The Shelf Life of Spiritual Practices

A Facebook friend of mine made a comment that she knows that spiritual practices have seasons.  She was wondering if a discipline of hers might be ending as she made a transition between markers and oil paints.

How transformative!  I tend to see myself as failing if I let a spiritual discipline slide away.  But there's not enough time in the week to do all the disciplines that have nourished me.  And if I held fast to every one of them, I wouldn't have room to discover anything new that might nourish me in a better or different way.

I used to pray the liturgy of the hours, although I'd often only get 4 sessions done in a day.  That was easier before I had the kind of office job that required me to be there 40+ hours a week.  Until our home repairs upended my regular routines, I still prayed the morning office.

I still take a bit of time most mornings to do something along the lines of a devotional.  But I'm not praying a fixed prayer that Christian communities pray across the globe.  I may return to my prayer books written by Phyllis Tickle.  But I may not.

My journaling has taken on a visual component, along with a spiritual component.  Doing the sketching sinks me quickly into a meditative state.  Often something bubbles to the surface.  I hope that it's one way that God can speak to me.

Here's my sketch from yesterday, which was sparked from the lines of poetry that I created earlier in the day:

In this temple of old bones and white whiskers,
I water the plants and feed the cats.
The work of a prophetess is never done.

And the sketch:

I remember feeling the same passion for praying the liturgy of the hours that I feel for sketching.  I wonder what passion might take the place of sketching some day?