Thinking makes it so?
My brother Michael and I, from early years, were taught how to fly-fish by my father, Jimmie Shaw. We both grew to be rather fond of salmon-fishing, with which I have now a rather ambivalent relationship: enjoying it on the few occasions I have the chance to fish, but questioning myself about fishing as a sport and in particular fishing for such a majestic creature as a salmon, with all the question marks being raised by salmon farming. So I put my questions aside, when my brother, [who is a Trustee of the Findhorn Community] and I went to fish the River Awe recently. There was that voice on my shoulder saying: 'And where did you get the time to be doing this, Martin Shaw?' 'Should you be doing this, that and the other thing...?' The little boy in short trowsers inside me replied with all the pointless justifications under the sun, for example: 'Oh. I haven't had a day off for a wee while...' Etc. etc. You'll recognise the routine! Anyway, I caught a 5lb grilse which was a thrill, until later in the evening, I gutted the fish. I had caught a female fish full of beautiful and delicate salmon roe....! I leave you to guess the conversations between my shoulder and my inside as a result of that discovery....! Perhaps, I ought to stick to that other experience I love in times 'off' - the movies...!
Anyway, back to the following...
After the attention to the breathing, comes the thinking processes. On a retreat once, I asked a rather blunt spiritual director what I should do about my thinking which constantly intrudes into what I imagined to be my (note the possessive again!) praying. He suggested that I waited until I was dead before stopping thinking! Mmmm. Thank you for that! There is, however, a serious issue here. What I am doing when I meditate in prayer is not stopping thoughts, but not allowing them to possess me, any more than I possess them. The thoughts that I have are not 'my' thoughts. They are happening within me, certainly. So once I recongise that, i can smile and let them be.... I move even deeper into the silence, environment, physical considerations, breathing and thinking - not so dominating...
Oh and a challenging piece of music for you which deepens the silence: 'Quartet for the End of Time' by Olivier Messiaen.
+Martin
Argyll and The Isles
Anyway, back to the following...
After the attention to the breathing, comes the thinking processes. On a retreat once, I asked a rather blunt spiritual director what I should do about my thinking which constantly intrudes into what I imagined to be my (note the possessive again!) praying. He suggested that I waited until I was dead before stopping thinking! Mmmm. Thank you for that! There is, however, a serious issue here. What I am doing when I meditate in prayer is not stopping thoughts, but not allowing them to possess me, any more than I possess them. The thoughts that I have are not 'my' thoughts. They are happening within me, certainly. So once I recongise that, i can smile and let them be.... I move even deeper into the silence, environment, physical considerations, breathing and thinking - not so dominating...
Oh and a challenging piece of music for you which deepens the silence: 'Quartet for the End of Time' by Olivier Messiaen.
+Martin
Argyll and The Isles
posted by Martin at 8:08 pm
3 Comments:
You might not want to go here in a blog, but it occurs to me that an interesting thread might be the differences (and overlap) between your and your brother's sense of spirituality and prayer. Especially if he and other Findhorn members joined in the discussion. A way of casting the blog-net wider?
I went fishing once. Loved the idea of it, the gear,the names of the flies, the literature. When I caught a fish and had to kill it I felt a terrible sense of compunction that I was part of the will to destroy in the world.I never went again. (though still into Birdseye) . Clare
Your post made me think.
As a child I went fishing with my father and grandad and loved it, sparing no thought for the fish. I also longed to go shooting with them, although I wasn't allowed to, and watched with relish as the rabbits were skinned and the birds were plucked for the table. However, I wept copiously over such books as 'the Yearling' and similarly at the demise of beloved pets.
Maybe as children we don't have the notion of how we're expected to react to things, therefore the anonymous rabbit or salmon is no different from the pig who gave up its life for our breakfast bacon or the heifer that became our Sunday roast, whereas once it becomes personal - the beast has a name or is part of the family - it's a different matter.
But as adults we've gone through those thought processes that let us see how uncomfortable it can be to identify with others - animals included. We've heard the pigs squealing as they're loaded up on the lorry which takes them to be made into bacon, we've seen the trucks full of distressed animals on their way to the abattoir and we've made conscious, thoughtful decisions about whether we choose to be a part of it.
We've also had time to be bombarded with moral questions to which most of us feel we have to give serious consideration. Often we're 'told' how we should react by the tone of the questions. We can't help but be influenced.
Oh, and great blog btw!
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