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One of the traits I would change about myself is a persistent compulsion to do things "right."
It's a very limiting characteristic, much more so than a desire to do things "well."
I'm not entirely sure where it comes from, or why it is so prominent in my spiritual life.
You would think an eclectic heretic like me wouldn't give a fig-leaf about the "right" way to do certain things.
But the fact is, I often try very hard to do some kind of spiritual practice "right," whether it's various forms of meditation, lectio divina, chanting, ritual, or etc.
It was incredibly freeing to come across a book about spiritual practice and Meyers-Briggs types which strongly asserted that lectio divina was an important practice for every type, encourage readers to learn the four aspects of the practice -- especially those which are not as natural for their own type, but then not worry about progressing strictly from one to another in a rigid, systematic form. "Move between them freely," was the general tone of the advice -- but make sure you truly engage in all four aspects.
My response: We can do that?
And yes, I'm aware that it took "permission" from a book for me to even consider deviating from the form. *sigh*
Then I read that lectio divina needn't be confined to reading the Bible, but can be applied to any sacred text.
See response/comment above.
So last night I went through my bookshelves looking for a non-biblical text to use, and came up with Women in Praise of the Sacred, a collection of spiritual poetry by women writers, beginning with Enheduanna, the first known human author, who was a priestess of Inanna.
Usually I either Read or I Pray. Last night, I did both, together. I don't often read poetry, and when I do, I read too fast to really get the full impact. Last night, the first two lines of the Hymn to Inanna absorbed me for twenty minutes, blew the top off my head, and - yes - made me feel closer to the Beloved.
I think I've stumbled onto something.
And I also need to thank![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iswari, whose frequent posts of sacred poetry inspired my choice of texts. I do too much "thinking" in my spiritual life and not enough reveling in other forms. By immersing myself in poetry -- especially poetry that spans a variety of traditions -- I open myself in ways I haven't for a long time.
It's a very limiting characteristic, much more so than a desire to do things "well."
I'm not entirely sure where it comes from, or why it is so prominent in my spiritual life.
You would think an eclectic heretic like me wouldn't give a fig-leaf about the "right" way to do certain things.
But the fact is, I often try very hard to do some kind of spiritual practice "right," whether it's various forms of meditation, lectio divina, chanting, ritual, or etc.
It was incredibly freeing to come across a book about spiritual practice and Meyers-Briggs types which strongly asserted that lectio divina was an important practice for every type, encourage readers to learn the four aspects of the practice -- especially those which are not as natural for their own type, but then not worry about progressing strictly from one to another in a rigid, systematic form. "Move between them freely," was the general tone of the advice -- but make sure you truly engage in all four aspects.
My response: We can do that?
And yes, I'm aware that it took "permission" from a book for me to even consider deviating from the form. *sigh*
Then I read that lectio divina needn't be confined to reading the Bible, but can be applied to any sacred text.
See response/comment above.
So last night I went through my bookshelves looking for a non-biblical text to use, and came up with Women in Praise of the Sacred, a collection of spiritual poetry by women writers, beginning with Enheduanna, the first known human author, who was a priestess of Inanna.
Usually I either Read or I Pray. Last night, I did both, together. I don't often read poetry, and when I do, I read too fast to really get the full impact. Last night, the first two lines of the Hymn to Inanna absorbed me for twenty minutes, blew the top off my head, and - yes - made me feel closer to the Beloved.
I think I've stumbled onto something.
And I also need to thank
iswari, whose frequent posts of sacred poetry inspired my choice of texts. I do too much "thinking" in my spiritual life and not enough reveling in other forms. By immersing myself in poetry -- especially poetry that spans a variety of traditions -- I open myself in ways I haven't for a long time.
