Drano for the Heart

What do you do when your heart feels tight and closed off? When love isn't flowing like it should and could?

Have you ever lived in an old house or apartment with pipes that pre-dated refrigerators or the automobile?

Okay, so me neither (cause that would be 1913 and 1866 respectively), but still, if you’ve ever lived with old pipes, or just really poor plumbing, then you can relate to what I’m about to say:

Drano is a miracle worker.

Few things are as annoying, disgusting, and time-wasting as clogged pipes. Little tiny Gandalfs standing at the base of the p-trap telling your toothpaste foam filled sink water, “You shall not pass!” The entire flow of the house stops (pun intended) until you make your way to a nearby CVS and pick up one of the 14 different varieties of Drano.

Sidenote: why are there so many options? If there’s an Extra Strong version of it, why not just make the regular version that strong? Why are we intentionally selling lesser strong versions of things? Like, should we start selling Extra Strong versions of office chairs, that guarantee to hold you up all day? Or, for seventy cents less, you can get the Regular Strength office chair that we’ve especially engineered to be less effective at holding your body weight. So, you know, you may collapse sometime around 3:30 each day, but it was cheaper!

Anyway, I digress…

Drano, it’s amazing. You pour it in and voila it unclogs your pipes and the water flow resumes. Kids, you can wash your hands again! Hallelujah.

The other day I had this thought:

Spiritual practices are Drano for the heart.

I’ll explain what I mean here in a minute and then, at the end, I want to share with you how I use six spiritual practices as ways to counter six things that tend to clog up my heart most often.

THE HEART GETS CLOGGED

While I’m a firm believer that we are all connected to God (all the time), we don’t always feel that way. Not to mention, there are things that block up that connection.

Recently, while attempting to articulate what I believe is the purpose of my life (to be a Conduit of Love) I wrote about some of the things that clog up the flow of my heart and create blockages in that flow. These are things that restrict or limit or otherwise alter the flow of love that begins with God, runs to and through me, and then ideally gets passed on to others. The list included: Selfishness, fear, insecurity, shame, pride, and low physical energy.

I can’t be a (good or useful) conduit for love if I’m afraid, or if I’m feeling like I don’t belong or have inherent worth. If I’m out there in the world (or even here behind my keyboard) feeling as though I have to earn my place, then I’ll be doing and saying things that seek to extract from you. Rather than give love, I’m a vampire looking to suck it.

Perhaps it’s the Enneagram 3 in me, but I want to be the best conduit I can. I’m reminded of John the Baptist’s words, “I must decrease so that he may increase.” It’s kind of like that. May there be less and less blockages in my heart so that the love of Christ flows ever more freely and voluminously.

So then, what to do about the blockages? Because these are not just switches I can turn off. My shame runs deep, my selfishness is baked in, and pride has a way of inflating my ego far more frequently than I care to admit.

Enter, spiritual practices.

SPIRITUAL PRACTICES

In my religious tradition and upbringing, whenever spiritual practices were discussed or practiced it always seemed connected to a desire to please God. As in, “Make sure to have daily Quiet Time so that God will be pleased with you and maybe even bless you.” Perhaps it wasn’t stated that explicitly (or maybe it was? lol), but that was the general idea nonetheless.

But over the years (and especially as I’ve let go of the primitive ideas about God that paint the Divine as some worship-starved, attention-seeking, demanding overseer), I’ve come to appreciate spiritual practices in a new light. I recall years ago hearing my friend Brian McLaren say something to the effect of, “Spiritual practices are things that we can do now, that help to shape us to become a kind of person who can eventually do things we cannot yet do.” In that way, it’s not dissimilar to weight lifting or yoga. You start with the weight you can do; you begin with the poses you can do; and over time you build up the strength and flexibility to one day be able to lift and/or twist the weights and poses you couldn’t even fathom of doing right now.

I really like how the website Spirituality and Practice talks about it:

A spiritual practice does not have to be hard. It rewards presence, not effort. Some practices do yield an outcome, but many are done simply for their own sake. And practice does not make perfect. Don't expect to overcome all your weaknesses and fix all your problems. Indeed, difficulties are to be expected and can be used as aids on your journey.

It “rewards presence, not effort.” Isn’t that great? It’s not about crushing it, or doing the practice perfectly. It’s about, well, just showing up and… practicing. And as the above states, while yes there might be some outcomes or results as a kind of reward or benefit to practices, that isn’t really the point.

