meditation

Talking, Listening, Communicating

I was extremely proud when Smoochie, a male cat who’s lived with me for more than seven years, began to understand — and obey — my command, “Come here!” Not long ago, Mimi, who’s 15 and has been with me since she was six months old, was sitting on the dining room table. I called to her and patted my stomach once, twice and a third time. With feline grace — and in her own time — she came and curled up in my lap. Then there’s Mimi’s plaintive cry, which I have come to recognize as her request for kibbles.

The longer the cats and I live together, the better we're able to communicate with each other. Smoochie complains each morning that he's hungry and I try to persuade them not to scratch the furniture. My ability to communicate with them was never more important than the other day when a guest apparently went out the back, opening both the sliding glass door and the screen door, but only closing the sliding door behind them.

When I came into the living room, I wanted to get some air and so I open the sliding glass door not realizing that the screen door was also open. I put out food for the kitties and when I walked back into the living room, I saw to my horror that both doors were wide open. I ran to see if Smoochie was eating, he was not. I ran to the door calling his name, over and over and over. Finally, the scalliwag trotted over, sat down and gazed up at me.

“Smooch, come on, come inside.” Luckily, he complied whereupon I immediately closed the screen door.

There’s a spiritual parallel here. Through prayer, spiritual reading, meditation and even acts of kindness, forgiveness and generosity, I believe we strengthen our connection to God. God, obviously, always understands what we’re saying, but listening to God’s Word and deeply understanding it, well, that takes time. But just like Mimi, Smoochie and me, the longer we hang out together, the better we communicate. And the longer I hang out with God and listen closely, I can hear God issuing not a command, but an invitation, an invitation to Love.

Practicing Stillness in My Prayer Chair

I don’t recall when I first began sitting in my prayer chair early each morning. With the demands of four young children, most likely my practice was born out of necessity. I needed quiet and peace before the many tasks of motherhood took precedence.

The chair is just an ordinary chair that over the years acquired meaning beyond just a piece of furniture. I don’t remember which child first named it the “prayer chair” or which one called the living room the “loving room” but somehow we all sensed the subtle field of grace that permeated the room.

Standing Rocks

In the crisp morning chill of late autumn, I walked along the beach at Mercy by the Sea, feeling as grey as the sky. I was going through a very painful transition in life ̶ one of those that, if seen through, makes you more aware of all that is good about you, and if not… well, not. It was early enough in the process that I could not see any outcome, good or bad. I felt lost.