice would incorporate no more than three.    It does not seem to be helpful to switch quickly and easily between practices within the same session.  Rather, you might dedicate Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to one practice.  Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays might be reserved for a different practice.  Sundays might be left for both practices.  Or neither.

One of the great things about spiritual practices is how flexible they are.  Lots is gained by doing them solo.  There are other benefits by doing them in community.  They can be done almost anywhere by anyone.  Of course, all of these practices “work” by simply reading them and then “doing” them.  However, sometimes, it is preferable to have someone directing you through them.  Many of the meditations here are available as audio files at https://faithingproject.com/audio-files-associated-with-publications-of-the-faith-ing-project/

 

Let us begin.  There is nothing more important than love.  And love is built through gratitude and grief.  

 

Gratitude

Gratitude is often described as a spiritual practice.   There is a way in which this is strange.  It is not often that we hear other mental states like happiness, sadness, frustration, or joy pitched as spiritual practices.

However, it is not always natural to think about the things that we have to be grateful for.    The things that make us angry are easy to notice, and if we are excited about the things that make us happy are probably near the top of our minds.  It seems that when someone suggests gratitude as a spiritual practice, what they are really suggesting is that we maintain an awareness of the things that we have to be thankful for.  This isn’t always easy, of course.  If we were rational creatures, the things that we have enjoyed for the longest would be the things we are most thankful for.  We are not rational, though.    These things that stay with us across the years are so easy to overlook.  We come to forget that we are not owed these things that we have had for so long.  And they can be the most difficult to release when it is time to let them go.  

The person who experiences physical health for many years may not know how to be sick.  The person who is wealthy for much of their life is the most surprised when this wealth goes away.  The person given a deep and passionate love is the most lost without this person.

When we experience health, wealth, or love for long periods of time, we increasingly lose touch with what it is like to be without these things.  Perhaps we even begin to feel entitled to them.

Furthermore, sometimes the negative makes such a huge impact.  It can blot out the positive utterly.  Making a concerted effort to remember the good things that happened is not easy.  I had an interesting lesson in this.  During the 9-5 work day, I am a Special Educator.  I work with emotionally challenged kids.  Sometimes, there is just one very hurt child who can make my life very, very difficult.

 One of the aspects of the kind-of programs I work with is that students often have a sheet where we monitor and rate their behavior.  A thing I have learned over the years is that there are many days where I am sure every single student has been at their absolute worse.  When I take a look at the kids’ point sheets, I am often shocked.  I will generally note that one, perhaps two students had a very difficult day.  The vast majority of the kids might have actually had a great day.  It is difficult to remember this, though, in the moment.  In the middle of a rough day,  the excellent behavior of nearly everybody is overshadowed by the difficult behavior of a small number of kids.

This is something most of us intuit.  I saw it quantified.  In many cases, I scored the point sheets of the kids who had a pretty good day.  Yet, at the end of the day I was still surprised that most of my students did pretty well.  

  Sometimes we need a reality check.  Sometimes we think that everything is going badly.  Practices which help us focus on the reality we are living– in other words, practices that build our gratitude– can be critical because they give us that reality check.  

This does not minimize the challenging parts.  I have worked with kids who want to do very, very bad things to me and to others.  There is no need to sugarcoat this.  But it is helpful to realize that my whole class is not the problem; similarly, we can have very difficult aspects of our lives.  It is helpful to be reminded that very difficulty aspects do not mean that everything is falling apart.

It seems worthy to aim to feel gratitude nearly all of the time.  However, it is not a worthy goal to aim for a sense of gratitude about all aspects of everything.  Their is a cheap, easy, destructive mockery of gratitude that can lurk within us.  This pretender wants to invalidate righteous anger.  It  wants to gloss over the hurts done to us.  In the end, it can leave us with a diminished sense of our own value. We can be left with a thought that goes something like this: “It’s ok that they hurt me.  It was only me.”

Authentic gratitude does not operate this way.  It leaves us free to feel angry, or not.  It leaves us free to defend ourselves and the ones we love.  It deepens our sense of the value of many things, including ourselves.

  The practices in this chapter are ones that help us notice the things that we have.  They remind us that we are not entitled to them.  They encourage us to live in the knowledge of how wonderful they are. 

Background to the Examen

The Examen was introduced by St. Ignatius.   Overall, the idea is to look back over a certain period– such as a day– and to consider where our consolations and desolations were.  Consolations are the places we can see God working.  Desolations are the place where God does not seem to be present.

