I love to doodle! Doodling has become for me a tool for meditation.
Lectio Divina (divine reading) is a traditional Benedictine practice of scripture reading that is transformational.
Traditionally Lectio Divina has 4 specific steps: reading, meditation, prayer and contemplation.
I respectfully add to this list of spiritual disciplines, a fifth: doodling/drawing – duco divina.
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A friend wrote me about my book recently. “Your words, like your doodles, are intricate and full of twists and turns, looking this way and that, inside and out, up and down, through and through…” she said.
That reminded me of a cold, grey day in Germany. I was sitting up in bed, exhausted after a sleepless night, staring at my hands. I was frustrated that pain and exhaustion made it impossible for me to stay focused when I tried to pray.
The tiny, almost invisible twirls and whirls on the inside of my hands, specially on my fingers (aka fingerprints) fascinated me. I knew they were unique to me – which made them all the more fascinating.
My reading that morning was from Isaiah 49.
“See, I have
engraved you
on the palms
of my hands…”
I thought of what that might look like – me engraved on the palms of God’s hands. Engraved in the midst of all the twirls and whirls.
As that truth slowly became a part of my being, I pictured myself and everything that is my life carved into the palm of God’s hand. Not just ‘held’ by His hand, or stained in henna that will eventually wash away, but permanently engraved.
I doodled swirls and whirls that symbolized the patterns on God’s palm. Within it I placed my own hand along with symbols representing various aspects of life. Some basic, even laughable; and others more complex.
As I saw my hand sketched into that pattern of swirly lines, what I was left with is this—the unchanging reality that I am firmly anchored.
Permanently engraved. From there, I can ask questions without coming unglued. I find my treasures in darkness—riches stored in hidden places.
hang·o·ver : A thing that has survived from the past.
After 3 weeks of intense pain, the pain levels are finally reversing their trend and going down instead of up. I was ecstatic when upon waking up after a good night’s sleep, I discovered that the deep, throbbing pain had been replaced by a manageable ache. Mentally, I pulled out my to-do list and was prepared to hit the road running.
Easier said than done. It was excruciatingly difficult to get out of bed. My head hurt. My body was sore. My limbs just wouldn’t cooperate and do what I wanted them to do. My mouth was dry and my eyes didn’t want to look at anything. I had trouble waking up.
A dear friend, also a veteran of pain, took one look at me and asked if I was in the middle of a ‘pain hangover’. I had never heard that term before – what a perfect description!
Wikipedia: “The most commonly reported characteristics of a hangover include headache, nausea, sensitivity to light and noise, lethargy, dysphoria, diarrhea and thirst, typically after the intoxicating effect of the alcohol begins to wear off.”
Replace ‘alcohol’ with ‘pain’, and ‘intoxicating’ with ‘debilitating’ and there you have it.
I decided I needed to extend grace to myself and give my body the time it needs to recover from this. I’ve learned not to fight it and go about my day like everything is perfect.
grace: a temporary exemption : reprieve, disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency (http://www.merriam-webster.com)
“What my head knows as knowledge comes alive only when it explodes into fire in my heart.”
Love—
mortals have sung it’s praise before
and it will be sung again
over and over throughout time
forever…
and yet, with each new song,
the bard that sings
discovers something new
ever adding to that mound of understanding—
nothing is new, nothing is old
and yet, everything is!
Love discovered, is his to keep
who searched and toiled and won.
Why doodling? I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t tried…
Years ago, in an attempt to stay put in one place, focused on one task, I sat down with a clipboard, a piece of paper, and an ink pen. I picked a phrase to meditate on. ‘The joy of the Lord is my strength.’ Joy was the last conscience thing on my mind then. I was struggling with deep exhaustion, the kind that left me empty.
With a shaky hand, I began doodling. My mind began to wander through the ins and outs of that phrase, into depths I had never had the patience to explore before. I found myself outlining my hands so they looked like they were clapping joyfully and I doodled all around this, filling every space.
Slowly, truth about joy began oozing like warm honey into conscious spaces as I acknowledged them. I found myself sinking into it, exploring it from different angles. Savoring it. Taking time to ponder. Making room for understanding. That joy isn’t influenced by external circumstances, I had always known. But this was coming alive for me in an entirely new way.
My spirit soared transcending every physical limitation. In the presence of my Maker, I glimpsed the eternal being I was created to be, if only for a moment, leading to a lasting shift in perspective and attitude. Peace in embracing the season I was in. Acknowledgement of where the boundaries lay. Contentment. Faith in the One I live for. All aspects of joy deep within.
It’s one of those days. I’m sitting in a comfy chair, with my hot water bottle, planning my day around the pain.
As anyone living with chronic pain issues knows well, It’s always up and down. There are days I can manage the pain quite well, get lots done, live life without limits. And then there are days like this one.
I had to do quite a bit of stretching and breathing exercises this morning before I could get out and get things done. Years ago, when I started doing this, the discipline of needing to exercise made it seem like another boring chore I’d have to endure. But now, I’ve learned to relax into this and actually enjoy this time spent in quietness, in tune with my body and spirit.
Like doodling, these times have become meditative and prayerful times for me.
Pain makes it very difficult to stay focused on anything. The ability to stay focused is a vital ingredient of quality time. My desire for quality time in prayer and meditation is what keeps me doodling.
Prayers are detailed pictures woven from breathing life-strands—not just words.
Living with chronic pain is no easy thing. This ‘thorn in the flesh’ that I must deal with on a daily basis has greatly altered life for me. I’ve ignored it, fought it, and struggled with it. While I continue to hope for a miracle, I do not want life to pass me by. Nor do I want to be defined by it. So I’ve chosen to make peace with it instead, and embrace it as part of ‘the now’ of my life.
Pain is a teacher. Pain is the ‘darkness’ in which I’ve discovered treasures previously hidden. Even the most painful scars, ploughed deep, can burst forth into flowering and fruitful vines. I am made to thrive—not just limp through life!
‘Treasures in Darkness’ is a compilation of personal contemplative doodles and writing, that was birthed out of my desire to encourage others on similar journeys. The ‘raw’ writing and doodles represent milestones in my journey in living with chronic pain. They take me back to very specific times and experiences in my life—some of them joys, many of them struggles, but all of them moments of deep revelation that have left lasting impressions that continue to impact my life today.
My hope is that within these pages you may find something you can relate to—those ‘connecting points’ that say our struggles are similar, but we’re not alone. There is hope. In finding those connections, may you too be inspired to thrive and share the stories of your journey with others, in your own way!
~ shini abraham
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