PHOTO: Mary van Balen
By the time I get to lighting my candles and settling into quiet prayer, I’m fighting a losing battle. My mind is already racing, making mental to-do lists, beating myself up for what I haven’t done, and thinking of family, friends, typhoon victims, government disfunction…you name it.
I try desperately to empty my mind, but to no avail. Breathing in and out, slowly repeating my mantra word. Nothing. Then, this morning, I became aware of my cold feet resting on the wooden floor. “Why didn’t I put on socks?” Suddenly, the thought came: “Just be present to your cold feet. To the moment.” I did.
After cold feet, the smoothness of the wood beneath caught my attention. I sat with that for a while. Then it was the stiffness of my new knee. I quit trying to still my mind and instead let it focus on the present. A slight bit or warmth on my cheek and a rosy glow visible through my closed eyelids alerted me to bright sunlight. I opened my eyes and saw the patterns it made as it poured through the mini-blinds and pushed around the wrought iron candelabrum by daughter had made.
I became aware of the life-giving gift of the sun shining on our planet from the center of our solar system. Amazing. I sat, amazed, for while before the candle flame’s reflection, dancing on the votive’s clear glass caught my attention. I watched as it stretched and lengthened. Tow images from one flame. The bloom on top of the wick glowed orange and the beeswax smelled sweet.
My mind wasn’t racing.
I guess I can’t go cold turkey from crazy busy thoughts to stillness. Instead, being truly present to myself in this place and in this time slowed me down. God was there in the cold, the light, the flame, the moment, where the Divine always is.
And, for a moment, I moved into a graced moment of quiet gratitude.
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