One of the things that I love about The Examen is that it always challenges me.  My first temptation is to think God is moving in the things that were easy and enjoyable.  God is not present in the things that are difficult and hard.  But when I look at it carefully and honestly, the easy stuff is often rather fluffy.  It has no lasting value or meaning.  Conversely, the difficult stuff is often the things that leads to growth.

The three different forms of the examen presented here have some things in common.  These are practices which ask us to look back.  There are a wide variety of ways to look back at a period.  One is to begin in the moment and work backward from it.  Another is to begin 24 hours ago and work toward this moment.

Sometimes I find it helpful to break up the preceding day into three 8-hour intervals.  This method can easily be incorporated into the section of each of the following practices that asks us to reflect back on our lives.

As I share this practice with people, one of the things that has amused me to learn is that there seems to be two types of people in the world.  One type of person has difficulty breaking yesterday up into 3 8-segments.  The other person simply can not understand why breaking up yesterday into segments is all that difficult.

If you are in that former group, this section is for you.  Let’s practice breaking yesterday up into 3 8-segments before you begin the practice so that it won’t be distracting when it is time to actually do the practice.

Take a look at the time right now.  The furthest you will go back is to this time yesterday.  This time yesterday is where you will begin.  I am writing these words at 7:30 PM on a Saturday.  If I were to do an Examen right now, I would begin with 7:30 PM on Friday.

Next, add 8 hours to the time it is now.  This will outline the length of your first period to consider.  Eight hours after 7:30 means that I will end that first stretch at 3:30 in the morning.  (7:30-12:30 is 5 hours; 12:30-3:30 is 3 hours.  5 + 3 =8)  Much of that first period will be time when I was asleep.  That is ok.  I can think about my sleep last night.

The middle section begins where the first section ends; eight hours after this time yesterday.  In my case, that middle segment will begin at 3:30.  I will find the end of this segment by adding 8 hours to this time.  3:30 + 8 hours = 11:30.

The final section begins where the middle section ends.  My final section begins at 11:30.  Eight hours after that time brings me to 7:30, the time I started my Examen.

There are a couple things worth considering about either form of examen before we move on to them.  The first is that the more sensory the recollection is, the more vivid this time will be.  If I try to remember the feel of the air on my skin, and the texture of my clothes, and the pressure of a seat beneath me, and the sounds I heard and the smells in the air and the taste of food and drink, I will be more effectively returned to the events of yesterday.

The second consideration is that there is nothing magical about a 24 hour period.  You might do an Examen on a period of a couple hours or a couple years or anything in between.  Whatever time you choose, do your best to relive it chronologically, beginning with the longest-ago and concluding with the most recent.

Examen I

1. Begin to find your center and place your feet flat on the floor.  
2. Breathe and relax, as best you can.
3. When you are ready, bring the last 24 hours to your mind.  Continue to breathe slowly, in through the nose and out through the mouth.  Begin by reliving where you were 24 hours ago.  Gradually, bring yourself through the last day of your life.  Do your best to deeply engage your senses as you relive this day; feel the events on your skin, hear them, taste them, even recall the smells.
4. Consider your desolations:
   1. What are you least thankful for?
   2. Where can’t you see God?
   3. What seems to be moving you away from God?
5. Release your desolations by breathing slowly and calmly.
6. Consider your consolations.
   1. What are you most thankful for?
   2. Where can you see God?
   3. What seems to be moving you toward God?
7. Release your consolations by breathing slowly and carefully.
8. As you consider the last 24 hours in their fullness, are there any things you would like to consider: was God, perhaps moving in things you initially labelled ‘desolations?’  Is it possible that God was not present in things you initially labelled ‘Consolations’?
9. Release the word-based part of the practice.  Enjoy a moment with God.

A Sample from “Guide to Building Your Spiritual Practice: Making Contemplative Practices Work For You.”

Introduction

When somebody wants you to do something, it all boils down to a couple of simple questions:

Why should I do that?

How do I do that?

So let’s get straight to it.  There is something I think you should do. I think you ought to have a spiritual practice.  By this I mean that  I think meditation and other contemplative actitvies ought to be a part of your life.  I have a sense about one effective way to do this.  I built my own spiritual practice and helped countless others do the same, through my website, The Faith-ing Project, dozens of email explorations, and a handfull of books.

 These practices lead to a way of living in the universe that changes everything.  In some ways, it’s analogous to living healthily.  On one level, living healthily might be defined as  doing the right exercises and eating the right foods.  But of course, it’s not really about the specific diet or exercise.  Exercise and healthy eating are gateways that give us access to living longer and feeling better.  

