A-Z Challenge Day 9 - Ignatian Spiritual Exercises

 Within the Exercises, daily instructions include various meditations and contemplations on the nature of the world, of human psychology as Ignatius understood it, and of man's relationship to God through Jesus Christ. The Exercises are divided into four "weeks" of varying lengths with four major themes: sin, the life of Jesus, the Passion of Jesus, and the Resurrection of Jesus. the "weeks" represent stages in a process of wholehearted commitment to the service of God. During each day of the Exercises, a typical retreatant prays with a particular exercise, as assigned by the director, reviews each prayer, and, following four or five periods of prayer, reports back to the spiritual director of the retreat who helps them to understand what these experiences of prayer might mean to the retreatant. The goal of the Exercises is to reflect upon their experiences and to understand how these same experiences might apply to the retreatant's life. - Wikipedia

I mentioned on Day One of the Challenge that I'd spent more than a month away on retreat last autumn, at St Buenos Jesuit Retreat Centre in North Wales, making the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, that set of prayers and meditations set out by St Ignatius of Loyola as a means of helping you live and reassess your relationship with Christ and your calling to follow him in the world.  At risk of sounding like something out of Sesame Street, today's blog entry is brought to you by the letter I. In the past few years, two of the most formative experiences on my journey have begun with the same letter: I've written elsewhere on various blogs about Mr GP and my trip to Iona, and here I was, less than five years later, living, or attempting to live what if you'd suggested it to me  even then, I'd have never imagined myself doing in a thousand years, at least not in its full form, (I blame an extended mid-life crisis!) Or maybe, more positively, it really has been a case of When I'm calling youuuuuu!!!! I remember some of my early vocational meanderings, and, looking back now, even I can see that I've moved on since the days of my Vocational Self-Assembly Pack.

Since I got back, I've been unpacking, or trying to unpack, what was going on for me. I'm well used to silent retreats, but even so, this had such  a different dynamic to it from anything I've experienced previously.  I've noticed since that although on the web there's a proliferation of material on the Exercises, very few people appear to have written about their journey . Which in some ways, is quite right. It's an intensely personal  experience in many ways. Wittgenstein's "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent."comes to mind. (Though probably not with the philosopher's intended meaning!)  So often on retreat,   I really have to restrain my urge to define, analyze and summarise my spiritual journey into neat soundbites, thus killing it stone dead in the attempt.  My inner 'Martha,' if you like, my urge to 'doing' at the expense of my 'doing.' Not to mention my  ability to focus on  the  moment; I'm an expert on the 'if onlys' and the 'what ifs?' at the expense of   the present.

People decide they wish to make  the Exercises, as to other retreats for many and differing reasons: it could be a time of intense change, of vocational exploration, an important decision that needs to be made. When it came to the point, I'd  already made mine prior to going into the retreat: that, sadly, my time as a Franciscan tertiary had run its course. The time apart simply affirmed this. Not that all was plain sailing - we'd  been warned beforehand of how tiring - physically, spiritually and psychologically the best part of five weeks intense prayer  can be, and that was no exaggeration. I struggled with much, learned much about myself, good and not so good, but I can say I came out knowing myself....just a little better. Everybody's experience  is different, as I said. I'll continue to reflect and pray out of my memory of those days for years to come  As far as I was concerned, there were no fireworks (well, relatively few!), no messages from the Almighty written large in the sky, (although my most memorable moments were spent sitting looking out over  the valley at sunrises and sunsets). The messages I received were gentler, quieter, simple affirmation of the rightness of me, as myself and of the place where I am  and what I'm doing. That'll do me for now.

A-Z Challenge Day 1 - Anima Christi

We're off. Welcome to the first  of my personal A-Z Challenge posts  for 2016. What have we in our lucky dip today? Art journaling perhaps? anteater? anthropomorphism? Alice in Wonderland? 

Hard choice. Still, given that  those of us who are of a Christian persuasion are  currently in Holy Week, I plumped on the Anima Christi, (Soul of Christ), one of the key prayers used in the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. The which is in part an explanation for my long long absence from the blogosphere. I made the full 'Exercises' in their residential form back last autumn at St Beunos Jesuit spirituality centre in North Wales, UK, and have been processing and unpacking my time there  ever since. It's a once in a lifetime experience for most of us; unless you happen to be a Jesuit, which I'm not! 

