Saturday Haiku: Sunlight and Shadows

 

 

finding quiet time
where sunlight and shadows fall
enlarges the soul

_____________________

Photo by Charles Kinnaird

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Saturday Haiku: Quiet

 

 

finding quiet time
where sunlight and shadows fall
enlarges the soul

_____________________

Photo by Charles Kinnaird

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Lent: It's about Paying Attention

[Today's post was first 2014. It is a reminder for me to let Lent be a time of self-examination, a time to stop and pay attention.]

For some, the Lenten season is about sacrifice, some focus upon the liturgical aspect of penance, others call to mind the scriptural reality check from Ash Wednesday to “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” There is a place for all of the above, but for me, the healthiest way to come through Lent is by paying attention.

Distracted by the Process of Living

It is easy to be so busy with life that we avoid paying attention. One of things that Alcoholics Anonymous does with its Twelve-Step program is to show people who have been caught up in addiction how to pay attention. Buddhist spiritual practice can be seen as a valuable method for getting off the treadmill of life long enough to pay attention. The easiest thing to do is to not pay attention to ourselves, our loved ones, and our lives as a whole. Distraction seems to be the preferred method for getting through life, though anyone who has been forced to stop and pay attention will tell you about the valuable lessons learned. Sometimes it takes being blind-sided by illness or tragedy. Sometimes it is addiction that brings a person to the very bottom before they see the necessity of paying attention to his or her life.

“I don’t really have time for that right now,” is a common reaction, and one that I must confess to falling back upon quite easily. After all, we have commitments, obligations and deadlines. In addition, there is always something we would rather do than being still and alone with ourselves. Because distraction is so often our default setting, the arrival of Lent is an excellent time to bring ourselves back to some degree of self-examination, to make “a searching and fearless moral inventory,” as one of the Twelve Steps of AA suggests.

Taking Time to Be Still

Several years ago, the rector of the church I was attending gave some very helpful advice about what to give up for Lent. “You might try something as simple as giving up cream in your coffee. That way, you are reminded each morning to spend some time in spiritual reflection.” I thought it was a good idea. At the time, I took my coffee with cream and sugar, so I decided that I would make black coffee without sugar my Lenten discipline. As my rector had suggested, it was a very effective means to provide a daily reminder that this is a season to be spent in reflection. With that first sip of coffee in the morning I was reminded to turn my mind toward God. When I took that coffee break at work, I could not help being more conscious and circumspect. Throughout that Lenten season, I was not saddled with the notion of sacrifice, nor was I pounded with the idea of being “a miserable sinner.” My Lenten discipline did help me to pay attention in a meaningful way. (And on Sunday, when there is no fasting is to be done since every Sunday is liturgically Easter, that warm cup of coffee with cream and sugar delightfully said “He is risen indeed!")

I have tried that same Lenten discipline on occasion since that time and it has always served as a healthy reminder to take stock of my life. This year, I have decided to make black coffee my practice once again.  Those who are observing Lent have, of course, already begun their practice. Whatever you are “giving up,” be sure to let it remind you to pay attention. This is not about an endurance test, is a time of renewal and reflection.  Lenten practice does not have to be harsh to be beneficial. If you are not observing Lent, it is never too late to take some time away from your routine to pay attention. If all you do is sit quietly for fifteen or twenty minutes in the morning, that is a good start. Learning to sit and count your breaths in order to still the mind is a helpful form of meditation that anyone can begin right away. At any rate, you will be glad you stopped to pay attention to life now, while you have a moment to reflect.

_______________

Photo: "kaffe" by cyclonebill from Copenhagen, Denmark
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


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Monday Music: Coming into Being (Native American Flute)

Photographer Scott Wright has expanded his talents as he plays a Native American flute in his own video from SWP (Scott Wright Productions) along with his own photographs. A beautifully meditative piece!

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Friday Funnies: Be Here Now

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Form and Freedom in Prayer

Last week I wrote about some of my experiences with liturgical prayer. Today's essay in which I talk about public and private prayer was originally posted in 2014. Structured forms for prayer can lead to greater freedom and creativity when one understands the limits of those forms, as in Jesus' words, "The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath."

