Fencing Bear at Prayer

Five years and four or so months ago, I started this blog with a prayer.  " O God, hasten to my aid !"  I had never written a blog, and I had no idea what I was going to say.  I only knew that I wanted to write and to say something about the process of writing.  I knew also that I wanted to think about prayer and hoped that I might find others who also wanted to think about prayer.  I had an inkling at the time that I would be writing about fencing, thus the title of the blog, but I needed a persona other than my professional or private self through which to explore whatever it was that I was going to be exploring, thus my Fencing Bear mask. For the first few months, I kept my proper name out of my posts, although almost immediately I realized that I wanted other people to know that I was keeping a blog, even when things started to get, shall we say, a little embarrassing, especially those posts that I wrote that summer at Nationals.  By the middle of the...

I am having a hard time focussing. I'm in Reno for a tournament, hanging out with my girl friends. I should be a little bit anxious. It would be better if I were a little bit anxious. But I'm not. Not yet, and that makes me worried. Not, mind you, worried enough to start getting my head down and getting ready for the bouts. Just worried enough to try to write something before my roommate and I pack up and go to the venue.   But I don't have anything to say. I've been here now, pre-event, over and over and over again. I know what I can control and what I can't. Not that that means that, if I don't fence well this afternoon, I will be all hunky-dorey about it. I'm sure I won't be (we all remember Milwaukee, right?). But I'm not scared like I used to be about having to prove something about my fencing as such. (Is that true? Double-checking...I could be deceiving myself.)   Today's fencing is today's fencing. I slept rela...

An exercise given to our women's group this afternoon by fellow parishioner Vinita Wright 1.  Say how you feel.   Lord, I am lost, my nerves all a-jangle. I practiced all week, but I still couldn't play. Our teacher changed the rules, challenged us to play his way. I was so nervous, my body went cold and my hands started to shake. Even the things I could play by myself, I lost. Why am I so afraid? 2.  Say what you know is true of God . I know that you are with me, that you delight in my wanting to play. I wish I knew more, but you seem so far away. All that I know of you, I learned in a book. Yet I hear you in the music when others play. Why can't I hear you in mine? 3.  Ask for what you need. I need to know that you love me and want me to succeed. Lord, help my impatience, it is only you that I need to impress. All these obstacles are simply steps that you are giving me to climb. You are there at the top of the stairs, but my legs are so we...

" I sought the Lord, and he hearkened to me [Psalm 33 (34): 5].  Where did the Lord hearken?  Within.  And where does he give you what you ask?  Within.  There you pray, there you are heard, there you are made happy.  You prayed, your prayer was heard, you are happy; yet a person standing beside you knows nothing about it, because the whole transaction took place in a hidden way, as the Lord commanded in the gospel: Go into your private room, shut your door, and pray in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will give you your reward [Matthew 6:6].  Entering your private room means entering your heart.  Blessed are those who enjoy entering their hearts, and find nothing unpleasant there.... "Do all you can to make your home-coming to your own heart pleasant.  Clean it, because the clean of heart are blessed, and they will see God.  Take the filth of disordered desires outside; get rid of the dirt of avarice and poisonous super...

What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy-seat! Yet who that knows the worth of pray'r But wishes to be often there? Pray'r makes the dark'ned cloud withdraw, Pray'r climbs the ladder Jacob saw, Gives exercise to faith and love, Brings ev'ry blessing from above. Restraining pray'r, we cease to fight; Pray'r makes the Christian's armour bright; And Satan trembles, when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees. While Moses stood with arms spread wide, Success was found on Israel's side; But when thro' weariness they fail'd, That moment Amalek prevail'd. Have you no words? Ah, think again! Words flow apace when you complain And fill your fellow-creature's ear With the sad tale of all your care. Were half the breath thus vainly spent To heav'n in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oft'ner be: 'Hear what the Lord has done for me!' --William Cow...

Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead thou me on. Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene: one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead thou me on. I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. --John Henry Newman (1801-1890), in Prayers , ed. Peter Washington (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), p. 213.

My prayers must meet a brazen heaven And fail or scatter all away. Unclean and seeming unforgiven My prayers I scarcely call to pray. I cannot buoy my heart above; Above it cannot entrance win. I reckon precedents of love, But feel the long success of sin. My heaven is brass and iron my earth: Yea iron is mingled with my clay, So harden'd is it in this dearth Which praying fails to do away. Nor tears nor tears this clay uncouth Could mould, if any tears there were. A warfare of my lips in truth, Battling with God, is now my prayer. --Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889), in Prayers , ed. Peter Washington (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), p. 142.