So to the Anima Christi. The version I've posted here is David Fleming SJ's popular paraphrase of the original ;  one  which I found spoke to me most. Our little group were each given a copy of Hearts on Fire and of all the prayers there, this one stood out and became a mainstay for me during my time in retreat. It is, after all, one that's often recommended you pray before a time of prayer, it's introduced early on during the First Week . It's a very trinitarian,  exemplifiying  the whole ethos and key movement of the exercises: to help the retreatant journey towards a  freedom of complete dependence and self-giving to Christ and to become His ambassador in the world. I'd love to say that by the time I returned home after more than a month of intense prayer and mediation that I was permanently in that place! But I'd be lying. And I'm sure that family, friends and everyone who has to deal with me on a day to day basis would agree!  Here it is, anyway.

Jesus, may all that is in you flow into me.

May your body and blood be my food and drink.

May your passion and death be my strength and life.

Jesus, with you by my side enough has been given.

May the shelter I seek be the shadow of your cross.

Let me not run from the love which you offer.

But hold me safe from the forces of evil.

On each of my dyings shed your light and your love.

Keep calling to me until that day comes.

When with our saints, I may praise you forever.

Amen

David Fleming, S.J.

Soul of Christ Prayer

Source:  Hearts on Fire: Praying With the Jesuits (pp. 3-4)

Good Friday

The Good Friday service and Kirsten's reflections on  Bach's St Matthew Passion have prompted  me to put  fingers to keyboard once more.  Anyone who has read my last year's A-Z Challenge will realise that one of the many works which has inspired me over the years is Faure's Requiem, in particular, the  Agnus Dei. 

It's been a strange few days for me, given that this is, metaphorically and spiritually speaking, the second Holy Week I've been through since last Easter. I suspect I'll elaborate more on this during the upcoming A-Z, but suffice it to say that I've not gone drifting off into some parallel universe during my long absence from blogging. No, it's because in late  2015, I made the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius, the full, 30 Day retreat, where of course the Passion, death and resurrection of our Lord feature largely. So Holy Week, for me and the other several dozen retreatants, was during the hinge of autumn and winter;  the end of October and the beginning of November, as the days began to shorten and all around us, the leaves were changing colour, falling and beginning to decay. 

Faure's Requiem became one of my mainstays during those days, whether hummed under my breath or listening to the CD down in the basement of the retreat centre, where the noise wouldn't disturb anyone else. I also spent much time out of doors, roaming the gloriously beautiful grounds or alternatively, working in the art centre.  I seem to sense God's presence in a far more sensate way nowadays than used to be the case when I was younger. Not surprising I guess, that this came so much to the fore during such an intense period of prayer and reflection. The Exercises are by way of being a marathon, in whichever form you make them: full residential or everyday life over a number of months. I did have a tendency to get too much 'into my head' to begin with, especially when encountering the sometimes quite structured way the suggested reflections  can appear at first. I've always been a one to panic when confronted with lists, heading, subheadings and Things In Brackets! So it took a while for me to acclimatise and realise that the maxim 'Pray as you can, not as you can't' really does ring true.

Getting back to the Agnus Dei, the photo above is of a wallhanging I made after praying through the Crucifixion. It's inspired by a favourite meditation by Alison  Swinfen of the Iona Community, taken  from the anthology Iona - Images and Reflections, (Wild Goose Publications). The words embroidered onto the host are a misquote (no books with me on retreat!) of her title: And so you love us back into the earth.  You can read  the whole text here. Scroll down to see the photo that comes with it.  I learned a lot about hopelessness, helplessness, perseverance  and waiting in the face of darkness and apparent nothingness during that 'Holy Week,' and it was images, prose, poetry and music that helped me to cling on . 

Breaking the silence

Going off on a virtual roadtrip is one thing, disappearing off into the ether is quite another! Life offline has been busy;  holiday, a saga of lost keys, DIY gripper-rod removal (not the best project to start on arrival home after a ten hour train journey) and I don't know what else. I've been shamed into cranking up this blog again by reading of The Love That Moves The Sun's resolution to post more regularly. Probably regularly with a small r in my case. 