It’s worth noticing that there are lots of healthy ways to eat.  There are many effective physical fitness exercises.  After a person learns a few basics, they are prepared to begin choosing meals and exercises that are best for them.  It is not different when it comes to building a spiritual practice.

In this book, I will do my best to explain why a person ought to build a spiritual practice. 

And I will do my best to explain how a person could build a spiritual practice.

This book is organized this is like a sandwich.  The bread?  That’s the question of “why.”  I will address the question of “why” at both the beginning and the end of this book, much as a sandwhich has bread at the top and the bottom.  I will do this because the question of ‘why’ is a complicated one.

As a person builds her spiritual practice, she might, early on, answer that question in a certain way.  The opening of this book will deliver some introductory answers to that question.  It will hopefully deliver on some reasons to get this process started.

The bottom piece of bread will delve a little deeper.  It will explore some answers to the question “why” that I personally  would not have been able to come up with when I first started down this path.  Some of these will be an explanation of who I am becoming and how I view the world.  In some cases it might be hard to see this stuff at all.  I hope that by the time we get there, I have earned a little trust from you.  It might be that you will take my word for it on some of these things.

(I will probably have lots of this stuff wrong by the way.  I imagine if I wrote this book at some point further along in my journey, my ways of looking at the “why” will be quite different.)

Of course, a couple pieces of bread are pretty boring without something to go between them.  And it would be a bit of a tease if I shared with you why I think you ought to do a thing with out explaining how it is that you ought to do it.  So in the middle of this book, you can expect to find an exploration of how you can build a spiritual practice.

This exploration will address some things that are relevant to nearly every kind of practice.  It will also feature a brief exploration of a number of different spiritual exercises a person ought to consider.  I don’t think your spiritual practice should look exactly like my spiritual practice.  It also shouldn’t look like your neighbors, your spouses, or your parents. 

I will do the best I can at exposing you to a number of different possibilities.  But humanity has been at this for thousands of years.  This book is a place to begin.  It is the very first steps.   I will offer you a few observations about where and how I think these practices might be effective.  But mostly, you will learn what works for you by trying them out. 

After you take these first couple steps, you might take a third and a fourth step with the other Faith-ing Project Guides or website.  But this is still just the first few steps.  I hope, sincerely, that you go deeper.  There will be truths I fail to convey.  There will be critical details I miss.  As you begin to discover the practices that work for you, I hope that you will explore the rich and varied sources that inspired my attempts at potraying them here.

Before we go too much further lets spend a few minutes with some of the words that are likely to pop up along the way.  These are words that are often used in these kind of endeavors.  It is probably helpful to understand a little something about how I am using them.

Let’s begin with one of the more general terms: contemplation (and of course, all of the related forms of the word like contemplative.)  I was thrilled, recently, to discover that the term ‘contemplation’ is related to the word temple.  It is obvious once it is pointed out.  Most of the letters are sitting there, right in the middle of the word.  The prefix, “con” means “with.”  On a basic level, then, “contemplation” is related to the way a person might look at the world from inside a temple.  The wonderful thing is that the temple is already within us.

More specifically, I will use the word “contemplation” to refer to a broad category of ways of seeing the world, a way of progressing, a way of seeing.  There are many ways to contemplate.   Two that concern us here are prayer and meditation.

I will use the word “prayer” to mean certain types of contemplative activities which are more or less connected to connection with something bigger than us.  Prayer can be a kind of conversation.   Most forms of prayer assume a divine listener.  A spirit-entity we might (or might not) call God.

I will use the word “meditation.” to mean certain types of contemplative activities which are less word-dependent.  Often, in meditation, there will be no assumption of a force above and beyond us.

In a book focused on these two things, it can grow monotonous to use the same 2 words over and over again.  As a result, I will sometimes use words like “spiritual exercise” or “practice.”   But the word “practice” is a little tricky.  I will follow the conventions of language and use it sometimes to mean one specific set of things to do, a form of meditation and prayer.  Other times, it has a wider meaning.   A practice is also an ongoing comittment to do the best we can.  A medical doctor or therapist might discuss their private practice.  As a Special Education Teacher, I might refer to my practice, too.  By this, I might mean the collection of all the things I do in my class to ensure that students are learning and being safe.

