Ego and craving, thought and manipulation--they leave anxiety and self-induced suffering in their wake. Spiritual bypassing will ask us to cling to prayer's consolations, but it is an end-run around trauma that we can no longer afford, and spiritual materialism will tempt us to use even our prayer for self-exaltation. But we are not special: instead--like Christ--we are everything seen and unseen, and we are also nothing at all. [bxA]
We cling to what we're attracted to, and the joys are temporary. We push away what we're averse to and the relief lasts only a moment. From the impermanence of things, learn that letting go is the lesson of attraction, that setting our faces like flint is the lesson of aversion. The gospel is written in "the way things are" and the stones are crying out. Learn to transition from "not hearing anything" to "hearing nothing." When we accept the lessons in everything, it creates equanimity. When we hear nothingness, we will see the Lord face to face.
Attention is impaired, but it's ok. Survival involved a hustle our nervous systems were unprepared for. Vulnerability is scary, but that's why the Lord gave us the sacraments--so we could walk real slow into our basic human needs. Gluttony, greed, sloth, sorrow, lust, wrath, vanity and pride will present themselves as solutions to our poverty. If they say to us "Look, he is in the wilderness" do not go out. After the self dies in baptism, you will no longer need security to live in happiness.
Intention is impaired, but that's totally safe. If "getting what we want" no longer satisfies, that's by design. We're wired for "willing simplicity." Self-pity, shame, blame, remorse, rationalization, resentment, self-aggrandizement and entitlement will assert themselves as distractions from vulnerability. If they say to you "look, he is in the inner rooms," do not believe it. When the self dies daily, you will not need control to rejoice.
When stored trauma fills us with physical pain--if you cannot forgive those who caused it--abandon judgment of the sensation. It will feel dissociative, but dissociation is a cross on which our perspective will shift. We will be one with him who said "My spirit fails, my heart is numb within me" and dissociating will feel negative. We will be one with him who said "heal me, my body is racked, my soul is racked with pain" but we will notice that attentiveness to sensation has increased. Eventually we'll say "I can feel all my bones," because the one who said it from the Cross is within us. We will be glad, at least, to be able to face the sensations. When our perspectives flip away from self, we will be one with him who said "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Give up self, and do not judge. Use the Eucharist to grow in virtue and intentionality. When the lower self shows us our own ugliness, say both "I am not that" and also "I am more than that." When the higher self shows us the divine image, say both "I am that" and also "I am nothing." On the cross, Christ became "a nobody who cares"--and just like him, we can still love, long after letting go of our "somebodiness."
For the humble, neither life nor death can threaten. For the obedient, neither emptiness nor fullness can terrify. For those given contemplation, impermanence is the door to the eternal. For the recollected, neither light nor darkness is blinding. Die in baptism: you will see people but they will look like trees. To die daily, look intently: you will see things as they are. You were blind because you only saw what you wanted to see--namely, what's pleasant, on your own terms. To be restored to sight, want everything--even what's painful--on God's terms.
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