Greetings my fellow Pilgrims,
It has been a busy and glorious summer. Like many of you, mine was filled with the revolving door of beloved family and friends. Today as I write, my home is quiet—nearly silent. And it is the perfect opportunity to discuss something I haven’t written about in a long time, my spiritual practice.
Like all of you, spiritual practice isn’t one thing, it is multifaceted. For me it also includes community, where I pray at Mass with my fellow parishioners and with my women’s prayer group. We know as spiritual pilgrims, to have a fulfilling and evolving practice takes diligence, patience and vulnerability. And to meet the Divine, we need to create the space and opportunity to be fully present.
When I need solitude with the Divine, we go for long walks. While walking, I often listen to audiobooks or podcasts on spiritual subjects to get centered. Then there is a moment, where I turn off the audiobook to listen—to my breath, to the sounds of the natural world and most importantly, listen for the voice of the Divine. Within this silence, the words which ultimately take shape on this page often emerge.
I find the silence in my walks grounding. I would meet myself surrounded by the beauty of Santa Barbara nestled between the mountains and the ocean. At the park, steps from my home, I can catch a glimpse of the sunlight dancing across the ocean. Then I can turn my gaze away from the ocean and see the orchards climbing the hills towards the mountain ridge. In these moments, it’s impossible not to feel the presence of the Divine all around us.
Recently, I listened to a talk on prayer by Franciscan priest, Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM. Fr. Richard described prayer as playing catch. I was fascinated by this imagery. The simple act of throwing a ball back and forth to describe prayer. The give and take of talking and listening.
Playing catch is a universal concept. You can easily picture a nearly infinite number of scenarios. A father and son in the twilight of summer tossing a ball in the backyard. The young girl and her coach warming up before the big game. The toddler learning the skills of eye hand coordination with their mother.
With each image I conjured, it filled me with peace, because you can’t play catch without consideration, trust, and love. When I’m in this natural rhythm of prayer, it remains effortless, even amidst great fear, pain and loss. In this space, I experience the loving embrace of the Divine. And I can discuss, listen, give thanks, all without demanding. I become truly vulnerable as I trust the Divine.
Make no mistake, I still inadvertently or consciously drop the ball. I still become distracted by my own anxiety, desires, frustrations or most likely my own hubris. I want the Divine to listen to my ego and demands. The difference is that I can now feel the shift when my prayer life has lost its ease and peace. In the past, I often have gotten angry with myself, judged and berated myself for falling out of rhythm. With age and wisdom, I have developed far more compassion.
There are times when I desperately want to play catch, my heart is in alignment, and yet I struggle to maintain my rhythm with the Divine. I pick up ball after ball, longing for support and guidance and I find myself begging, beseeching the Divine.
How do I know I’m on the right track? How do I know this is what I’m supposed to be doing when nothing feels like it’s working?
(And my personal favorite)
How much longer? Just please tell me one way or the other…
The question of timing is where I often become impatient. And the main reason my prayers turn towards my ego. I do trust, that the things I turn over will be solved. My struggle for control is my timeline vs the Divine’s. It is in this place; I ask the Divine to really guide me. I pray, speaking from my heart…
I want to play catch. Please help me understand and trust your timing; I just need to know I’m not alone…. Please send me a sign.
Signs are tricky and different for everyone. When my prayers come from a place of love for others, a place free from my ego—the signs are everywhere and are always clear. Recently while walking and praying, I began humming the melody to a song I sang as a child at Mass. The song was about God’s trust and love. I continued to hum and sing it for days. It became my mantra. On Sunday, while I was sitting in my pew, I heard the first bars of the song, and smiled, my eyes instantly filled with tears. As I lifted the Order of Celebration and opened the page, I said a Prayer of Thanksgiving. This was the message I had been waiting for. We don’t usually sing this song in our parish, which made it feel like it was playing personally for me.
There are some who will tell you this is just a coincidence… That we are now looking for validation or confirmation of our unique world view. I’m not one to quote many scientists, but Albert Einstein got me with this one.
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
Besides random church songs, what are some of my other signs? As you may have guessed, the beauty and the wonder of California has forever changed my relationship with the Divine. For years, a friend told me that a specific-colored hummingbird would appear when she was praying. Whenever she saw it, she would have such peacefulness. I’ve got to say, I believed her, but I never had that type of experience until moving to California.
I have a beautiful red shouldered hawk that perches in the neighbor’s tall sycamore tree. This hawk at times is a constant companion. He visits me, sitting on our fence, leaving his feathers in my yard, and some mornings he calls me from this writing desk. When I hear his call, I find him waiting in the tree. He nearly always appears when I’m praying. He also is known to follow me high in the sky on my walks—I always greet him and thank him for accompanying my prayers.
The other sign I have found are feathers, not just my hawk’s, but countless feathers. They miraculously appear in our house, when we can’t imagine how they arrived. They impede my step when I get out of the car or go for a walk. Last week, Jeff called me because there were so many in our yard—with absolutely no sign of a predator. He was more than confused. I laughed telling him, Yep, that was about a prayer- thanks.
The hawk, feathers, and song arrived at the perfect moment in answer to prayers, they act as confirmation I’m on the right track and even as a nudge to get me back to where I need to be.
Each sign is a unique and welcome reminder—that catch comes in many forms, and when we are actively playing (and praying), the peace, love and joy of the Divine is endless.
My prayer for you as we part is that you find a beautiful new gift in your spiritual practice and can feel the infinite love of the Divine in your daily life.
Namaste
Kathryn / PilgrimageGal
Photo credit: Pixabay