In a wider sense, then, when we discuss a Spiritual Practice we mean something broader than one particular method of meditation or prayer.  A spiritual practice in this broad sense is what the title of this book refers to.  It is our ongoing promise to ourselves, our plan of which specific prayers and meditations we will engage in on a daily basis.

It is worth noting that reading this book is a bit like dipping a toe into the ocean.  This is a vast and wonderful territory.  There are some practices we will not explore at all because they are not the sort of things easily expressed in a book.  Many of these are spiritual practice which help us to remember the body: dancing, yoga, drumming, and art for example.

There are other spiritual practices which are neither meditation nor prayer.  Fasting, giving, and many forms of worship are also  spiritual practices which I hope you will explore.  But they will not be covered here, either.

In fact, even the practices we begin to explore here will only be introduced briefly.  I hope that the brief introductions made here lead to a long standing relationship.  Practicing these every day will lead to a deeper relationship.  So will going to the source of these practices and exploring them in their spiritual context.

And so if the time we spend together on this journey is short of long, I am thankful for your time and trust on this part of it.  Let’s begin with the question of why a person ought to build a spiritual practice at all.

The First Why

Let’s take a look at some reasons we might want to build a spiritual practice. 

Last chapter, I shared the idea that a spiritual practice is a regular comittment to meditating and praying.  At this point, it’s probably wise to take a closer look at this idea.  It is all well and good to throw around those words.  But it is worth wondering what this all actually means.

What that means is this: you should dedicate yourself to at least half an hour a day of doing nothing.  I say that with my tongue only a little bit in my cheek. 

In the west, we often throw around words like “meditation.”  These words have a sort of mystique about them.  We can say them and feel a little bit of pride in ourselves.  In the east, the words they sometimes use is the language’s equivalent to simply “sitting.”  No big ideas or navel gazing.  Just sitting.

This is not as easy as it sounds.  There are lots of ways to do it.  Some of these different ways of sitting lead to certain positive results.  Others lead to other positive results.  Some are good for nearly anybody.  Others are good for only a certain type of person. 

We will explore these different options soon enough.  The bulk of this book will be a survey of several different types of meditation and prayer.    But let’s begin with a broad understanding of the goal.  What we are talking about here is slowing down, releasing pretty much everything.  Eventually, getting up to at least half an hour a day of it.

I am sure there are lots of things in your life that sound like they would be better to do than nothing.  I am sure that the millions of different ways we entertain ourselves, the countless ways we want to be productive seem like much better choices than sitting.

This, then, brings us back to the “why.”  Why would we want to do nothing when there are so many good things we could be doing? 

This discussion of the “why” is going to be rather abstract and theoretical if we don’t root it in the actual practice of sitting.  So before we take a deeper look at the question of “why.”  I wonder if you might indulge me.  Let’s give our first practice a try before we proceed.

 

Practice #1: Simply Breathing

 Preparation:  This practice is very, very simple.  But before we begin, I would like to ask you a question: How long could you comfortably sit and do nothing?   Perhaps it is only a minute.  Perhaps it is thirty.  However long you choose, could you try and push yourself?  Would it be possible to add just a few more minutes onto whatever total you just decided?

 

•  Create a calming space.,  Set your phone to ‘do not disturb.’  Light a candle if you would like.

• Place your feet flat on the floor.  Sit in a manner that is upright but not uncomfortable.

• Inhale, through the nose if possible.

• Exhale through the mouth.

• With the next inhale, give some attention to really filling up the lungs.  Place your hand on the belly.  Feel the movement outward of your hand.

• Exhale, feeling the belly moving in toward the spine.

• Continue for the time you have allocated for this practice today.

 

 

 Some final introductory throughts of ‘Why.’

I am of two minds about simplicity of practice.  There is a way in which our mission is accomplished right here.  With this simple 7-step series of instructions.

This practice accomplishes a tremendous number of things.  One way that we might begin to explore the “why” of spiritual practice is to take a careful look at what we are accomplishing here.  Perhaps the most important thing we are doing here—perhaps the most important “why”  —  is that we are facing our fears and worries head on.  We are no longer running.

Almost every single thing we do is part of a huge pattern of denial and fear.  We have been taught explicitly and implicitly to keep moving.  To run from the fears that are chasing us.  To drown out the voices that are whispering to us.  We fill up our schedules.  We turn on the radio. 

We are so very afraid of silence and stillness.

This is a surprising statement for many.  But to anyone who wants to resist this reality, I have a very simple question:  If we are not afraid of silence and stillness, why is it so very difficult to sit quietly for any kind of length of time at all? 

