When I was speaking earlier today with a group about spiritual practices, I spoke a little of the practice of silence: how I do it, and why I do it. I have to say that I haven’t analysed how I ‘do’ silence or contemplation much, but having thought about it thought I might as well write it in case its of interest.
Why – well, I think my journey into silence in God’s presence arose at a time when all my bog-standard evangelical prayers seemed empty and fruitless. I’m not saying they were, I know God hears, but they weren’t connecting me with the presence and person of God. I sensed an invitation just to be with God, focussed on his presence, and my presence with him. A mutual beholding, if you like. I still did the spoken intercession-like prayers, but prayer is more than that!
I was exploring that suspicion I had that the injunction to ‘pray always’ couldn’t possibly mean ‘say prayers all the time’, but that I could somehow access the indwelling presence of God and grow in awareness of that in my life, through focussed intention, or just as I went about my day. The other side of the coin was that, quite simply, I needed to find a way to quieten the chattering of my mind before God to deal with rogue patterns of thinking.
How – people tell me ‘oh, I could never do silence – my world is too noisy’. That kinda misses the point. Silence isn’t always about the lack of noise, although a quiet place can help. It’s about that settled centre within. I enjoy being ‘inwardly silent’ with God in busy, bustling places.
But practically, I learned to be with and hear God in the silences simply through sitting down and shutting up. Being silent until silence comes. Initially, and for a good time, and even still, my silence can be bombarded with a million thoughts, but the ‘skill’ is simply to acknowledge the thought and let it pass, and to return to fixing the eyes of my heart on God. More than just ‘distracting random thoughts’, you also find that some of the deeper seated fears/anxieties/pains of life come to the surface. That can be scary and put people off.
In times where I lack the focus, I might simply seek to keep my focus by saying ‘Father’ or ‘Come Lord’ – not repetitively like a mantra, but just to draw my heart back into focus.
Practically, I tend to practice silence sitting upright or kneeling – basically, a position I won’t fall asleep in (because who doesn’t need more sleep?). At home, on retreat or on longer periods, I tend to either wear a blanket on my shoulders, or use a hooded top or wear my scapular (a monk’s hood). This, I find, focuses my intention and communicates to my mind/body that it’s prayer time! We know that monastics, but also the Jewish community, had this as a practice – a physical reminder of the call to the ‘work of God’ in prayer. I also use a gentle alarm, especially for longer periods of silence, to keep tabs on the day!
Like I say, though, this is not just a ‘be quiet in a quiet room’ practice. I’ve found that I can access that same focussed intention in other spheres, in the midst of the business of life, and this is where the silence is probably more valuable – the ability to ‘close my door and go into the room’ when I need to have a sense of what to do, how to speak, how to act or be.
Finally, although I am an introvert, this practice isn’t about introversion. The quiet certainly rejuvenates me in lots of ways, but I can access that kind of quiet just being at home knitting or reading a book. This is the silence I believe that everyone somewhere on the scale of introversion and extraversion needs – I think silence is one of God’s favourite languages! It’s a beholding relationship, a place of being, of being known, being with my beloved and being loved. It’s the place of intimacy of God that no song, poem or text will do, I don’t think.
Might do a teaching day sometime soon…been a while since I’ve done one on silence.
It’s a countercultural spiritual discipline that may just be the answer to a lot of the world’s frenzied angst. Worth delving in.