This is a monthly series on Francisco de Osuna’s The Third Spiritual Alphabet.1 In each post, we reflect on one letter from his Alphabet. The Alphabet was written as an aid to recollection. Recollection (being recollected in God) is both a form of prayer and a way of being in the world. This month’s letter is J.
How We Are to Control Our Speech, Saying: Do Not Let Unprofitable Departures Go Unpunished. Jamás pase sin castigo la salida sin provecho. (SA 240)
“Recollection is the narrow gate that God alone can squeeze through, and the soul labors to enter alone with him so it can sing with the Canticle: ‘My beloved to me and I to my beloved.’ These few words express how the soul and God are alone, having entered through the narrow gate of recollection, and how the Lord leads the way and the king places the faithful soul in the wine cellar of interior consolation where he confers his love perfectly.” (SA244)
The opposite of recollection is distraction and dispersion, which are the “unprofitable departures” mentioned in the title of this letter (SA 244). The primary labor in which the soul engages is to enter the narrow gate of recollection by checking these departures.2
Checking Thoughts That Distract
“We are to work continuously to remain in our hearts by checking our thoughts and cleaning out all circumstances that might impel us to leave.” (SA 246)
“Vain, restless, fickle, my heart runs away as it pleases…Distracted by an infinity of things, it roams here and there through countless experiences in endless search of rest. When my heart is totally miserable from all this effort, it reappears, drained of all repose, feeling no peace within but all out of sorts with itself, and then, fleeing once more in a confusion of wills, it changes advice, builds new things, destroys old, rebuilds what it just tore down, reorders and rearranges things, again and again, because it no longer desires what it thought it desired, and so it can never stay in one place…And so the heart shorn of divine grace, goes slipping away until it comes to its senses and considers what it had thought about, and, finding nothing, realizes that a lot of troublesome thinking produced absolutely nothing of substance.” (Osuna quoting Saint Bernard, SA 246-47)
That sounds exhausting; and it is exhausting. How might we check our thoughts so that we don’t engage in a lot of troublesome thinking that produces nothing of substance? Let’s focus on our practice of recollection, and we can extend that into our day-to-day living.
The more we sit in the stillness and silence with the desire of our hearts focused on the ubiquitous and divine presence, the easier it is to notice the causal chains of thought that lead to distraction and dispersion. I am often amazed how a simple thought can lead me far afield so that I end up ruminating over something that nearly ruins the peace of the moment.
I am sitting in my chair in recollection, and for no apparent reason, I have a simple thought about my job. I begin to think about what I will need to get done the next day. I remember I have a report due, and the site from which I pull data is down. I begin to wonder, “What will I do? How will my team leader react when I don’t have the data for the report? How am I supposed to have a report without data?” Now I am beginning to feel anxious. Then, I remember where I am what I am trying to do. I say to myself, “You’re thinking about work,” and I let it go. Or, I simply say, “Lord Jesus” and let it go, refocusing the attention of my heart.
In previous posts, e.g., here, we have considered the value of using a short word, phrase, or prayer to recollect ourselves when we are distracted. Another way to check distracting thoughts is by naming them or labeling them. When I realize I am distracted because I am thinking about work, if I name my distraction by saying mentally, “You’re thinking about work,” I can easily discard it. I don’t know why this works; perhaps the act of naming the distraction gives us a sense of ownership over it so that we can discard it instead of being carried away by it. Whatever the reason, naming our distractions can enable us to discard distracting thoughts with greater ease. And, of course, this method works just as well in our day-to-day activities as it does when we are sitting in recollection.
In general, the more accustomed we are to recollection, the more we will see how causal chains of thought work. We will realize how a simple, unnecessary thought can lead us down a rabbit hole and nearly ruin our peace. In the scenario above, a simple thought about work occurs to me, I begin to indulge the thought, and before I realize what is happening, I start to feel anxious about a situation that might or might not happen. How preposterous is that moment of self-imposed anxiety, which started with a simple thought that had no bearing on what I was trying to do? One thing I have learned through keeping a practice of recollection is that I am not my thoughts. I don’t have to go down just any old road a thought tends to lead me. I can let it go.
Learning Contentment Where I Am
In this Letter, Osuna also touches on a very simple, yet deceptive, assumption: If I change my location, I will be at peace. It is tempting to think that my lack of peace is due to my surroundings and circumstances. And to be fair, sometimes our circumstances are such that they need to be changed. If I am around people who are mean-spirited, or simply inconsiderate, then a change may be needed in order to secure some external semblance of peace.
But if my peace and contentment depend on circumstances, then they will be as ephemeral as my circumstances. More importantly, if what prevents me from experiencing contentment is interior to me, then changing location makes about as much sense as trying to outrun my own shadow. It’s just not going to happen because, obviously, everywhere I go, there I am.
“People who go from place to place with good intentions must think that the same sun does not shine both on their spot and those they plan to visit or that we are not all guided by the same North Star. Accidental differences deceive them, and they believe that it is beneficial to be turned over and over like wine, trying first one thing, then another, in the belief that what they lack here will be found there and that they will enjoy more spiritual peace and contentment by removing circumstances that presently disturb them and that they do not think will exist where they intend to go.” (SA 248).
What recollection ensures is that my peace and contentment go with me, wherever I am. If they slip away, I know the remedy.
A Desert Blossoming
We want the kind of a peace and contentment that goes with us wherever we are and does not depend on changing circumstances. This can be found in the simplicity of recollection because our focus is simple and unified. Our focus is not on ourselves or our circumstances but on the inscrutable ground of our being that cannot be moved. One way to understand detachment and recollection is with the image of a desert blossoming.
On the one hand, detachment is an act of faith because we let go of the mental traffic, we let go of the desire to control outcomes, and we let our experience unfold as it will, trusting that God’s love will see us through. This kind of detachment is like a desert because we are not clinging to a multiplicity of things as if they can provide the peace we seek. On the other hand, in our detachment, we simultaneously cling in recollection to one thing: the One in whom we live, and move, and have our being. And so, the emptiness of the interior desert overflows. Contrary to what one might expect, water breaks forth in the wilderness, streams flow in the desert, and the desert blossoms.
Francisco de Osuna The Third Spiritual Alphabet (Trans. Mary E. Giles; Preface Kieran Kavanaugh; Paulist Press, 1981)
I’m not sure why, but this letter has little to nothing to do with controlling our speech but is primarily concerned with checking distracting thoughts.