A few years ago my husband and I hiked the Tour du Mont Blanc, also known as the TMB. We followed a 105 mile trail around Mont Blanc through Italy, France, and Switzerland. At the end of each day, we checked into a refugio for the night. We took off our heavy backpacks and our hiking shoes at the door, and sat down for a hot meal before showering and crawling into bed. We did this every day for ten days.
By far, the most challenging part of the hike was carrying a 20-pound pack on my back while ascending and descending up to 5,000 feet each day. On one particular day, the ascent was especially brutal—we found out the gondola we had planned to take up the trail was still closed for the season. Instead, we hiked uphill for six hours straight. The pain in my legs, lungs, and shoulders was relentless. Finally, I broke. I doubled over my hiking poles and screamed, “I can’t do this anymore! I am in so much pain! This is meaningless!”
Trails like these have a way of revealing what is hidden or buried in the deepest places of your heart and mind. Back in the comfort of my daily routine, I might not have had to spar with these sorts of thoughts or what lay beneath them, but the pain I experienced on the trail brought them to the forefront where they demanded my attention.
I threw my pack on the ground, burst into tears, and just let it fly. As it turns out, there was a lot of repressed anger over injustice I had experienced in recent years, that was left unprocessed in my heart. Deeper than that, there was a wound of perceived abandonment in the midst of the trauma. Truly, it all felt too heavy, painful, and meaningless.
My husband stood a short distance from me on the trail and simply allowed me to be— to express whatever feelings came up in the presence of his loving and nonjudgmental witness. After about five minutes, my anger subsided, and my heaving sobs eased into gentle, rolling tears down my cheeks. I slung my pack back on my shoulders and said, “Ok, I’m ready. Let’s go.” That was it. It was just enough time and attention for me to keep going.
In hindsight, I gained a valuable lesson that day—there are some emotions, memories, and questions that are simply too heavy to travel with. They have to be expressed in order to be released from our body, mind, and spirit. If not, they fester. They harden our hearts and stifle our connection with God, ourselves, and others. Left too long, they can turn into disorders like PTSD or Prolonged Grief Disorder.
Painful experiences and emotions need two things: expression and connection. Our bodies are hardwired to experience and recover from hard things when we have the opportunity to express our pain in the presence of a loving and nonjudgmental witness. It really is as simple as that.
That’s where this little mid-day meditation comes in:
12PM or 5PM - the monastic hours for mid-day (Sext) or evening (Vespers) prayer
Find a comfortable place to sit. Close your eyes. Be still.
Imagine you are coming off a trail (your daily schedule) to a resting place.
Your Higher Power is there. Inviting you to come in and sit down.
Remove your pack (all the responsibilities you carry) from your shoulders. Sit down.
Take a moment to catch your breath.
As you breathe in and out, do a body scan from the top of your head to your feet.
Notice how each part of your body feels, without judgment or interpretation.
You hear your Higher Power say,
”It has been a long journey. You have carried a heavy load to get here.”
Retrace your steps from the moment you got out of bed (or mid-day) until now. Notice the heavy experiences, thoughts, emotions, circumstances, and people that have you picked up along the way.
“Can you show me what is in your pack?”, your Higher Power asks.
Unzip your pack. Remove each item, name it, and set it down in front of your Higher Power.
“Leave these things here with me. I will take care of them for you, because I love you.”
Take a moment to notice how your body, mind, and spirit feels lighter.
Thank your Higher Power.
Zip your empty pack.
Be on your way.
Amen.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me.
Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.
I’ll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Matthew 11:28-30, MSG