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What might it look like to be a contemplative when graced with a stubborn body and a growing gray hairline?
Some would say it gets easier.
The pace of life begins to slow just enough to allow greater space in our day to reflect on the things of God.
But many of us find this isn’t always so.
While our tattered hands and calloused feet bear witness to a life of longevity, they don’t necessarily signify that we have graduated from the insecurities that accompany our faith to become fully present, self-aware, and pillars of peace.
So how do we continue to cultivate these things when our bodies, and often our minds, fail to cooperate with us?
Contemplative practices can become tricky, if not complicated.
Centering Prayer is the silent practice of resting in the loving presence of God. A sacred word is gently used as a symbol of our intention to consent to God’s presence and movement within us.
This beautiful practice, when engaged daily, has a way of nurturing the spirit into greater surrender and trust. And yet, for those living with illness, chronic pain, or end-of-life realities, the practice of entering fully into silence can become more difficult when pain demands our attention.
There may be occasions when it is necessary to adjust our contemplative practices.
It is, of course, essential to honor tradition and the wisdom of those who have illuminated the path before us.
Still, we must also be gentle with ourselves, especially when it comes to tending to what we are capable of. Contemplative practices help deepen our awareness of God within and around us, and expand our capacity to love.
They aren’t meant to be practiced perfectly, but rather practiced perfectly imperfect. Even Christ had help carrying His cross to Golgotha.
Should we experience greater challenges with recall or memory, hearing loss, or visual impairment, we may begin to view other contemplative practices as a barrier to connecting with God.
Practices like Lectio Divina, the ancient method of reading and meditating on sacred texts, listening for God, and resting in silence, as well as Ignatian Examen, the practice of reflecting on the day to notice where God has been present and active, may begin to frustrate us when we struggle to find focus or remain attentive.
We may even mistake our limitations for a loss of spiritual connection, believing that if we can no longer practice as we once did, we are somehow less able to encounter God.
But the beauty of a contemplative life lies in recognizing that practices invite us into a state of being where we become captivated by the mystery and wonder of the Divine.
Years that turn into decades have a natural way of revealing life’s fragility and grandeur. So we persist in spiritual practices, trusting that they help foster intimacy with God, while acknowledging that they are also malleable when our bodies present obstacles to their practice.
If we find ourselves having to set aside one practice, we can have confidence that another will rise in its place; for God knows what you need before you ask (Matthew 6:8).
Perhaps the simplicity of the Welcoming or Active Prayer becomes a trusted companion: a prayer that encourages surrender when facing daily challenges, or a rhythmic phrase repeated to redirect us to the present moment.
Perhaps we cling to the Jesus Prayer or Visio Divina; quietly vocalizing the name of Jesus or capturing the beauty in a piece of pottery, a grandchild’s smile (for those celebrating Grandparents’ Day, September 13), or the smell of freshly cut grass. What is most plain and uncomplicated can be a doorway to recognizing what is holy.
Maturing in contemplation allows us to be receptive to all we encounter, while learning to accept how we are asked to receive it.
Aging and the wisdom it can bring don’t automatically give us this type of awareness, but they routinely confront us with the need to let go. It is in this yielding to our present reality, in all our weathered elegance, that the wisdom of years reveals itself in the form of equanimity.
Want to learn more about the Center for Lifelong Learning and its Certificate in Older Adult Ministry? Click HERE.
–Molly B. Quinn, D.O., M.S., is a candidate for the Certificates in Contemplative Spiritual Direction and Spiritual Formation at the Center for Lifelong Learning. She is the founder of Beckoning Hands, a spiritual companionship practice for those navigating spiritual darkness, chronic illness, pain, and end-of-life realities.
