Tag Archives: Rivendell

After Rivendell

 

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“Walking the Labyrinth, Rivendell” DS

Contemplative prayer is about waiting. It is an interior kind of waiting that is practiced on the outside too on a regular basis. This kind of waiting – like Godot perhaps – makes way for other more specific types of prayer. Contemplative prayer acts as a spiritual default position.

This attitude in prayer I experience mostly in contemplative knitting or collage. The rhythmic movement of my hands keeps the rest of my body at rest. Often I start with just repeating the Jesus Prayer brought back to us by eastern Orthodox Christians. Sometimes I will just mention a name of a loved one or situation as a way to petition for God’s specific help. Other times I just let my mind wander and then have a sentence or two that I read out loud – a poem or verse.

Once in a while I have the opportunity to pray as I walk a labyrinth. I did this recently at Rivendell. The switchbacks in the path of the Chartres style walk comfort me. They echo my life and edify my prayers. Sometimes when I walk away from the direction of the centre, I find that I was actually quite close but could not see it. As I walk to toward the centre, and an answer is right before me, the path turns away again. It leads me to return home to trust that I am being led no matter what I see.

Since my decision to live a contemplative style of being in the world, I study and practice the habits of the early church, the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and the ancient monasteries. My relationship with a loving God through Christ is the foundation of my existence. The Spirit works in the background of my life with practices of faith and creativity. In this way I prepare for the future, whatever may come.

Such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.

Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings”

 

 

Rivendell Cross

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“Window at Rivendell” iPhone photo DS

On retreat at Rivendell this morning, I particularly noted the 18” wooden cross on the centre table. It was smooth and brown. I felt like holding it but I sat on my gold and pink textile bench and looked out over the fuchsia foxglove and tall trees to the white clouded sky. It was 8:00am and the spiritual day was well on its way.

I thought that in my burned out state I would be recovering passively but already a choice was upon me. The words: take up your cross and follow me, arose unbidden from my heart. I thought: this table cross would not be hard to carry. I remembered the movies I had seen with Jesus carrying his cross along the Via Dolorosa and this one in front of me seemed so easy.

The things that were my cross to bear came to mind. They were heavy – too heavy for me. I was on the verge of panic.

I began some meditative breathing, eyes closed, repeating the Jesus prayer. My thoughts went to a situation that had gone badly before I left home. It was not solvable as there was no cooperation. I sensed the words, let it go, and felt an opening of possibility. It came to me that in this area I was trying too hard. I was trying to control the outcome. What I needed to do was to support the process.

A bicycle entered my reverie. There were training wheels on it. You are the training wheels, I thought. The training wheels do not decide where the bicycle is going. They merely provide subtle yet strong support for the rider.

It became clear now, that I had gone too far. The situation that had brought me to the edge was actually not mine although I was required to play a part. I had fallen into the leading part, perhaps like the handlebars on the bike. I need to change my position, my viewpoint and get back to being the training wheels. The outcome was not mine.

Others at the retreat entered the round holy space sitting around the perimeter one by one. A candle was lit, a bell rung. I resolved to pick up that small hefty cross but it would have been disruptive. I would lift it; perhaps cradle it, another day this week. This is my cross, lighter than the one Jesus carried.

Then he told them what they could expect for themselves: “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat—I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. 

Book of Luke

 

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

Book of Matthew