A Sacred Journey

practicing pilgrimage at home and abroad

So, What is a Spiritual Practice Anyway?

So, What is a Spiritual Practice Anyway? » https://www.asacredjourney.net

Over the past week or so, I’ve been enjoying slowly going over your responses to the Spring Reader Survey (I plan on giving them my full attention after my print shop launches on June 23). Even though I don’t personally know many of you, after reading your responses, I feel like I know something more of your desires, your questions, and your spiritual journey, and it is a gift to have you share those things with me.

One thing that stood out in your responses is your hunger for spiritual practices. In response to my question about which types of post you like best at A Sacred Journey, posts on spiritual practices ranked highest at 85 percent, with posts on intentional living not far behind. With that insight, along with my recent announcement of the beginning of the Spiritual Practices Library of mini guides coming in the fall, I’ve been wondering for my sake and for yours, What is a spiritual practice anyway?

When I begin to try to answer that question, what comes to mind are examples. You’ve got the seven ancient practices recently brought to light again by The Ancient Practices Series, edited by Phyllis Tickle—sabbath, tithing, praying the hours, the liturgical year, Eucharist, fasting, and pilgrimage (my personal favorite, of course).

There are practices specific to contemplative spirituality, many stemming from the desert fathers and mothers, such as lectio divina, centering prayer, examen, walking the labyrinth, and even spiritual direction and companionship.

And then there are other practices that have been adopted from spiritual traditions beyond Christianity, such as yoga and meditation.

But naming various types of spiritual practices doesn’t really answer the question of what a spiritual practice actually is. You could, of course, look deeper at the meaning behind the words, perhaps drawing significance from synonyms. But people aren’t too fond of thinking of spiritual practices as disciplines—it’s hard enough to understand the word practices as is.

It’s likely we all first encountered the word practice in childhood, when we practiced sports to become better athletes or piano each day to prepare for the big recital. I, for one, wasn’t a fan of practicing piano (and I didn’t like sports enough to want to practice them, either). I was supposed to practice piano for thirty minutes each day, and I hated practicing so much that I wanted to quit taking piano lessons all together.

I remember expressing this to my mother more than once as I slumped at the piano bench in resignation after losing out to the metronome once more. “No,” my mother would reply from the other room. “You can’t quit piano because my mother let me quit when I wanted to and I’ve regretted it ever since.” (I will confess, she was right. I’m glad she told me no, and I’m glad she made me practice.)

My days of taking piano lessons and having to practice each day are long behind me, but my younger brother, on the other hand, has turned practicing piano into a full-time job. He recently graduated from college, where he was a piano performance major, and is off to graduate school in the fall for the same thing. He practices eight hours a day when he’s able—the same pieces day after day, hour after hour, until the time comes to perform them for a recital or juried performance. And then he starts all over again.

He becomes better and better with each session, no doubt. But between you and me, I couldn’t imagine anything worse.

No wonder people struggle with the idea of spiritual practices when practice in our culture is a means toward achieving a goal. While routine is at the root of all practice, spiritual practice as not about perfection. Practice as a means to perfection is great for mastering a tennis serve or a piano fugue, but the spiritual journey is an entirely different paradigm.

The spiritual journey is a never-ending pilgrimage—a continuous cycle of departure, arrival, and return. It isn’t something to be mastered; rather, it is something to be lived.

This is where intentional living comes in. If the spiritual journey is something to be lived, then spiritual practices help bring us back to our intention. They serve as an invitation to actively journey, to open ourselves toward Sacred Encounter, and to listen deeply to our Inner Witness—the indwelling of the Holy Spirit and the place within us where the true self and the Divine meet.

This could happen through one of the tried-and-true spiritual practices mentioned earlier. But the places we are passionate bring us back to our intention as well. For you, this might happen through making music or hiking in the wilderness. These days, creating space is feeling more and more like a spiritual practice for me—in my schedule, in my home, and especially in my mind.

