Day 5: Crisis reveals the fierce urgency of contemplative practice — but it’s always urgent, even when there’s no crisis.

Liminal dispatch, 03.23.20

I have noticed more and more this week the ways in which I unconsciously regard my contemplative practice — perhaps my faith in general — as something other than what it is urgently designed for.

Creeping fear and total loss of control have this way of immediately amplifying our weirdest coping strategies.

As I’ve talked to other folks, I’m seeing that — hey, good news! — at least I’m not alone.

I see that I regard my morning ritual as something that’s very nice — a nice way to start my day, a nice thing that settles and focuses, a nice thing that makes me feel good. Sort of like something you’d see on a listicle: 20 ways to spend 20 minutes to make your 2020 the best year yet! In comfortable times, I can (sort of? not really.) get away with this. And I certainly don’t think the Absolute has some kind of problem with us feeling good (quite the opposite).

In times of uncertainty and existential dread, though, the contemplative practice is not designed to be nice; it is designed to be a life-line, an anchor to sanity, the thing that reminds us of what is True in the midst of what is happening.