Contemplation, Stillness, and the Ordinary Life

Let me start by sharing Anthony de Mello's story of brother Bruno:

“When Brother Bruno was at prayer one night, he was disturbed by the croaking of a bullfrog. All his attempts to disregard the sound were unsuccessful so he shouted from his window: ‘Quiet, I’m at my prayers,’ Now Brother Bruno was a saint so his command was instantly obeyed. Every living creature held its voice so as to create a silence that would be favorable to prayer. But now another sound intruded on Bruno’s worship – an inner voice that said, ‘Maybe God is as pleased with the croaking of that frog as with the chanting of your psalms.’ ‘What can please the ears of God in the croak of a frog?’ was Bruno’s successful rejoinder. But the voice refused to give up. ‘Why would you think God invented the sound?’ Bruno decided to find out why. He leaned out of his window and gave the order. ‘Sing!’ The bullfrog’s measured croaking filled the air to the ludicrous accompaniment of all the frogs in the vicinity. And as Bruno attended to the sound, their voices ceased to jar for he discovered that, if he stopped resisting them, they actually enriched the silence of the night. With that discovery, Bruno’s heart became harmonious with the universe and, for the first time in his life, he understood what it means to pray.” 

We seek communion and connection with something greater than ourselves or something outside of ourselves. Brother Bruno finds out that the noise of the world was not preventing him from finding that connection, but that instead, it enriched his prayer. 

This story brings to mind the contemplative practices that happen not in silence but amidst the sounds and noise of the world, and that happen not in stillness but in action, movement, and in the ordinary. Mostly because I don’t think that contemplation is only accessible to those who have the time and means to set aside time from their day to sit in the quiet. I was convinced that in my own experience in the communities I know I had seen glimpses of contemplative practices in community, that I had experienced contemplative moments. In a way, similar to the experience that author Barbara Holmes writes about from her African-American experience:

“Silence is the sea that we swim in. Some of us allow it to fully envelop and nurture our seeking; others who have been silenced by oppression seek to voice the joy of spiritual reunion in an evocative counterpoint.

As frightening as it may be to “center down,” we must find the stillness at the core of the shout, the pause in the middle of the “amen,” as first steps toward restoration. Contemplation in Africana contexts is an act of communal reflection and reflexive engagement. . . .

. . . contemplation was an everyday practice that included nurture of the body and spirit. The lesson was that life was not to be lived as a truncated interlude without meaning. In the midst of a noisy secular life space, we were to know without question that the sacred far exceeded ordered Sunday worship services. . . .

Sometimes the indwelling was ritually invoked through liturgy and worship, and at other times the mystery arose in the midst of ordinary activities. We learned to embrace a spectrum of contemplative experiences in the most unexpected places. . . . “

What would it mean for each one of us to not live life "as a truncated interlude without meaning." We can only hope that our spiritual development allows us to come closer to the understanding, and the experience, of the full sacredness of life at all times and everywhere, not only in the spaces that have been culturally or religiously recognized as sacred.

Speaking of contemplative experiences in the most unexpected places, 

While in Nicaragua a few years ago, I found myself observing attentively a heated discussion between the Nicaraguan coffee producers and the representatives of a US cooperative that bought their coffee and that went with us as part of our delegation. The coffee producers wanted to know why they were receiving such low pay when each package of coffee was being sold at a high price here in the US. They were discussing costs and prices, and technical names for their product.  We were inside the community center the cooperative had built. It was a large square room with tin roof. Suddenly, it started to rain and the sound of the water on the tin roof made it difficult to hear one another. So we paused. Some talked to the person they had next to them. One of the leaders from buyer organization reached out for his bag and took out two big chocolate bars. He broke them into smaller pieces before unwrapping them and then passing them around. In a matter of seconds we went from a heated discussion to having chocolate communion surrounded by the overwhelming sound of rain over the roof. It was a moment of grace, of connection and communion; a contemplative experience in an unexpected place. 

Stillness and quiet is more than just being alone in an empty room with all electronics turned off, but a place within. In the ordinary, in every day life, stillness is in the pauses, in the in between moments, in the moments of full awareness of what is happening in the now. 

And then I came across another question, this time a question posed by Donald Rothberg, a teacher and leader of socially engaged Buddhism in the United States. When reflecting on what he sees as a growing contemplative movement in the country, he asks “Is contemplation practiced in a compartmentalized way, so that it is not connected with the rest of one’s life? And then explains his question in this way “To what extent is this contemplative movement taking place among an increasingly de-politicized, stressed-out, and anxious, but still privileged, middle class, giving them tools to find some degree of personal peace as many less fortunate persons are suffering, in part linked with the middle-class Western privileges?” 

It makes me wonder, how are my own practices connected with the rest of my life? I invite you to explore the question for yourself as well. 

This approach to contemplation and stillness is an invitation to embrace the fullness of life and the fullness of being human. It is a way to connect our inner world to the outer world and not choosing only one of the two. An approach to our spiritual life and to life where the sacred is experienced everywhere but, also, where the threads that interconnect us, no matter the distance, become visibles and call us to live with this awareness.