The glory of facing our fears by sitting with them is just this: we suddenly realize that there is actually nothing they can ever do to us.  In fact, it is the denial of our fears are dangerous.  Some of our fears are things we can do nothing about, but our failure to face them is what makes them grow large in our hearts.  Other worries are things we can do something about.  But we can only take action if we have stopped running long enough to identify just what they are.

Closely connected to this fear is the message that we must be productive at all times.   By sitting, we (ironically) take a stand against this message.  It is one thing to say, “I am more valuable than the things I produce.”  It is another to actually take a period to stop producing.

If this is hard for you, you might find some solace in the possibility that this is a win-win.  Anecdotal reports, research, and wisdom from the world’s spiritual tradition all agree: a time of rest is vitally important.   There are many quotes from many directions which are variations on the theme “On a normal day, I meditate (or pray) for an hour.  On the days when I know I am going to be really busy, I meditate (or pray) for two hours.”  At least one of the things meant by these quotes is this: when we take a moment to be non-productive, we end up more than compensating for the so-called lost productivity.  When we return to our work, we end up being much more productive.

  The final “why” we are going to consider for now is the quieting of the mind.  Our brains produce a cacophony of noise.  The job of this organ is to think.  From a certain vantage point, it is very good at this.

There is a limit to the usefulness of our thoughts, though.  Especially when we stand in the middle of too many of them.  Like a wise man standing in a crowd, our best thoughts can get drowned out from the babble coming from all the others.  There are many sorts of things our thoughts don’t help us solve.  There are some sorts of things that our thoughts in fact make worse.

There are many things in our minds which are difficult to notice when our thoughts are taking center stage.  We have feelings, of course.  These feelings are valuable guides as we become aware of them.  Our mind is also where we become aware of bodily sensations.  Sometimes this awareness is important on a sheerly physical level.  We notice that our heel is sore and we need new shoes.  We note a growing pain in our belly which requires medical intervention.  But more than this, the body has its own wisdom.   When we turn down our thoughts we tune into the things that the body is trying to tell us: the tension in our shoulders says, “don’t trust this person.”  The quickening of our breath tells us that we were angry about something we aren’t having an easy time of owning.  It is easy to miss these signals when the babble of our brains is uncontested.

Those of us who believe in something greater than us—call it God for lack of a better, more inclusive term—are generally aware that God speaks in a still, quiet voice.  It can be difficult to hear this voice sometimes.  When our brain is busy over producing, it can be even more difficult to truly discern what is coming from us and what comes from elsewhere.

There are a few common misconceptions to clear up before we move from the “why” to the “what.”  The first common misconception is that the brain is bad and thoughts are not helpful.

Collectively and individually, we owe our brains and thoughts quite a lot.  We could not be where we are without them.    Our brain is like a hammer.  Our thoughts are like nails.  There are lots of things that hammers and nails are good for.  But a hammer and nails can’t do everything.  They can’t turn screws.  They can’t saw boards in half.  The situation we find ourselves in is as if we have gotten very good at hammering and have now begun to try to use the hammer to solve all of our problems.  It simply won’t work.

A related misconception is the idea that we are trying to turn all of our thoughts off when we meditate.  This is not possible.  Many methods of meditation employ one device or another when intrusive thoughts arise.  This leads practioners to believe that the goal is to use these to eradicate all thoughts.  When the thoughts continue to arise, the natural result is to experience feelings of frustration or even anger that it is “not working.”  Or worse yet, to see the self as a failure at it.

These reactions create a viscious circle.  They are rooted in a common misunderstanding of what we are trying to do. If you are engaged in a practice which asks you to use this or that device whenever thoughts arise, just give yourself a mental pat on the back for doing it correctly.  Appreciate the opportunity to dismiss the thoughts. 

Your mind will wander.  That is what it does.  It might be a few seconds.  It might be most of the time you have devoted to your practice.  When you find this is happening, return to the practice without hard feelings to yourself.  As time goes by, this will become more of a habit.  In a sense, it becomes easier. 

One of the biggest realizations I have contended with recently is the profound gulf between “simple” and “easy.”  My tendency is to view these two things as one and the same.  But this is a great counter example.  Meditation is a very simple practice.  It is not, for most of us, easy.

 

The how.

Something stirred you to buy this book.  And you read through the section on why you might build a spiritual practice.  So it seems like we ought to take a look at how you will do it.

