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Spiritual Resouces

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Pushing the Edges

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Companions in Contemplation

Most of all the contemplative “listens in silence.” In my efforts to walk the contemplative path I find that I listen at different levels. I usually begin by listening to my body – aware of tensions, pain and tightness. Awareness often dissolves the stress. Then, I listen to the buzz in my mind – the stirring of ideas and clamoring of distracting thoughts. I try hard to get still deep down inside and surrender myself. I know that trying too hard does not help me on the way to stillness. As I cease my

efforts, I am often taken to a deeper silence – mind alert, heart open and spirit receptive to GodSpeech. Most often this attentive listening is rewarded with a greater silence. Silence itself becomes a language. The silence is wordless speech that enlarges my spirit and deepens my conviction of being clothed in the mystery that I cannot define or direct. Most of the time I hear nothing from God in this deep silence. I have no complaint; I have listened with ‘unhearing’ ears -- no sounds, words or discernable intuitions.

Yet, when I emerge from the deep silence, something comes with me. Merton suggests that “we most truly begin to hear God when we have ceased to listen.” Often I return to the landscape of daily life with a stronger sense of peace; I have a conviction that I belong in this world and that I am part of a purpose larger than myself. Are these transformations indicative of God’s work of recreation?

Also, after an encounter with the deep silence, when I am least expecting it, a clear communication forms in my mind. This revelation in my heart assures me that I am not alone or inspires me to take the next step or provides a directive for my life. Yesterday these words flowed gently into my mind after an engagement with the silence: “Trust in my unfailing presence!” Sometimes I hear when I’m not particularly listening. It seems that small changes are occurring in me as I daily “begin again” to follow this ancient way of being before God: a deeper awareness of God’s presence, a gentle silencing of unbecoming speech, and a kinder, more generous spirit.

Most of all the contemplative “listens in silence.” In my efforts to walk the contemplative path I find that I listen at different levels. I usually begin by listening to my body – aware of tensions, pain and tightness. Awareness often dissolves the stress. Then, I listen to the buzz in my mind – the stirring of ideas and clamoring of distracting thoughts. I try hard to get still deep down inside and surrender myself. I know that trying too hard does not help me on the way to stillness. As I cease my

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efforts, I am often taken to a deeper silence – mind alert, heart open and spirit receptive to GodSpeech. Most often this attentive listening is rewarded with a greater silence. Silence itself becomes a language. The silence is wordless speech that enlarges my spirit and deepens my conviction of being clothed in the mystery that I cannot define or direct. Most of the time I hear nothing from God in this deep silence. I have no complaint; I have listened with ‘unhearing’ ears -- no sounds, words or discernable intuitions.

Yet, when I emerge from the deep silence, something comes with me. Merton suggests that “we most truly begin to hear God when we have ceased to listen.” Often I return to the landscape of daily life with a stronger sense of peace; I have a conviction that I belong in this world and that I am part of a purpose larger than myself. Are these transformations indicative of God’s work of recreation?

Also, after an encounter with the deep silence, when I am least expecting it, a clear communication forms in my mind. This revelation in my heart assures me that I am not alone or inspires me to take the next step or provides a directive for my life. Yesterday these words flowed gently into my mind after an engagement with the silence: “Trust in my unfailing presence!” Sometimes I hear when I’m not particularly listening. It seems that small changes are occurring in me as I daily “begin again” to follow this ancient way of being before God: a deeper awareness of God’s presence, a gentle silencing of unbecoming speech, and a kinder, more generous spirit.