In my life-long impatience, how much I have missed. Last night, washing the dishes, I really looked at my iron frying pan in the dishwater. The light made visible for a moment a tiny rainbow—a light through water revealing all the colors of life. It is so easy to miss the tiny symbols. Finding them is quite different from the business of trying to hatch up big symbolic experiences. It is RECOGNITION, not PURSUIT, of meaning—recognition of the sacramental, of the intersection of the two worlds, breaking through unsought because one is ATTENDING.
At some time in the life of prayer, we may come to a point where we no longer sense the need to speak. We simply wish to be still in the presence of God. We become forgetful of self. We set aside who we are and what we think we need. For a brief time we open completely to the Loving One who seeks to fill us and make us whole. Such moments leave within us deep reminders. From them we learn of the love that continues with us in the center of all things. If we find ourselves drawn into stillness, the wisest thing we can do is accept the gift of this. Accept the gift ... and know love.