One goodness ruleth by its single will All things that are, and have been, and shall be, Itself abiding, knowing naught of change. This is true health, this is the blessed life. Here, O ye prisoners of empty hope, Minds kept in bonds by pleasure, haste ye to return. Here, here your rest, sure rest for all your hurt, Eternal harbour for your quiet anchorage, Shelter and refuge for unhappy men That's always open. This is the Father, and the Son, and the kind Holy Ghost, One King omnipotent, one called the Trinity. One love, O thou that readest, that shall be Thine to eternity, That sent this mighty gift of books That reading, thou mightst recognize thy Maker, King, Maker of all things, Father, Redeemer, The Saviour Christ, to whom be glory. --Alcuin of York (735-804), trans. Helen Waddell, in Prayers , ed. Peter Washington (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), p. 167.

God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bear, Inalienable weight of care... If I could once lay down myself, And start self-purged upon the race That all must run! Death runs apace. If I could set aside myself, And start with lightened heart upon The road by all men overgone! God harden me against myself, This coward with pathetic voice Who craves for ease, and rest and joys: Myself, arch-traitor to myself, My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe My clog whatever road I go. Yet One there is can curb myself, Can roll the strangling load from me, Break off the yoke and set me free. --Christina Rossetti (1830-1894), in Prayers , ed. Peter Washington (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), p. 66.

O God, early in the morning I cry to you. Help me to pray And to concentrate my thoughts on you: I cannot do this alone. In me there is darknesss, But with you there is light; I am lonely, but you do not leave me; I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help; I am restless, but with you there is peace. In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience; I do not understand your ways, But you know the way for me... Restore me to liberty, And enable me so to live now That I may answer before you and before me. Lord, whatever this day may bring, Your name be praised. --Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), in Prayers , ed. Peter Washington (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), p. 64.

Prof. Delbanco is describing the role of grace in the process of education as it was understood by the Puritan founders of our collegiate tradition, particularly as it is (or should be) dedicated to the psychological and ethical growth of students: "More than achieving the competence to solve problems and perform complex tasks, education means attaining and sustaining curiosity and humility.  It means growing out of an embattled sense of self into a more generous view of life as continuous self-reflection in light of new experience, including the witnessed experience of others. "With these ends in view, Puritans spoke almost indistinguishably about teaching and preaching .  Consider John Cotton, arguably the leading minister of New England's first generation...  By his voice and arguments, but most of all by his manifest commitment to the impossible yet imperative task of aligning his own life with models of virtue that he found (mainly) in scripture, he was mentor to...

Get enough sleep , 7-8 hours night, plus naps as necessary.  Particularly important when you are trying to learn something new, think through a difficult problem, or recover from a session of writing. Eat well and often, about every 3 hours, but only when actually hungry.  Eat foods that make you feel good, not jazzed up or sluggish. Exercise regularly , ideally 6 days a week, 20-45 minutes at a time.  (Translated into Fencing Bear's terms: walk the dog twice daily, go to fencing practice twice a week.) Write (or whatever your most important work is) for no more than 90 minutes per session , with adequate breaks in between.   Schedule your writing for the time of day at which you can concentrate best (in my case, mornings).  Work gradually over time at longer projects rather than "bingeing" or "pulling an all-nighter" or "writing the conference paper/chapter/proposal in a weekend."  Set a timer, turn off all distractions, and concentrate on nothin...

I tried to find out who originally wrote this exemplum, but as it seems to be widespread on the web, I suppose it is okay to quote is as I found it here : "Author Unknown."  It is the best description I have seen of what I have been trying to learn about paying attention as a way of practicing for prayer.  It all depends on how to read you read the rock.  For me, it is almost everything: my fencing, my scholarly work, trying to "fix" myself psychologically and spiritually, you name it.  But what if, after all, the point is pushing the rock, not making it move? A man was sleeping at night in his cabin when suddenly his room filled with light and the Savior appeared. The Lord told the man he had work for him to do, and showed him a large rock in front of his cabin. The Lord explained that the man was to push against the rock with all his might. This the man did, day after day. For many years he toiled from sun up to sun down, his shoulders set squarely against th...

