Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

I’ve devoted the weekend to continuing my spiritual growth rather than worrying about the turbulent state of our world and country. I was successful.

I’ve worked hard on my spiritual direction, and returning to my spiritual exercise for a day or so was simple and satisfying. I feel calmer, more hopeful, less anxious, and less distracted. I sat with Zip and Maria this afternoon, relaxed and at ease. Zip is connected to me now; he knows where I am regarding quiet, peacefulness, and meditation.

Somehow, he knows when it’s time for my spiritual work; he always appears, sometimes mystically. Somehow, it’s his exercise, too, or at least, he wants it to be something he shares with me. He is my partner in the exercise.

I am grateful for this work; my equivalent of God is faith and hope, and I am confident that this idea of God will show itself in some way and will continue to deepen. That is what I felt when I realized this week that I had slipped into a state of endless work and anxiety. The old ways I devoted this weekend to let my heart fill with sound and kindness and not succumb to anger and fear.

I let the distractions float by like bubbles from a balloon. My distractions seemed less and less urgent as I sat quietly and straightforwardly and decided to be with my notion of God; I feel it in my heart, even if I don’t have a name for it. I am calmer, stronger, and at peace. I know now that this is not permanent for me.

I have to keep working at it again and again. I have, and I will.

When the first ten minutes were over, I took a deep breath and moved on to the next ten. Yet another color and peace was added to the beauty of the scene. My spiritual self is farther along than ever, and it seems to know what to do, even if I don’t. I was called to take one of my favorite photos and take it to Lightroom, a software editing program, and do something I didn’t think I could do. I have been waiting for a teacher to guide me.

It was a beautiful and exciting experience, an antidote to anger, lies, and fear.

I guided myself through it, something I thought impossible this morning and before every time I do this exercise. I rested in prayer and reflection, searching for the real me. The truth settled in. I was okay with myself, where I am, and where I hope to go.

Then, I keep time myself for the next few minutes, another ten or maybe me.

I often fell into distraction in my meditations at this point, but not today.

I found a rich, even holly, connection with others through my blog, farm, writing, pictures, and animals. And with Zip, a young cat who seems spiritually connected to me in a way I can’t understand but have accepted. I don’t need to know why this happened; I need to welcome it when it comes to me.

I decided to let people into my heart—animals too—a neighbor, a friend, a relative, some sad news I heard about, lies and anger, a cat, a spider, an ewe. The important thing is not to exclude anyone or anything from my feelings. To embrace the teachings of St. Terese, The Little Sister, the practitioner of small acts of great kindness.

I trust my heart to let me know when I need to pay attention and to let me love when I can—a sweet way to get older.

This kind of spiritual prayer has done wonders for me. It can be done anywhere, alone or with others, in the quiet of dusk, in the living room, or outside, in the soft darkness. It lives inside of me; no one can take it away.

For me, a deep healing happens inside me; all I need to do is let it be free and do its work. I’ve stayed with this kind of prayer for several years, and it has given me a clearer understanding of my place as a human and in the universe. It was a gift to return to it this weekend and beyond.

I know there is a reason for me—many—for living in hope and joy.