one of the most important prayer actions that I have ever taken up is the act of being still. I enter into my time of centering prayer, and I become motionless. my mind quiets. thoughts become gentler. my body is given over to God. I open up to whatever God has for me at that moment. Sometimes it is nothingness. and I am still.
Oddly, in my time of motionlessness, sometimes I feel my hands or body shift. they grow larger or smaller in my sense of them. my sensation moves, even when I know that my body is not moving.
While centering, I’m really not supposed to pay much attention to it since even that is something that I turn over to God in my prayer, but it is odd. I probably need to read The Interior Castle by Teresa of Avila again, to see if this is what she was trying to describe. I wonder where else my mind can move while my body remains still.
it’s odd, isn’t it, that our contemplative action is usually centered on the idea of stillness being peace. is there peace in movement? we beseech those who are dead to lie in peace, because they have ceased moving. is there a reason that they would not have peace?
we tend to hear peace and stillness in the same intent. but I wonder if they are always suited for each other.
in some times, peace requires movement, action, changes. it is the very act of no one moving that means that peace is nonexistent. moving becomes crucial to survival.
we cannot tell those who are in syria that if they just stay where they are that they will be at peace. there is no peace where they are and they must move.
and we need to move and change in order to help them. we have to shift what we have in order that they can find some peace.
when God moves, I want to move with God.
when I am centering, my body doesn’t move. but my heart continues to pump blood through my veins, my lungs cycle air over and over again, and I am not really still. but I am at peace.