There are times when I am working on a practical subject, most often when it is related to something to do with my ongoing house renovation, that everything seems to come together in a way that seems to be magical or miraculous. It may be that I have spent many an hour pondering over a way to do something, trying to take everything that I can think of into account, to ensure a successful completion of the task. Of course that pondering, or mulling over a problem, is itself an act of discursive meditation, probing a problem from a variety of directions, feeling out the various factors involved in coming to a successful conclusion, or plan of action.
In the course of the work there may come a point where I realise that certain factors are slotting into place, factors that I had not thought to take into account. It is as if some invisible person has been looking over my shoulder, filling in the gaps I have missed, adjusting matters so that my decisions do not conflict with the practical reality that I am facing. It is then that I sense the presence of the miraculous. If I should choose to talk about that presence, I attempt to do so in a jokingly, half serious manner. Why? Because I immediately feel a sense of self-consciousness, almost embarrassment. Yet deep inside me, I know the experience of that otherness to be a potent reality.
It has been called, and I quote*:-
".......... the prayer of activity, the kind of union we have when all or most of our attention must be concentrated on some task.........The whole nature of the activity is changed by this mutual presence. Let one go away and all is different.........."
* Ruth Burrows OCD, "Guidelines for Mystical Prayer", Chap. 9.
Yes, Tom, I know what you mean about these "flow" experiences; I've always thought it happens when the ego is pretty much out of the way, but Richard Rohr seems to indicate that our senses and intellect do need to be involved -- which is a sort of continuation of what you were talking about in the previous post. His meditation today seems to speak to this same point:
ReplyDelete"Third-eye seeing is the way the mystics see. They do not reject the first eye (thought or sight); the senses matter to them, but they know there is more. Nor do they reject the second eye (the eye of reason, meditation, and reflection); but they know not to confuse knowledge with depth or mere correct information with the transformation of consciousness itself. The mystical gaze builds upon the first two eyes—and yet goes further. This is third-eye seeing.
Third-eye seeing happens whenever, by some wondrous 'coincidence,' our heart space, our mind space, and our body awareness are all simultaneously open and nonresistant. I like to call it presence. It is experienced as a moment of deep inner connection, and it always pulls you, intensely satisfied, into the naked and undefended now, which can involve both profound joy and profound sadness, and will always include the first and second eyes at some level. So it is never irrational, but it is indeed transrational. Dionysius (the Areopagite) called it 'super-essential knowing.'" http://tinyurl.com/qyg7oqx
Beth; I think there is a great deal in Fr. Richard Rohr's meditations to consider. More and more I am aware of a greater fluidity, a less hard and fast, fixed approach to these matters spiritual. Words are so wonderful....and so inadequate.
ReplyDeleteTom, as one who doesn't 'do' spiritual practice, this description of 'prayer of activity' seems to be something I've occasionally experienced in my artmaking. As you say words are inadequate, yet, you've put into words this very ephemeral yet powerful feeling. Words are certainly my failing, even here.
ReplyDeleteBeth's response is also enlightening.
Thanks always for your thoughtful and thought provoking writing, Tom.
Absolutely! I recognise that 'prayer of activity' - it's my favourite kind and you've described it wonderfully. You certainly need not be embarassed to talk about it, Tom, jokingly or seriously, because it's a reality, not a fantasy.
ReplyDeleteI've experienced this effect in similar circumstances, ie, in letting go when I have nowhere else to take a painting or drawing that must be finished, or in the more mundane circumstance of providing a good meal for everyone when extra guests arrive for dinner. As Ruth Burrows says, and I agree, that when we're entirely focused on a task our presence in the now opens an unseen dimension of loving assistance.
ReplyDeleteBeth, Marja-Leena, Natalie and Susan; You lovely people. Just to know you have experienced that magical feeling is ...... well it's just wonderful! Thank you for your responses.
ReplyDeleteIt is not enough to say thank you to you all. The real joy I am feeling at this moment has a single theme at its core. Every time I post, I try to steer a course between psychology on the one hand, and religion (specifically Christianity) on the other. This is not because I am pro one or the other, or anti one or the other, but because I seek to find some kind of common ground where all truths can find a home. I rarely find that place, but this seems to be one of those moments when I found it. That kind of inclusiveness is about love, the greatest gift this universe can experience.
ReplyDeletei love it. in fact, it sounds very much like the practice of yoga (about, admittedly, i know very little), that moving into the moment and things falling into place. i have discovered it several times in running, and sometimes in writing. i think there's such joy in being lifted above yourself in these perfect moments.
ReplyDeletethank you.
Agnieszka; This is proving to be a very productive post. Your comment reminds me of a time when I was struggling to unearth examples of my various character traits, as part of a process of "knowing thyself." It always seemed to happen that I became bogged down on a Sunday, a day when help was unavailable. By squeezing every ounce of willed investigation into my studies, I found that by the evening the answers for which I had searched suddenly emerged. It was like sailing out of stormy waters into relative calm, with a sense of otherness at the helm.
ReplyDeleteAch, I struggled with expressing my thoughts on your last post, drafting and deleting comments. Now I read this one and it's close to what I was attempting to convey. I've experienced a handful of these moments in my life. Several happened in my teaching days. I walked into the classroom with a lesson plan in hand, a plan I'd finessed and polished and spent time on. And as the lesson unfolded into the room of adults learning English as a second language, some sort of alchemy took place and time was bent and stretched and all together, we came out at the other end with sweat on our brows and happy heartstrokes. We knew "something" had just happened. That we'd met with some sort of energy. I can't describe it any better than that. But we were all moved and changed.
ReplyDeleteRouchswalwe; There is so much that one can infer from your comment, and it's all complimentary. Those moments that you so aptly describe, particularly in those final three sentences, are unsought joys. Even this post and its accompanying comments are rather like that.
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