So, why  these photos (above)? There is a connection with what comes next, I promise, in  typical Greenpatch wandering mode of course. These last few days I've been musing on this series of meditations by Pray as You Go , based round some of the  works of Gerard Manley Hopkins and I've been really encouraged to learn more about the joys and struggles of his faith journey. I first came across his poetry at a very very young age indeed. I must have only been around eight years old when we were introduced to his Pied Beauty. Can't say I was hugely impressed to begin with. (Maybe this had to do with not only having to learn it by heart - if you're familiar with the rhythms and cadences of GMH this is no mean feat, but being required to write it down from memory as well - punctuation and all!). However, something must have lingered, once the element of compulsion was removed. GMH has come back into my orbit in a small but significant way during the last five years or so. Later in the year, God willing, I'm fortunate enough to have an extended  opportunity to focus on where I'm going on my journey and in a place where the the inspiration and memory of Hopkins is very close indeed. And no, I won't be blogging it, good resolutions notwithstanding.

I'll leave you, not with the latest PAYG offering,  (we're sitting  with his 'gloomy' poems at present),  but another classic  GMH which has been in and out of my thoughts lately -  God's Grandeur. 

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.

  It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

  It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

        

  And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

  And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

  There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

        

And though the last lights off the black West went

  Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

  World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Contemplative Mindmaps

I want to break with the snow theme for a moment to highlight  a reflection on comtemplative prayer that's new to me - a Contemplative Mindmap by Franciscan Tertiary Simon McMurtary as part of a series of reflections on various topics related to life as a Franciscan. Other mindmaps include Basic Rule of Life and Franciscan Principles. A helpful resource if like me, you're somebody who sometimes finds that images help them to a new understanding.

If you like this, you might also like to give this contemplative prayer exercise from Loyola Hall a go. I've found it especially helpful in the past at times when I've been feeling "blocked" or when I'm going through a "dry" spell in prayer.

Going Round in Circles 2

'Godseed,' from M Silf's Landmarks - An Ignatian Journey (DLT, 1998)

"Life isn't about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself."


Shades of my earlier musings on Going Round in Circles. I've been pondering these  words  above for the last couple of days, ever since I spotted them  outside our local Wellbeing Centre.  Surely what I'm about as I journey through life is to uncover the true self that is already and has always been there. And is that not "finding myself?

And the end of all our exploring 
Will be to arrive where we started 
And know the place for the first time. 
     T.S. Eliot -- "Little Gidding" ( Four Quartets)

What think you, fellow  bloggers?

True Colours

Praying with colours: Week 6-13th October - Where Am I? Where is God?

Back to Sacred Spirals the other day, where, on our journey with the labyrinth and the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius, we were looking at the Principle and Foundation, in particular  the examen, or examination of awareness:  pausing to take the time to notice God in all things - as I once wrote -  in the "bad hair" as well as the "red letter" days. It's that question beloved of spiritual directors everywhere, "Where is God in this?" in all its variations: "For what am I most grateful today?" "For what am I least grateful?" "What gives me life/drains me?" "When did I give most love/least love?"... all part and parcel of the process of discernment, "Listening to the music of the spirit," noticing what draws me closer to my centre and to God and what pulls me away. (Definitely a work in progress with me; going on past experience, I could do with the spirit presenting me with a pair of headphones!)

Any oldhow, I was thrilled when we were encouraged to use colour in our prayer *- to explore our own personal "prayer colours" to symbolise our emotions. What a wonderful idea!  As my spiritual director is wont to remind me, when first we started meeting, I described myself as an "butterfly," imaginative, intuitive, forever running after the latest "ooh shiny!" ideas,  thoughts all over the place; getting them gathered into any semblance of coherence is sometimes  even now like wrestling to fold a pop-up tent! My discovery these last few years that I can use paints, colour, art journaling, creativity in all its wonderful variety to move closer to God has been a revelation. It also, I've discovered, a crafty way of bypassing  the old writer's block and that rather mangy, motheaten "Internal Parrot."

  The artwork above though is more of a "here's one I made earlier," (child of the 60s and 70s that I am!); pre-session. I've shared with several folk recently a sense of growing integration or put another way "St Francis meets St Ignatius in the labyrinth." In  one of those funny  "Godincidences" I'd already been trying to pray the examen this way at home. I'll not go into detail about the colours I used, other than to say that I'm now realising that by intentionally praying this way, I'm (well, to be strictly accurate - God and I) are turning round events which going on past experience have all the potential to knock me spinning right off course and away from my centre.   Baby steps they might be  but for me progress along the road that I honestly didn't think possible. 

I might even venture a quiet and discreet "Hurrah!"

