I recently did an interview on the subject of my new book, Same Old, Same New: The Consolation of the Ordinary.
The interview was with hosts Alastair and Julia Sterne on their podcast “Ordinary Matters”—a title I wish I’d thought of myself! You can listen to it on Apple Podcasts, or if you don’t have that, try this link. I enjoyed our chat very much, and it went well, I thought, except for one part when I was asked a question I wasn’t sure how to answer.
At this point, I might have risked sounding dumb by saying, “Umm … I don’t know what to say,” or maybe, “Can we stop recording for a minute while I think about that?” But instead I plowed on with the first thing that came to mind, a jerry-rigged answer that took the conversation in a different direction.
What was the question? Well, I wrote my book in celebration of all the ordinary things in our lives—which, let’s face it, probably comprise over 90% of our time in this world. With such a great preponderance of plain, humdrum stuff to deal with, doesn’t it make sense to learn how to enjoy these things rather than slog, begrudge, and complain our way through them?
Of course it makes sense. But how? How do you enjoy the ordinary? That was the question I was asked, and which, in spite of writing a whole book about it, I fumbled. So I intend to answer it now.
At least, I’ll give one answer. A question like this could have many answers, but I’ll give the one that for me is foundational, the sine qua non of entering into the joy of ordinary life. And it’s simply this: Just sitting.
Yup — that’s me. Just sitting at Chesterman Beach, BC. Notice how my chair legs are sinking into the sand. My wife had to come and rescue me before I completely disappeared.
I might try to sound more sophisticated and say, “The answer is prayer. Develop a good prayer life, and the glory of ordinary things will leap into focus.” But there are many kinds of prayer, or meditation, or contemplation, and of all these my favorite is just sitting.
How do you do this? Simple: Just sit.
Right away, of course, there’s a problem: thoughts. What to do with all those thoughts that immediately clamor for attention? Problems, worries, things that need doing, and so on and on.
Again, the answer is simple: You let them go. You can’t stop them coming, but as they come, you gently release them.
This has to be learned.
I’ll repeat: This must be learned.
How? Maybe think of it as setting aside one room in your house—the house of your mind—as a room for a special guest. Let’s call it the ‘Prophet’s Room.’ In this room, all is in readiness for the prophet to come. It is plain but comfortable, and it serves no other purpose but to wait patiently for the prophet, and to host him when he or she comes. This room is entirely at the prophet’s disposal.
And guess who the prophet is? It’s you. You are the special guest who will be given very special treatment because you have prophetic gifting.
Got the picture? Good. Now all you have to do is go to that room, close the door, and sit down and compose yourself. That room is always there, always waiting for you, and for you alone. It’s just as Jesus said: “When you pray, go into your room and shut the door, and pray to your Father, who is unseen” (Mt 6:6).
The door to that room is more than just a wooden, physical door. It’s your preoccupation with your own thoughts. That’s what you have to shut. For of course you have many other rooms in the house of your mind, and you cannot stop all the activity that goes on in them. But you can learn to stop focusing on the other rooms, stop giving them your full attention, and instead let them drift by like the banks of a river while you relax, safe and snug in your little boat.
You are not your thoughts.
I’ll repeat: You are not your thoughts.
Rather, you are someone much simpler and more beautiful than thought. You are a prophet, a person who is in direct communion with the Word of Life. He is the Word, not you, and some of the thoughts that come to you when you’re just sitting will be good thoughts—ones you might never have had in any other way. These you hold onto. They are more precious than diamonds.
But as for your own words, your images, your ideas, you let them go, and you just sit.
And that’s all you do.
This, I believe, is the beginning of prayer, the foundation, the source. And it’s the way to start enjoying your life, your ordinary life.
As Franz Kafka wrote, to find enlightenmnet “you do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked; it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”
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