We are at War. Yes indeed. You have read that correctly, we are at war, but we are not at war against another nation, faith or even against COVID19; we are at war against ourselves. This time of isolation and of rapid changes has greatly revealed us about who we are, having to spend more time with our own thoughts has allowed us to become self-aware of our inner thoughts. This is the time many have stated as “entering the desert”. On the other hand, I want to stay, this is the time to leave the desert.
“Make peace with yourself, and both heaven and earth will make peace with you.” ― St. Isaac the Syrian
We live in such a desert-life. The whole world has become meaningless and we entered an empty repetition of things; we wake up at 5, be ready by 7, be at the office at 9, eave at 5, get home… and so on. Everything we do (and stop doing) becomes a reflection of this life. We become an empty desert that loses meaning in our lives due to repetition, and the fact is that we alone cannot be blamed. We have entered such a technological era on which the worship of the new is obtained, and we are leaving behind the old. I am not talking alone about leaving a high liturgical life but leaving the simple things, nature. It is in this new era that we are allowed to rediscover the mind of men. This re-discovery is simple and yet mystical because we make finally peace with ourselves through the foundations of the simple life. The rediscovery of this life is then taken by the observance in the small things of life. The morning coffee, the signing of the birds, the love that our pets give us, such small things and activities can become the foundation of a life of prayer and renewal. In reality, if we want to take a life of prayer without ceasing, we must then turn everything we do into prayers… even if impossible, we should always strive towards the higher good.
“Silence is the mystery of the world to come” ― St Isaac of Nineveh
I struggle with prayer, just like the dude next door. However, I have found ways to win this internal and external war. The reality is that for me this war that I am fighting is a war on which I cannot lose a single battle. It is a war toward my pursuit of becoming a philosopher as Plato puts it. I am pursuing the ideas, the world beyond Olympus, a world that not even the Greek gods could inhabit. This world pushes me toward the best life, and the path towards the best life is not an easy one. In fact, the path is war. My prayer life in fact is everything but orthodox. You can rarely find me in a room doing prostrations or repeating the same prayer 50 times; either of those while acceptable, are not for me. Rather than clearing my mind and aligning my will towards God, they produce a sensation of boredom. I start flipping pages to see where I can quit and how many prayers left, I have. My prayer life, on the other hand, looks weird for those that are not accustomed, but I have discovered that it ordains as a product of God towards God.
“Many human activities, good in themselves, are not good because of the motive for which they are done. For example, fasting and vigils, prayer and psalmody, acts of charity and hospitality are by nature good, but when performed for the sake of self-esteem they are not good.” - St. Maximos the Confessor
The leading towards this higher good for me comes in "very practical impractical prayers". I like to turn my studies of the philosophers and the theologians into my moment of silence and my moment of contemplation. When I read the ancient ones, I am able to ordain my mind from thinking about the moment to thinking about the eternal moment. The words of the pages flow into my mind, and my mind becomes quiet. Through the studies, I can hear the voice of God. Of course, the studies of the ancient ones have also connected me with the modern world. The ancient ones have motivated me through a life of consistent excellence in the body. Not simply by limiting the passions of the foods, but also limiting the lack of exercise. The cultivating of the body for a higher idea allows my body to become fit, not for the pursue of worthless passions, but for the true passion. In the sufferings of every day, I can find myself connected to the Calvary. It reminds me of my mortality, but also of whom my maker is. Such it is that in both the letters of the books and the movement of the world where I can pursue God the best. It is the truth that my prayer life is heterodox for others, but for me, there is no higher orthodoxy than becoming a philosopher and meeting God.
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