Practices are a way to ground you in the here and now.

They are means to connect (to God, to yourself, to others, to nature).

They open you up to what is.

They (over-time) can rewire some of the programming in your brain and body (which yes, is a kind of result), but it’s not really, I don’t know, a guarantee per se. And it seems to me that if you go in to a discipline of practicing with the hope of fixing this or improving that or getting-to-some-kind-of-future-state, then you might be under cutting or sabotaging the process.

In short, when I think of spiritual practices I think of them as things we can do that nurture our values, return us to the path of the present, and strengthen our experience of our connection to God.

Here are just a few of the common or traditional spiritual practices:

• Prayer: myriad definitions and examples exist of what “prayer” is, but I think at its core prayer is doing our best to speak truth. Sometimes out loud, other times in our own heads, but either way we are putting words to our feelings and thoughts and experiences. This may be directed at someOne or someThing, it may be simply released into the ether, but praying seems to me to be an intentional act of giving voice to our soul—be it needs, desires, what we’re grateful for, and so on.

• Worship: like prayer, there is probably no one right way to define what worship is, and this has certainly been an evolving concept for me over the years. Now when I think of worship, I tend to think of it as the recognition that I am someone both incredibly insignificant (in the grand scheme of things) and also utterly and wholly worthy. To worship someOne or someThing is to set it as a kind of northstar, a pillar of exemplary character or state. It is to ascribe ultimate worth. Many people “worship” things such as money, notoriety, admiration, or possessions simply because whether consciously or not these things have become what they’ve made their life’s aim about. Conversely, to worship God, is to decide that that-which-is or that-which-points to the greatest/highest/deepest truths and values of the universe is that which I’ll give my life to. To worship God is to order our lives around and the truth that we are loved by Love itself, and to also lay down our liberties insofar as saying that we want to be in service of that Love.

• Service: speaking of service, service is another beautiful traditional spiritual practice within historic Christianity. Service is a practice of opening our eyes and hearts to the needs of others. It is acknowledging that life isn’t all about us. It is choosing to set aside (sacrifice) our own time, energy, and resources for the well-being and healing of others. Service constantly brings us back to the aforementioned truth that we are insignificant (the world doesn’t revolve around us), while also zeroing us in on the truth that another person is utterly and wholly worthy of love, dignity, care, and respect.

• Sabbath: this oft-ignored and misunderstood spiritual practice is all about recalibrating our identities as human beings and not human doings. Originally this practice was established by the newly-liberated Hebrew slaves who had spent generations being defined by how many bricks they could make for their Egyptian rulers. Once freed from such oppression, the practice of Sabbath—grounded in their Creation story of how even God rested—seems designed to establish a new rhythm and story. To practice Sabbath is to accept the Divine Invitation to accomplish nothing. To simply be, and trust that that is good and holy and enough.

• Fasting: similar to Sabbath keeping, fasting feels wildly misunderstood to me. At its core it’s pretty simple: you don’t eat for a period of time. But why would that be a spiritual practice? Perhaps because (and this might be more true now than ever) we live in a world where we constantly have access to not only get our needs met, but get them excessively met. Dopamine hits are within reach at all hours of the day. Whereas our bodies evolved to find homeostasis (a balanced and stable state between too much and too little), we now are constantly overloading on dopamine. Which then causes our body to counter react by piling on with the sad-sads, the depressive feels, the downers. The more dopamine we pile on one end of the seesaw, the more the gremlins have to pounce on the other. Fasting, then, might be a way for us intentionally deprive ourselves of instant satisfaction and gratification, as a way to recalibrate our systems.

• Solitude: like fasting above, solitude is another one of those “do this because it’s not the norm,” and the norm is slowly destroying us. Whether it’s constant scrolling, constant streaming, constant whatever’ing, we are inundating our minds and eyeballs with stuff. Our minds are buzzing nonstop. Solitude, getting away, being alone, is super scary because we’re just stuck with ourselves. Which most people spend a ton of energy throughout the day trying not to do (see above about scrolling and streaming).

UNCLOGGING MY HEART

Returning to the things I mentioned earlier that tend to clog up my heart and prevent me from being a conduit of love, let me now demonstrate how the above Spiritual Practices function, for me, like Drano for the heart, breaking up the clogs and allowing love to freely flow.