It is quite a lot like dating.  Or choosing a job.  Or selecting your favorite pizza toppings.  The first step is to discover what is out there.  The second step is to select what is right for you.

            I suspect this will be a bit more involved than choosing your favorite pizza.  Perhaps it will be a bit less complex than choosing your vocation.  But in the broad strokes, it begins the same: read the menu (or consider all the potential people you could date.)  Order the first pizza.  (Or ask a person out on a date.)  Reflect on what went well and what didn’t go well about your decisions.

            On a more specific level:  I would like to recommend you enter a time of playing the field, spiritually speaking.  It is important to commit to the idea of trying new practices.  The end game here is to select just a few.  These will form the backbone of your spiritual practice.  As time goes by, this regimen might shift and evolve.  You are not committed forever.  But a few things are worth noticing before we proceed further.

            The first is that real spiritual growth has been achieved by people who had access to only one spiritual practice.  It is entirely possible that those with out many resources have achieved more than those of us with access to dozens or even hundreds of spiritual practices.

            The danger and temptation of too many practices is that we can hide behind the bells and whistles.  The real growth happens when we face the monotony, fear, and baggage of our lives.  Spiritual practice can become an ego game.  We tell ourselves we are growing and facing our issues.  But right when things begin to get uncomfortable, we put a new, different, exciting spin on the process.  We lose ourselves in the minutia of the practice we just have switched over to.

This is most of the reason I advocate so strongly for the end game of settling into a schedule of practices.  It is good to explore what is out there.  It is also good to commit, to settle in and dedicate ourselves to those which work best.

            This selection process is no easy thing.  It is likely that the most challenging practices are the best for us.  Just as it is difficult to choose the things we need the most (from a nutritional standpoint) at a buffet, it is difficult to commit to those practices which are the best for us.  It is tempting, sometimes, to choose the ones which are the easiest and the most pleasant.  The ones which leave us feeling pleasantly buzzed, which leave us feeling competent and profound and spiritual.  

            Even if we avoid this trap, we can so easily fall into the shadow of this ego game.  We can choose things with an almost masochistic fervor, selecting the things which are difficult and unpleasant as if this makes us worthy of some sort of spiritual extra credit.

            These struggles are compounded by the sad reality that we often times we are not particularly good at knowing what practices will work well for us over the long term.  Just as we can grow infatuated with a person that is not a good long term decision for us, we can try and commit to a spiritual practice that we have no future with.

You can order the complete book on Amazonhere.

A sample from “What I learned In My Cell: Taking a Contemplative Stance in a Time of Pandemic.”

Introduction

It is April 10, 2020 as I write these words.  And these last long weeks have—in some ways—been the strangest days I have ever lived through.

A virus they call COVID-19 has made its way across the globe.  People—especially the vulnerable—are dying.  We are isolating, together.  Nearly everyone in the entire world.

Isolating together.  It’s kind-of funny.  We are alone, together.  We have cut ourselves off from contact with the world outside of ourselves.  And we have done it in the name of cooperative living.  The people who are ignoring the instructions not to gather are the least cooperative and collective of us.

Many of us are not working.  And the endless days bleed into endless nights.  Many of us who are working are working twice as hard as we ever did.  The hospitals are overwhelmed.  The stories are running out of the things our lives depend on.

It is so scary to go out into the world.  It is so scary not to go out into the world.

It is April 10, 2020 as I write these words.  And these last long weeks have been — in some ways—just the same as all the days I have ever lived through.

Please don’t misunderstand me.  There are willfully ignorant people who say that this is all nothing.  I am not saying that.  This virus will change us as individuals and as societies.  It is a big deal.

It is an Armageddon.  But I don’t mean what people often mean, when they say Armageddon.   I am not imagining fireballs and laser beams, destruction on a huge scale.  Originally, the word ‘Armageddon’ meant “uncovering.”   That’s what this is: an uncovering.  The dynamics that have always been at work among us are suddenly revealed for what they are.  I am thinking about how you can manipulate the light and darkness, and shape your hands just so, and it creates a shadow play, an illusion cast on a screen.  Up until this time, we have all been watching the screen.

Now, we have an opportunity.   Somebody just turned the lights on.   We will see the hand that has shaped itself in just the right way to resemble a duck flying, or a soldier marching, or whatever it was.  We will all gasp, “ah.” As we come to understand the things that have always been going on.

It first came into my head that writing this book would maybe be a thing worth doing a few days back.  I was sitting at home, and I had just dropped some THC under my tongue, and the mourning came on me so deeply.  It was so sudden, so intense and unexpected that all I could do was moan.

