A Not Too “Ultra Spiritual” Guide to Meditation

How to be Ultra Spiritual (funny) - with JP Sears

If I say, “I meditate,” I feel like I’m one step closer to a caricature of the ultra spiritual — like JP Sears in the video to your right (or above, if you’re reading this on your phone).  If I mention yoga,  it’s more likely to lead to “Oh, I just mastered crow!” than “What are your thoughts on the nature of God?” I’m curious about how others pray, and I share my own practice in hopes of learning from you.

What’s the point?

Why do I have a daily practice? By day, I am certain of who I am, what I like, who I side with and what I must do. I’m exhausting. When I sit in silence and darkness — or contemplation, I know I am not quite who I think I am, and neither is God. I don’t know why I’m here, why I am conscious, or what I am all about any more than I know the mind of my husband, my children, my dog, or quantum physics. The practice doesn’t exactly give me answers but sometimes makes me giggle and cry at the same time. The “not knowing” keeps me on my toes. It’s helps me take my life less seriously (it’s only life, after all… yeah). Who wouldn’t want to start each day soaking in the mystery and bewilderment of this one life we’ve been given?

There’s no divine gold star to be achieved by this one hour a day. It’s hoped for that it helps with the other 23 hours. A daily practice for me is like throwing a rope into “Godspace” and establishing a connection that will hold me throughout the day. If its secure enough, that rope tugs each time I rush ahead to act on my own important, most certain agenda. It reminds me to be open to and present in my particular place on this earth, at each moment, with the people I love and those I meet. Prayer orients me to awe and wonder, at least on a good day. Somedays, I’ve got to secure that rope over and over.

Step 1: Coffee-Maker Yoga

Me and my favorite mug, with my favorite machine the world.

My alarm goes off and the first temptation to be resisted is the one to roll over and go back to sleep. I throw on stretchy pants and head to the coffee maker. Once I hit start, I do 15 – 20  minutes of yoga right where I am. The point is to bring life and animation back into my body and sharpen my mind, to move from sleepy and dreamlike to crisp(ish) and awake. I start to bring my focus inward.

My morning practice is easy and fluid. I have a simple practice that I don’t need to think about – but sometimes I choose “Yoga with Adrienne” (if you haven’t tried her free yoga videos, they are a treat!) to mix things up. There’s nothing particularly Christian about my yoga. It’s “Christian” Yoga only because my intention in the practice is to grow in Christ. The postures themselves are secondary to coming into the breath as I take stock of what’s on my mind, my worries, my energy, my day, my intentions. What do I need today? What do those in my life need from me?

Step 2: Daily Meditation / Reading

15– 20 minutes later, I pour a cup of coffee, grab my iPad, head to the front room, close the door, and pull up the daily meditation email from the Center for Action and Contemplation. I read the day’s meditation. Sometimes I go right into contemplation but most days, I pull up the daily readings from the Catholic mass.

Side note: Reading the Bible is relatively new to me. I grew up Catholic but we didn’t read the Bible at home.  Two recent books have helped me grow in my understanding and appreciation – Richard Rohr’s The Universal Christ and Inspired by the late Rachel Held Evans.

Step 3: Contemplation

I take a last sip of coffee, set my timer for 25 minutes and close my eyes. Now, free from visual distraction, I am free to fully experience the sound of my husband rattling around the house, the noise of the blender, the sound of my daughter’s alarm, the dog whining outside the door.  Like clockwork, I am tempted to simultaneously get angry at myself for not getting up earlier, at my family for just being them, at my cats for crawling all over me. I take a breath, smile, sometimes giggle, and resist temptation.

I let the words or concepts of the reading come to mind as the noises slip below the surface. I ask God for silence and understanding. I deepen my breath. I keep my eyes closed but gently focused straight ahead. I ease my shoulders down the back. Everything begins to slow. I begin a gentle mantra. 

Some mornings, my heart is silent from the beginning. Others, I plead for understanding or help and my mind wrestles with whatever issue I’m facing. It’s never perfect. On the best days, the practice is like a funnel, starting big and wide at the beginning, dropping more and more towards center. It usually takes quite a while for everything to settle. Eventually I begin to fall away, leave behind my imagination, my thoughts, my insight or need for comfort; I fall closer and closer towards the center of the funnel, into silence and darkness. Into peace. Then I might notice and think to myself, “OH! I’m doing it!” Then I mockingly roll my eyes at myself, smile and go back to the breath. Back to the mantra. Again and again.

Final prayer

The alarm goes off: 25 minutes is up. Sometimes, I stay with my silent prayer a bit longer. Sometimes, on “clock watching” days when my mind never really settles, I am ready to move on. Some days are like that. 

Eventually, I bring to mind those I am praying for. I ask my most familiar saints to pray for me. I say a slow Our Father. Then I thank God for the time, ask Him to help me to not “break the thread” between us today, and move on with my day. There are lunches to pack, a husband to kiss, and the longest shortest drive to school with my teenage daughter. Dear God, let me pack her lunch with kindness. Amen.