But here I am naming examples again. (It’s hard not to, isn’t it?) Still, I think we’re close to a more suitable definition. So, what is a spiritual practice anyway?

A spiritual practice is a regular rhythm that calls us to return and remember—to return to our intention and remember what it is that we seek.

GO FURTHER…

What invites you to return and remember? How can you turn that into a spiritual practice?

What it Means to Me to be a Monk in the World

Since the theme of the pilgrimage I’m currently on through Abbey of the Arts is “Monk in the World: Pilgrimage to the Sacred Edge of Ireland,” I thought I’d share with you what it means to me to be a monk in the world. Last fall, Christine Valters Paintner of Abbey of the Arts asked me to share what it means to me to be a monk in the world on her site, and you know I couldn’t help but bring pilgrimage in, too! Read the post below.

P.S.: Come back tomorrow for pictures from my Ireland pilgrimage!

monk in the world » asacredjourney.net

Not too long ago, I moved from Missouri to Southern California. The desert landscape that would accompany us on our drive here gave me the chance to contemplate what it is like for monks to leave the world in order to devote their lives to prayer within the confines of a monastery. As we drove for hours on end, I particularly thought a lot about the life of the desert monastics and the draw of the silence, stillness, and solitude that such a vast expanse of barren and colorless landscape brings. In order to immerse themselves in the Divine, these monks left their homes in pursuit of something more.

That’s not so different from a pilgrim, really. Just like the monk, the pilgrim risks a great deal, leaving the known for the unknown, the secure for the mysterious. Pilgrimage is one of the most ancient spiritual practices, beginning with Abraham, who was called to leave home in pursuit of God. Since the time of Abraham, the faithful have journeyed beyond their borders to honor sacred encounters of the past, and also in hopes of new divine experiences and transformation.

Lacy in RomeToday, dreamers and seekers are setting out on pilgrimages with renewed interest, journeying to places like Iona or Santiago de Compostela in the footsteps of those who have gone before them. There is no doubt that a resurgence is taking place, and as with many renewals within the Church, it is moved by the breath of the Spirit. But what happens when the pilgrim returns home, attempting to integrate the rumblings of her journey into her everyday life? And what of the monastery’s visitor, arriving back after a retreat filled with contemplation, only to be rocked by the hustle and bustle of the world that he thought he had left behind?

As someone who lives “in the world,” that is where my greatest challenge begins. It is just so easy to get distracted at home, so tempting to stay comfortable, and so natural to lose sight of the sacred in things that quickly become mundane. Even my awareness of this doesn’t mean it’s not a struggle. Oh no–I wish it were that easy! For as long as I can remember, my heart has longed to roam beyond my front door, yearning for the transformation that can be found just beyond the horizon. And it’s true–inspiration and sacred encounter can happen in unique ways when we leave our everyday lives behind in order to journey. If it weren’t true, pilgrimage (and the metaphor it provides) wouldn’t be as powerful. But as I’ve learned, we all have to come home sometime.

Because of this reality, it is especially important to practice being a “monk in the world,” and for me, an everyday pilgrim. In fact, it is through this practice that I’d say I’m also an artist in everyday life. Sure, with a bachelor of fine arts degree and a website I both write for and curate, there are many traditional arts that fill my days: I’m a graphic designer and a watercolorist, a doodler-at-large and a novice knitter. I hum tunes all day and if you give me a room, I will transform it into an oasis and even come in under budget (now that’s an art!). But for me, these are just hobbies or ways to pay the bills. They bring me joy and flex my creativity, certainly, but they don’t stretch me quite like being a monk in the world and and everyday pilgrim does. To me, this is my art, and each day is my medium.

