The Cloud of Unknowing (Shambhala Pocket Library Book 19)

by Anonymous

For both of us, the best way to grow in humility is not through reflecting on our weaknesses but by remembering God’s goodness and love.

In the Gospel, our Lord calls us to seek the perfection of purity, a maturity that requires us to develop humility and every other virtue.3 He led this life inherently, and we can live this life through grace.

True repentance is never considered presumptuous. Anyone can repent.

The only requirements are the desire for contemplation, the consent of a spiritual mentor, and approval from your conscience.

I have to tell you that there’s never been and never will be anyone who doesn’t have this high and wonderful cloud of unknowing between them and God, no matter how pure they are and no matter the heights of ecstasy they experience while contemplating and loving the divine Being.

Mary represents all contemplatives, who should model their lives on hers, and in the same way Martha represents all actives, who do well to follow her life as a guide.

The first stage of the active life is made up of genuine good works of mercy and love, done physically. In the second stage, a person begins meditating in a good way on the deep truths of our sinfulness, Christ’s Passion, and heaven’s joy. The first stage is good, but the second stage is better because it is both the second part of the first life (the active) and the first part of the second life (the contemplative). These two stages overlap.

An active person may only advance this far in contemplation, except on rare occasions, and only then through a special grace. Conversely, on rare occasions and when greatly needed, a contemplative may return to this shared stage, but must not drop lower.

The third stage of these two lives hangs1 in this dark cloud of unknowing, where we secretly launch many loving desires to God alone, to get to know him as he is, for his own sake. So, while the first stage is good and the second stage is better, the third stage is the best in every way.

the first two stages, though good and purifying, end when we die. They stop when this life stops, because in the other, eternal life,

I promise you this: if we pattern our love and way of living on Mary Magdalene’s as best we can through grace and wise counsel, God will always defend us as he defended her.

Detractors are a given, as they were for Mary. I am saying that we should take just as much notice of what they say and think as she did—we shouldn’t let it disrupt our interior, spiritual work, because she didn’t.

He not only answers for us and defends us spiritually, he also moves in others’ spirits, making them want to give us life’s necessities, such as food, clothes, and all else, when he sees that we won’t abandon the work of loving him to busy ourselves procuring these. I say this to refute the error of those who claim that you can’t start living the contemplative life until you first make sure you’ve provided for all of your material needs.

When you truly turn your back on the world to serve him, he will never disappoint you, whoever you are. God always provides one of two things (without your help): either an abundance of what you need or the physical stamina and spiritual patience to endure its absence.

In other words, focus on God’s excellence, rather than on your inferiority. Those who are perfectly humble lack nothing, physically or spiritually, because God is all abundance.

For charity is nothing more than loving God for himself above every creature and also loving your neighbor as you do yourself, for God’s sake. Obviously, contemplative work requires that we love God simply for being God, more than anything else.

the essence of this work is nothing but a naked intent, a simple reaching out to God for himself. I call this a “naked intent” because it requires total detachment.

the disciple of contemplative prayer only wants to know God better. Contemplatives ignore their own suffering or happiness, because they only want the will of the One they love to be fulfilled.

While engaged in this work, the mature contemplative has no special relationship with anyone in particular, whether family or stranger, friend or enemy, because everyone is family and no one is a stranger, and everyone is friend and no one is an enemy.

I’m saying that during contemplation, don’t have any special relationships. Forget everyone, friend or enemy, family or stranger. To do this work perfectly, you must neglect everything that is not God. And let me tell you what this discipline will do for you. It will change your heart. It will make you so kind and dynamic in loving that when you stop doing it and mingle with the world again, coming down from contemplation to converse with or pray for your neighbor, you’ll discover that you love your slanderer as much as your friend, and that you love any stranger as much as a relative—in fact, sometimes you’ll be more partial to your enemy than to your friend. I’m not saying that you should ever completely abandon the work of contemplation, which would be a sin, but you will find that the demands of love sometimes require you to shift gears out of contemplative prayer, so that you can care for others.

during the work of contemplation, you should feel the same intimate love for everyone, because your only reason to love is God. Plain and simple, all people must be loved for God, and they must be loved just as well as you love yourself.

Our Lord did not play favorites. He didn’t sacrifice himself only for his family, his friends, and the ones who loved him best, his closest friends. He offered himself to all humanity, for anyone who abandons sin and asks for mercy will be saved through the power of his Passion.

You must tread down thoughts of every creature that God has ever made and then hold them there, keeping them covered under the cloud of forgetting we discussed earlier. This is the hard work. God’s grace will help you roll your sleeves up for it, but you still have to do it yourself. On the other hand, God alone sets those loving feelings in motion. So do your part, and I can promise you God will do his. He never fails. Get on with it then. Be faithful. Work hard.

Yes, in the beginning it seems demanding and severe, when you’re not yet used to it, but as your devotion grows, contemplation ceases being hard and instead becomes very restful and easy.

Sometimes God may send out a ray of divine light, piercing this cloud of unknowing between you and him and letting you see some of his ineffable mysteries. You’ll feel on fire with his love then. I can’t describe this experience. It’s beyond words.

If you ask me who should do this work, here’s my answer: everyone who genuinely forsakes the world and the active life to dedicate themselves to the contemplative life, whoever they are, whether or not they have ever been chronic sinners, should do this work of grace.

Love heals. So if you want to do this work, cleanse your conscience first. Let yourself feel remorse. Confess and make amends, as the Church teaches. Then commit yourself to contemplative prayer boldly, humbly aware that you’ve been preparing a long time for it.

My point is—don’t judge. No person on earth should be judged by another. Nobody can say whether what someone else does is “good” or “evil.” That said, yes, you can scrutinize a person’s actions, weigh them in your mind, and determine whether the deeds themselves are good or evil, but you cannot judge the person.

