Wrestling the Angel

For the past two years I have been researching and writing about the dark night of the soul, that place which on the outside looks like some spiritual desert, but inwardly is where the ego is stripped of its death hold on what it thinks it knows of the spiritual realm. On this journey I have met real life mystics and everyday people having mystical experiences.  I have had the blessing of friendships that are transforming and I have lost a few very dear ones as well. In many of these instances, had I not been studying the dark night, these special moments may have zipped right past me or thrown me into an unexpected downward spiral. But somehow I was graced by each of those occurrences and have come out just a tad more aware as a result.

Over the next few months or so, I will post bits and pieces from my thesis as I rework sections for publication.  I hope that which I have captured in this research can provide guidance or sustenance to fellow travelers who wrestle with their own angels or demons (do we ever know which it is that has grabbed us from behind?)

I think Rev. Renita Weems captured it best in the opening of her book, Listening For God: "No one is ever prepared to endure the long silence that follows intimacy. No one is prepared to face it when it comes after lovemaking. No one is prepared to face it when it comes after a season of intimacy with God. It is the hardest thing to talk about, and it is the hardest thing in the spiritual journey to prepare for. The long silence between intimacies, the interminable pause between words, the immeasurable seconds between pulses, the quiet between epiphanies, the hush after ecstasy, the listening for God – this is the spiritual journey, learning how to live in the meantime, between the last time you heard from God and the next you hear from God.

I would be honored if you'd let me know what you think.

Mystical Moments

When we talk about true mystical experience, it seems as though the general thought is that anyone who has a genuine connection with the divine floats about in some kind of mystical state 24/7. However none of the mystics ever seem to report it that way. What is more the case is that they (and we) have scattered mystical moments; small glimpses of what that connection looks and feels like. It is here one moment and slips away as soon as we try to latch on to it and hold it as our own.

Actually the term mysticism and mystical were not even part of our language until the 15th century, so the early "mystics" did not even refer to themselves or their experiences as mystical. But as the church tried more and more to make god and spirituality more other-worldly, they pushed the experience of the divine into the realm of the non-human - and we have been trying to get it back ever since.

Truth is: mystical moments happen all the time but because we tend to be looking for the big kahuna "aha" experience, we don't recognize them. You know what they are: a baby's smile, catching another person eye-to-eye, sunsets and sunrises, a rose blooming or a crocus poking its way through the last snow, and so many more. In fact every instant there is another moment that is mystical and transcendent. and when you start to see them, life itself becomes more beautiful and precious.

The trick in the whole mystical experience is to be awake and aware enough to notice each time when we forget that life is filled with mystical moments and slide back into our routines. Dan Millman wrote a book once called No Ordinary Moments which really captures this understanding.  But we don't need near death experiences to wake us up - we need only to wake up. Then you'll see why the so called "mystics" lived quite ordinary lives - but were filled by the abundance of mystical moments they allowed themselves to experience.

Transformative Love

Recently I have been writing a lot about the transformative affects of pain and suffering in our lives (see posts like "When Convergence Hits the Fan," "It's Just Perfect," "Spiritual Discipline," and "Undoing the Self"). Maybe it is because I hear so much from people about their suffering and their pains and see (from my outside perspective) the work that it is doing. In any case, it may appear that I have forgotten all about love. Love in fact is the only thing other than our suffering that has the power to transform us.

By transformation what I mean here is that the actual form of our being, and the actual form of our experience is mutated from one manifested form to another, completely different form - literally transformation rewrites out historical context and meaning making. This transition from one form to another often happens so quickly that we cannot notice it from the inside. With pain and suffering, that transition feels like being squished through a seive! But with love, it seems that the previous state or condition just melts away or falls "like scales from our eyes."

In fact I recently told a friend who was having a difficult time that love was the most powerful of all the emotions - that it was far more poweerful than hate. What's more, hate takes energy and stiffening tension, a hardening of every fibre of one's being. But love only requires opening up. I witnessed this once as a mentor of mine stood in front of a man seething with hatred. My friend simply

said, "I can love you stronger than you can hate me!"

Despite that great paragraph in the epilogue of The Scarlet Letter, I do not think that Love and Hate are so much alike. Hate comes from our lack and our distance from the other, resulting in seeing the other as just that: "other." But love is not ours. It flows through us, cleansing and changing us from the inside out. In love, we have a sense that something way bigger than us is working through us. And we are born in love - as a result of live. We are born to love, not to hate - hate has to be taught.

The Prayer Cafeteria

My friend Steve and I are blogging this summer for the church on the topic of praying. We are running it in a sort of point-counter point dialogue about different types of prayer and what works or doesn't work for each of us.  The interesting thing is that Steve and I see things a little differently, especially when it comes to praying.

First of all, I have a problem with what most people think of when they hear the word prayer.  It seems to me that we mostly think of prayer as a way of talking with or to god,  I remember learning in
catechism that there were all these types of prayer: confession, intercessory, petition, gratitude, and so on.  Steve and I came up with this idea that it is kind of a cafeteria from which we can sample whatever we are hungry for.  There was even a type of "break fast" prayer said after having been away for a while.

