In some peoples’ lives, a contemplative practice becomes the still axis around which all else revolves. They eagerly await the time set aside for contemplation.
Or, something deep and still comes upon them unbidden when in nature (or in a crowded room). This is contemplation too, for the intention is there to walk in the dark land. And meditation itself can offer images and visions of ways forward, of natural places that could and do themselves become future loci of further deepening.
The contemplative truly becomes the “pilgrim of eternity” when he or she gives high priority to this deepening. There’s no conflict here with worldly priorities, even with the priorities of love and intimate relationships, because paradoxically to closely hug the practice in one’s heart means all others in that life are also closely hugged.
Yet contemplation requires will, resilience, commitment. An experience of the presence of eternity is not guaranteed, and many mystical writers have spoken of the tracts of desolation that can be encountered. It’s then that the words of these mystical writers are valuable, as way marks and humbling references. We may never attain the states of which they speak, and that’s of no matter. By their words we are encouraged to keep walking.
Here’s George William Russell (known as AE) on the subject, speaking of when he was still a boy:
I began to be astonished with myself, for, walking along country roads, intense and passionate imaginations of another world, of an interior nature began to overpower me. They were like strangers who suddenly enter a house, who brush aside the doorkeeper, and who will not be denied. Soon I knew they were the rightful owners and heirs of the house of the body, and the doorkeeper was only one who was for a time in charge, who had neglected his duty, and who had pretended ownership. The boy who existed before was an alien. He hid himself when the pilgrim of eternity took up his abode in the dwelling. (AE, The Candle of Eternity)