Photo: "Evolution, Cosmos, and Prayer," by Charles Kinnaird

"Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen."                                                        

The collect (opening prayer) quoted above is one of my favorite prayers from The Book of Common Prayer for the Episcopal Church. The beauty of the prayer is that it welcomes an openness before God. I grew up among Southern Baptists who valued spontaneous impromptu prayers. The good thing about spontaneous prayer is that it encourages a conversational attitude that assumes God’s immediate proximity. The downside of spontaneous prayer is that there is often very little depth and a very narrow range of things expressed in prayer. 

Spontaneous prayers are often a quick “Thank you God for bringing us together, thank you for this lovely day, lead us and guide us, bring healing to my body and spirit, watch over our loved ones, etc.” Sometimes a spontaneous prayer will be one of thanksgiving and praise; often it will be a plea for help. All of these things are elements that belong in the realm of prayer but it is quite easy to remain very superficial and perfunctory with these types of prayers. One can go for years hearing very little variation from a handful of prayers. 

I have heard many fervent spontaneous prayers, and have participated in many such prayers, but I have also learned two other approaches that revolutionized my concept of what happens in prayer. Public liturgical prayer and personal prayer with the Rosary have added new dimensions to my devotional practices.                                                                                                                      

Public Prayer

In my spiritual pilgrimage, I moved on to explore modes of prayer found in Episcopal and Catholic traditions. My first introduction to liturgical worship was at an Anglo-Catholic parish in the Episcopal Church. When I first arrived, my attitude was that I would learn a new language for worship. I soon realized that the act of coming together for corporate prayer broadened my concept of prayer. My prayerful thoughts were turned toward the community and the world, but in specific details that caused me to examine my own life.

I heard prayers for creation, for our wise use of resources, and for justice and equity. I heard prayers for leaders, calling them by their first names (which forced me to see them as vulnerable people in need of prayer, regardless of political issues). I was guided to pray for things I might not have thought of on my own, but all were matters that were vital. Moreover, the process of praying helped me to let go of petty differences and to examine what I was doing to help bring about a more just and equitable world.  

Private Prayer

Another thing that has affected my prayer life for the better is the Rosary. The basic concept of the Rosary is to use a string of beads to count prayers as they are said so that you pray one “Our Father” (the Lord’s Prayer) and ten “Hail Marys” in a series of five “decades,” or five repetitions of ten prayers focused on the Blessed Mother, each cycle separated by the Our Father. It is traditional to begin by reciting the Apostle’s Creed. There is also a series of meditations from the life of Christ called “mysteries” that are attached to the use of the Rosary*.

As I began to learn the Rosary, however, I found it more helpful to focus on the repetitive prayers. I thought at first that I would come back and practice meditating on the mysteries, but the simple use of the Hail Mary and the Our Father were so effective in bringing about a meditative state, I never did get back to contemplating the mysteries or reciting the creed. I kept it at a basic stripped-down form. Years later I would hear Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr affirm my own intuitive take on the Rosary in a recorded talk he gave on “Emotional Sobriety.” He said that the Rosary had the potential for meditative practice, but that it had become so cluttered with other things that its original purpose had been crowded out. I was glad to receive affirmation that my pared-down Rosary practice was not a neglecting of the gift but rather a true doorway to spiritual practice.

Structure Giving Rise to Freedom

The beauty of formally structured liturgical prayer is that it instructs me in things to pray about and it proceeds regardless of whether or not I feel like praying. The beauty of the Rosary is that it can focus me in quiet meditation even when I do not know what to pray or how to pray in a given circumstance. I also think that the interplay between masculine and feminine is a psychologically healthy practice to bring to meditation and prayer.                                          

I have found a freedom and renewed creativity in my spiritual practice through the structured forms of liturgical prayer and the Rosary. They both act as a center, a home base to which I can return. The key is to remember what Jesus said about spiritual structures: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27, NRSV) If we can remember that spiritual tools are to liberate us, not to enslave us to form, then we can hold the form lightly enough to benefit from it without being bound by it.             

