Contemplfiy NonRequired Practice - Quarantine Edition #6
Contemplify NonRequired Practice | Quarantine Edition #6
Contemplative Friend,
The markings of these days of pandemic are etching deeper than I originally anticipated. The lessons are subtle arrows aired out in plain sight and pierce open hearts with grace undeniable.
Wednesday, April 22
Roused at 6am by my boy, I hold him close as I plod towards the kitchen. I change his diaper and start a kettle to boil water. The kettle whistles at me. I step back into the kitchen to brew tea for now and coffee for later. I throw on yesterday’s duds, a hat, and then shoes. I put my youngest in the stroller and off we go, out of doors.
When the sun hits me, I feel a golden joybeam light my morning’s wick. This has been the start of most days in quarantine, a long stretch of the legs for me and a snackful stroller ride for my son. The mourning doves, house sparrows, and finches serenade us down the block. The light hits us slant as the sun is pulleyed over the Sandia Mountains. We reach our favorite park and the trees throw their shadows over us. We carry on in silent shelter. Nods and mumbles are the greetings we achingly offer to neighbors we pass. The day is still waking, loud noises and gestures startle the fox-like morning into hiding. New discoveries are made and old pathways are trod. On mornings like this, it is easy to cull the contemplative spirit and float into the flow of Mystery.
Thursday, April 23
Roused at 6am by my boy, I hold him close as I plod towards the kitchen. I change his diaper and start a kettle to boil water...Papa! My 5-year old daughter is awake and wants to join our morning walk, I say "Sure, get ready." An hour later we are finally getting our shoes on. I put my youngest in the stroller and off we go, out of doors.
When the sun hits me, I feel a golden--Papa! Do you think Sam is awake?
“I am not sure,” I respond, “probably not yet”.
Do you think Lali is awake?
“No.”
Madeleine?
“Maybe.”
What does Madeleine eat for breakfast?
This sort of chitchat went on for the next forty-five minutes. Question after query, request after complaint. The birds were ignored, the mountains ungreeted, and the trees underappreciated. The contemplative in me felt naked, but I wore the costume of a grimacing Dad hoping his beloved wife was awake upon his return.
On the long stroll home, I realized that the past two morning walks were exemplars on the spectrum of meditative experience. Yesterday's bucolic quiet was akin to a contemplative sit when the internal monologue evaporates and drifts into the clouds, not calling attention to itself but humming the tune of the great allower. This morning's stroll with a toddler and a bubbly five year old was on par with the type of contemplative sit when worries and plans light cherry bombs between rocket-fueled thought odysseys.
In life and practice, both are welcome and to be expected. I laughed at myself trying once again to mold the contemplative way to my expectations. A quote I once underlined from Thomas Merton comes to mind, “More often than not, the way of contemplation is not even a way, and if one follows it, what he finds is nothing....One of the strange laws of the contemplative life is that in it you do not sit down and solve problems: you bear with them until they somehow solve themselves.”
The contemplative way is not procured by practice, and yet it does not proceed without it. The contemplative way makes a home for your spirit, and that home loses its deed and a dark night covers your sky, and then without notice or the herald of an angel, heaven reaches in and pours you a friendly drink.
Take heart on the contemplative way and may these few offerings be of some use on this day.
Vigilance
There is a practice that throws its origins all the way back to the earliest Christian contemplatives. That practice is vigilance; the purposeful directing of one’s attention to reality. When a person habituates to surface comforts they fall asleep (why do think so many podcasts are sponsored by mattresses?). Think of the disciples at the Transfiguration. Think of the world leaders who scoffed at COVID19 impacting their country. Think of the pastors who kept their doors open instead of looking for creative alternatives for being in communion during a health crisis. This quarantine or cocooning is not a disruption to your lifestyle, it is an invitation to see reality.
Take stock of where the practice of vigilance is needed in your unique life situation? Stay awake, be vigilant, be in solidarity with those who are being ravaged by this disease.
How Then Shall We Live?
Holding folks from all walks of reality in my heart these days. I feel the pangs of parenthood in the pandemic right now for the obvious reason–I am a parent. This article, ‘Parents Are Not Alright‘ (h/t Jeff), was a reminder of the systems at play, the values they represent, and how at times they drop like grenades into culture. This moment is the time to take a beat and re-imagine how we live, love, and do work together. Our economy is a mess and millions are unemployed and the focus is on reopening the marketplace without the forethought of who that marketplace is serving and whether that work is useful. Do read this piece, ‘Think This Pandemic Is Bad? We Have Another Crisis Coming‘ (NYT). I hope you are exercising your imaginations on how you might live, participate, and share from a place where you soul flashes it light for the good of all.
Poetry for this Pandemic
Some poems are meant for a pandemic. And some poems are meant for parents in a pandemic. And then some poems are meant for parents in a pandemic attempting to encourage a deep love for the world to their children despite its current conditions. ‘Good Bones‘ by Maggie Smith is such a poem. (h/t Tyler) And do check out Pandemic‘ by Lynn Ungar too (h/t Cliff).
May the practices you find joyful one day and barbarous the next, bear witness to the outlaw spirit that sips contemplation from a flask of dubious origins.
Holding Vigil,
Paul
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P.P.S. The daily postings to kindle the examined life in a quarantined world are still being tacked to the crusty cork board at Quarantined Qontemplative pegged just between the Youth Group and the Silver Sneakers.