Honoring the Sacredness of Early Morning

Early morning is sacred time for me, when the day is still pregnant with possibility. Creatively speaking, during the minutes or hours before inevitable demands intrude, anything can happen. The veil of the dream world not yet grown opaque, sometimes I can see through the mist to a consciousness beneath the ordinary.

This receptive frame of mind that fosters a creative life nourishes the spiritual life as well. A day grown from the fertile soil of a quiet morning yields better fruit. For night owls, those rich hours may descend after everyone else is in bed, but I only hear distant hoots from that world.

Years ago a friend encouraged me to rise earlier as a way of cultivating a richer spiritual life. “The world belongs to those who wake early,” she told me. It sounded good, but having my daughter ready to catch the bus at 6:50 a.m. took all the early-morning stamina I had. Dealing calmly with the start of the day was all the practice I could muster, and it was enough.

As children grew more independent and our morning schedule changed, I had more options. But there is a lot of competition for that early morning time!

  • Advice on getting fit says to make exercise part of my routine, ideally first thing in the morning. It energizes the day, and no matter what comes up, exercise is crossed off the list.
  • Many spiritual teachers advocate using the first part of the day to pray. It may be our only uninterrupted time, and the practice helps the day go better.
  • Writers often stress using early morning hours to work. The day will be less angst-ridden if we know our writing is done.
  • And the cat is emphatic that the first task of the morning is filling her food dish. She is charming but increasingly insistent, and her agenda always comes first.

So what is the one thing, the main thing, the most important thing to do? Especially when everything is connected. The strength and health of my body supports everything I do. Writing flows into my spiritual life, and prayer helps me have something positive to offer in all my efforts.

I wish I had many “first hours” of the day. I don’t want to choose. But like it or not, this life requires making choices and setting priorities.

After trying different things, I have settled on a practice that involves pen and paper. It might be writing out a dream from the night before. It might be a journal entry, morning pages, a blog post, or a prayer. I think of my morning writing as a vessel that can contain whatever is needed. Regardless of how it is filled, it helps me listen and respond to the still, small voice heard only in the quiet.

How do you begin your day?

The Storm that Doesn’t Arrive

The forecasters predicted some serious winter weather this weekend. My plans were in question; falling temperatures were expected to ice the wet roads, followed by an accumulation of snow. I went to bed under a winter weather advisory, wondering if an important event the next day would even be held.

The next morning brought a dusting of snow, the roads were wet but not frozen, and the winter storm I was braced for simply didn’t happen. I felt a little silly for spending the previous evening watching out the window and wondering when the freeze would begin.

My point is not to bash forecasters. They do their work the best they can. The thing is, I knew better than to get caught up in weather-watching.

My own experience has taught me that a lot of winter storm advisories, literal and metaphorical, never come to fruition. And while it doesn’t hurt to be prepared for ice and snow, or challenging days, it doesn’t make sense to spend a lot of time worrying about it.

I know now that a better approach was to simply prepare my talk, be aware that I might need to change my plans, and then allow myself to sleep under blankets rather than advisories. It’s a lesson I want to remember.

Do you find yourself watching for events that might happen? Have you found a way to stop worrying about what might be in store?

Susan Christerson Brown

What Good is the Contemplative to a World in Need?

Again and again, in my own mind and through interactions with others, questions arise about the value of a prayerful interior life—both for an individual and a faith community. In this world where people suffer without clean water or shelter, safety or justice, there is work to be done. The need for tangible, material help is clear; the value of what the contemplative has to offer is less apparent. Prayer stirs us to compassion and action, but is it more than a means to that end? Is spiritual practice important in caring for people in need?

I do know that my quality of life, as well as survival, is shaped not only by physical needs being met, but by relationships and environment. Life is fostered in finding meaning, and a sense of connection to the reality beyond mundane existence. All these elements are necessary not only to sustain life, but to allow the flourishing that permits me to have something to offer another person.

But none of us can focus on everything. We need doctors and nutritionists to share their knowledge of the body. We need scientists and knowledge workers to lend their expertise in solving problems. We need business leaders to provide products and services that make life better for their customers as well as jobs that bolster the lives of their employees.

We need teachers and counselors who understand how people learn and grow to help all of us live fuller, healthier lives. We need artists, poets, and visionaries to show us new possibilities. We need all kinds of people with open eyes and generous hearts to lend their strength in meeting the unmet needs that they encounter, and to help others become part of the effort.

In the midst of challenging lives, we also need the guidance of those who tend the soul. We need spiritual practices carried forward from ancient days and adapted to the times in which we live. We need prayers and meditations from writers who dwell closely with the spirit, and models of community from those who reside together with sacred intention.

I saw this recently in conversation with a generous but severely stressed friend. She is committed to raising her children responsibly, working for a non-profit organization she believes in, volunteering within her community of faith, and giving creative expression to her life through her writing. All of these are important, but her mountain of commitments had become an avalanche. Her ability to give with any sense of peace and purpose depended on reconnecting to the source of life.

Like my friend, we all need the strength that spiritual grounding offers. When everyday demands weigh us down, we need the sense of meaning and wider perspective that comes through a connection with the divine. Those more practiced at cultivating their spiritual life can help.

The contemplative aspect of life fosters all our endeavors. It nourishes the body of believers, feeding the spirit as we go forth to do our work. Spiritual practice is one of God’s callings. Sharing it is a way to love others. It yields gifts that soothe a hurting world, and teachings that are a blessing for all.

How are prayer and service related for you?

Susan Christerson Brown

The Spaciousness of Silence

Noise takes up room. Clatter and clamor can make any space feel crowded. Against a sudden onslaught of sound, the body hunches down, closing in to protect itself.