*Based on the ideas of Sheila Merryweather's Colourful Prayer.

Lost In A Labyrinth?

Near Hadrian's Wall - Durham to Iona Pilgrimage, April/May 2011

A 'first,' for me yesterday; I actually got lost in a labyrinth. What an odd feeling! I was caught totally by surprise; a labyrinth has only one path winding in and out from the centre, after all. What confused me, was, I think, the overall shape, which was more of a square, with some sharp angles and meditative prayer stations along the way; a great idea in theory, yes, but in practice this introduced not only the usual need to  step off the path to let other walkers go by, but also decisions as to whether to wait patiently at intervals behind somebody deep in prayer, (which to be honest, I felt might appear rather intrusive to the person concerned) step right round them (intrusive again) or, as I eventually did, walk right off the labyrinth. I'm not famed for my sense of direction at the best of times, and after a couple of these diversions, I found myself totally confused and lost.  Several kind helpers appeared to point me back in the right direction, but I decided to call it a day. 

Though they may not have realised, I was quite happy to step off the installation and sit quietly with my thoughts.  I've been musing a fair bit recently about self-esteem issues and my tendency to let set backs, like the one I had earlier in the week, send me hurtling down a spiral of hurt despair and unhealthy self-absorption; as if I'm in some ghastly, cosmic game of Snakes and Ladders.   From where I am it looks as if The Only Way is Down and the temptation, I find is often to let the  downward pull define  everything else I'm about; surely the blips and set-backs are only an indication of my (abysmal) lack of self-worth and abilities. It's that old Imposter Syndrome: If they really knew how useless I am ...blah de blah...I might as well give up.  The trick, I've found, is to know when to push against this; the old   not in desolation going back on a decision made in a time of consolation bit.  I'm finding this easier of late; though this last has involved a few days snivelling away at a bemused but sympathetic Mr GP and much raging at God during the wee small hours.  Stepping back  now, I'm starting to  see the set-back in context.  This is where the labyrinth comes in again, mirroring, as it so often does, those unexpected twists and turns of life when you think you're travelling further away from your destination, but in reality are still on the path. Old cynic that I am, I sometimes find the old hymn God Moves in A  Mysterious Way,  a wee bit too off pat for my liking, but I do (grudgingly) have to admit there's more than a grain of truth in it. 

So, for all kinds of reasons, some of which won't make it on to this blog, the event that I was involved with yesterday, which I could so easily have decided to back out off at the last minute, has done wonders to boost the Greenpatch self-confidence; I've squared up to and stared down the old Inner Critic (for now, at least) and am back on the pathway.

This time last year: Thunder and Rainbows - Francis and Ignatius paint the garden aka creative prayer practices

A glimpse of life in the Greenpatch household a year ago: Light my fire - Thunder and rainbows. Eeyore, Saints Francis of Assisi and Ignatius; Julie Andrews; the first Christmas crib; Every Now and Then with Jesus; flag-making; the examen;  Jackson Pollock and decorating Greenpatch dog in tasteful shades of sage green and buttermilk..  the joys of creativity...and kelly kettles.

Put another way - it's Sunday evening, I'm out of inspiration, but would prefer not to be greeted by a grumpy menopausal potato every time I log on here. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!

Blessed Are...

A blessing based on The Beatitudes which I used last night in prayer group. It's from the conclusion of  Margaret Silf's Landmarks: An Ignatian Journey.

I bless the poverty in your heart, which knows its own emptiness, because that gives me space to grow my Kingdom there.

I bless that in you that touches others gently, because everyone responds to gentleness, and gentleness can capture even hardened hearts.

I bless that in you that grieves and aches for all that is lost or can never be, because that is my opportunity to comfort you with my much greater love.

I bless that in you that longs and strives after your own deepest truth and after truth for the world, because even as you pray, I am constantly satisfying these deep unspoken longings.

I bless you every time you show mercy and forgiveness, because that is like a little window in your heart, setting you free from resentment and opening up a space for me to enter and to heal.

I bless the purity of your heart, because that is the elusive center where your deepest desire meets mine. That is where we meet face-to-face.

I bless the peacemaker in you, that in you that seeks the peace that passes understanding, knowing the cost of its obtaining, because that is what I sent my Son to give, and in your peacemaking you become my daughter or son.

I bless even those things in your experience of journeying with me that feel like persecution and abuse and misunderstanding, because they are the proof that your faith is no illusion.