Beginning Again

'Always we begin again', say the spiritual teachers.

It's taken a while for me to 'begin again' my Wednesday retreats this year. Two weeks ago, I spent part of the morning at The Pinnacle on the edge of Weetangera/Hawker, but found it difficult really to sink into the time. I hadn't quite given myself permission.

This week, the possibility of a Wednesday retreat was looking unlikely for various reasons, but then came the opportunity to 'displace' the feast. So this beautiful Tuesday morning, I began at home with meditation and a quiet sit over a cuppa, and then - because the day was already pretty warm - I was drawn to the cool and damp of the Rainforest Gully in the Botanic Gardens.

Something mysterious happens in the gift of this time. I think it might be to do with the deliberateness of it - the intentional opening up of two, three, four hours where nothing is scheduled except to be, to enjoy, to pay attention to what's given.

What happens? I feel myself relax, let go. The time seems luxuriant. I start to notice and pay attention, and the more I look the more I see. This morning, the words of Mary Oliver came to me strongly: 'To pay attention is our endless and proper work'.

I experience such delight, such wonder and thankfulness. To think that this richness is here, around me, all the time - and now, at last, to let myself enjoy it.

This little fellow caught my eye, as I rested on a bench with my thermos of coffee, the sound of parrots, currawongs and sprinklers in the rainforest all around.

And then the leaves, shining in the sun, different shapes, different greens, moving with the wind.

After a while on my bench, I wandered into the garden beyond the rainforest.

Last weekend, I led a retreat and spoke in my final talk about the real source of our lives being the abundant life of God. The gift of contemplative practice is that it keeps re-sourcing us in our awareness of this reality.

In the garden this morning, it struck me how life is being given all the time, all around us, poured out. We are immersed in a vastness we can never be fully present to, never fully receive. And I wonder if the essential work of the spiritual path is about deepening our receptivity ... daring to be open to this overwhelming gift as it dances and shimmers around us.

Shalom, Sarah

Not everything that counts can be counted

Last September while leading a retreat, I felt a renewed call to prayer and contemplative availability. My work - leading Benedictus Contemplative Church, speaking and writing - is constantly inviting me to be sourced in a deeper listening and attending. I felt called to create greater space for this in my busy life.

I conceived the possibility of committing to a new weekly practice of a half-day retreat on Wednesday mornings. There'd be no agenda except simply to be available and open, to enjoy the world, and let myself dare trust that simply being present was 'work' enough for this time.

Immediately, I was arguing with myself. Who has time to spend a half day doing 'nothing' every week? Just because I 'could' make space for it, didn't mean I should. After all, most people I know don't have this luxury.

And yet ... once the idea had come, it drew me almost irresistibly. And since September, I've begun. Even days when I thought I didn't have 'time', somehow the day wouldn't let me off the hook. And each time, I've been surprised by joy. A deep sense of peace (shalom) comes as I let myself sink into it. I see so much more, when I stop to pay attention. And each time, I'm so grateful that I've let myself have this.

Here's a couple of photos from an early Wednesday.

A jetty I sat on for a while.

And here it is, closer up.

I have a sense that my 'despite myself' commitment to this time matters. Not just for me - but in ways I don't yet really understand - for others. For a culture stuck on treadmills of endemic busy-ness and distraction, for the planet, for creating openings to grace.

At the same time, I'm wary of seeking to 'justify' my Wednesdays in terms of their supposed high purpose. As Einstein famously remarked, 'Not everything that can be counted counts and not everything that counts can be counted'.

At the moment, I guess what is true is that I feel called to this practice ... and I'll see where it leads. This blog is an offering from my Wednesday retreats. It's a place where I can reflect on my experience. I hope it may offer something to you as well.

Shalom, Sarah