From Transcendental Meditation to Contemplative Prayer
I turn 60 next January. Back in my early twenties at university I discovered Transcendental Meditation (TM). I often struggled with anxiety and was searching for peace, and TM offered me a way to stop, sit, breathe, relax, and still my mind. Not many of my friends or family had heard of it, so it seemed unusual to them. Those who had mostly thought it was a bit whacky - the sort of thing the Beatles were into in their ‘hippy’ days.
I practised TM for quite a few years before becoming a Christian, and I am ever thankful that I did. It involved sitting in silence for twenty minutes, morning and evening, repeating a mantra. Some Christians are cautious about practices like TM (and others say the same about yoga, which I came to later and love - but that’s perhaps for another blog post!). For me, though, what mattered was that TM opened up a space of stillness that eventually deepened into Contemplative Prayer (CP) - prayer that is all about relationship, not just silence for its own sake (which can be good in itself), but silence as a way of being with God.
I don’t use a mantra anymore, but I do use a simple permission word - a word I quietly return to when my thoughts wander and I get distracted. It’s a way of saying “yes” again to God’s presence. People use words like Jesus, God, Love, Yes, or Shalom. Most teachers of CP recommend around twenty minutes in the morning and twenty minutes in the evening. That said, it’s good to start small - even five minutes can feel like an eternity at first!
I can’t really explain why I love it, but it’s become a central part of my life. Over the years I’ve found a deeper peace, a reduction of anxiety, and a sense of being quietly held and simply with God. And at times, in a way words can’t explain, I have experienced a deep connection with God - a kind of union. CP isn’t about achieving something but about trusting that God is present and at work, even when nothing seems to be happening… a lesson that carries into my daily life.
And it’s humbling, because in some ways I haven’t got “better” at it. My mind still gets distracted during CP. Some days it feels impossible for it to settle. But that’s part of it - learning not to fight distraction, not to judge whether the prayer time was “good” or “bad.” It just is what it is.
What I’ve noticed over time is a gentle non-attachment during CP - to thoughts and feelings. I can notice them and let them pass, without being swept away by them. And that can carry into daily life too.
These days I tend to use fewer words during the whole of my prayer life. For example, I’ll sometimes pray something like, “Lord, please be with my daughter, my son, my wife, my church (or name someone else)…” - and then add, half in jest (what feels like a joke between us, but also a reminder of God’s love and grace), “but of course you will.” It helps me rest in the trust that God cares for those I love even more than I do.
CP is different still. It isn’t about words (other than a simple permission word that helps me ‘return’ to God’s presence), but about being together with God - simply resting in God - and allowing God to quietly transform me from within. All of this is by God’s grace, not by what I say or do. And this gives me peace.
