Powerless… But Not Helpless
Good Soil, Centering Prayer, and the Quiet Work of Transformation
[Shout out to John Sawyer for sharing such a solid talk yesterday morning. The Moonday reflection that follows is me ruminating on the themes and points that were raised. Thanks ☺️ John!]
One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is this:
I cannot manufacture transformation.
Believe me, I’ve tried.
Read another book.
Find the perfect Enneagram insight.
Set better goals.
Try harder.
Meditate longer.
Become a “better” contemplative.
Yet somewhere along the way I realized something both humbling and wonderfully liberating.
We are powerless…
…but not helpless.
There is a difference.
A farmer cannot command a seed to grow.
No amount of shouting at the soil will produce change or growth.
No amount of following advice rigidly will guarantee a harvest.
No amount of worrying will speed up spring.
A local farmer once said the following that John shared with me yesterday:
“Only God can make the seed grow.”
What, then, is the farmer’s work?
Prepare the soil.
Plant the seed.
Pull the weeds.
Wait. (and wait … and wait.)
Pay attention.
Wait.
Trust.
Centering Prayer is becoming available for what is already happening.
This has become one of my favorite ways of understanding Centering Prayer (CP), whose essence Thomas Keating once said is pure faith.
Twice each day I sit down in silence for < 20minute silent sits.
Not because silence changes God. It doesn’t.
Not because I am trying to manufacture enlightenment. I can’t, … I’ve tried!
Not because I expect dramatic spiritual experiences. Sometimes it affects my mood, but sometimes it’s just a practice like brushing my teeth.
I sit because I am tending the soil.
CP meditation 🧘🏻♂️ for me is less about making something happen than becoming available for what is already happening.
Grace is already at work.
Love is already at work.
The Divine is already drawing every created thing toward greater wholeness.
The question is not whether God is working.
The question is whether I am becoming receptive.
Good soil doesn’t mean perfect soil.
It means receptive soil.
Soil that has been softened.
Turned over.
Opened.
Ready.
There is an old saying among gardeners:
Plant seeds and pull weeds.
Perhaps that is our part in the great unfolding of consciousness.
Not controlling.
Not forcing.
Not fixing.
Simply participating.
Removing what hardens the heart.
Making room for what gives life.
Again and again.
One quiet act of consent at a time.
I sometimes think of Centering Prayer as allowing what I playfully call G.O.D.
The Grace Of Disillusionment.
The slow unraveling of the stories that no longer serve.
The gentle dismantling of the illusion that I am separate.
The quiet discovery that I have always belonged.
“Thank you, Providence…
Thank you, disillusionment…
Thank you, nothingness…
Thank you, clarity
Thank you, thank you silence.”
Yes.
Silence has a way of disillusioning us. Thank You! 🙏🏼 🤲🏼
Not by taking something away.
But by revealing what was never true to begin with.
And perhaps this is why I keep returning to the chair 🪑 each morning and late afternoon.
Not to become extraordinary.
But to become good soil.
Because the world doesn’t need more people hustling, trying to manufacture transformation.
Perhaps the world needs more people quietly cultivating the conditions in which love can grow.
“Don’t give up on the dirt” I heard John say and it resonated.
Do not give up on the dirt, especially your own.
Seeds have an astonishing way of finding life beneath the surface.
🌑 Reflection
What kind of soil am I becoming?
What kind of soil are we becoming?
What weeds might I gently release today?
And what seed of love, compassion, courage, or hope is quietly asking to take root within me?
👇 👇 👇 starting Tuesday July 21st offered Tuesdays and Thursdays 👇 👇 👇 Sign up
P.S. Starting July 21, our interspiritual contemplative community, Closer Than Breath, will begin offering free 25-minute silent Centering Prayer sits on Zoom each weekday. If you’ve been curious about beginning or deepening a practice of sacred silence, I’d love for you to join us. There is a place for you.
Wow, grace of disillusionment- brilliant. I needed this today. Thank you for your writing and practice Logan!!!
This names something essential about the contemplative path. Transformation ripens through receptivity. We prepare the soil, plant the seed, pull the weeds, and wait with attention. Growth carries its own hidden timing. Centering Prayer becomes an act of availability. We sit, breathe, consent, and allow awareness to settle beneath judgment, fear, and the story of separation. Silence softens the inner ground. Familiar identities loosen. The heart opens to the belonging that has always held us. Each return to the chair tends the soil of consciousness. Some periods feel spacious. Others feel ordinary. Every sitting strengthens our capacity to receive reality as it is. Our part is faithful participation. We notice what hardens the heart, release it gently, and make room for compassion, courage, and hope. One quiet act of consent at a time. The seed already knows how to grow. Our work is to become good soil. Contemplative transformation unfolds as we become receptive through silence, patient attention, and faithful participation in the growth already stirring within us. What would it mean for us to become more available to the life already growing beneath the surface?