Sacred Spaces

I sit, and close my eyes.
I press the palms of my hands together, in a praying position, and touch my forehead as I bow forward.
I sit straight, and square my back and shoulders.
I take a moment to move and flex my neck from side to side, loosening my muscles and tensions.
I take a deep breath through my nose, hold it, and then release, slowly, through my nose.
I settle into a pattern of mindful breathing; being aware of my breathing, as the air comes in through my nose, fills my lungs, and goes out again.
My breathing grounds me, and is my reality.
Breathing is my tether, my lifeline, to now and nowhere.
I sit and breathe, with eyes closed, to quiet my mind and thoughts.
It is how I seek – what?
It is seeking, and it is patiently waiting.
It is the quieting of my mind so I can be open to Something else.
The mind is constantly active: thoughts leading to thoughts, and more thoughts; images leading to images, and more images; and ideas leading to ideas and more ideas. Obligations, worries, frustrations, memories, angers, and plans, all arise, and string themselves to more thoughts.
They are not real, they are illusions.
I don’t fight them! I don’t resist them!
I look at them; recognize them as illusions, and then, I let them go.
I catch and release, catch and release.
That thought is a memory; an illusion of what was, let it swim away.
That thought is a worry; an illusion of what may happen, let it float away.
The only reality is my breathing.
I let the Spirit of God fill me as I breathe in, and I exhale his love and compassion.
The breathing is real; it is my tether, my lifeline.
An image forms that does not float away: it is a boy, sitting in a chair, eyes closed, breathing in and out, and meditating.
It is an image of me. I’m sitting and waiting, waiting to slow down, to quiet my mind, so God can find me.
I quiet myself, and “wait for God to pronounce my name”.
At some point, I am blank: no ideas, no thoughts, no past, no future, no present, no time, and no place.
All is void.

“Buzz, buzz, buzz”, went the vibrating cell phone in my pocket. I slowly opened my eyes to orient myself in time and place. A golden light shone around the tabernacle and candles, and a soothing tranquility permeated the room. Men and women sat and knelt around me. Except for the last vibrations of the cell phone, all was peace and quiet. It was time to end my meditation with a prayer. I again put the palms of my hands together, in a praying position. I touched them to my forehead, and bowed. In that position, I quickly recited the words of The Lord’s Prayer in my head, line by line: adding my own thoughts to the words.

“Our Father who art in heaven”:
Dear Father, You and heaven are everywhere around me, and in me. You are the light I see, the world I touch and smell, the music I hear, the food and wine I taste, and the air I breathe. You are in me, and I am in you.

“hallowed be Thy name”:
I love and long for you, dear Lord, even though, I can only call you by titles. You, whom I can never fathom or comprehend, are my eternal longing.

“Thy kingdom come”:
Help me to shed these earthly illusions, Lord, so that I can step into your kingdom, which I know exists here and now. Give me the spiritual “senses” to know, and be in, this parallel world.

“Thy will be done”:
Your Son promised that if I asked, you would give it, but what do I ask for? What do I need?
I ask for Your love and compassion, Father, and I trust that Your will is what should be. Give me the wisdom to see your actions, and the grace to accept them.

“on earth, as it is in heaven”:
Heaven and earth are one in You, Father. Let me be at peace in your heavenly kingdom on earth.

“Give us this day, our daily bread”:
Bless me with the grace and awareness to see and know your presence in the signs and gifts you send me every day.

“And forgive us our trespasses”:
Lord of all mercies and compassion; help me to do what is right. Help me to forgive myself, when I falter, so as not to despair, and lose hope.

“as we forgive those who trespass against us”:
Lord, help me to love and forgive as you do: saints and sinners, the just and unjust, the foolish and sincere. Help me to accept all the people I encounter today as your beloved children, and not my personal annoyances.

“and lead us not into temptation”:
Guide me to perform the spiritual and healthy practices that will bring me into Your kingdom, and help me to avoid the despair, self-pity, and depression that makes me cling to selfish and destructive habits and illusions.

“but deliver us from evil”:
Do not lose faith in me, my Lord, as I do with myself. I am still that child who feels lost and abandoned in an immensely crowded department store, with 3 younger siblings to care for. I exist in a universe I cannot understand and maneuver without your love, guidance, and protection.

“Amen”:
I place myself in your hands today, Lord. Let your will be done.

It was Friday, March 2, 2007, and I was at the Religious Education Congress, in Anaheim, California. I was sitting in the Tabernacle and Prayer Room called “Sacred Space”, on the third floor of the Convention Center. I had set the alarm clock on my cell phone 30 minutes ago, to signal the end of my meditation time. The meditation had gone well, as I suspected that it would, in this heightened spiritual atmosphere. Sitting there, feeling calm and at peace, I reflected on the actions and events that led me here.

Kathy would ask me ever year, if I were interested in attending the annual four-day event. I had gone once or twice before, about 12 or 13 years ago, and I enjoyed the experience. There were always excellent speakers and presentations on a wide variety of religious topics, and the Exhibit Hall was always bursting with all types of merchandise, artwork, and books. I secretly believed that this affair was a lot more fun, thought provoking, and practical than “regular” education conferences. Even still, I always turned her down. As a public school administrator, I did not see the justification of taking time off from work to attend a conference on religion. I always thought I could make due with my own readings and an occasional daylong workshop, or seminar. However, on an impulse, when the conference registration booklet arrived about three months ago, I told her that I might go this year. I filled out the form, chose some workshops, returned it for mailing, and promptly forgot about it. I did not make a conscious decision to attend until about three weeks ago, when Kathy and our friend Mary were discussing the Congress.

