To become proficient in the discipline of contemplation, we must be willing to live in the midst of paradox. For we can only know the Mystery by letting go of knowing, and by putting aside our reason, our thinking, our too quick words. We must sit still, doing nothing at all. We must wait, allowing things to reveal themselves to us, and seek by allowing ourselves to be sought. In contemplation we must take Thou in by allowing ourselves to be taken in. By doing these things, we will gradually become "modern" contemplatives and find ourselves living at the still point of the turning world.
I have met with but one or two persons in the course of
my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking
walks, — who has a genius, so to speak, for sauntering:
which word is beautifully derived "from idle people who
roved about the country, in the Middle Ages, and asked
charity, under pretence of going á la Sainte Terre," to the
Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, "There goes a
Sainter-Terrer," a Saunterer, — a Holy Lander...
Of course it is of no use to direct our steps to the woods,
if they do not carry us thither. I am alarmed when it
happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily,
without getting there in spirit... The thought of some work
will run in my head, and I am not where my body is — I
am out of my senses. In my walks I would fain return to my senses…
...So we saunter toward the Holy Land, till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever... shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, as warm and serene and golden as on a bank-side in autumn.