*For information about praying the Rosary, the Dominican Fathers have a good resource at http://www.rosary-center.org/howto.htm



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As the Ruin Falls (Phil Keaggy)

C.S. Lewis's poem, "As the Ruin Falls," was set to music back in the 1970's by guitarist Phil Keaggy who was a huge talent in the field of contemporary Christian music that was just emerging at that time. Lewis's words gave more depth than was typically found in the Contemprary Christian music genre. Scroll down to see the lyrics. If you really want the full depth of Lewis's poem, read his novel Till We Have Faces. This song, in addition to being effective poetry, is a good meditation for Holy Week.

As the Ruin Falls

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.

I never had a selfless thought since I was born.

I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:

I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,

I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:

I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--

But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.

I see the chasm. And everything you are was making

My heart into a bridge by which I might get back

From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains

You give me are more precious than all other gains.

                                                    ~ Clive Staples Lewis

                                              

                      


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Remembering Thomas Keating

(Photo from the Tribute page of Contemplative Outreach San Diego)

I was sad to learn of Father Keating's passing two weeks ago, but only joy springs to mind when I think of him. He taught many modern pilgrims the concept of apophatic prayer and meditation with his centering prayer retreats and writings. He ushered many into the profound beauty of resting in silence and emptiness before God.

At the website for the Center for Action and Contemplation are three short remembrances of Fr. Thomas Keating from Cynthia Bourgeault, James Finley, and Richard Rohr. There is also a link at that site where you can view the memorial service on Nov. 16.

For Further Reading:

• “Thomas Keating, pioneer in centering prayer, interfaith dialogue, dies at 95,” an extensive article in the National Catholic Reporter about Father Keating which also includes a couple of brief words of his from video recordings.
• “Father Thomas Keating Is a Rebel with a Cause,” a cover story in 5280 Denver’s Mile High Magazine, March 2018.

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The Axial State of the Human Heart

Photo by Jenny Yeung (Getty Images)

Most of us have some general understanding of that somewhat nebulous concept of heart when we speak of “matters of the heart.” We understand that the reference is not to the physical organ that pumps blood throughout the body, but rather it is a more emotional/spiritual concept. Often such language about “the heart” refers to a realm where meaning is found in the life one leads. Our language is full of “heart” phrases such as, “He really put his heart into it;” “I know in my heart...;” “Our hearts are glad,” etc. 

We seem to have a common understanding of what we mean when we speak of “matters of the heart.” We may use that terminology to speak of love, family and caring as well as spirituality. Most of us are comfortable with that loosely defined category of the heart, seeing no need to be more specific. The heart is an immensely vibrant realm where we make meaning and find connection.

Early Seekers of the Heart

In a talk given to the novices at Gethsemani Abbey, Thomas Merton mentioned that the Desert Fathers saw the heart as an "axial organ" which provided an opening between the physical and spiritual worlds.[1] The Desert Fathers (actually there were some women among them as well as men) were part of an early Christian spiritual movement which had become frustrated by what was seen as the superficial encumbrance of the social structures of their day. They sought to remove themselves from the many and varied distractions of society by going to the desert, where they spent time in meditation and prayer. Those early spiritual pioneers saw the importance of attuning themselves to the heart. To them the heart was that aspect of our being that allows us a connection to another dimension of reality – that spiritual dimension that is different from the ordinary physical world.

Christine Valters Paintner, in her book, Desert Fathers and Mothers: Early Christian Wisdom Sayings, writes, “For desert elders the heart was the source of words and actions. It was considered to be an axial organ that centers the physical and spiritual dimensions of human life. The desert elders saw the heart as the center of our being, the place where we encounter God most intimately.”

Paintner goes on to quote another author, Cynthia Bourgeault who wrote The Wisdom Way of Knowing: Reclaiming an Ancient Tradition to Awaken the Heart. “Cynthia Bourgeault writes that the heart in biblical understanding is not ‘the seat of your personal emotional life. It is not the opposite of the head. Rather it is a sensitive mulitspectrum instrument of awareness: a huge realm of mind that includes both mental and affective operations (that is, both the ability both to think and feel) and both conscious and subconscious dimensions.’”[2]

Physical Benefits to Spiritual Practice

It seems that the early Desert Fathers who were focusing on the heart as “an axial organ” were involved in meditative practices not unlike what we see in Eastern religions as well. There was a physical discipline involved and a spiritual insight to be gained.

