A Return to Epiphany

A Journey from Logic and Mental Assent to Deep Love

I returned to South Haven, Michigan this past July. 

You may recall that while vacationing there in the summer of 2022, I stumbled upon a church that sat next to the house where we stayed for the week. There was a sign outside the building indicating that they met each Tuesday and Thursday for centering prayer and meditation. On those two days that summer, I quietly entered, took off my shoes, and joined in the quiet discipline with my new acquaintances. To my delight, the sign was still there when we arrived a few weeks ago.

I had such a profoundly moving experience the last time I was there, it was difficult not to have high expectations walking back into the sanctuary. I surveyed the room and it was the way I remembered it. I glanced to my right and stared at the beautiful stained-glass windows. In one window, an image of harvested wheat. In the next window, grapes on a vine. I looked back around the circle and saw familiar faces. I wonder what kind of moving experience I will have this time? I wondered.

I closed my eyes. Almost immediately, I opened them to a high-pitched chirp. It was a familiar sound that should have tipped me off, but I closed my eyes again. Chirp! When opening my eyes again, I knew what it was and what the next thirty minutes was going to be like. A smoke detector. With low batteries. Perched thirteen feet above on a wooden arch. Squawked with impeccable timing every half minute.

We stared helplessly at one another, submitting to the irony of the situation. 

I closed my eyes once again. I took a deep breath. Chirp! We laughed together and then quieted. Chirp! A few people laughed this time and then quieted. Chirp! One man laughed. Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!

With each sharp tone, I had a visceral response. Despite finding a way to clear my headspace and not let our little electric bird occupy my mind, my body involuntarily tightened. Chirp! The noise elicited rushes of adrenaline and cortisol. I became irritable. I waited two years for this?

And then a whisper, “Yes.”

A Teresa of Avila quote someone read at the beginning of our time together repeated in my head, “The important thing is not to think much but to love much.” And again, not to think much but to love much. And again, not to think much but to love much.

It was like this object lesson was premeditated.

A peaceful headspace is good but ultimately not the goal. I can play head games to accommodate irritations but still internally convulse. More specifically, I can go on a vacation with fourteen other people living in the same house and think it is virtuous to tolerate everyone’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. But true transformation occurs when I learn to love deeply amid those irritations. No matter how much my headspace may be at peace, if love does not reside deeply in my being, my first bodily impulse will be irritation, frustration, and anger. This is true on family vacations, at work, driving behind a tractor on a two-lane highway in southwest Indiana, or your dog getting sprayed by a skunk (that’s next week).

So with each chirp, I paid attention to my body. I visualized peace moving from my head to my heart. Chirp! I imagined love evicting every negative impulse. Chirp! My head was not only clear, my body was still. Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! As I left the church and stepped onto the sidewalk, I felt ready to meet every irritation with something deeper and more enduring than before.

Question

In what areas of life do I find myself reacting with irritation, and how can I shift my focus from these reactions to a deeper practice of love and patience?

Peace,

Brandon