Wondering here and there

Between the Contemporary Worship conference last week taking me to San Diego for two days and an entry into a sermon contest that I handed in on Wednesday afternoon, being prepared for my classes this week was a real challenge.

Knowing that there was simply too much to do, I prioritized my time, deleted all of the “truthout” emails without reading them and refrained from Spider Solitaire. And while I did not read every word of the assigned readings, I was able to follow the classroom lectures and completed both papers that were due this week.

And I made a preliminary arrangement with my professors of my “Mind, Habit, Change and Conversion” class that I would start a contemplative practice and keep a journal on my progress for my final project in that class, as opposed to writing a scholarly 15-25 page research paper.

The idea of actually trying to inhabit the learning, by changing my mind and habits, came as I listened to Father Thomas Keating last Thursday morning. And so with preliminary approval, I begin to research different contemplative models. I am leaning toward the Keating’s centering prayer, which optimally is practiced twice a day for 20 minutes.

The centering prayer is based on sitting in silence with a particular word that you think would be helpful to a journey toward stillness. When Father Keating led a 10-minute prayer last week, I settled on “focus.” But as I sat there, the word that kept knocking against my brain was “detach.”

What would our lives look like if we give up attachment to outcome? What would our lives look like if we give up attachment to being right? What spaces would open up if we give up attachment to having things go our way?

The day was bright, and I took the opportunity to go out to shoot pictures for a “Meditation on Light” assignment due on Monday. Starting in the dorm parking lot, I photographed the reflective surfaces of car headlights and taillights. From there I set out to photograph light is it played off flowers, stones walls and finally a hillside stream. As my camera battery went dead, I found myself lying under a huge Redwood tree in a nearby park. With its roots firmly planted in fertile ground, I wondered what detachment might mean for a tree.

There was an earthquake last night at 8:40 p.m. It made a sound like a sudden heavy wind, and then the building jerked a bit. I was in a first-floor room that had one wall at ground level, the other side underground. I felt no shaking. Residents of the fourth floor had books fall off shelves as the building rocked back and forth.

Some wonder how Californians can live on fault lines. I wonder about detachment. What do you wonder about?




For a slideshow of photos from Meditation on Light click image

Meditation on Light