This time of year, as the sun sets earlier and darkness unfolds I am often filled with trepidation. It is hard to not go into a pre-seasonal depression, the holidays are tough for most of us. As silly as it sounds I am trying to make small, instrumental differences in my daily affairs, it pays dividends. Something as simple as lighting a candle once the sunsets is a small moment I look forward to.
As a child I was always perplexed by my Mothers love for incense. Finding the smells repugnant and frivolous. Once again the child is following in footsteps already dug out by his guardian. Meditation has always been a word that once uttered makes me want to wash my hands. Finding it dirty, cheap and subsumed under new age and corporate banners.
When I did try to meditate I put myself under a lot of pressure, at achieving stillness, acknowledging and letting go of the noise within. My brain always refuses to cooperate, ruminating, clocking in for not only time and a half but weekends too. Meditation was an absurd endeavor. That is until I realized it is a form of prayer. I realize that I am not breaking new ground here, most of us may never. However, once I truly realized this I was free. In the sense that I can not only speak but am encouraged to do so.
The type of praying I do is not the most conventional and sometimes I am not even sure who I am speaking to. I believe in some form of a higher power, something that ennobles my miserable and guilt ridden (I was baptized Catholic in case you could not tell) existence. Despite the problem of evil, free will, paradoxes and years of highlighting Richard Dawkins books I have found God. Ray Wylie Hubbard said it best “Some get spiritual cause they see the light and some cause they feel the heat.”
I can fill volumes with my regrets, sins of omission, fumbles, hostility, and the best of the seven deadly sins. My life has not been the worst, nor has it been the smoothest, whose is?
Combating my own existential dread, alcoholism, guilt and the like I have realized prayer is what reinvigorates me. It is what encourages me to continue forward, despite knowing better.
Some of the most spiritually enriching moments recently have been sitting cross legged on a blanket by candlelight. Listening to some sort of music with ambient sounds. When the noise of the world overwhelms me, in all its complexity, anxieties and depravity I read books. Joseph Campbell who is one of the most renowned mythologists writes:
“I remember Alan Watts asked me one day, ‘Joe, what kind of meditation do you do?’ I said, “I underline sentences.””
Following the words on the page, embracing the proximity of the music and seeing words reflected in the candlelight brings me into an altered state of consciousness. I have done psychedelics before and will admit it is not the same thing. And yet my ordinary misery and base human settings is withdrawn for a moment.
Sometimes during these times I picture myself in the Garden of Gethsemane, imagining the amount of love and kindness it takes to willingly sacrifice oneself. I am far from a mirror image of Jesus, but this visualization accompanied with the precursor of the ambience helps focus my vision. I am able to see aspects of the bigger picture.
If I can mirror even a fraction of the strength, integrity and unconditional love that overcame the doubts experienced in Getshame, I will be grateful. The darkness of the winter will be extinguished as will our human bondage. Even our absurd hero Camus realized:
“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer."
Meditation/prayer will not bring the sun back any sooner, but it may be the catalyst that drives us forward. In the meantime I have some sitting and underlining to do.
That was really good. It struck several chords with me.
Beautiful.