While one form of contemplative
prayer or another has been part of my spiritual life for almost as long as I
can remember, a few years before I started cycling I more intentionally
explored and started to practice a contemplative form of prayer that I consider
a mishmash of Centering Prayer and Mindfulness Meditation informed in part by
the writings of Thomas Keating, Basil Pennington, and Thomas Merton. Now that I
have been cycling for a few years I have discovered that contemplative prayer’s
focus on the breath and clearing the mind as a gateway to solitude is akin to
some of my cycling experiences.
For example, one day I was riding
along a rather wild section of a rail trail when all of a sudden I realized
there was a thick branch sticking out onto the trail just a foot or two in
front of my face. I did not have time to steer around it or stop. I simply
ducked my head and let nature take its course. I ended up on my side in the
bushes with a cracked helmet, a healthy head, and no damage to my bike.
Reflecting on what had happened, I
realized that for the first time while cycling I must have entered a meditative
state. I had become so mindful of my repetitive peddling and steady, deep, rhythmic
breathing that I become one with the bike and the trail and unaware of what was
around me. I was “in the zone,” an “expression used to describe a state of
consciousness where actual skills match the perceived performance requirements
perfectly” and implying an “increased focus
and attention which allow for higher levels of performance. Athletes,
musicians, and anybody that totally owns a challenge of physical and mental
performance can be in the zone.”[1]
“In positive
psychology, flow,
also known as the zone, is the mental state of
operation in which a person performing an activity is fully immersed in a
feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and enjoyment in the process of
the activity. In essence, flow is characterized by complete absorption in what
one does, and a resulting loss in one's sense of space and time.”[2] For
me, this experience of being “In the Zone” while cycling was as a mystical experience, a
loss of the ego in which I was more mindful of the flow of the internal
momentary here and now rather than the external of what was coming or what has
passed.
The concept of “flow” or being “in
the zone” has existed for thousands of years under other guises,
notably in some Eastern
religions. “For millennia, practitioners of Eastern
religions such as Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism and later
in Sufism
have honed the discipline of overcoming the duality of self and object as a
central feature of spiritual development. Eastern spiritual practitioners have
developed a very thorough and holistic set of theories around overcoming
duality of self and object, tested and refined through spiritual practice
instead of the systematic rigor and controls of modern science.”[3] I
think this is what Merton, Pennington, and Keating were talking about when they
wrote about contemplative prayer.
I have discovered that the attentiveness to breathing
that I have cultivated through contemplative prayer aids my breathing while
cycling. I have also discovered the deep breathing that comes with riding for a
good pace for over an hour or more has contributed to my practice of
contemplative prayer. As Esther De Waal has observed, “breath is life itself.
To be aware of my breathing is to be aware of life. . . .
Then, as I stay consciously with my breath, I may begin to see this
gentle rhythm of breathing in and out again as a microcosm of my whole life:”[4]
After riding a few miles at a fast pace, my breathing deep and rhythmic but not
labored, I feel particularly alive and mindful of the life within and around
me.
I
do not find myself “in the zone” every time I cycle. There have been instances since
that first time, however, that I have experienced a flow but am aware of it
only after the fact, never during. As soon as I become aware that I was
experiencing the flow I am no longer “in the zone.” Similarly, I do not
experience a truly meditative state every time I engage in contemplative
prayer. I feel blessed when I enter a “the sacrament of the present moment” even
if only for a brief time, but once I am aware that I have entered it, I am no
longer experiencing it. De Wall writes ‘Living in the present with total
attention is gift given to the artist and the poet, but it can equally well
belong to any of us,”[5]
including, I would argue, the cyclist.
After
a long ride, which for me now is thirty five to fifty miles, I will come home
physically tired and sometimes sore but mentally and spiritually refreshed,
even if I have not been in the zone. The repetitive motion of peddling, the
rhythmic breathing, feeling the air blow across my face, arms and legs, and
occasionally being surprised by a deer running out in front of me, wildflowers
along the trail, or a particularly stunning view of a pastoral scene feeds my
spirit and soul, renewing my awareness of being a creature in the midst of
God’s awesome cosmos.
You might also be interested in a more recent post, Riding Solo Or With A Group.
You might also be interested in a more recent post, Riding Solo Or With A Group.
