the deep well

I recently read a story told by John A. Sanford, an Episcopal priest and Jungian analyst, of a childhood well he remembered at an old family home. Before they had running water, they used the well, and it produced the most wonderful, cool, clear, delicious water. The family eventually introduced plumbing, so the old well was no longer necessary. Later in life, Sanford was curious about uncovering the well, and found it to be dry, not because the water level had dropped, but because since the flow of water out of the well had ceased, the tiny "rivulets" has he called them, didn't flow and so became clogged up.

He compared that well to the spiritual life: when we cease to access the "flow" of the spirit, the resource may seem to dry up. When we do not practice drawing from the well, regularly, we may find it a difficult source. I know exactly what he's referring to because I have had such a spiritual experience. For a time during and just after college I was in the regular practice of waking early, reading scripture, and then meditating for at least 20 minutes. In that season of my life, when I practiced drawing from the well through meditation, I had a dynamic spiritual life, and it didn't take long for me to sit down to meditate before I felt myself drawing the cool refreshing waters of the life of God.

Then I stopped. I talked about meditation because I had that rich prayer life in my history, but I was not practicing. It always seemed like that resource would be there whenever I needed it, just like Sanford's childhood well, but when I finally sat to meditate, I found that I had once again become a novice, struggling to let go of my to-do list so that I might simply rest in God's presence.

I am a big of director Wes Anderson, and in his last few movies, there have been moments pointing out this false perception that we have that we can jump into a prayerful place as quickly and easily as we ask our smart phones for for driving directions. Anderson's characters will close their eyes, hum for a couple of seconds, then open their eyes, as if they have just spent forty minutes meditating. We already know these characters do not have much of a prayer life, so it is obvious that the well they seek to draw from would take a little more practice; but it points to the hope of his characters, and perhaps the hope in each of us, that we could close our eyes for just a couple of seconds, and we would instantly be swept into the blissful presence of God.

Let me be clear: prayer is as easy as stopping what we are doing, and knowing God's presence. And there does seem to be a greater ease of accessing those spiritual waters at the onset of a prayer life. There is also a deep connection that grows over a lifetime of prayer that is deeper and richer than those quick "shout-outs" to God. There is a flowing river of prayer that is present for us to access if we but take the time to, as the psalmist puts it, "Be still, then, and know that I am God;" (BCP, Ps. 46:11)

Your practice may look very different from mine, but being one who has had a practice, left it, and struggled to come back to that regular prayer practice, I would invite you to join me in the struggle, so that the water is there and accessible when you are thirsty. Today, I am up for writing and reading almost every morning. I enjoy a sacramental cup of coffee and frame my day with prayer time. I never have gotten back to that daily practice of meditation, but I do meditate on occasion. My life has changed and so has my prayer life. My journey continues to unfold as I find new ways to drink from the living waters of the spirit, and keep the water flowing so the well doesn't run dry.