In her First and Last Notebooks, French socialist philosopher and Christian mystic Simone Weil writes: “attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” She adds in the enduring classic Gravity and Grace that “ [a]bsolutely unmixed attention is prayer. If we turn our mind toward the good, it is impossible that little by little the whole soul will not be attracted thereto in spite of itself.”
I’ve read these lines many, many times (Weil is one of my favorite writers of all time) but they never lose their power and terror for me. If what Weil tells us is true — and it feels instinctually true to me, like something I’d once known but too soon forgotten — then whenever we are truly present for one another, we perform a staggering act of love. At the same time, whenever technology or petty grievances or doubts buzzing hypnotically at the backs of our minds prevent us from fully inhabiting the moment we’re in, we’ve failed to show up in the way our commitment to one another demands. For me, this happens often and is the source of a great deal of shame. So what can we do to treat attention as a muscle, a habit to be cultivated, and to learn to bring our fullest selves to the table?
Like Simone Weil, I’ve found great solace in the spiritual community. Like her, I’m a Christian, and I find that — perhaps paradoxically — the more I center myself in my faith, the more open-hearted and generous I become. I find that my favorite forms of Christian contemplation (such as prayer, reading scripture, singing, and reciting Psalms aloud) both draw me into myself, into my own quiet core, and prepare me to appreciate the world around me. It’s hard to carve out time in my busy schedule for these practices, but whenever I do, they bring me such joy and peace that I’ve built a routine around them: chanting morning prayer when I wake up, saying grace before my meals, and reading a devotional before bed. My spiritual journey is really only just beginning, but I already feel myself being transformed, learning to more perfectly grasp towards the dizzying goal Weil calls us to — perfect attention to my neighbor, unity with the world, and with myself.
Bio: (anonymous)
I’m a Duke sophomore studying some arcane combination of English, environmental science, classical languages, political and critical theory, and theology. What this means in practice is that I read a lot! In my free time, I love baking, singing with friends, walking my crazy dog, writing poems, and feeling the sun on my face.
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