– Thomas Merton
‘[Contemplation] can be suggested by words, by symbols, but in the very moment of trying to indicate what it knows the contemplative mind takes back what it has said, and denies what it has affirmed.’
My old pal Thomas Merton wrote, ‘[Contemplation] can be suggested by words, by symbols, but in the very moment of trying to indicate what it knows the contemplative mind takes back what it has said, and denies what it has affirmed.’
So…how do I talk about contemplation then? Briefly.
My intention here is to grasp at words that give shape to the formless abiding, even if only for a moment. If we are lucky here today, I’ll communicate some semblance of that in this second installment of the Life of the Day series here on Contemplify.
So there is this contemplative rhythm in some monasteries of the Christian tradition called the Divine Office…or the Liturgy of the Hours. Today’s episode is the second of a series I’ll be doing on the reimagining of the Divine Office into my own personal reflective interpretations as a contemplative in the world. The intention is to mark each of the Hours but in a form very different from their regular practice behind monastery walls. In other words, this is what a contemplative rhythm looks like in my particular life.
This should be fun as a grand and playful experiment…with that in mind, for my second reinterpretation I’ll be exploring the divine hour called ‘Terce’, so for the sake of us all, here is how it is traditionally defined:
terce
/tərs/
a service forming part of the Divine Office of the Western Christian Church, traditionally said (or chanted) at the third hour of the day (i.e., 9 a.m.).
So after putting my own spin on Terce in relationship to my daily contemplative sit, I really wanted to call it a ‘terse sit’, but the play on words seemed to get lost. Anyhow, I digress, sit back and relax into the divine hour of Terce and how it appears in the context of my life.
There are a whole host of contemplative practices and postures one can embody.Wisdom Teacher Barbara Holmes says, Contemplation can occur anywhere, so just note that. Today, I’ll be sharing one such practice that calls to me, a contemplative sit. I first dipped into the silent spring of this practice at the age of 21 and then whole-heartedly (and sometimes sleepily) committed to it a few years later.
For me, contemplative sit (gotta watch your pronunciation) is practicing a posture of new perception. Of releasing what is fixating my attention, be it an attachment to an outcome or lovely spontaneous thought stream about my beloved wife that appears in my mind’s eye,…either way…the practice is relinquishing whatever form or object is blocking my abiding to the present moment of Reality. This is no easy task, but a practice easy in theory. And what makes this an easy (and endlessly unfolding) practice is that it is a self-generating. It instantaneously creates opportunities for me to ‘fail’, and return to where I started in the first place. And this is one of jewels of the practice, the cultivation of beginner’s mind through moment-by-moment releasing of thoughts, *not* from resisting thoughts. With time and devotion, this release of thoughts and cultivation of beginner’s mind has the potential to shift your perception throughout the entirety of the day. Some days I feel like a contemplative master in my practice, more often I feel like I am riding pine on the JV contemplative team. As the old saying goes, practices makes…practice.
I participate in a daily contemplative sit not because I’m smart, holy or even spiritual, but because it kindles my inner fire. A fire that warms me, and threatens to burn me as I get closer. But I sometimes wonder if I warm it as well. Is our relationship so intertwined that the fire is dependent on my participation to grow larger? I think so. I release my attachments like logs rolling into the fire, as the fire enlarges–my focus softens. Sitting around this fire strengthens my backbone to ready myself to hold the posture of knowing and unknowing.
So this is a part of the Contemplative Christian Tradition, sitting in the seat of knowing and unknowing. My showing up in my body, in my entire mysterious fleshy being, is the biggest hurdle for my practice. If left to my natural temperament, I’d choose a touch more sleep. And this is very much the birthplace of my personal approach to contemplative sit. I come to sit with the very knowledge that I am participating in a practice that appears commonplace and mundane as tuning an instrument. But under the guise of closed eyes and solemn face, I am giving myself over to a finer attunement with Reality. If I am willing to be tuned, the tonal quality of my participation in Reality is enriched.
All of my contemplative metaphors are blushing at their moment in the spotlight.
For me, a contemplative sit is for now…and for later. It’s a practicing of abiding, of deepening into the presence of this moment with all of Reality at my fingertips.
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