Mom died about five years ago.   And if you had asked me five months ago… five weeks ago…. Five days ago, I would have told you that I was in a place that I had released my anguish about this event.  And yet as I sat there, in the pandemic, here it was, so fresh, so vital, so acute.

And it was lovely in a way I can’t describe.  I was and am thankful for this opportunity to mourn for mom again.  There was this stuff in me that I would have told you I put away.  But I hadn’t put it away.  I had just covered it up.  Then this Armageddon came, and it uncovered it.

It uncovered so much.

This virus has uncovered more than I will be able to explain.  I am writing from the very middle of this thing.  Later, I will probably have some other things to say.  Distance will give me a certain perspective.  And that perspective will have a value of sorts.  But here in the middle of it?  That closeness is valuable, too.

I am an introspective person with a love of writing and a set of spiritual practices that allows me to see things in a way that I think is helpful for people.  I have a sense that the most helpful my insights will ever be is now, while we are still in the middle of this crisis.  I have some experience writing, publishing, and selling books on spiritual practices, so I have a little background in how to do this efficiently and quickly.   Before I say more about this thing that I am trying to do, I want to be clear about the things I do not want to do here.

I do not want to say this is worth it.  It’s not.  People are suffering and dying.  It is the height of insensitivity and callousness to say that it will end up being a good thing.  If this whole affair was some sort of transaction, the price we must pay is not worth the item we are purchasing.

I do not want to be opportunistic, and benefit from this thing that is happening.  All I can say really, about this later point is that today is Friday.  That mourning came at me on Tuesday.  The idea of writing these words occurred to me then.  I have spent these last several days carrying this concern, weighing my thoughts, weighing my heart, wrestling with this possibility.

Can I be honest with you?  I am only pretty sure that this is the right thing to do.  It is only most of me that has motivations that are pure enough for me to be proud of them.  There is a time I would have expected myself to be positive.  There is a time I would have told you that I searched my heart and it was 100% in the right place.

I wouldn’t have known I was lying at that time.  I would have believed the words I was saying to you.  But that would not have made them true.  The time that mom died was this time of transformation for me.  Even if mom hadn’t been dying, I would have been leaving the evangelical church I had been part of for the prior decade.  The fact of her cancer and the feelings I had about it, they brought a certain urgency to that transition.  My journey out of the black-and-white moralistic Evangelical church has been one into an airy, Christ-centered mysticism.  My experience meditating every day is probably the biggest single action I have taken to help position me to understand this great uncovering.

 

It’s funny how I have this sense that I am getting ahead of myself when I keep getting sucked into wanting to tell you about the things that are in my past.  I guess that is part of the point.  This Armageddon is a Great Uncovering that is giving me a glimpse beneath the surface of things in more than just the present.  It has uncovered some of my past.  It has uncovered some of my future.  I am writing this because I think we ought to be sharing and talking about these uncoverings.  I don’t think these will fully redeem this suffering.  But if we get a little something out of this time, then at least it won’t all be for nothing.

Let me tell you about day-to-day life.  A few weeks ago, I was a Special Education Teacher.  I have taught at my place of work for over a decade now.  I have picked up a few extra gigs along the way, like mentoring the new teachers and coordinating the school’s technology.  Most of the time, I love my job.

I am asthmatic.  I average about one hospital stay a year, whenever the Spring rains bring more mold than my hyper-allergic system can handle.  I was worried, therefore, when the earliest reports made it clear that people like me with respitory vulnerability were at risk.  The school at which I teach is residential. Most of the kids don’t just spend the 8 hours of the school day together.  They spend their nights their too.  And the students I teach aren’t kids who are always receptive to being taught to practice good hygiene.  There was a lot of stuff working against them.

It is a testament to my wonderful place of work that they were willing to validate my concerns.  I had been flirting with a variety of administrative tasks.  We worked out a few preliminary projects for me to do at home.  When the public schools began closing, my assignment began to shift.   The fifty kids who were bused into my school from the homes where they lived with their families were going to need to be educated remotely.  I became the lead on that.  Many of my healthier colleagues continue to show up to their teaching jobs every day.  Our school is one of the few that is not closed.

Dear God, I miss my classroom.  It’s only been three weeks.  How could it only have been three weeks?