Lacy desertOf course, to the outsider, this makes it seem a lot more impressive than it really is. To practice and to create each day as a monk in the world and an everyday pilgrim is fulfilling, yes, but it is also a daily challenge. I must not only show up to the silence, stillness, and solitude every morning that comes with the way of contemplation, or the awareness and curiosity that are required for the pilgrim–each day I must also show up to face the struggles that are sure to arrive. As a monk who is not in a monastery but in the world, and a pilgrim who is journeying intentionally not just abroad but in everyday life, I am straddling two realities. These two realities are so natural to our image-bearing souls, yet in this in-between world of “already and not yet,” the monk in the world and the everyday pilgrim are still seemingly antithetical. This means that I am continuously wrestling, because I choose to stand at the edge.

This is how I know that my commitment to be a monk in the world and an everyday pilgrim is my art: because each day I show up to the blank canvas on a Spirit-fueled search, seeking inspiration and bringing with me desires and questions alike. And each day I struggle, wrestling with insecurities, whisperings of my false self, and “shoulds” and shame leftover from time that has long since passed. But, most important to the work of an artist–amidst the desire and the struggle, I stay. And I return each day again and again, because creating a life as a monk in the world honors my sacred desires, and living daily as an everyday pilgrim engages my quest. Each day, the canvas awaits, and all I must do is come with intention in my mind, inspiration in my heart, and a brush in my hand.

Lacy Clark Ellman’s two greatest loves are spirituality and travel, and she was a pilgrim long before she ever fully understood the meaning of the practice. She has a Master of Arts degree in Theology and Culture and is the founder and curator of asacredjourney.net, where she explores her two loves through her own writing and the contributions of other pilgrims. Her upcoming book, Pilgrim Principles: Practicing Pilgrimage Everyday, is a seven-week journey at home that explores what it means to be pilgrims in our daily lives. It will be released in January 2014. To learn more about the book, follow A Sacred Journey’s posts, and download free offerings, subscribe here. You can also follow A Sacred Journey on Twitter and Instagram and Like it on Facebook.

GO FURTHER…

What does it mean to you to be a “monk in the world?”

How to Create a Morning Ritual (+ a glimpse into my own)

How to Create a Morning Ritual » asacredjourney.net

In my book, Pilgrim Principles: Journeying with Intention in Everyday Life, I devote an entire day’s reading to developing a morning ritual and refer back to it often in the days that follow. It falls within the fifth pilgrim principle, “A pilgrim establishes daily rhythms to ground himself,” and it is by far the daily rhythm that has been most life-giving to my relationship with God and myself over the past many years.

I won’t deny it—I am tempted by my warm bed on a dark winter’s morning and become disoriented during busy seasons just as much as the next person, and often my morning ritual suffers because of that. Some days during a chaotic week, I wake up early and get straight to work, telling myself that I’ll get to my morning ritual stuff later—this time I really will. But you know what? Ninety-nine percent of the time I don’t. Instead I go to bed tired and frustrated, wondering why I never had a break in the day to pause and go deeper.

Here’s what this cycle is teaching me: When my morning ritual suffers, I suffer. When I don’t take the time, I won’t make the time. Could I be so bold as to say that that small amount of time set aside in the morning has the power to make or break my day? And, of course, the ways we spend our days are how we spend our lives.

I want to wake up each morning and not immediately feel the weight of the day on my shoulders. I want to enliven my senses with the smell, taste, and feel of hot coffee. I want to cozy up in a Sacred spot that’s all mine, at least for an hour or so, and light a candle as a representation of the presence of the Divine. As the sun slowly rises I want to read words that make my soul sing—poetry and prose by spiritual midwives that have assisted seekers like myself in birthing the holy for countless years. I want to take time to reflect, at least for a page—to locate myself before the tasks of the day carry me away. And I want to finish with a time of centering prayer and meditation—ten or twenty minutes in my day where I can simply be. Oh, it’s a challenge; it always is. But in the end, I feel so much better for it.

And so I set the alarm for 6am each day, waking much earlier than necessary so that I can have the extra hour in my day for what has become my morning ritual for the past year or so. I pour through books, I discover new insight, and I learn again what stillness is and why it’s so important (it’s a practice, after all—a lesson I relearn each day, again and again).