Never casually assume that you’re meant to take on this power. Don’t rush to judge anyone’s mistakes and don’t be a faultfinder. Only speak out if you feel the nudge of the Holy Spirit during contemplative prayer. Those who arrogate this responsibility to themselves find it’s terribly easy for things to go wrong. So beware of that. Judge yourself as you want—that’s between you and God or your spiritual director—but leave others alone.

At first, you may find certain memories keep pushing on your mind between you and God, or you may feel new temptations stirring in you. If so, be brave. Rise above each one and depend on love’s energy to help you stamp them down under your feet. Try covering them with a thick cloud of forgetting, as if they had never been done by you or by anyone else. Forget them. If they return again and again, reject them again and again. In short, when they come up, put them down.

When distracting thoughts press down on you, when they stand between you and God and stubbornly demand your attention, pretend you don’t even notice them. Try looking over their shoulders, as if you’re searching for something else, and you are.

There’s another trick you can try, if you want. When exhausted from fighting your thoughts, when you’re unable to put them down, fall down before them and cower like a captive or a coward overcome in battle. Give up. Accept that it’s foolish for you to fight them any longer. Do this, and you’ll find that in the hands of your enemies, you are surrendering to God. Let yourself feel defeated. Accept your failure. And always keep this plan in mind because when you try it, you’ll discover that you melt like water. You become supple.

The good news is that humility gets God’s attention. He’ll descend to avenge you against your enemies.

Contemplative prayer is a gift, no strings attached. God gives it to anyone he wants. You can’t earn it. The presence of this gift gives your soul the ability to possess it and feel it. In other words, if you’ve been given the blessing of contemplative prayer, you’ve also been given an aptitude for it. The aptitude doesn’t exist without the gift itself. An aptitude for this work is synonymous with the work itself. Longing to pray is praying, and without that the soul is dead.

Let it work and you receive. Look on it, watch it, and leave it alone. Don’t meddle with it, trying to help, as if you could assist grace. Fear that your interference could wreck everything. Instead, be the tree, and let it be the carpenter. Be the house, and let it be the homeowner living there. Become blind during contemplative prayer and cut yourself off from needing to know things.

My words have outlined what only experience can teach you clearly, that we come to contemplation directly, not through certain techniques. They can’t make it happen. All good methods depend on contemplative prayer, while it depends on nothing. No routine leads to love.

The contemplative beginner must, however, engage in certain exercises. These are the lesson, the meditation, and the orison, better known as reading, reflecting, and praying.

Unless you read or listen to God’s word, it is impossible for the eyes of your understanding, blinded by the habit of sin, to see the grimy imperfection of your conscience.

First, read or listen to God’s word. Next, reflect on it. Then, with this groundwork in place, real prayer can start.

Those diligent in their pursuit of contemplation have a different experience. Their meditations are sudden intuitions and an effortless consciousness.

Such flashes of insight and simple awareness are better learned from God. No person can teach them.

Contemplatives seldom use words when they pray, but if they do, they choose only a few, and the fewer the better. They prefer a short one-syllable word over two syllables, because the spirit can best assimilate it.

Why does this short little prayer of one small syllable penetrate heaven? Because you pray it with all that you are and all that you can be. This is the height and depth, length and breadth of your spirit, fully articulate. Through this one-word request, the spirit speaks its most powerful, highest prayer, because the deepest wisdom of your soul is contained in this single tiny word, which is also long in feeling, for if you could always experience that sense of urgency, you would sustain it and its genuine cry. Also, this one-word prayer expresses an inclusive, wide-reaching love, making you care for others and wish them everything you wish for yourself.

Dear Lord! If a mere person can be so utterly transformed by grace to show such mercy and sympathy for an enemy in need, overlooking dislike, what is God’s mercy like when he hears our spirits crying out to him from the height and depth and length and breadth of our souls? Obviously there’s no comparison, for God has more mercy than we can ever have.

Although I highly recommend short prayers, I’m not saying their frequency should be reduced. Pray simply and often. I’ve pointed out before that you’re praying in the length of your spirit; therefore, don’t stop your prayers until the thing you long for is achieved.

If you ask me what sort of self-control you need to do the work of contemplation, my answer is, “None at all!” In everything else you do, you should practice moderation. Avoid extremes when eating, drinking, or sleeping. Also, protect your body from severe cold or heat, don’t pray or read too long, and don’t spend too much time conversing with your friends. In all of these things, it’s important that you do neither too much nor too little. But in contemplation you may throw caution to the wind. Indulge. I hope you’ll never stop doing this loving work as long as you live.

Stick to it, in all circumstances. I mean that when something intrudes and you can’t practice contemplation, prepare for it still. Remain spiritually alert. So, for the love of God, try not to get sick. Discipline yourself as much as possible, so you won’t be the cause of your own weakness. This work requires complete tranquillity and a healthy, pure disposition of body and soul. You must learn what rest is. So, because you love God, take care of yourself. Stay as healthy as you can. But if illness comes your way in spite of your best efforts, be patient. Bear it with humility and wait on God’s mercy. It will be enough; all will be well.

An “excess” of contemplation teaches self-control in every other activity. Abandon your soul to this work, persist in it night and day without stopping, and you can’t go wrong. But if you don’t devote yourself to it, you’ll find yourself making mistake after mistake in everyday matters.

So crush every thought of and feeling for every creature, especially thoughts and feelings for yourself. That’s the linchpin. Your awareness of everything else is contingent on your awareness of yourself. Your reward for forgetting yourself is that you can then forget all other creatures easily. So try losing your self-consciousness.

Yes, you must lose the naked feeling of who you are. It must be destroyed, if you wish to experience the perfection of contemplation, or love.