I have had an inclination toward spirituality and “matters of the heart” for most of my life, but it took many years of seeking for me to settle down into a specific practice of meditation. After I had become accustomed to meditation, I learned one day of the physical impact it can have.

I had volunteered to give blood at my work site during a blood drive. During the process, rather than get anxious about needle sticks and blood draws, I decided to assume what I call an inward meditative posture. By that I mean that I did dome conscious breathing and inward focusing – imagining myself looking at that “third eye” in the forehead region.

As the nurse was taking my vital signs prior to taking me back to the blood donation area, she became somewhat concerned when she found that my heart rate was 50. She asked if I were an athlete, since normally one would not otherwise have a resting heart rate of 50. While not an athlete, I was involved in a daily walking program at the time. I assured her that it was okay, I was just doing a “relaxation thing” before giving blood.

Since that day, I have checked my own pulse while beginning breathing exercises prior to meditation, and have noted a drop in heart rate along with the physical relaxation.

Finding a Spiritual Practice

I like the concept of the heart as an axial organ, something of a metaphysical “space” within our being where we can tap into a more meaningful reality. Most faith traditions have meditative practices that allow an individual to still himself or herself in order to find access to what some call the spiritual realm. Others are content to see meditative practice as a way to get in touch with their inner being where “soul work” can be done to move toward psychological wholeness.

Those of us in the United States who find our cultural inheritance in “Western Civilization” often find ourselves at a loss in terms of spiritual connectedness. We live in a culture that values material acquisition, money, and business acumen. Much of what we value and strive for is material gain, so we find ourselves ill-prepared for spiritual practice.  

In many ways, we are like those early desert fathers (and mothers) who were the precursors to later monastic movements. Just as they saw a need to get away from the distractions of society, many today see a need to get away from the noisy materialism of our day. 

The good news is that there are more and more avenues for spiritual practice that are coming available to the serious seeker. Moreover, we do not have to flee to the desert or to a monastery to find a spiritual practice.

• Jack Kornfield has been teaching westerners for years about how to integrate spirituality into everyday life. A skillful teacher of Buddhist meditation, his wonderful book, A Path with Heart is a warm, accessible introduction to meditative practices that can calm the spirit, clear the mind, and help one to gain meaningful insight into the life he/she is living out in the world. Check out Jack Kornfield’s website here. 
• Father Thomas Keating has been a leading proponent and teacher of centering prayer, which is a meditative spiritual practice that many Christians are more comfortable with in their tradition. Cynthia Bourgeault, quoted earlier, is also a teacher and practitioner of centering prayer. You can see Father Keating’s website here.
• The Abbey of the Arts is an “online monastery” offering resources, pilgrimages and retreats which seek to integrate contemplative practice and creative expression while drawing upon monastic spirituality. “We support you in becoming a monk in the world and an artist in everyday life. We believe in nourishing an earth-cherishing consciousness.  We are an open and affirming community and strive to be radically inclusive. Poetry is our nourishment.  Art inspires our souls.  We dance for the joy of it.”  Christine Valters Paintner, whose book is quoted above, is the online abbess for the Abbey of the Arts. You can view their website here.

There are many other resources available to assist the spiritual traveler in matters of the heart. The main thing is to understand that we all have the capacity to enter into that “axial state” of the heart where we can gain insight from the spiritual dimension which will heighten the beauty and meaning of our everyday reality.

For more of my musings on the topic of spirituality, check out the following: 

• Western Zen
• Spirit Work, Soul Work
• Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and the Dharma
• On Poetry, Prayer, and Gratitude
• “Lead All Souls to Heaven” 
• Experiencing Wonder in Worship
• Form and Freedom in Prayer

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References:
[1] Seeing the World in A Grain of Sand: Thomas Merton on Poetry (conferences given to novice monks at Gethsemani Abbey, 1964-1965), Now You Know Media

[2] Desert Fathers and Mothers: Early Christian Wisdom Sayings, by Christine Valters Paintner(Skylight paths, 2012) p. 26 (For a review of Paintner's book, go here)

Spiritual Fusion - East meets West
(iStock photo by Getty Images)

The Dog and the Dalai Lama

Recently, I came across the documentary, Sunrise/Sunset, by Russian filmmaker, Vitali Manski. It is an interesting look at a day in the life of His Holiness the Dalia Lama. I caught is on Netflix, but it is also available for free viewing at Culture Unplugged.com. I found it to be interesting, as I do anything about the Dalai Lama. Near the end of the film, however, I was intrigued by the "cameo appearance" of a dog who wandered by. I did a screen shot to catch that moment when you can still see the dog at the bottom left as the Dalai Lama is coming down the stairs. I was delighted to see that there was a dog at the Dalai Lama's house. I tried to imagine the interaction between His Holiness and his dog, and came up with the following poem.

