Clearing the Path

 

Outdoor labyrinth at the Bishop's Ranch

I am currently on a three-month sabbatical, and am spending the first month as the Prayer Resident at the Bishop's Ranch.  In exchange for leading Morning and Evening Prayer preceded by a period of silent meditation, I receive room and board.  It is a wonderful program, allowing me to enjoy the peace and beauty of this remarkable camp and conference center that I have been visiting regularly for 26 years.

When I arrived at the Ranch, I noticed that the outdoor labyrinth had become overgrown.  Many of the rocks marking the path were completely covered with moss-like soil, and the path itself was filled with branches and weeds.  I decided I needed some labora (work) to go along with my ora (prayer).  I spent the past three mornings patiently clearing the path.  It was close work, much of it on my hands and knees.  

I found the work to be contemplative, focusing my attention on the present moment.  Rake the path.  Remove weeds.  Rake the path again.  Remove what you missed.  Place weeds in a bucket.  Dump in the refuse pile for composting.  Repeat.  I was like the Karate Kid:  "Wax on, wax off."  It took me about nine hours over three mornings to clear the path.  It was tiring, but satisfying.  

weed pile

Spiritual practice is about clearing the path.  We are all on a journey toward wholeness.  We all desire to live from the center, from the realization of our true identity as manifestations of divine love.  The truth is that this center is everywhere.  As Cynthia Bourgeault describes it, it isn't so much a place to which we go as it is a place from which we come.  We carry it with us in the awakened heart. 

The problem is that we forget our true identity.  We lose sight of the path, overgrown with anxiety, compulsions, and attachments like so many weeds.  We become identified with the story about ourselves, and the related emotional repertory, that we have internalized over many years.  It requires patient work to dis-identify with this familial and cultural identity.  We have to clear the weeds so that we can see the living stones that mark our path to the center.  

For me, the spiritual practice is Centering Prayer.  Twenty minutes every morning, twenty minutes every evening.  Wax on, wax off.  Those damn weeds keeping popping up, no matter how many times I rake the path!  But as I clear the path, gently letting go of the weeds (which really are nothing other than good compost for spiritual growth), I find my way back to the center. 

Clearing the path isn't easy.  Sometimes, it literally drives us to our knees.  It requires a posture of humility and a willingness to persist in our spiritual practice.  It isn't a one-and-done experience.  It is an iterative process, moving us ever more deeply into the depths of divine love that flows from the awakened heart.  With time and practice, we begin to stabilize our capacity to live from the center.  Having removed the log from our own eye, we can now see how to aid our neighbor in removing the splinter in their eye.  We mirror the divine light shining through them, so that they can find their way to the center too.