The Other Place of Quiet – Revisited…

Brethren, let us also occupy yourselves with noetic prayer…, and seeking God’s mercy, cry out with a humble heart from morning till night and if possible all night long, saying constantly: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.”
Saint John Chrysostom

….pray without ceasing… I Thessalonians 5:17

Originally posted on September 3rd:
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There has been this feeling growing within me… A sense of “otherness” — as if I am somehow separate from the life I am living. My daily life feels surreal – not just physically… it’s almost as if I’m watching my life unfold from somewhere other than behind my eyes. I feel stretched thin – so thin I am transparent… Perhaps it is just some kind of weird escape mechanism my brain has cooked up – an escape from the pain and other symptoms, from the doctors and the tests and the needles. It’s not quite losing my “grip” on reality, but a shifting of it – experiencing reality from “outside” rather than within – or maybe it’s actually just deeper within? It is a strange feeling… alone and separate… and yet, still fully participating in the day to day struggles and joys of life. Odd.

In this “other space” there is a sense of prayer, but no actual words… though sometimes I hear, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me,” echo through – or perhaps, “Kyriê Isoú Christé eleïsón mê”. When I am at prayer, either at our icon corner at home, or at church, that’s the only time when I feel like I am “united” to the rest of my life. Those are the only times when I feel complete, “full” if that makes sense. The transparent blow-away-on-the-wind feeling disappears for a time, and I am just myself at prayer.
“Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me.”

I do not think this is as significant as it feels… feelings cannot be trusted. It is not as if I am depressed or anything like that… I laugh often – hard not to when you live with my hubby and my boys. (Where there is much difficulty there is often much joy.) But I do not see this experience of life ending any time soon. I am not sad, but I am very quiet inside and out. I feel like such an observer of my life, it’s much easier to just watch and listen rather than purposefully interact. Feeling so transparently thin makes it easy for me to act invisible – and be surprised when I am called upon to speak. There is a silence inside and surrounding me that I am loathe to break unnecessarily.

This feeling has grown as I have become weaker physically. As my sensory system has become more confused and my fatigue and pain levels have increased, I have naturally sought out places that I feel secure and comfortable – and those places tend to intensify my quietude. Overdoing things in any sense has proven to be unwise again and again, so I am learning to just “go with the flow” of whatever my body is doing on any given day. I watch my days unfold from this “other place” and take comfort in the prayer as it rises up within me. “Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me.” The Quiet has stopped all the questions that used to plague me. “What are you doing with your life?” “Where are you going?” “What are you accomplishing?” etc. None of their answers seem to matter in the Quiet. My only purpose is to spend what time I have on this spinning orb learning to pray and repent – to live as a child of the Light. I want to be a friend of God – to be a partaker of the Divine Nature of the Most Holy Trinity, and a bearer of the Uncreated Light of Christ. There is no higher goal… no other concept of success that I desire to attain.

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I wrote this just over a month ago now… and at the time, I thought that the Quiet would kind of fade into the background – like I would eventually get used to it, and it would cease to be such a vivid feeling. But it seems to only have intensified to a certain extent… it is with me now wherever I am – in the midst of bustling family life, or in the middle of the night. I’m still not sure exactly how to describe it, or what is causing it – but it definitely hasn’t gone anywhere. In the past month our lives have been turned upside down due to finances and whatnot – no need for detail – the point is that while the stress of moving and all has had the expected impact on my body (pain, infections, etc. etc. etc.) – my “inner man” is strangely untroubled. It’s as if the pebbles of struggle hit the water of my soul – and no ripple forms – they’re just swallowed up in this unexplainable stillness. All that remains is an echo… “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy…”

In all the pain and difficulties this sense of “stretched-thin-ness” seems stronger and stronger… I feel so “see-through” – translucent – and so very small… I am physically so very tired, weak – there’s a line from one of Rich Mullins’ songs – Elijah – that expresses the feeling well….“The Jordan is waiting for me to cross through/ My heart is aging I can tell“… Yet – there is a sense of strength too – not physically, but deep inside – at the essence of who I am… it’s like I’m made of something “different” – something solid and yet transparent – thin and wispy-like, but unbreakable…makes no sense whatsoever. I still laugh and cry, fail and fall, my humanity is so very obvious – and yet I dare to pray… dare to seek the face of God. How can I have such Rest in the midst of so much Unrest? It is a “puzzlement”… I’m not explaining this well – and I’m really only writing about it for myself – to try to put it in words, and so somehow to make sense of it all… perhaps it truly “surpasses all understanding”…

O, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

“O Lord, I have cried out unto Thee: hear Thou me. Hear Thou me, O Lord. O Lord, I have cried out unto Thee; hear Thou me. Give ear to the voice of my supplication, when I cry out unto Thee: hear Thou me, O Lord.

Let my prayer be set forth before Thee, as the incense, and the lifting up of my hands, as the evening sacrifice. Hear Thou me, O Lord…”