When asked for a word of wisdom, Abba Moses, one of the early desert fathers, told the seeker “Go sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” The journey of Lent is one of going within, engaging in disciplines that help us see, hear and respond more freely to the call of the Christ. This week I was called deeper into the desert.

After picking up the remains of my cat, Bela, on Tuesday, I felt a desire, and an inner call, to greater solitude. I needed space to process grief on many levels, not just losing Bela. I picked up some groceries, advised a couple people who needed to know that I wouldn’t be participating in “normal” activities for the remainder of the week. I turned within. I did have some text or phone conversations as needed, did some required social media posts on sites I post for, but spent the week reading, reflecting and journaling. I created a personal and private retreat in my home. Just like entering a silent retreat and questioning whether I would be able to gracefully encounter the time in silence, Wednesday morning I questioned what I was doing, I “should be…” Fortunately those temptations were met quickly and I easily fell in the rhythm of my self-created retreat.

When we set aside time and space for reflection, it’s amazing what shows up. Or perhaps, the quietude invites greater attention to the world as it always is around us, without a blur of motion, internal and external. For most of us the mind is a turbulent ocean, or sea, waves crashing and distracting us all of the time, but when the waves calm down we can see into the depth of the sea more clearly.

I was invited again this year to imagine receiving an empty clay bowl from Abba Arsenius, another of the early desert fathers, (Retreat: A Different Kind of Lent) as I had been given in the past. In the bowl we can visualize all the activities that fill up the bowl each day, distracting or addictive behavior, and then intentionally empty the bowl to create a spacious place to receive what is more life-giving.

Not everything I read or encountered was spiritual or faith reading. Most was. I also listened to a discussion by an author and life coach, Cheryl Richardson, who I followed more closely several years ago, but have been tuning into more frequently lately. She offered simple self-care wisdom during these challenging times we are experiencing. (These were offered in a quite humorous and sarcastic way, such as eat more sugar, make sure you always have your phone so you don’t miss a social media post, read every comment on them, and of course, stay up late each day!) I felt a longing for activities, or information, like that from my past. Things that were authentically me, things that inspired, shaped and formed me. Somehow they became “less spiritual”, a bogus assessment of where one is capable of experiencing God or Spirit.

I stitched – if you have stitched, crocheted, knitted or maybe even done puzzles or diamond art, you know it can become a method of quieting the mind. A stitch in, and a stitch out, can shape a slow pace for mindful breathing. It can become a way to let go, creating a framework for a quiet pause.

St John of the Cross said, which was often shared and made popular by Trappist monk, Thomas Keating, “Silence is God’s first language. Everything else is a poor translation.” In stillness we can hear what is more essential. Nothing I “heard” or read this week was an earth-shattering revelation, but I was awed, and grateful for, the insights that did form throughout the week. Like the Samaritan woman in today’s Third Sunday of Lent gospel, I have been at the well thirsting for a drink. This week, during my quiet pause, I was given a long, cool, refreshing drink.

It’s not practical for me to be able to retreat completely like that every week but I can certainly create more quiet spaces each day. I also want to continue to assess that my daily activities are done from a place of desire or service, not expectation. If any of this sounds inviting to you, perhaps you can consider some time in your day for a sacred pause to turn within and listen.

Wishing you abundant peace, Deena

Image: my purple bowl, a visual to remind myself to fill it more consciously and lovingly with things that matter.