Sometimes I incorporate yoga (more on that tomorrow), and I keep telling myself I want to try out a little dance. Maybe someday I’ll switch out centering prayer for lectio divina or art for reading or writing, but right now this is what works for me.

Coming from a tradition that was big on “shoulds,” I’m trying to be aware of what I’m doing because I think I need to versus what I’m doing because it brings me life, and in this season, this ritual feels good. It’s just the right combination of self-care and stretching to my edges, and at the end of my time I don’t feel like I’ve checked items off of a list; instead, I feel fulfilled.

I want you to have the same experience, too, and a morning ritual might be just the thing to fill you up and take you deeper toward the Divine and your true self. Here are the steps I list in Pilgrim Principles for how to create a morning ritual of your own:

HOW TO CREATE A MORNING RITUAL

1. Find a time

Does it feel best to begin your morning ritual right after you wake up? Or perhaps once you’re ready for the day or while you’re eating breakfast would be more suitable. Choose whatever feels most spacious for you. As you consider a time, also think about the length of time you want to spend doing your morning ritual. This might determine what you do.

2. Find a place

Morning rituals are often personal, so the best location is  probably one that is private. A good place might be a chair by a window or maybe outside on a porch swing. Wherever it may be, make sure it is somewhere where you are able to connect with the Divine, making it a Sacred space.

3. Determine your practices

It could be as simple as pouring a cup of coffee and reading through a devotional book. Perhaps you spend your time in centering prayer or meditation, practicing yoga, journaling, creating, or reading poetry. Simply choose a practice that helps you connect to the Divine and enables you to feel like your true self, whether the practice is traditional or unique to you. Do one or many, or perhaps consider changing them monthly or seasonally. Trying out new spiritual practices is a great way to stretch your edges and grow your faith—something the pilgrim knows well.

The above tips and “Go Further…” question below are taken from Week 5: Day 5 of my book, Pilgrim Principles: Journeying with Intention in Everyday Life, available in print online at Amazon and Barnes and Noble and also available for Kindle.

GO FURTHER…

What would your ideal morning ritual be? If you already have one, what does it look like, and how does it set the tone for your day?

Travel Tip: Create Your Own Personal Liturgy

Travel Tip Tuesday: Create Your Own Personal Liturgy » asacredjourney.net

The journal I’m taking with me to Arizona next week. The bees might have been slightly influenced by Sue Monk Kidd…

I know we each have journey guides and spiritual midwives whose words we want to take with us when we travel, but why did they have to make their books so heavy? (Then again, don’t take anything out—those words are golden.)

If you’re wanting to take some inspiration with you on your journey but can’t manage the added weight (and really, who should take that much anyway?), why not consider turning your favorite poems, passages, blessings, and quotes into your own personal pilgrim liturgy?

Once you find the perfect journal for your journey, copy down the words that inspire you into the journal’s front pages and make them a part of your daily routine. Perhaps there’s a poem you’d like to read each morning of your pilgrimage, or a blessing that could ease you into rest each night. Maybe there’s a particular Scripture verse or phrase that expresses the theme of your search, and you want to see it each time you open your journal to write. That one goes on the front!

Put quotes that inspire all on one page for you to return to in challenging times, or simply when you have a long wait. And of course, leave some extra pages at the front to keep adding to your own personal liturgy as your journey continues. Inspiration and words of wisdom lie around every corner for those who seek the Sacred. You could also add images—sometimes they take us to our Sacred center far more easily than words.

If it’s a while until your next journey, consider creating a personal liturgy for the current season instead, placing it in the front of your current journal. God knows we could all use a little inspiration in the midst of winter (pray for us, Southern Hemispherians!).

Me? My next journey begins this Sunday. I’ll be spending two weeks in the Arizona desert, training to become a spiritual director. More on that next week, but until then, below are some bits of inspiration I’ll be adding to my own liturgy for the journey ahead (feel free to use them for yourself, too!).

