Apartness

I once heard a talk on prayer. To the question, "why do we pray?" a number of ideas had come up and discussed. I was very sympathetic to all that was said and sometimes, when that happens, I hear what is said - and I can repeat what is said - but I may not be necessarily listening.

I do remember that one of the points shared was that prayer is only possible because of a sense of apartness. In other words, we prays because deep down inside we feel we are apart from something. Naturally the discussion revolved around humanity's separation from its spiritual origin, a sort of recalling the time we used to live in the Garden of Eden and now no more. In many ways, this sounded quite sensible. After all, I pray to God because I am apart or distant from God. This brings to mind two quite interesting images.

The first image is being apart from God who not only stands by me all the time, but has His son dwelling within me. How does a condition experienced as separation exist during a period proximity? How can I feel so distant from an infinite, loving being who never leaves my side? Does the frequency of our prayer reflect the frequency with which we feel the separation or is it the distance of the separation that we feel? As I live most of the year apart from my family - professional obligations - I understand the experience of longing for my family resulting from this separation. And yes, in conversation with my family, I am often reminded by them that they are always "close" to me. Inevitably, at some point in the conversation, there is the much used "...miss you..." statement. Clearly, no matter how we phrase it, the sense of separation is clearly experienced by my family and me. While this may not prompt me to pray in the generally understood sense, is this experience the same one of apartness and closeness that prompts prayer?

The second image that comes to mind is not so much the separation between me and God but more the separation between the Christ in me and me. I know this sounds a bit confusing but let me explain a bit more. I understand that every human being has two sides: a spiritual side and an earthly side. Let me begin with the earthly side. Each human being is clearly made of matter, some matter. In many ways, our physical body is what is mostly of the earth or like the earth: dense, compact, and grounded. In fact, even when we pass away, this physical body is returned to the earth in some shape or form.

There is another , less obvious part to my physical existence and this is a force that makes me grow in size and shape. The earth too grows; it finished "growing up" so to speak millions of years ago - not unlike a mature young adult who has stopped growing (weight gain or loss is not what I'm talking about here). By the time we are seven, actually, we are fully formed - organs are complete, teeth are being replaced with adult teeth, and effectively we only grow taller - if at all. After the age of seven, the only other major physical change we undergo is at puberty. After the age of seven or thereabouts, we do not grow anything new - no new organs, limbs, heads, etc. Our size will vary but our physical being is complete. In a certain way, plants may be said to be a good imagination of this growth. Plants are always growing. New limbs are possible up to a certain point beyond which the plant grows mainly in size. Long ago, this force was referred to the etheric. It is unseen but experienced. If this etheric force is akin to the plants, then it too must be of the earth. After all, even in the creation story, all plant life was given forth by the earth. So let's just say that our physical or material side is composed of both a physical aspect and an etheric aspect. However, this is not yet all of me.


There is a part of me that is more difficult to experience and yet it is there. This two has two parts to it and more extraordinarily are not part of the earth. The first of these aspects is that part of me that actually experiences something. I am not referring to senses per se but more of what we generally may call feelings, emotions, sentiments. Where do these come from? What is clear is that we do experience them. And just like many things we experience, these are in constant movement, always changing, rising and falling like a perpetual tide. We can say that these experiences are not of this world. That aspect through which these are "felt" clearly deserves an "other worldly" name. Some have referred to this as the soul. Herein lives all these sensations; sensations that do not arise from our physical senses but from sense that are different. Let's agree and say that the soul is the name of this aspect and clearly the soul is not of this world.

The other aspect of my "non-worldly" existence is what allows me to write these thoughts. I must have a personality, or better, an individuality that makes me uniquely me. This genuine experience of who I am is there, I experience it every day. In many respects it totally fills my day as well. You could almost say that it is larger than life. It allows me to travel through my memories and project on the future. Such capabilities are clearly "other worldly." This may be called the spirit.

So let us put this all together now. I have two worldly or physical aspects: the physical aspect and the ethericapartness exists, a lack of harmony between that which is physical in me and that which is other-worldly. Perhaps it is this apartness which also brings me to prayer.

It is true that for me, I am apart from my God, not by distance only but by many other aspects. This is part of my experience of God regardless of how closely he holds me. The limitation is mine and not His. Within me, there is also a separation between that which is physical and that which is other-worldly in me. This is reflected in the disharmonies of my life, including fear, worries and ailments. This is the distance that I often forget about and yet this is the distance most common in my daily life.

I pray when I feel this distance or a growing distance between me and my God. For this, every human being probably says they pray. Now I realise that I also pray because of the separation that exists between my physical and other-worldly aspects; a separation that I often forget and; a separation that is real. Perhaps my prayers should also reflect on this more individual and internal separation.