Silence, on the other hand, feels like spaciousness. My body responds to the quiet with an expansion of interior space, where lungs can fill to capacity, drawing a full, deep, calming breath.

A friend accustomed to the crowded city of Hong Kong once told me that sharing small apartments had taught her to create space with silence. Refraining from unnecessary talk or sound helped to ease the stress of tight living quarters.

Why would we refuse the expansiveness that silence offers? With our constant flow of media, we behave like children of the valley, accustomed to narrow views of what lies above and unnerved by the full dome of surrounding sky. In filling our lives with walls of sound, we deny ourselves the chance to experience the exhilarating infinity of creation and the specificity of it that we embody.

Beneath an expanse of stars we experience both our smallness and our place within the infinite universe. In a similar way, when we enter into silence we experience a moment as limitless and ourselves as part of what time cannot measure and space cannot contain.

Silence makes room for the unexpected. It allows us to listen for what we might otherwise miss. Silence is a space in which we can come to see ourselves as belonging, and to know ourselves as loved.

How do you experience silence? Is it stressful or relaxing? What do you notice about your interior life when you find a quiet moment?

How to Pray for Another

Praying for another person is a way of loving them. It holds them in the flow of divine energy when they may have difficulty seeking it for themselves. When a community prays for someone, it lends the strength of its collective faith at a time when an individual may grow weary.

Which all sounds good. But really, how do we do that?

If I want to pray for you, it helps to begin by trying to understand what you’re going through. It’s good to acknowledge how things really are for you, at least the best I can. Prayer is mysterious and powerful, but it is not magic. It cannot negate a crisis or remove the traces of a traumatic event. The struggle to create a life in the midst of challenges to body, mind, and spirit is real and ongoing, and that is where we have to start.

Sometimes it’s hard to know what another needs most. In some cases my own emotion surrounding their situation makes a specific prayer impossible to express. Other times I simply don’t know what is troubling them. One way to pray when words fail is to see the one for whom we’re praying held in a beautiful white light.

I envision the light enfolding and permeating their being, healing their wounds, buffering them from external shocks, and strengthening their ability to see beauty and meaning in their life. I imagine the easing of body, mind, and spirit through the healing warmth of the light. I think of the light as always there, the divine support given by grace to each of us.

This way of praying works whether we know someone well or only by sight. It has meaning whether we feel closeness or tension with the person we’re praying for. It is a prayer we can use to support our leaders and bolster the everyday people in our lives.

If you’re interested in the subject of praying for others, you might want to read the previous post:

What it Means to Say “You’re in My Prayers”

How do you go about praying for others?

What it Means to Say “You’re in My Prayers”

Sometimes life comes at a person I care about in ways that challenge anyone’s ability to cope. When my actions, or theirs, have no power to change those circumstances, all I can offer is presence and concern. And prayer.

But when I tell someone, “My thoughts and prayers are with you,” or “I’ll keep you in my prayers,” what does that really mean? And what does that person want when they ask me to remember them in my prayers?

We all have different hopes and expectations, as we have differing experiences of prayer. But I see at least seven things conveyed when I offer to pray for you:

1)      It acknowledges the crisis and pain in your life

2)      It says that I am concerned about you, I am with you in your suffering, and I won’t forget about you when we part

3)      It recognizes that our lives are subject to things we cannot control, and that we share that position of vulnerability

4)      It reminds us both that we have access to spiritual strength that helps see us through the difficulties that life brings

5)      It holds faith in the possibility of strength and healing, in some form, through means we cannot predict or understand

6)      It points to an interconnected web of life strong enough to contain suffering and still hold beauty, meaning, and love

7)      It promises that you are not alone

A promise to pray is itself a kind of prayer, but I don’t think the promise is fulfilled simply in making it. In my next post, I’ll talk about how we might pray for someone.

You might also be interested in a more recent post, “Positive Energy and Prayer.”

In the Beginning is the Breath

The search for meaning begins exactly where we are. If we want to seek connection with ourselves, with others, and with the divine, there’s nowhere else to work from. We don’t have to cross the distance between where we are and where we want to be in order to begin our journey. It starts from here.

It’s easy for me to wander off, feeling overwhelmed at all I don’t know and all I haven’t done. It’s easy to get stuck thinking there must be catching up to do before I can start. But on a good day, I can remember that I already have what’s most essential.

“For I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” and something within me urges me always toward wholeness. I believe it’s a spark of the divine that exists in everyone. My task is to wake up to that life force and pay attention to what’s happening now, without being distracted by what I have or haven’t done in the past or what I might do in the future.

Ok. Sure. But how?

The best way I know to begin being present to what is unfolding in my life, is through the breath. Our breathing is another way we are wonderfully made. Without a thought we bring into our bodies the air that sustains life, and exhale what we do not need to make room for the next breath. Our breath requires no attention, but it is with us every moment. When we are mindful of the breath, it gives us a way to find our balance, clear our minds, and pay attention. When we notice the act of breathing we have the chance to relax body and mind, and become grounded in the present moment.

Even the story of creation in Genesis begins with breath. The Hebrew word ruah, translated as the “spirit” of God moving across the waters at the beginning of creation can also be translated as “wind” or “breath.” Ruah is also the breath of life breathed into humanity by God. Creation begins with ruah; life begins with ruah. It seems fitting that our journey to God would begin with the breath, as well.

Our breath is always available as a starting place, which is good, as starting is something we must do over and over again. No matter how many mornings we wake up, we have to start each day anew. It’s the same with our practice and prayers. Every day we begin again. It helps to have a routine for beginning, and a focus on the breath is elegant in its simplicity. Our breath is where we are. It’s a start.

What helps you to begin again?