Wild Geese – August 2020
Chapter 9 – The Practice of Solitude and Silence
Almost every month, once a month, we have gathered on the third Thursday of the month since September, 2019. The big virus shut down claimed a few months in the early part of the year. Personally I found it necessary to fall silent in this project and just exist in each hour of the lock down and slow re-opening time. Last month, for the first time since February, we* walked clockwise around the hill in Luitpold park holding a piece of bread** and considering the season of Lughnasa (harvest)***. For ancient Celtic practices the new day begins with sunset, not sunrise. The new year begins with the end of harvest (Nov 1) not the middle of winter. The new begins with the end of the old. The pause of nightfall or winter’s dormancy is part of the preparation for the next thing. Lughnasa is the last seasonal marker in the Celtic calendar year.
I have been debating how to move forward with Wild Geese – and if to move forward at all. The counsel of friends has been to keep offering this informal space of spiritual encounters with the Sacred. Something of a “If you build it, they will come,” piece of advice. Also something of a “If this is the Holy Spirt at work, then trust what needs to happen will happen.” I like doing this. It has deepen my own sense of spiritual connection to the world and God. Also – there remains a few more chapters in the original guide, our map if you will, in this first year of this journey: The Soul’s Slow Ripening: 12 Celtic Practices for Seeking the Sacred by Christine Valters Paintner. The book remains unfinished and the year still extends out before us.
This month I am turning the pages to Chapter 9 – The Practice of Solitude and Silence. It is August and everyone is everywhere. This is a practice we can take with us to our own personal places and explore on our own. As a matter of fact, we are encouraged to engage with this practice on our own. I will not ask you to gather together in one place but instead offer this outline to use where ever you are in whatever solitude you can shape for yourself. If you want, let me know and we can still meet and be in silence together sometime in the next few weeks.
If you haven’t the book close at hand, you can read some of the chapter text at the website, “Monasteries of the Heart.” The longer chapter is worth reading as a whole however. Painter points back to the original retreaters, the Egyptian Desert Monks who wanted to find the farthest possible points of wilderness and then contemplate with out distraction or corruption the purity of God’s love and presence with us. They were hard core even for their times but they are also claimed as role models for people pursuing Christian purity all over the world.
Of course Christians have never had exclusive claim on the spiritually meditative space. Even my watch reminds me several times a day to stop and take a few deep breaths with intentionality. However many reminders and opportunities for reflection pop up in our day in secular and sacred prompts, it still remains a gift, a connection to the world around us in the practice of intentionally taking some time for silence and observation.
Paintner writes about her own practices of intentional, silent retreats, sometimes at dedicated hermitages and monasteries and sometimes at an isolated cabin in the woods or ocean. She tries to leave behind her books and electronics and bring along a writing pad and something to write with. This kind of time alone can last several days but Paintner also offers up the practice of ten minutes of silence a day. This is also a good offer because a couple of decades ago I once tried a 24 hour retreat at a local retreat center in Portland, Oregon. It didn’t work for me. I was bored, cold, and lonely.
The Corona German lock down shocked me into a retreat like space. I stoped writing. I didn’t know what to say. Instead I felt that my call was to watch, to notice, to see everything before I could write anything. I sat on my porch and listened to the earth’s song so long buried under the noise of cars and jets. I made sure I looked around at the outside world every morning, first thing and every evening, last thing. I remain committed to that practice of first and last observation. I’ve heard from several of you that you too used that time to take the long, observational walk in the woods or in the neighborhood. I don’t think I really need to tell you anything about this Practice of Silence and Solitude.
Instead, let me urge you to continue seeking what can be revealed in times of Silence and Solitude, especially this month, even this coming Thursday. Find someplace that is green, has living, healthy earth holding the space. Even better to have moving water. Painter suggests noticing all the sounds around you, even the interruptions. Bless them. All of them. I suggest starting with a prayer. The Northumbria Community offers liturgy for daily prayer. At the moment I am personally using Earth Gospel:A Guide to Prayer for God’s Creation by Sam Hamilton-Poore. It’s a great book. I recommend finding and buying it for your own personal use.
God welcomes the seeking. God will speak to you in your silence even if all God says is go home, get warm and have something to eat.
Please let me know how you are. I ask you to tell me what you are seeing and hearing during this month of Silence and Solitude.
I leave you with a link to Jan Richardson’s work and blessing: A Door Between Worlds
See you in September.
Anitra