posted April 24, 2013 11:41 AM            

Centering prayer is itself preparation for contemplative (or deep) prayer. So, we are here concerned with the initial stages of the initial stages of deep prayer, seeing that it is essential to observe a proper order in the attainment of virtues, lest we become quickly discouraged by attempting what is beyond our strength, or beyond our skill.

The first thing to consider is sleep. A good night's sleep is the best protection against the pitfalls which attend the beginner in the practice of centering prayer. Likewise, a restorative sleep is the first hint of acquaintance we may have with respect to the experience of that deeper peace realized in true prayer.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Sleep is a perfect place to begin, in seeking understanding of prayer, since it is something with which we are all familiar, and since no person is without an appreciation for sleep; its pleasure, no less than its utility. Rest of the body precedes and anticipates rest of the soul.

For, though the end of prayer is a kind of heightened attention, or wakefulness, it is wakefulness of a peculiar type. It is being awake to the experience of rest. Generally, when we speak of being alert, we imply some sense of tension; a triggering of the "fight of flight" response. Alertness, as it is usually understood and experienced, contains an unmistakable element of stress. This is not the sort of attention we are seeking.

Again, many who have approached this matter have spoken a great deal about concentration. Yet, concentration also tends to be associated with an experience of tension, or stress. This is not the sort of concentration we are seeking.

True prayer is not an act of concentration, which arises in the focussing of personal will. Rather, it is a process of receptivity, arising from the universal core of being. It is simply a way of being present and receptive, at the deepest levels.

Now, receptivity does not mean that we fling the door of the mind wide, and offer an open invitation to every passing thought. On the contrary, it means an openning to what underlies and transcends the occassion of thoughts.

This underlying and transcendant "something" is, ultimately, the working Presence of God, and it is not something upon which attention may be concentrated or fixed. Rather, it is like a warm pool, or a feather bed, into which the soul is freely drawn by the will of God. In order to be drawn into the deeper experience of God's peace, it is enough not to stand on "solid ground"; not to cling with the personal will to specific perceptions (thoughts, sensations, intentions, etc.) arising in the field of consciousness.

The work of God is easiest of all, once we have abandoned our efforts at directing our own lives, just as sleep is easy, once we have relaxed our grip on the waking world. One cannot force prayer or sleep; only let go of all else, and allow rest to take place. If you know how to sleep, you know how to pray.

But if we have not slept well, we will not be prepared for prayer. The instant we invite the experience of receptivity, we will be inclined to drop off and, in order to uphold ourselves in the experience, we will attempt a forced application of attention. This will never do. First, the body must be adequately rested, then the soul may begin to take her rest without interference from the material part.

Likewise, we must be fed, so that the pangs of a hungry body do not disturb the more subtle pangs of a hungry soul. As Mohandas Gandhi declared, "There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread." This is true in the case of starving peoples, who cannot so much as listen to a spiritual discourse without first receiving some basic sustainance in the form of food. But it is also true of anyone wishing to begin the practice of centering prayer. The body provides enough occassions for distraction without hunger being added to the others.

We must not set out upon this path with any notion of deprivation. Aceticism, often misconceived as a path of lack, is in fact a way of fullness. To be an ascetic is not to deprive oneself of many things, but, rather, to be satisfied with little; to be easily filled.

Having met these first requirements, we may proceed to the utterance of the sacred word. Some may find it helpful to begin with a complete phrase, evocative of higher emotions. For instance, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." This is fine, as it will help us to realize how it is possible for the entirety of the Gospel to be contained or suggested in a single phrase. But we ought to allow the phrase to become ever shorter, until the Gospel is suggested by a single word, and, eventually, by silence. "The Lord is my shepherd," contains within it the proscription "I shall not want," just as "The Lord," contains an awareness of the Lord as shepherd. The more familiar or intimate one has become with the whole of the teaching, the more readily one is able to absorb the entire sense of the teaching in a single word, or in the silence which underlies and transcends all speech. An exploration of the depths always culminates in a "deeper" experience of what lies on the surface.

Choose a phrase or word which, for you, is evocative of the whole of the teaching, being a symbol of the very heart of the teaching. "Father", "Shepherd", "Jesus", "Love," and "Peace" are all possible sacred words which many have found appealing and useful for the purpose of evoking a sense of the holy; and, ultimately, a receptivity to the experience of Divine Presence.

Unlike a mantra, which must be repeated without interruption, or with regularly spaced interruptions, the utterance of the sacred word follows no program apart from that which the soul prescribes, from moment to moment. The word is not a means of concentrating the mind, or replacing one type of content with another, but, of returning the mind to a state of openness, or receptivity.

When we discover our attention being carried away by one perception or another, we return to the sacred word, as to a door, leading onto the spaciousness of receptive awareness. We do not continue knocking at the door, opening and closing it, or dwelling upon its face. We simply pass through it, and when we find ourselves in another thicket of distractions, we conjure up the door and pass through it again into spaciousness.

Once we have entered that open field of silence, we do not need to recall the word. We merely allow our souls to rest, and be drawn into the Presence. Gradually, the experience of spaciousness, and of being drawn, will lengthen and deepen, and it will become less and less necessary to return to the word; which is only a door, or a way, leading into the reality of the divine encounter.

When you have come this far, you will require no further instruction, for the Lord Himself will have become your instructor and guide in the ways of the Holy Spirit.