Searching for God

Searching for God

one of my bookcases

“Are you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you the final sense of inner well-being you desire? Don’t you often hope: ‘May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country, or relationship fulfill my deepest desire’? But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment, you will keep running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied.”―Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World.

From my medical career, I know where to find answers, having read extensively about diseases to solve the mysteries of what is going on with my patients. It is only natural that I carry that over into my spiritual life. I have filled bookshelves and bookshelves and bookshelves as I seek the truth of peace and connection to God. The answer seems right there on the next page. I go to the book’s last page; it must be hiding, for I cannot find it. So I eagerly purchase the author’s next book, again hoping to connect with the truth that seems so close. I will attend their next workshop or conference. I find another author there, and I repeat the same cycle. I attend day retreats, silent retreats, week-long gatherings, and pilgrimages, knowing that answers will be found in those places or at those times. 

Nouwen says, from his experience, that this compulsive journey only leads to spiritual exhaustion and, ultimately, spiritual death.

I return to my medical practice and remember that I often learned the answers from my patients when I listened to them. My patients and their medical findings, including where it hurt, how long they were in pain, and how it felt to touch. That is where answers come in the present moment.

In our spiritual life, C.S. Lewis tells us we meet God in the present moment. This means God’s presence in the present moment is not found in the busyness of seeking God in a new place or with a new mentor. The present moment is always right in front of us. It is in the air we breathe. It is with each person we meet in our daily routine. It is in the tree outside our window or in the birds that come to feed. God is present in all these other places and people right in front of us, wherever we are. We only have to stop our busyness long enough to say, “Hello, I love you, too, and thank you.” 

But we cannot hold onto the love and peace that living in the present brings. Instead, we must share this love with each breath, with each person, and with each part of nature we encounter. There, it multiplies and changes not only us but the world.

Joanna   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

The Spiritual Practice of Fishing

 Spiritual Practice of Fishing

“If, then, I were asked for the most important advice I could give, the one I considered most useful to the men of our century, I should simply say: in the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, and look around you.”—Leo Tolstoy in Essays, Letters, and Miscellanies (Scribner’s, 1929).

All the fishermen I know are early risers. Some go out on calm rivers, often with an experienced guide.

I also know other fishermen who prefer the ocean's larger waves.

I sit outside each morning on the Gulf Coast just after sunrise, watching lone surf fishermen arrive like clockwork at the water’s edge with fishing rods, rod holders, buckets, bait, and folding beach chairs. They are early risers, arriving before the pelicans, seagulls, and dolphins come out of hiding. The members of this all-male club mark their territory by spiking two rod holders into the sand, the only signs of human presence. Then they unfold their chairs, bait their lines, cast them beyond the roaring white surf, and sit and wait between the two holders for the rods to jump and bend. 

The nibbles are infrequent, so they spend most of their time sitting and staring out into the Gulf. They peer out as if they can see all the way beyond South America. They do not take out their cell phones or read books. Instead, they wait patiently, usually for several hours, presumably with great faith that their efforts will connect them to the gift of unknown food from beneath the sea.

One fisherman describes some days of fishing, feeling the joy of being a young boy again. On other days, he identifies with Hemingway’s struggles in The Old Man and the Sea.

I have become so fascinated by watching the fishermen that I recognize them by their walk, what they wear, whom they talk to, when they come out, and how long they stay. When I speak with them, they teach me a great deal about spirituality, faithfulness, and surrendering to a spiritual practice. Indeed, some fishermen call their daily routine a spiritual practice, while others would be appalled at calling their fishing such a name. Nevertheless, they all agree that this recreational sport brings them peace; most realize they are not after the fish. It is re-creation. 

Perhaps this uncertainty, grounded in faith, is also part of our spiritual practices: Centering Prayer, the Rosary, the labyrinth, prayer, fasting, Lectio divina, and worship. The peace comes from offering time, a piece of our life, to the practice, rather than always reaching a goal or making or receiving a connection. 

My second gift from our fishermen is that I have stayed grounded, connected to my surroundings, and living in the present moment by observing them. The fishermen are teaching me to look beyond the turbulent water’s edge and to have faith that there is something greater than any of us, constantly connecting with us.

Joanna.   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

De Mello: Moving from Our Head to Our Heart

De Mello: Out of the Head     

“The head is not the best place for prayer. It is not a bad place to start your prayer. But if your prayer stays there too long and doesn’t move into the heart, it will gradually dry up and become tiresome and frustrating.”—Anthony de Mello in Sadhana: A Way to God (Liguori, 1998).    

Anthony de Mello’s Sadhana: A Way to God, Christian Exercises in Eastern Form, is an amazing book—a collection of “one-of-a-kind, practical spiritual exercises” that blend Eastern and Western spiritual practices for contemplative prayer. De Mello describes contemplative prayer as communicating with God using minimal words. He lists forty-seven exercises, all of which can be learned by practicing each one weekly.

In his first section, de Mello repeatedly teaches that contemplative prayer follows an awareness of the body, not just the mind, leading to an awareness of God’s presence. 

The second section explores how we use our imagination in prayer, such as keeping an imaginary scrapbook of times when we were loved and felt God’s presence.

 The last section describes devotional prayers, such as the Jesus Prayer.

The awareness exercises help us get out of our heads and into our bodies—where de Mello says we must return to our senses. He describes the head as a place to begin prayer, but becoming aware of the feelings in our entire body, paying attention to our breath, and returning to our senses keep us in the present moment.

It is in the present moment that God meets us—not where we anticipate or dread the future, or resent or take pride in the past, but in the now. Our head lives in the past or the future. Our body and heart ground us in the present moment.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/