A rambling post on some topics, including some ideas that may not be fully formed.
Due to my busy-ness, my attention to my spiritual practice has suffered lately. So, I have no meditations to report about, I have not planned (and likely will not plan) a ritual to observe Alban Arthuan (otherwise known as the Winter Solstice), and generally little progress on any spiritual path right now. I did get a copy of
The Druidry Handbook and have read it, and found it to be packed full of useful information and insights. I will be recalibrating my meditation practice a bit, and I have some further ideas running around in my head about how to best travel further down the path of Druidry.
One of the things that struck me most forcefully about
The Druidry Handbook was the chapter on meditation. Christian practice heavily emphasizes the importance of prayer. However, it is decidedly unusual to find any advice on how to actually pray. Now, much of this is due to the fact that we are repeatedly told "its not important how you pray, it is important that you do it". That's true, but only up to a point. As an analogy, prayer (or meditation, for that matter) is somewhat like running: in general, anybody can do it, with no training. Even with no training, one will get better as one does it, simply due to the exercise. But at some point, it is immensely valuable to get some training to improve one's form and become a better runner. The same thing goes for prayer. Yes, anybody can do it. But wouldn't Christians be better served if churches didn't merely emphasize the importance of prayer, but emphasized how to get better at prayer?
The Druidry Handbook, which is intended for those new to Druidry, has more information on meditation (Druidry's central spiritual practice) in it than I have encountered about prayer (Christianity's central spiritual practice) in a lifetime of being Christian. There are Christians who have learned and developed very practical and deep prayer practices. I propose that we need to make learning about and applying these practices a much more central part of our traditions than it is now.
As far as my path, I have decided that I am going to explicitly identify as a "Christian Druid" and develop my spiritual practice accordingly. In practical terms, what this means (at this point, at least) is practicing the spiritual practices of Druidry (i.e., following the Earth Path, the Sun Path, and the Moon Path faithfully) and deepening my knowledge of them, and finding ways to bring them into a Christian context while remaining faithful to the spirit of both traditions.
The most interesting and challenging part of this synthesis appears at this point to be the Sun Path. Christianity has a curiously unbalanced liturgical year: it starts with Advent, proceeds through Christmas and the Epiphany, and not too long after that rolls into Ash Wednesday, Lent, Holy Week, and Easter. All those major events in the Christian liturgical year happen in a space of less than 5 months. There is a small pause, then Pentecost (which is a fairly minor event in most churches) ... and then there is a complete drought of seasonal celebration in the Christian context until the next Advent arrives, about 6 months after Pentecost. So Christianity has a well established cycle of seasonal celebration, but it only covers half the year.
On what appears to be a completely different subject, I got a season pass to the ski areas at Snoqualmie Pass this winter. So, I am now skiing regularly again for the first time in over a decade. I must have been a pretty proficient skier at one point, because I am picking it up again with minimal fuss. I have also been feeling very out of shape lately, and in particular had some back pains, and it is very gratifying for me that skiing appears to be doing more to get me back in shape than to beat me further down. Maybe my body isn't in such bad shape and old after all.
Now, meandering back to spiritual practice, I spent last night skiing experimenting with using skiing as a form of movement meditation. I actually think that this will be fairly useful. In spite of the fact that it wouldn't initially appear to be the best activity for movement meditation, it has several useful traits. First, if you are skiing, you almost by necessity have to be very conscious of all the parts of your body. Secondly, a ski slope is generally a fairly quiet and peaceful environment. Even when it is busy, the snow muffles sound to the point where wind and silence are the predominant features of the soundscape. Third, skiing has some very appealing aesthetic qualities (at least to me) when done well. Fourth, ski areas (in the western U.S. at least) are generally very lightly developed patches of what is still basically primeval wilderness, and generally, this is a major feature of the experience.
As a caveat, I would not recommend trying to use skiing as movement meditation to a novice skier. Skiing a run that one finds technically demanding is unlikely to be a meditative experience. I found that using skiing as movement meditation works best for me on slopes that I could descend without a lot of conscious thought about technique.