The Dog and the Dalai Lama

It was early in the morning

Before light broke across the sky.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Made his way down the stairs.

After morning meditation

He descends

Into the mundane world

Of conflict, struggle,

Searching, gaining, and grasping.

A dog wags his tail

Crossing His Holiness’s path.

Perhaps the monk smiles

At his canine friend.

Perhaps his heart is made glad

When the dog welcomes him

To the day.

“Hello, my friend!” he might say.

“Dog nature welcome Dalai Lama nature,”

I imagine him chuckling.

“We come together to find Buddha nature –

For five minutes we show the world peace,

You and I –

Then have breakfast.” 

                                                              ~ CK

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Form and Freedom in Prayer

"Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen."                                                        

The collect (opening prayer) quoted above is one of my favorite prayers from The Book of Common Prayer for the Episcopal Church. The beauty of the prayer is that it welcomes an openness before God. I grew up among Southern Baptists who valued spontaneous impromptu prayers. The good thing about spontaneous prayer is that it encourages a conversational attitude that assumes God’s immediate proximity. The downside of spontaneous prayer is that there is often very little depth and a very narrow range of things expressed in prayer. Such prayers are often a quick “Thank you God for bringing us together, thank you for this lovely day, lead us and guide us, bring healing to my body and spirit, watch over our loved ones, etc.” Sometimes a spontaneous prayer will be one of thanksgiving and praise; often it will be a plea for help. All of these things are elements that belong in the realm of prayer but it is quite easy to remain very superficial and perfunctory with these types of prayers. One can go for years hearing very little variation from a handful of prayers. I have heard many fervent spontaneous prayers, and have participated in many such prayers, but I have also learned two other approaches that revolutionized my concept of what happens in prayer. Public liturgical prayer and personal prayer with the Rosary have added new dimensions to my devotional practices.                                                                                                                      

Public Prayer

In my spiritual pilgrimage, I moved on to explore modes of prayer found in Episcopal and Catholic traditions. My first introduction to liturgical worship was at an Anglo-Catholic parish in the Episcopal Church. When I first arrived, my attitude was that I would learn a new language for worship. I soon realized that the act of coming together for corporate prayer broadened my concept of prayer. My prayerful thoughts were turned toward the community and the world, but in specific details that caused me to examine my own life.

I heard prayers for creation, for our wise use of resources, and for justice and equity. I heard prayers for leaders, calling them by their first names (which forced me to see them as vulnerable people in need of prayer, regardless of political issues). I was guided to pray for things I might not have thought of on my own, but all were matters that were vital. Moreover, the process of praying helped me to let go of petty differences and to examine what I was doing to help bring about a more just and equitable world.  

Private Prayer

Another thing has affected my prayer life for the better is the Rosary. The basic concept of the Rosary is to use a string of beads to count prayers as they are said so that you pray one “Our Father” (the Lord’s Prayer) and ten “Hail Marys” in a series of five “decades,” or five repetitions of ten prayers focused on the Blessed Mother, each cycle separated by the Our Father. It is traditional to begin by reciting the Apostle’s Creed. There is also a series of meditations from the life of Christ called “mysteries” that are attached to the use of the Rosary*.

As I began to learn the Rosary, however, I found it more helpful to focus on the repetitive prayers. I thought at first that I would come back and practice meditating on the mysteries, but the simple use of the Hail Mary and the Our Father were so effective in bringing about a meditative state, I never did get back to contemplating the mysteries or reciting the creed. I kept it at a basic stripped down form. Years later I would hear Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr affirm my own intuitive take on the Rosary in a recorded talk he gave on “Emotional Sobriety.” He said that the Rosary had the potential for meditative practice, but that it had become so cluttered with other things that its original purpose had been crowded out. I was glad to receive affirmation that my pared down Rosary practice was not a neglecting of the gift but rather a true doorway to spiritual practice.