However, all those types of prayer were "to" god. But what if we believe that god knows all and sees all and is all before and during and after anything we can be or do or say??  Isn't it a bit anticlimactic to talk it all out to some one or something that already knows what we want to say before we say it?

But for me, what Thomas Merton said once about prayer is the real function of praying.  Merton said something to the effect that prayer doesn't change god, it changes us. I don't pray to god so that god will somehow get that I am penitent or grateful or wishful. I pray so that I can sort things out.  The in-dwelling god moves me to pray and in doing so facilitates my thinking and changing. That sorting out happens in me not in god and when I think about it really, it is that same source - the in-dwelling spark of god - that motivates or moves me to pray in the first place.  It feels like a different kind of prayer when god "prays" me.

Trust Fall

I am currently reading The Ascent of Mount Carmel by John of the Cross; the book in which he outlines the steps and process of the dark night of the soul.  John's description of the way in which one "prepares" for this journey toward god is huge - and risky!  Think of the preparation this way: you cannot be intimate (you know sexually intimate) by yourself - it takes two to do that tango!  But what you can do it prepare yourself for intimacy.  You can adopt the "position" of intimacy - open, vulnerable, hungry and waiting.  And to increase the sensuousness of it all you could even close your eyes and let your lover "surprise" your senses.  Love is a giant game of "Trust Fall."  Close your eyes, fold your arms over your chest, tuck your chin, lean back over the cliff, and let yourself fall into the arms of your lover.

John is saying somewhat the same thing about achieving intimacy with god.  You cannot do this willfully on your own.  But you need to adopt the position of readiness. That position, he says, is that you need to starve your senses, and get to a place of total not-knowing, because any thought that you might have about god or the experience of god is in the way of actually experiencing god this time and the next time, and so on.  Any sensation you have a longing for and any "knowing of what that connection may have felt like before, if still present inside you, will be looking to stuff this next encounter into that same wonderful place.

And god refuses admission to any of those boxes.  God cannot be described, containerized or labeled by any human classification system.  So all our thoughts and feelings have to be stripped away (and they do not go quietly) so that however and whatever is next in the smorgasbord of god-encounters can manifest however and whenever it manifests.

Now here is the thing we need to get: god is already and always there/here inside and with us.  And it is really all of our thoughts, emotions, feelings and memories (including the very moment we have one) of our encounter, our touching, that awareness that get in the way of having that awareness. Close your eyes and lean back!

Recognizing A Saint

Today I met a real live saint. Her name is Ruth Patterson, Reverend Ruth Patterson to be specific, a peacemaker from Ireland.  She addressed a group of some 500 listeners on the process of peacemaking which she boiled down to acts of mercy and forgiveness. The talk itself was brilliant and most articulate and concluded a question and answer session. And that is where I met her.

Being from Boston I asked her what her experience in Belfast could say that would help those of us who are hurting, angry and scared. What we experienced was just that one day and the week of occupation that followed. But this woman who for over 30 years experienced that kind of violence and pain and fear on a daily basis said this:

"To answer you I would have to take off my shoes. Because this is sacred ground." She went on to talk about how all of those feelings, as well as the guilt and confusion, and anger were all present and were very real - and she would not dare take them away.  Still we are called to a response of mercy. She said she was so sorry for what we have just experienced. And then... And then she asked to be forgiven for presuming to know anything that might help. And that is how you know you are in the presence of a saint. When you approach them for a bit of their wisdom, they simply kneel before you and start washing your feet!

In Whose Eyes

I have been observing the function of focus lately in an attempt to see how focusing on certain things altered the experience of them – in particular how focusing on the divine altered the experience of life.   The great news is that doing that, like focusing on beauty or seeing love in others, has a marvelous effect.  Suddenly the entire world looks sacred and holy.

In addition it was my intent to actively choose this focus – to see if I could constantly focus on the Divine.  Now, while all of us have that part of the brain that concentrates our focus on foreground, relegating all else to background (a function of the RAS or reticular activating system), actively choosing to focus on this or that more intensely engages the RAS and its focusing function.  When suddenly, in the middle of my mental conversation, it hit me how arrogant and ego-centric it was to assume that my choosing made the sacred appear!  It was not my choosing at all but the fact that God, had already chosen me – all of us – and that was what had made it sacred in the first place. 

I cannot pretend for a moment that I am choosing God – God has already, always chosen me.  And there is nothing in my choosing that can alter that, except that I forget and turn away from time to time.  But each time I turn back, there is God waiting, accepting, and welcoming me back, just as I am.  So while I do have a choice (whether to look away or toward God’s light) it is not my choosing that makes it so.  It is that God has – long before you or I ever had this thought – chosen us, in the very act of giving us this life to live. And in God’s “eyes” we are enough; holy and sacred; all we need to be; God’s very creation in 3D.

The thought suddenly relaxed me – like my shoulders dropped about six inches from their tensed up position – as if it was all a huge effort I had to do.  It isn’t.  It is quite easy. Just shut up and accept the gift (I am not good at receiving gifts – I’m much better at giving, I think).  Oh, I am certain I will forget this lesson and turn away, but as it always has been, all I have to do is turn back and remember, effortlessly, and there it is.  I think this is what others have called surrender.