Sometime ago I began to take time as part of my daily morning routine, to reflect on the events and experiences of the previous day, rather like viewing a video recording. I had decided to do this because I wanted to try, even if only in a small way, to change my way of life, a way of life in which my memories of past experiences and events—and particularly their meaning and significance in my life—seemed to be slipping away into oblivion like loose sand through the fingers.
The reason I decided to do this in the morning rather than at night was because I am a morning person and it suited me better.
As I continued doing this, I began to recall many things during the period of silence. There were even some things that arose as vivid memories that I hadn’t especially noticed or paid attention to at the time when they were happening. As I reflected on things that had made a particularly deep impression on me, sometimes I had astonishing realizations and insights.
One of the experiences took place at an international gathering in another country. Due to jet lag, I was waking up early and so I was spending more time than usual remembering the events and the conversations with various people from the day before.
As I did this, I remembered a seemingly insignificant thing that had happened. It occurred during a lecture in a large auditorium. Someone sitting in the row behind me suddenly began to massage my shoulders. I was startled and turned around to see a man I had just met recently. He looked at me with a smile and when he saw my surprised expression, he dropped his hands. That was the extent of the experience. After the meeting we didn’t talk about anything particular but went on our different ways to the next programs, and so the day ended without my noting anything special about that experience.
However, the next morning, strangely enough, the memory of that experience was very vivid. Not only that, my heart’s response to that experience (a response I had not even been aware of at the time) rose vividly into my consciousness. It was an inexpressible feeling that I had been touched by a very warm source of comfort. I wondered what this could mean, why he had touched me, and I determined to ask him.
So I sought him out and I was astonished at his hesitant words in response to my question. ‘I felt there was the weight of a heavy load on your shoulders and, without thinking, I just reached out my hands. It was the first massage I ever gave in my whole life.’
I have to admit it was definitely not a skillful massage, but his words made sense to me. It was true I felt worries and struggles that were crushing my heart. My heart was moved by his warm concern that was communicated to me through those hands. My friendship with him began with that encounter. In a recent letter, I learned that he has taken a new position in which he is responsible for the spiritual care of people in Christian ministry. His pastoral gifts will surely be greatly used.
As I continued to reflect on the events and experiences of the previous day, I realized that there are two kinds of memory that we might call ‘memory of the mind’ and ‘memory of the heart.’ If the former relates to memories of information or data, the latter could refer to memories of meaning or significance. There are deep emotions involved in memory of meaning. I began to understand that although I had thought that I was not very emotionally aware, in reality, there were various memories stored up in my heart, memories that became vivid in the silence of reflection.
Through this experience, I began to understand the meaning of a Psalm that had eluded me for a long time:
I will praise the Lord who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. Psalm 16:7
As I quieted myself and meditated, I was able to remember the joys, the pain and the sadness that had touched my heart, what had amazed me, what had moved me. And as I meditated on how I had responded to these experiences with words and actions, new realizations, insights and questions arose. And these in turn grew into prayers of thanksgiving, of confession and of examination.
Dag Hammarskjöld, a diplomat from Sweden who was General Secretary to the United Nations from 1953 until his death in an airplane crash eight years later, wrote the following words in the book MARKINGS that is often regarded as a journal of his soul.
Understand—through the stillness,
Act—out of the stillness,
Conquer—in the stillness.
These words have taken on new meaning for me.