Structure Giving Rise to Freedom

The beauty of formally structured liturgical prayer is that it instructs me in things to pray about and it proceeds regardless of whether or not I feel like praying. The beauty of the Rosary is that it can focus me in quiet meditation even when I do not know what to pray or how to pray in a given circumstance. I also think that the interplay between masculine and feminine is a psychologically healthy practice to bring to meditation and prayer.                                          

I have found a freedom and renewed creativity in my spiritual practice through the structured forms of liturgical prayer and the Rosary. They both act as a center, a home base to which I can return. The key is to remember what Jesus said about spiritual structures: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27, NRSV) If we can remember that spiritual tools are to liberate us, not to enslave us to form, then we can hold the form lightly enough to benefit from it without being bound by it.             

*For information about praying the Rosary, the Dominican Fathers have a good resource at http://www.rosary-center.org/howto.htm


___________________
Photo by Charles Kinnaird


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Lent: It’s about Paying attention

For some, the Lenten season is about sacrifice, some focus upon the liturgical aspect of penance, others call to mind the scriptural reality check from Ash Wednesday to “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” There is a place for all of the above, but for me, the healthiest way to come through Lent is by paying attention.

Distracted by the Process of Living

It is easy to be so busy with life that we avoid paying attention. One of things that Alcoholics Anonymous does with its Twelve-Step program is to show people who have been caught up in addiction how to pay attention. Buddhist spiritual practice can be seen as a valuable method for getting off the treadmill of life long enough to pay attention. The easiest thing to do is to not pay attention to ourselves, our loved ones, and our lives as a whole. Distraction seems to be the preferred method for getting through life, though anyone who has been forced to stop and pay attention will tell you about the valuable lessons learned. Sometimes it takes being blind-sided by illness or tragedy. Sometimes it is addiction that brings a person to the very bottom before they see the necessity of paying attention to his or her life.

“I don’t really have time for that right now,” is a common reaction, and one that I must confess to falling back upon quite easily. After all, we have commitments, obligations and deadlines. In addition, there is always something we would rather do than being still and alone with ourselves. Because distraction is so often our default setting, the arrival of Lent is an excellent time to bring ourselves back to some degree of self-examination, to make “a searching and fearless moral inventory,” as one of the Twelve Steps of AA suggests.

Taking Time to Be Still

Several years ago, the rector of the church I was attending gave some very helpful advice about what to give up for Lent. “You might try something as simple as giving up cream in your coffee. That way, you are reminded each morning to spend some time in spiritual reflection.” I thought it was a good idea. At the time, I took my coffee with cream and sugar, so I decided that I would make black coffee without sugar my Lenten discipline. As my rector had suggested, it was a very effective means to provide a daily reminder that this is a season to be spent in reflection. With that first sip of coffee in the morning I was reminded to turn my mind toward God. When I took that coffee break at work, I could not help being more conscious and circumspect. Throughout that Lenten season, I was not saddled with the notion of sacrifice, nor was I pounded with the idea of being “a miserable sinner.” My Lenten discipline did help me to pay attention in a meaningful way. (And on Sunday, when there is no fasting is to be done since every Sunday is liturgically Easter, that warm cup of coffee with cream and sugar delightfully said “He is risen indeed!")

I have tried that same Lenten discipline on occasion since that time and it has always served as a healthy reminder to take stock of my life. This year, I have decided to make black coffee my practice once again.  Those who are observing Lent have, of course, already begun their practice. Whatever you are “giving up,” be sure to let it remind you to pay attention. This is not about an endurance test, is a time of renewal and reflection.  Lenten practice does not have to be harsh to be beneficial. If you are not observing Lent, it is never too late to take some time away from your routine to pay attention. If all you do is sit quietly for fifteen or twenty minutes in the morning, that is a good start. Learning to sit and count your breaths in order to still the mind is a helpful form of meditation that anyone can begin right away. At any rate, you will be glad you stopped to pay attention to life now, while you have a moment to reflect.

_______________

Photo: "kaffe" by cyclonebill from Copenhagen, Denmark
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


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