PAY ATTENTION
I am finishing up a 6-week course called, Basic Intro Trilogy, as a final pre-requisite class before the grand start of the upcoming School of Spiritual Direction in December. This “trilogy” class covers the basics of Christian spirituality, spiritual formation, and spiritual disciplines. I would like to share one of the short reflection essays I submitted, with a bit of embellishment.
The key dynamics of a contemplative lifestyle, to me, can be summarized by the intentional and disciplined effort of paying attention. The practices of STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN are finer and more detailed components of our practiced ability, and the need to slow down and pay attention. (STOP embodies the discipline of pausing promoting stillness. LOOK brings the discipline of seeing gifting awareness. LISTEN ushers in the discipline of hearing resulting in attentiveness.) Here, I echo the wisdom of Mary Oliver’s words in her poem, Praying.
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
The acts of paying attention whether they are blue iris, weeds, or a few small stones, and patching a few words together so that they become a doorway into a silence where God can speak are effortlessly inviting. Rather than being the doorway, praying had become a contest and a prize to pursue over the years, rather than silence and stillness, verbosity and mindless hustles often filled the days. I remind myself that silence creates an empty space for God to speak. While it is true that God can speak through both a peal of thunder and whispering silence, I as the recipient may or may not hear unless I am silent.
However, the truth is that I have viewed stopping as a luxury for the vast duration of my life. The tyranny of the urgent (and I would add the important) drove me into endless actions like some action hero. If one is a full-time Christian worker, one is expected to burn out. Being burned out is often viewed as a badge of honor to detriment. Because I have not fully learned to stop, look, and listen even if they happen, they have been shallow. I say this with compassion for myself. As I have learned to stop, thanks to my one-year-long sabbatical which coincided with the Pandemic and thus became an elongated sabbatical, I have the capacity and acquired the necessary tools to know how and when to stop, look, and listen.
Writing from my heart, especially as it relates to paying attention to my feelings, as opposed to from my head helped enormously. At the risk of sounding obvious, experiencing that I am more than what I think or can think has been a revelation over time. I began to see myself differently. And I began to see God differently. (And should I say that I began to see how stuck we are as a low institutional cookie-cutter religion. . . ?) Questions such as Who am I? and Who is God? dramatically altered. Self-compassion flowed naturally and compassion for others followed. As I learn to stop, look, listen, and value them, I realize the importance of such a vast and free space of hospitality for others.
If and when I can help others enter the graced space of stop, look, and listen, that would be my best gift to my fellow humanity. Surely, as they learn to pay attention, they will invariably notice exquisite blue irises, uncared-for and unintended weeds, and a few random stones, sometimes benign and sometimes annoying, along the way. Simply letting go of our life as a maddening “contest,” however we may have defined it, would be a great feat.