This post continues on from the previous one in which the imagery from "Raya and the Last Dragon" entered into my Lenten meditation practice. At the time it appeared that the image of the shattered gem was a sign of my own heart feeling splintered and pressed in too many different directions. I took that image into meditation over the course of the season of Lent, anticipating that through silence and inward compassion those heart-shards would be knit together and healed.
And then, of course, something altogether different happened. Instead of the separated shards of heart being healed of their stony appearance and brought together into a new, healthy heart of flesh, the separated slivers became smaller and smaller, and moved farther apart. It was the opposite of what I'd hoped and prayed for. I couldn't fight it, though, only trust that something new was happening.
I'd set Good Friday aside to be a day of prayer, meditation, and reflection. As the day went on, the open space at the center of my chest opened and opened, wider and wider, and then in a breath of Spirit the remaining chunks of stone were blown into sand and wiped away. I could only witness this process, trusting that this was the Spirit's way of moving within me. The breath of wind continued to blow across that empty space, using small bits of sand to scour it clean. And I waited for something new to come into that clean, clear, open space.
And then came the next surprise - nothing happened. Nothing came in to occupy that space. No heart of flesh, no dragon gem, no appearance of Christ, nothing. That space has remained wide open to this day. And as I sit with my icon of Christ, with his open hands in front of his chest, I perceive that this was the goal - to release my tightly held notions of who or what I was supposed to love, or protect, or care for, and simply let a spacious, luminous presence abide within.
Of course, I have a further expectation regarding all of this - that as I move forward with this meditative process not only my heart space but my ever-busy brain space will be opened up and made more spacious. That would be great, of course, but for now, I'll just wait and see, and be ready to be surprised.
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ReplyDelete(This comment is re-posted, with emendation.) You insightfully wrote, “Nothing came in to occupy that space.” And further, expressing your realization, “this was the goal – to release...” I believe this in itself was the singular blessing you were granted during your Good Friday contemplations: emptiness, which can be likened to unknowing. To quote Dionysius from Evelyn Underhill’s translation of The Cloud of Unknowing (ch. 70): “the most goodly knowing of God is that ... which is known by unknowing.” In this context, it strikes me that God graced you with unknowing! What a great blessing. May we all be so blessed.
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