Thursday, February 26, 2015

Slow Subtle Progress

I just returned from a silent retreat at House of Prayer in Collegeville, MN. The minute the topic “Silent Fire: Consumed by Love” crossed my email I knew I wanted to attend, and I'd been eagerly anticipating this weekend of silence, meditation, and quiet community for a month.

When I arrived at the retreat center, there were three rooms left, so I peeked in them and selected one that faced the woods.  The next day I read the room’s book of reflections by past occupants.  Dated Feb. 18, 2007 was a paragraph in my own handwriting. Almost eight years to the day I had been on retreat in that same room.  I took that as a confirming sign that I was listening to my guidance and was in the right place. Yet I also remembered what had preoccupied me eight years ago, and that same issue was up for me last weekend too. I began to wonder if I've made any progress.

What kinds of scales and standards measure spiritual progress?  I’m a scorekeeper, so it’s tempting to use numbers, yet what numbers can gauge the health of my spirit? Certainly not the size of my clothes, how many have registered for my retreat, how many spiritual directees I have, what rating I got on the recent performance review, or how many minutes a day I meditate. (And yes, I keep a mental tally of these numbers and more.)


The trouble is when I measure my value by an external standard I feel like eighth grade JoAnn, taking my skates off early when the last song was couples only and no one asked me to skate.  If my mood depends on things I cannot control, I’m always hoping or praying for a shift in conditions to make me feel ok. To feel my worth deeply, I have to look beyond measures of popularity and to what is much more subtle and sacred--those moments of waking up, those small miracles of connection.  Like landing in the same room eight years later and reading an encouraging note from myself.


Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Loving the Question


I love questions.  I happily answer surveys that cross my desk, take quizzes in magazines, and stop for anyone with a clipboard and a questionnaire. When I meet strangers I ask questions about what they do, what they’re passionate about, where they’ve traveled; I like to get beyond the headlines and into the heart of their story.   As a spiritual director, I ask questions that invite people to go beneath what they think they know and deepen an inquiry into mystery. However, I’ve come to see that this practice of questioning can be a block to intimacy and connection.

Because not everyone asks questions. Some people think it’s rude--they don’t want to pry.  I have interpreted a lack of questions from people as a lack of interest and have an unwritten rule that I will only share if you demonstrate that you want to know, and you’ll let me know you want to know by asking me a question. And then ask me a follow-up.  Imagine how this works with someone who believes asking questions is rude.  It’s not a mutual exchange. I come off as a prosecuting attorney, they’re relieved when I stop asking, and I believe they don’t care a thing about me.  It's time to let people off that hook and do the work myself.
Questions open my mind and heart and help me grow. So I’ve started writing questions in my morning journal and answering them later in the day.  These questions are a mixture of idle curiosity and a real desire to know.  They often surprise me. For instance, in one session I’ve asked myself where are the top ten places I’d like to live and what does it feel like to love with my whole heart.

I’m having fun asking and answering these questions. While I will always appreciate someone who asks me a question that makes me reflect before responding, today I’m not going to wait until that person crosses my path.  I’ll be my own happy questioner—a social gathering of one.