I’ve heard the arguments that prayer and meditation contradict each other, and I don’t buy them. I pray and meditate interchangeably. For me, they dissolve into each other.
For meditation naysayers…Meditation is simply stillness and silence for me. Stillness alone with the soul. Silence away from the physical world to listen to my heart. Mother Teresa said, “You can only hear the whisper of the divine in silence.” Meditation allows Spirit to flow through the portal of my heart.
For prayer skeptics…Prayer is a yearning for connection and belonging to something larger than us. Connection to truth, to love, to the oneness we all belong to. If you believe in any source of higher power, you may pray without realizing it. If you believe there’s more to your reality than a separate, small self, your meditations may also be prayer. Prayer is surrendering the need to control. Surrendering the small self.
Prayer takes many forms, but I’m partial to the contemplative variety. The most basic form of prayer is a call for help, a verbal expressing of wishes and needs to your higher power. This has its purpose. But contemplative prayer is a turning to love, a connection to the goodness in the web of life. It yearns for a connection with God that defies words. St. Teresa of Avila is one of the great mystics who achieved this. When illness confined her to bed for a long period of time, she reached within herself. She opened her eyes inward, toward her heart, when she had nowhere else to go. In that space, she found God, and devoted the rest of her life sharing the experience of that connection.
An Ancient Tree
I adore the gentle meditation teachings of psychologist and author Tara Brach. She recently likened prayer to a big, old tree. In my mind, this tree thrives in an ancient forest, its primordial roots sinking into fertile, rich soil. It stands on a thick, powerful trunk that carries rambling, twisted branches, the kind that wind out and hold ageless secrets. Brach used the roots, branches and leaves as metaphors for a possible progression prayer can take. I’ll try to loosely describe what she said.
The roots: listening. Descending deeply toward the heart and touching grief, longing or pain…whatever’s there. Then having the courage to feel into it, breathe into it, resisting the urge to run from it or judge it.
Then the branches. From that source of raw emotion, branch out. Reach up from the dark, from the longing, toward light, warmth, and Spirit. Reverently reach out to your Divine Power. Whisper your request for guidance, vulnerably and sincerely. Be porous and open to the mystery, to what’s beyond your grasp or comprehension. Release your self-importance and surrender to what’s larger.
The leaves: End again in stillness. As moisture and sunlight silently nurture your leaves, listen in the stillness, receive, and graciously drink what you hear. Rest in your soul. Bathe in the sunlight of Spirit. Listen to God, and feel your heart lift.
This beautiful ancient tree visual has become one of the ways I think about prayer and meditation combined, as true devotion…flowing into each other and bringing me back to that higher, unifying love. May we all reach for this love. May all our lives be one big, moving prayer.