WHAT I’M INCLUDING IN
MY OWN PERSONAL LITURGY

GO FURTHER…

What would you add to your journey journal as a part of your pilgrim liturgy?

My Love Affair with Markets: My Favorite “Third Place”

satsumas in La Jolla » asacredjourney.net

Satsumas — a necessary purchase at the La Jolla Open Aire Market

We all have places we visit on a regular basis—some because we want to (the local coffee shop, the library, a church home), others because we have to (the gym, the grocery store, the hair salon). These places are the third places in our lives—the places where we gather beyond home (our first place) and work (our second place) on a regular basis. And while home is about family and work is about…well…work, our third places in life are about community.

Intentional or unintentional, these third places are gathering spaces that encourage relationships we might not have had otherwise. They also present more opportunities to be known, if we are open and vulnerable. After all, it’s no coincidence that “sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name” is the opening line in the chorus to the theme song of a show about community found in a local bar (a third place spanning centuries and civilizations).

Some of my favorite third places over the past few years have been markets—places that I originally go to for physical nourishment, but where, after returning again and again to the same venders, I end up finding relational nourishment, too.

Pike Place Market » asacredjourney.net

Sosio’s — our favorite produce stand in Pike Place Market

The first market my husband and I visited on a regular basis was none other than Pike Place Market in Seattle. Famous for its fish market, Pike Place is over 100 years old and houses beneath its roof most anything you could possibly need. A visit to Pike Place Market is a staple in my ideal Seattle day, and I love the long hall filled with brightly-colored bouquets, the displays of Rainier cherries that make their appearance in summertime, and the many cafés and takeaway restaurants (my favorites are Piroshky Piroshky, The Crumpet Shop, and De Laurenti).

However, the place in the market we frequented most often was Sosio’s Produce in the main food hall. During our first year of marriage, we lived just half a mile west on the same street of the Market and didn’t have a car, so Pike Place Market was truly our closest resource for produce, and we relished the opportunity to build a relationship with a vendor. We were regulars there, and while cruiseship-bound tourists slowly passed by, causing traffic jams as they stood there gawking, we snuck in amongst the fruit-filled tables, each time being greeted by familiar faces. When we went back to Seattle to visit just under a year since we had moved away, we were surprised and so happy to find that we were remembered; they knew our name and they were glad we came (and consequently sent us home with the juiciest cantaloupe and a large bag of Washington’s own cherries).

herbs at Urban Roots Farm » asacredjourney.net

Packing herbs at Urban Roots Farm in Springfield, MO

After such a rich experience in Seattle, markets have become a necessary third place and a regular part of our weekly routine. Visiting the Farmers’ Market of the Ozarks in Springfield, MO was one of the first things we did when we moved from Seattle to Springfield in September of 2011, and while I struggled to settle in, missing the community I had left behind, it was that initial visit to the farmers’ market that confirmed that Springfield could in fact feel like home, at least for a little while. After some time, we not only were visiting the market on Saturday—we also harvested for one of the vendors every Tuesday at their urban farm which just so happened to be down the road from where we lived. Yet again, our time at the market brought us not only good food, but also great friends.

We’re currently living in San Diego, CA, and the La Jolla Open Aire Market has become a Sunday ritual (and let me tell you, I’ve never tasted juicier satsumas). Since we knew we would only be here temporarily—we’re moving back to Seattle (for good!) in less than a month—having the farmers’ market as our third place here has been particularly valuable and enriching, making us truly feel like a part of the local community, if only for a few months.

Since Kyle and I will both be traveling some before we move to Seattle, yesterday was the final day we would spend together at the market during our time here. Though it’s just a place to some, saying goodbye to this farmers’ market in this season will be as difficult as saying goodbye to old friends, just like each market and third place before it.

GO FURTHER…

What are some of the third places in your life?

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