Spiritual Practices for a Busy Season
I'm back on that roller coaster, but I think there is another way
As soon as I scheduled last week’s essay on writing and slowing down, I was reminded of a post that I wrote around this time last year1. In it I used the metaphor of a roller coaster to describe the upcoming season. I wrote:
…in the early fall, I picture myself waiting in line, buckling in and inching up the [roller coaster’s] chain lift, moving slowly until I tip over the first big drop. From there, I’m pulled along the track by the ride's momentum, holding on as best I can until the week after Christmas. When I finally stop at the station, I wonder — what just happened?
and then:
I’m buckled in now, looking over the top of the steep hill, anticipating the ride — but I keep wondering if there is another way? Does our ever-lengthening to-do list and full calendar have to be what propels us over the edge? Can we choose another track? Is it possible for something other than our busyness to give us momentum?
This last question has really stuck with me — is it? Does it have to be that we’re just so busy, we can’t help but be carried along the track? The case I made last year, is that prayer (in all its varied and beautiful forms) can help us to slow down. We have potential to choose prayer as the catalyst that propels us forward.
In my sermon last week, I shared this idea from Richard Rohr, he writes: Prayer isn’t primarily words; it’s primarily a place, an attitude, a stance. That’s why Paul could say “Pray Always.” “Pray unceasingly.” If we read that as requiring words, it is surely impossible. We’ve got a lot of other things to do. We can pray unceasingly, however, if we find the stream and know how to wade in the waters2.
Combined with these words from Gregg Levoy3, I’ve begun to formulate how I might want to enter this next season.
Levoy writes: … any practice that strengthens our powers of observation and our ability to see subtleties within ourselves, any practice that allows us to step outside and look back through the shop window … will help us overcome the … inadvertence, of not being alert, not awake.
These practices include anything that helps us pay attention to our lives, gently sanding our fingertips to make them more sensitive to the feel of things … These practices also remind us not to spend so much time awaiting big booming voices from on high that we stumble over the whispers that are right at our feet.
One of those ellipses represents a list of practices that help to sand our fingertips. Levoy includes all kinds of things like journaling, intimate conversations, therapy and prayer. I want to (hope to?) enter this next season by wading in the waters, by praying unceasingly. I want to enter a busy season carving out little pockets of time to sand down my fingertips. There are times when the big booming voice comes to us, but most of our life is spent listening for the still small voice — the whispers that are right at our feet. As I told my community on Sunday — you can believe me or not, but the stream is not hiding, God is not hiding from us, but we must be open, curious, willing to finding the stream and dip our toes in.
Last October, I gave a few ideas of practices that might be helpful in a busy season. I’m going to give them to you again here and add in a few others from previous posts. As I said last year — this is merely a starting place, not meant to be prescriptive, but a rock near the edge of the stream where you can sit and take your shoes off.
The Practice of a Quiet Walk / Drive / Moment / etc.
It can feel easy when we have quiet minutes to turn on music, a podcast, or catch up on the news. In check-out line, we scroll Instagram or catch up with texts or emails — we fill our minds with more and more information. I am certainly not the first to write about this, but it is worth saying again (and again) — our minds, bodies, and souls need quiet!
I know I talk about the need for quiet a lot, and I want to say it again: It doesn’t have to look like 30 minutes of meditation every morning (though it could) — it can be a quiet walk, a 30-second pause, or even a slow, deep breath.
The Practice of Lighting a Candle:
Pastor and writer Traci Smith4 has said that she sometimes lights a candle, and asks God to remind her of the people she promised to pray for. And then prays. During that time, she also prays for those she's forgotten. It allows her to honestly say I will pray for you.
I've taken this on in recent years and added to it. Many nights, I light a candle as I get ready for bed; I ask God to bring to mind anyone I should pray for. After I've moved on to reading, I keep the candle lit to remind myself that prayer is not only words we say or think; it is our posture, our communion with God. When I see a candle lit, I’m reminded of God’s nearness.
The Practice of Everyday Awe in Nature
Research has shown that when we experience Awe, regions of the brain that are associated with excesses of the ego, including self-criticism, anxiety, and even depression, quiet down — Awe is the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your current understanding of the world — writes Dacher Keltner5 in his book Awe.
Keltner gives us eight different categories of Awe in his book, but for now, let’s focus on Awe in Nature. Keltner says it is hard to imagine a single thing you can do that is better for your body and mind than finding awe outdoors.
Awe in nature can look different ways, in different climates and for different people. Consider what brings awe in nature for you. Is it the sunset? Searching the night sky for stars? It could be finding the sun's warmth on a cold day, or the way the wind feels on your face. There is no right way to experience awe!
A 5-minutes Rest Practice
I have a new small practice6 when I sit down to work — I’ll read a poem or take a few deep breaths, i’ll light a candle and pray or stretch for a few minutes, reminding myself there is time. It’s a small kindness, a shifting of perspective, an offering to myself, a reminder that there is time for rest, time to just be. It’s okay to slow down even if just for a few minutes. So here is your permission: you are worthy of rest. You are worthy of a few deep breaths.
Start by considering — how could you be 5% more comfortable? Do you need to stretch a little? Adjust how you’re sitting? Grab a blanket or sweater? Once you’re comfortable, take 5-6 deep breaths. You might even add in a breath prayer like the ones below:
God restores
my whole being
I was created
to need rest
God leads me
to the waters of rest
I am worthy
of rest.
Play as a Spiritual Practice
As created beings we cannot ignore that play7 is in us. I believe I was created, in part, to play — to laugh, make jokes, play games, and enjoy my life. It’s impossible for us to hold the heaviness of life — to look at it directly all day every day without taking a break. I am believing more and more all the time that in order to not turn away from the pain and suffering in our lives and in the world, we must hold it alongside the lighter parts of life. In order to grieve, to participate in works of justice, to unlearn and relearn we must also give our time to rest3 and play.
As yourself: what would it look like to treat play as a spiritual practice? What would it look like to schedule in time to do something for the sake of itself? How will you delight in being created to play?
As you move through the next few weeks and months, I hope you’ll use these or other practices to gently sand down your fingertips. Pay attention, look around, wade in the waters of communion with God.
alongside you,
holly
Prayer when you have a lot of other things to do - October 2023
Everything Belongs by Richard Rohr
God Restores My Whole Being - April 2024
Play as a Spiritual Practice - April 2024