I've been meditating a few minutes each
day, while seated silently at my kitchen table. As the years have
passed, I've gradually begun to spend more time in silent
contemplation out here in my kitchen, which is not totally barren of
spiritual reminders: my angel candle holders are in view, and I
usually have a couple of post-it notes displayed nearby reminding me
that the present moment is the key to liberation, or something like
that.
I might legitimately be asked, “What
good has all that meditation done you?” Looking back over the years
I'm surprised to recognize a gradual transformation in myself and my
outlook on life. As a youth from a large impoverished family I
wanted very much to become a successful writer, earning good money
for my work – I was not entirely self-centered in my ambitions: I
dreamed of helping family members out who continued to struggle in
poverty.
My ambitions have changed in later
years to less emphasis on material success to a desire to offer a
healing presence in my daily life, as well as in my writing, to those who are
suffering from a variety of causes, including illness, disability,
poverty, loss of a loved one or a zillion other painful
circumstances.
At this stage of my life, I live in a
residence for people over the age of 55. As might be expected, my
neighbors are often dealing with low income, physical disability,
and/or the death of a family member. Approaching a table in our
community room, I sometimes pick up on the grief being expressed by
my neighbors, and I usually offer to say a brief prayer. I've never
been turned down.
In my prayers I not only ask God to
welcome the loved one home, I also ask for divine comfort for those
left behind. It has occurred to me more than once, that the deceased
loved one is now healed and whole; whereas, those left behind
continue to suffer his or her loss. Prayer helps. As the bowed heads
at the table are raised, I sense an all around letting go and peace.
Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment