What does it mean to contemplate? During the fifth century, in present-day Greece, Saint Diadochos explained the practice of Christian contemplation. If the wind is wild and the waves are choppy, he said, this agitation keeps fishermen from seeing below the water’s surface. But when the wind and waves quiet down, they gaze far into the ocean’s depths.
In order to see deeply into their interior depths, Christian contemplatives quiet their restless thoughts, sometimes using a prayer word to steady their gaze. Looking within, they search beyond surface appearances into unknown parts of their personalities, until they glimpse their inmost self where the Holy Spirit dwells. In order to perceive these deep, inner realms, they quiet the agitating waves produced by anxious, wandering minds.
Continuing St. Diadochos’ metaphor, imagine now that many creatures await Christian contemplatives as they look deeply into their interior waters. A myriad of thoughts and emotions appear: colorful fish that delight, voracious sharks that terrify, lumbering turtles that amuse. Contemplatives know that they must not get lost in these engrossing displays, for they are intent upon seeing all the way to the ocean floor—to the Divine Ground that underlies all created forms.
Each Christian contemplative must decide how to move through the exciting, confusing, frightening and boring waters of the personal unconscious. Most suggest encountering the latent traits of the personality with self-awareness. This means directly meeting these parts of the self without either rejecting or holding onto them. Some, like contemporary Christian author Cynthia Bourgeault, even advise welcoming distressing parts of the personality. When they assume this hospitable stance, welcoming estranged parts of themselves, contemplatives resemble the loving father of the Prodigal Son.
Christian contemplatives must also decide which spiritual sense to call upon during the spiritual journey. Some, such as St. Diadochos, who liken awareness to seeing, advise watchful awareness. Others, like Cynthia Bourgeault, navigate the inner journey through feeling—by sensing their inner world. This kind of feeling is not about being emotional, however. It is a wordless, agenda-free, sensation-based way of knowing.
When the many facets of the personal self can be seen and felt—but do not overtake the contemplative’s attention—perception of the Ground of All becomes possible.
Whether Christian contemplatives liken awareness to seeing or feeling, awareness is usually accompanied by spiritual surrender. Having seen and felt their submerged thoughts and emotions, Christian contemplatives release, give, or give up their ingrained thinking and emotional patterns to the God within. Father Thomas Keating equates this act of surrender with consent: During contemplation, we allow God to act within us. Consenting, we are willing to receive from God, and to be transformed by this divine encounter.”*
When we explore the Art of Surrender, both self-awareness and spiritual surrender are essential. In order to begin our expressive arts process, we turn within. Then, we practice gazing into our inner world, exploring both a fragment of our personality, and an aspect of our divine nature. After depicting these on or with paper (or with movements and sounds), we turn within again, this time looking to see how these two parts of us may join— or how they have already merged. Finally, with words, images, or movements, we portray this inner marriage.
During our expressive process, we are pulled forward by curiosity—by our desire to know who we truly are. If we are cultivating a relationship with our inmost self, we will also be drawn forward by the love we feel from—and for—the Divine Ground that dwells within.
Note
* Because Christian contemplative experience spans two-thousand years, this one-page essay cannot describe all of this tradition’s complexity. Here, I have relied upon Cynthia Bourgeault’s The Heart of Centering Prayer and Martin Laird’s A Sunlit Absence, as well as my own intuition.