Saint John of the Cross was one asked as to whether our brains ever calm down a bit in this world, at least while we are praying. There are many who attempt to be free of distraction, you know, by staring at their belly buttons and breathing a certain way and shrieking whatever mantras (sorry, I know I’m mocking here…), as if they could possibly be successful, as if that would be a good thing, or by claiming that they have astro-traveled into nirvana territory by cutting themselves off from God and man, from the heavens and the earth, from themselves, so that they are Styrofoam, as if they could possibly be successful, as if that would be a good thing, and so on. No.
Saint John instructs us by saying the obvious. After original sin part of the cross we carry is that our physical brains don’t follow necessarily where our spiritual life is at. In the highest contemplative prayer with the soul almost as it were in the very midst of the Most Holy Trinity, the physical brain is, of its own accord, going a gazillion miles an hour as usual.
This is important to understand: the saints were all trained into being saints in the midst of these same circumstances of distraction. The saints learned over time, as can we, to let the soul, by grace, give more importance to the Incarnate Word of God who presents us to the Father by the fiery love of the Holy Spirit than whatever other importance we might give to whatever distraction. The distractions continue but we can walk in the presence of the Living God, in His Love, in His Truth, in His Life. It’s all about Jesus, not us. Jesus is the One. The only One. After all, He’s the Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception.
Oh, the flowers? You’ll see in the slideshow up top that they go from being in focus to out of focus, that our Lady goes from being in focus to out of focus. But, here’s the deal: love doesn’t care any longer about bodily senses being in focus or not, but only about love. God is love. Mary’s Son Jesus is more important that us, than our fallen human feelings, than our fallen sensory perception.