Posts Tagged ‘Jeffrey’

by Jeffrey Dodson

So finally it happened.

I was caught.

I was sitting on the floor in my sunroom, practicing 10 minutes of silent meditation, and then in the midst of my Lenten practice I was caught. My roommate came home from running an early morning errand and my solitude in the apartment vanished. I heard Chris’s key rattle the door. The whole house is old, so the door, the walls, the stairs, and indeed the entire essence of the building creaked and groaned with his arrival.

I hadn’t told Chris that my Lenten practice this year was to meditate in the morning, and since this wasn’t a normal activity for me in the morning, I had some explaining to do.

I still had 5 minutes left in my practice. For the first time I found myself in an awkward situation. Should I abandon meditating and quickly clean up, pretending nothing was going on? Or should I push through the remainder of my time and then address the situation? I decided to just sit with myself, stick with the rest of my meditation and then offer an explanation to Chris.

After coming up the stairs, Chris set his stuff down on the floor and then turned and found me, sitting there on the floor with my legs crossed, silent in meditation, a burning candle and singing bowl sitting in front of me. He didn’t say anything, but continued to carry his things to the kitchen and unpack.

My aim of being silent and seeking inner peace during my meditation had been disrupted. It was hard to focus when Chris came through the door and up the stairs. All the noise of the house did very well to draw me out of my meditation, but I remembered to stick with the silence, to stay with myself. I understand that the goal of good mediation is to be able to say in a meditative state through all the chaos, to let the noise not disturb you.

I finished my meditation and rang my singing bowl three times – once for the Creator, twice for Christ, and three times for the Holy Spirit. I blew out the candle before me, stood up and put my things away. I found Chris in the kitchen and found myself trying to explain to him what he had seen, as if embarrassed. But really I should have done it to inform and educate him about what I was trying to do in my life with this Lenten practice.

To my surprise, he didn’t think it was strange, or weird, or that it even needed an explanation. He was supportive. It reminds me that so often in our lives we try to make an explanation for the many faith practices we hold, afraid that someone may judge us. But we may be surprised to discover who is supportive of our faith if we are willing to share. Even when caught in the act, we may discover something about ourselves, whether it be sticking with our practice when the world seeks to draw us out of it, or to find that others are more supportive of us than we would assume. Here’s to the journey inward.

Selah.

by Jeffrey Dodson

I understand that silence is difficult, especially here in the city. There are sounds all around us, many loud and uncontrollable, and many that bring comfort to us day in and day out. We enjoy plugging in our earphones to listen to our iPods and mp3 players. We rock out at concerts and sway gently to hymns on Sunday mornings. We even find rhythm in our day through the rumble of the “L” and honking taxis on the road.

This Lenten season I want to give up some of that noise in my life. There is a wonderful term used throughout the Psalms, “Selah” (or “Celah”). It comes at the end of a verse or chapter, and the original Hebrew meaning of the word is lost to us. However, scholars believe it is close to the Arabic root “Sel,” which means “Prayer” or “Connect.” One interpretation suggests the word means “stop and listen,” and another to “weigh thoughtfully.” Many scholars agree it is used in a similar manner the way Amen is used after a prayer.

I will be rising each morning (a little earlier than I usually do) so I can practice Selah, a period of time to weigh the meaning of things and to connect with something deeper.

These past few days of the beginning of Lent have found me reaching for my Singing Bowl, finding an isolated place in my apartment, lighting a single candle, and sitting comfortably on a mat on the ground.

I take three deep breaths in and out, one to release the tension that awaits me in the day, the next to center my mind and spirit, and the third to remind me of healing and renewal, ideas I got from a crazy guy named Jesus.

I continue to breathe for the next 10 minutes, focusing on my breath, not on the ideas that come swarming into my mind. I sit there in the silence, letting the rhythm of my breath guide me. Sometimes, like this morning, I struggled to make it through the 10 minutes. Sitting still is HARD! I want to be jumping up and getting on with the day – there’s always so much to do! But my Lenten journey is to stay with the silence, to “disconnect” from the city and “reconnect” with my soul.

At then end of my time of silence, I pick up the singing bowl and ring it 3 times – Creator, Christ, and Holy Comforter. The bell sounds my body to alertness, and, hopefully, I am ready for the day. This morning I found myself asking for 5 more minutes. (“Better is one day in Your court than a thousand elsewhere!” Psalm 84:10)

Prayerful meditation is not a part of my usual spiritual life, so embarking on this journey of Selah through the next month and a half will be difficult. Taking an extra 10 minutes everyday to be silent will stretch me to be mindful in my spiritual practice, but I think that’s what Lent is all about – to stretch ourselves so we may find solitude with Christ and healing for ourselves. I am reminded that without the sound of people, cars, and wind, the silence means little. We do need sound! It is my hope then that the silence of the morning speaks wisdom into the sound of the day.

Selah.