Because they distract us when we are reading or meditating or praying from paying attention to God .  They are deadly because, more often than not, we don't even realize what they're doing. Gluttony says, "Eat this, it will make you feel better."  And so we stuff down the uncomfortable thought: "I'm unlovable."  And get fat. Greed says, "Buy something, it will make you feel better."  And so we stuff down the uncomfortable thought: "I'm not worthy."  And fill our homes with clutter. Lust says: "You would be happy if only you had sex (or a relationship) with him (or her)."  And so we stuff down the uncomfortable thought: "I'm inadequate."  And lose ourselves to another's image of what we should be. Sloth says: "You can't be expected to concentrate continuously, just take a little break."  And so we stuff down the uncomfortable thought: "I can't do this."  And never ...

"The key to a Christian conception of studies is the realization that prayer consists of attention .  It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God.  The quality of attention counts for much in the quality of prayer.  Warmth of heart cannot make up for it. "The highest part of the attention only makes contact with God, when prayer is intense and pure enough for such a contact to be established; but the whole attention is turned toward God. "Of course school exercises only develop a lower kind of attention.  Nevertheless, they are extremely effective in increasing the power of attention that will be available at the time of prayer, on condition that they are carried out with a view to this purpose and this purpose alone. "Although people seem to be unaware of it today, the development of the faculty of attention forms the real object and almost the sole interest of studies .  Most school tasks have a certain intrinsic in...

We call it bating when the falcon, held by the jesses on the hand or perch, attempts to fly off .  This occurs most frequently in unseeled falcons held on the hand and indoors during the period of their wildness....  As some forms of bating are more serious than others, let us see which is the least harmful; for although we cannot altogether prevent the falcon from flying off the hand, we can train her to choose the least injurious acts....  In all cases of bating the falconer must use every effort to replace the falcon as quickly as possible in her normal position, for the longer she is pendant [on her jesses] the greater is the risk of serious injury.... Inasmuch as a falcon that is securely held on the fist or tied to a perch will not remain quiet under all conditions, especially while still in the wild state, it is good policy to accustom her to that form of bating that will do her least harm, viz., that which takes an upward direction toward the falconer's face....

St. Paul & the Redeemer Episcopal Church Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost Year A, Proper 19, RCL Genesis 50:15-21 Psalm 103:8-13 Romans 14:1-12 Matthew 18:21-35 Written by Rachel Fulton Brown Lord, to whom alone all your children are accountable, bless us as we stand before you remembering those who died ten years ago today, those who mourn and those who still hunger for justice to be done.  Teach us to welcome all those who come to us seeking you and to have patience with those who are in our debt, that we may live and die not to ourselves, but to you.  Lord, in your mercy, Hear our prayer. Lord, bless our nation and all the nations of the world, that we may learn to see your face reflected in both our differences and our similarities.  Teach us to live in harmony with each other, however much our worship of you and our reverence for your creation may differ from one country or culture to the next.  Lord, in your mercy, Hear our prayer. Lord, ...

Simone Weil said it better than I could . It's about attention and how everything that we do--she says, every subject that we study in school--is preparation for prayer. Because study requires us not just to concentrate, but to attend, to care, to be wholly present to the object of our attention. I see it now. I have been making it too complicated. I kept thinking that prayer was about having a particular kind of experience; a feeling rather than a thought. I expected prayer to be, I don't know, exhilarating, rapturous, absorptive, mystical. Which it can be, but not for the reasons that I had thought. Prayer is being there, absolutely, attending to God. Not expecting anything else, not wanting to be changed or validated or inspired, just paying attention. What could be simpler? I felt it yesterday, there on the strip. I was so tired from the previous two days' competition, I had no energy left for expectations. All that I could think was, "This bout is...

I am not sure if I exist anymore. Fencing Bear, that is. There is someone called Rachel who is out there in the Real World, living, breathing, teaching, sometimes even fencing, but she doesn't seem to have anything to say to me anymore. Or through me. Where did she go? Where did I go? I used to have so much to say. Looking back over my posts from these past three years, I had so many ideas, so much to share. But, now, nothing, nothing to say, nothing to share. Maybe I'm just tired. Three years is a fair old time to be writing about one's spiritual struggles; it's hard to sustain so much intimacy, so much openness. But there are things that I want to be writing about, I'm just afraid. Afraid. Afraid. Afraid. Of being misunderstood, yet again. Of not being listened to. Of not being taken seriously. Of being taken too seriously. Of not being able to help. Of needing help, still, even after so much therapy . Of being broken. Of losing faith. ...

With thanks to my guys for the "translation"! (click to enlarge)