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.
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