Mary mentioned “Sacred Space”, and the labyrinth, on the upper floor of the Convention Center. Those two places immediately attracted me. Kathy had mentioned them to me before, but their significance had not sunk in, until now. It was the middle of the Lenten season, and I had done nothing to improve on my resolutions: increasing my time for meditation and prayer, and attending a spiritual retreat or workshop. Here was an opportunity to address them both! Their description of “Sacred Space”, an ambience-filled contemplative room and labyrinth, was enticing. Having an entire upper floor dedicated to meditation and “mindful walking” was just what I needed. I had not walked in a labyrinth since my last summer at my former middle school, and the opportunity to meditate in a dedicated space was too good to pass up. I reaffirmed my intention to go, stating that I would leave with Kathy on Friday morning. An early arrival, would allow us to attend the opening ceremonies and hear some talks.

The Archdiocese of Los Angeles does a fabulous job with the Religious Education Congress. It is an immense undertaking, which requires a great deal of planning, organization, supervision, and efficiency. In spite of all these logistical burdens, the conference, and the people who manage it, maintains a strong spiritual, prayerful, and friendly attitude. The opening ceremony emphasized our need to pray and imitate God’s compassion with our fellow human beings. Father Ronald Rolheiser, developed this theme further in his talk, “Keeping a Mellow Heart in a Bitter Time”.

Using a series of gospel stories and episodes to illustrate his points, Rolheiser preached that the only way to survive the “bitter” times in the world, and in our lives, is to nurture and maintain a loving and compassionate heart. As the father (God) of the Prodigal Son is compassionate, so too, we are asked to be compassionate with one another. Being compassionate is more important than being right. However, compassion is not something that we gain through willpower; it does not work that way. Compassion can only be developed and sustained by continued prayer, especially “affective prayer”. What is affective prayer? Instead of defining it, Rolheiser explained it by using scenes and words found at the beginning and end of The Gospel of St. John.

At the beginning of his ministry, in 1:38, when Jesus sees James and John following him, he asks them, “What do you seek?” After his Resurrection in 20:18, when Jesus meets Mary Magdalene weeping at the tomb, and she does not recognize him, he asks her, “Whom do you seek?” These critical questions are never answered in the gospel. Instead, after asking the question, Jesus pronounces her name, “Mary”, and immediately she recognizes him as The Lord. Rolheiser believes that Jesus demonstrates the answer to these two questions; we are seeking God to pronounce our names, so we can recognize Him. Affective prayer opens us to the opportunity to hear God pronounce our name in love and compassion. It is only by sitting (or walking) in silent meditation, that we move towards a union with God that cannot be achieved through other forms of prayer.

Rolheiser’s preaching on compassion and meditation moved me deeply. I had never heard the process of meditation described as, “waiting for God to call your name”. I had always experienced meditation as slowing down, quieting my mind, and waiting, so God could FIND me. Being lost has been a recurrent nightmare throughout my life. It harkened back to my earliest fears of childhood; being lost or abandoned by my parents. Being found was comfort and relief. I had never considered Rolheiser’s interesting idea, but it certainly prepared me for my next activity. After visiting the Exhibition Hall, I traveled to the third floor of the Convention Center to take advantage of Sacred Space and meditate.

As I mentioned above, meditating in Sacred Space was peaceful and satisfying. It was so successful; I decided to walk in the labyrinth that was located in the adjoining hall. While “sitting in meditation” is a practice I often use (or as often as I can), I’ve only attempted “walking meditation” about 7 times. I tried it because of proximity. I happened to work at the only middle school in Los Angeles that has an authentic labyrinth painted in the quad area of the campus. In solitude, I walked the labyrinth every summer morning for about a week. I did not find “mindful walking” as appealing as “mindful breathing”. There are too many distractions in an outdoor labyrinth; cars, birds, noise, and people. It was difficult to complete a full circuit, because workers and staff, who thought I was merely strolling in the quad, constantly interrupted me.

I entered the Labyrinth Room in Sacred Space to find a full scale, painted mat spread out in the middle of the hall floor. I found the opening to the labyrinth, took off my shoes, and stepped in. Mindful walking is just that, being very conscious of the actions you perform while taking each step. You fix your eyes on the path ahead, and walk, very slowly, very deliberately, being very mindful of how you lift one foot, move it forward, and land on your heel; then repeating the process with the other foot and leg. Step by step you go, concentrating on the reality of walking and letting illusionary thoughts, ideas, memories, and worries float away. Just as I was finding a rhythm, I spied a line of people walking toward me, on the same path. There is only one way in, and one way out, in a labyrinth, and I saw an exiting passenger train heading my way. Without emotion, I stepped outside the pathway and allowed the train to pass. Stepping back in, I resumed my meditation, until I sensed unease behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw another line of people stacking up. Either I was moving too slowly, or they were rushing, but a bottleneck was developing. I sacrificed mindfulness and increased my speed through the remainder of the labyrinth. When I reached the center, and saw how more and more people were parking themselves in it, I decided that it was time to bail out. I walked across the labyrinth, recovered my shoes, and put them on.

I was disappointed, but not upset. The labyrinth had not worked today, so drop it and do it again later, or try something else. I could not sustain feelings of anger or frustration over this labyrinthine failure, because I had been practicing the opposite in meditation. Feelings of anger and resentment do arise during meditation, but they are identified as illusions and released. Spiritual guides call meditation, “practice”, because it must be performed, over, and over, and over again to be of benefit. Sometimes it is good, sometimes not, but the point is to do it. The practice opens us up to recognize illusions, and to connect with Something, Something that might pronounce our name with love and compassion.