            What’s next

This book will be structured into chapters.  Each chapter will be made up of an introduction, a series of reflections, and a gathering of spiritual practices that relate to the topic of the chapter.  The introduction will, of course, explain the importance of the theme of the chapter.  Each of the meditations will conclude with a few questions to encourage exploration of those ideas in the reader’s own life.  If the spiritual practices were practiced daily, I believe firmly that you will benefit greatly from this investment.

The first chapter will focus on the power of the lament.  It will recognize the meaning and depth of our suffering at this time.  In a way, that chapter will be focused on the things I am learning about this pandemic by using my contemplative practice as a lens to understand the world around me.  The second chapter will turn the lens around.  This chapter will explore the things I am learning about my contemplative practice by the things that are going on with this pandemic.  The third chapter will be a deeper dive into the nature of isolation itself.  The fourth and final chapter will try to sketch out some of what these meditations and this time in history means, for myself as an individual and for contemplative practice as a whole.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: Laments

One of the almost-forgotten gifts of many of the world’s great religions is the lament.  Laments, of course, are deep sorrows.  Sometimes, they can almost seem like too much.  Perhaps you are a kinder person than me.  But if I am going to be honest, here, I would confess something:

There is a part of me that can watch a person lament and doubt the whole thing.  Is it so bad, whatever it is you are bemoaning?  I can usually put this skepticism away very quickly.  But it is there, nonetheless.

As a look at the idea of lamenting through the lens of this pandemic, as I recall that this a Great Uncovering, there are a few things that I notice.  The first is that the answer might be “no.”  It might be that whatever the actual thing is that a person is mourning, maybe it isn’t as bad as all that.  Maybe it’s not worth the wailing and the tears on its own.   But this is not a reason to invalidate the sufferings someone is expressing.  On the contrary, it is a reason to recognize what a powerful force lamenting is.  It can be a kind-of spring cleaning.

There was a family member I hated going to see movies with when I was a child.  She would cry in the movies.  Not little tears, either.  She would engage in this shoulder-hitching, gasping-for-breath sobbing.  At the time I felt it was embarrassing.  She once said that she liked going out to movies and doing this.  She said she got to cry about the movie, but she was also letting herself cry about all the other stuff in life that is worth crying about.  At the time, I felt that was all weird.

Now, I see a deep wisdom in it.  This is what I am trying to say about laments.  Perhaps they are only about the thing being mourned on the surface.  Perhaps the lament is an opportunity to mourn for all the other things we haven’t properly mourned.

Perhaps that cynical voice within me only appears to be about the other person.  Perhaps when I wonder if some of this isn’t just for show, I am really trying to deny my own mourning and loss.  And maybe, I am also trying to distance and separate myself from the person, too.  I am trying to other them.

When I watch a person physically suffer, I want to alleviate their suffering.  But also, I want to make sure I can’t and won’t suffer in that manner, too.  Next chapter we will explore this topic of contagion.  For now, let’s just say that if I can distance myself from a person who is hurt, I can feel safe and comfortable, holding onto the delusion that I won’t ever be in their position of deep lament.

This chapter will explore the losses we are mourning.  Sometimes we will be missing the things that we are losing now.  Other times it will really be about some wound that runs older and deeper.   One of the reasons that this pandemic is so difficult is that it manifests itself in so many different, sometimes even diametrically opposed ways.  Let’s begin with noticing that.

 

 

 

Reflection 1-1: The Many Different Manifestations

It is difficult to imagine a catastrophe which would hit us more universally.

Every corner of the globe is in some stage of preparation and action.  Every person we know is having their lives shaped by this thing.

At the same time, while it is certainly impacting each one of us, it is hitting us all so very differently.  It is hard to imagine a thing which could have produced a wider variety of impacts.  At the very most general level is the question of how endangered we are.  Those of us with homes, health, responsive and respectful workplaces, effective governments, and robust social networks are hit by this in a certain way.  People without these resources are hit quite differently.

For some of this is largely preventative and theoretical.  Others of us are literally fighting for our lives.  Some of us find that we are laid off with too much time on our hands.  Others are now asked to work twice as hard for twice as long.  Some of us have a low desire for social contact and find this isolation partially invigorating.  Others of us long for connection and find ourselves so very lonely.

The thing is, we mostly chose the lives we had before.  But the circumstances we are in now?  It is all quite random.  It is quite likely that there are at least some elements of where we are that someone else would like a whole lot more than we do.

How do you do with people grieving and mourning?  What do you wish people would do for you when you are lamenting?  What are the things you are missing and mourning right now?  To what extent are your feelings about what is actually going on now, and to what extent are they about things that are from your past?

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