Clog: Selfishness
Drano: Service

When I get wrapped up in myself and my work I tend to, well, think about ME way too much. How can “I” get ahead? How can “I” earn more money? How can “I” do better at this, that, and the other thing? It’s easy for me to get very selfish when I’m on default, unconscious mode. Service (intentionally doing things for the sake of others benefit) gets me out of this self-centered rut. I look for ways to encourage and support my peers and colleagues. I look for opportunities to brighten people’s days. I stop asking, “How can I improve Colby’s life,” and instead ask, “How can I use what I have to make someone else’s life a little less hard, and a little more light?”

Clog: Fear
Drano: Prayer

I didn’t used to be so afraid so often (at least, not that I can recall), but nowadays it feels like Fear is always lurking, ready to seize on any opportunity to make its presence known. Fear that my kids will adopt the attitudes and beliefs of their mom and won’t want to see me; fear that I won’t find work; fear that I’ll run out of money and live on the streets (which was slightly less scary in San Diego, cause at least it was sunny most of the time… plus, I had friends and family there. But now? In Portland? The rainy, cold streets are right there calling me…); fear that I’ll be in debt forever; fear that other people in my life will choose to leave me behind like so many have these past two years. One way I can help to address Fear when he shows up is through prayer. To move my thoughts toward what is good and noble. To focus on what I have, right now, to be grateful for. To name the people who love me, and why they say they love me. As I name the Fears (aka, pray), I then do my best to simply let go.

Clog: Insecurity
Drano: Fasting

I’m your classic “looks like he’s got everything figured out and his life is together, but on the inside he’s actually deeply insecure” kinda guy. Hi, nice to meet you. I’ve pretty much always been this way. Insecure, not feeling good about myself, not feeling worthy… and then overcompensating through various efforts of achievements or a kind of projected confidence (which can register as arrogance). Fasting (choosing to withhold myself from things that would provide hits of pleasure) is my way of stepping off the merry-go-round of endless doing/achieving/rewarding. It provides me the chance to break from artificial dopamine hits which can act as a coverup for my insecurities.

Clog: Shame
Drano: Solitude

Similar to insecurity, Shame convinces me more often than I care to admit that I’m not enough. That I’m not worthy. It latches on to things like my wife divorcing me as evidence that “See, told ya, you’re no good.” Shame feels like embarrassment, and I hate feeling embarrassed, so I will often overcompensate with things like sarcasm or humor. If I get you, or get to the joke, before shame gets me, then I’ll feel better. Practicing solitude (shutting things down; being alone; getting out/away) can sometimes remove the temptation to cover my shame by using others (either for false gratification, or, for a kind of emotional punching bag). Though it sometimes backfires (cause when I’m alone that can be where the voices of Fear and Insecurity get loudest), I know that practicing solitude pays off in the end.

Clog: Pride
Drano: Worship

Thinking the world revolves around me is nooooot a good thing. I should’ve grown out of the at about the age of two. But, as it were, pride is still a struggle of mine. It often shows up as the inverse compensatory efforts against insecurity: I feel bad about myself, therefore, I will pretend to be awesome. And then, as an Enneagram 3, I will believe my own b.s. press reports: He’s amazing! So smart! So clever! Best in class! What a stud! And so on… Worship gets my focus clear and my priorities aligned. It reminds me of my place in the universe (very, very small), and yet at the same time, very, very loved. If, through worship, I can return to my own Belovedness, then I won’t need to keep trying to extract from others (to feed my pride) and instead can simply show up grounded in the truth of who I really am.

Clog: Low Energy
Drano: Sabbath

Though it might sound counter intuitive, when I’m feeling low on energy often times the best path forward is to rest. But, like, actual rest. Where I shut things off and shut things down. I love people. That being said, being around people has a tendency to consume my energy (rather than give it). Add to that, the constant productivity that drives my days and weeks leads to feeling exhausted. And that exhaustion leads to a low energy, which then can’t produce anything worthwhile even if I tried. Therefore, practicing Sabbath, where I accept the Divine Invitation to accomplish nothing, restores my energy for the tasks ahead, as well as stores up energy to give it away to more people.

HOW ABOUT YOU?

I’m curious if you have any practices that you do as ways to fight, fend off, and counter the things that trip you up and clog your heart? And maybe you don’t call them “spiritual practices,” cause that conjures up too much religious baggage, but regardless of what you call them, what do you do to try and keep your heart open and love flowing?