#centringprayer — Public Fediverse posts

Twenty-seven years of church attendance has brought me to a point of profound realisation regarding belonging. Sitting in services, bible studies, and fellowship groups gradually revealed how these spaces were not structured for my participation. Access was rarely offered proactively. Printed song lyrics or service sheets were frequently unavailable, and requesting them positioned me as a burden. Accommodations for sensory overload were never suggested by leadership. My presence was simply taken as evidence of coping, which meant actual needs remained unaddressed.

Participating in traditional fellowship presents insurmountable barriers when you cannot see or hear the room. Missing the subtle visual cues or auditory tone of an approaching person means conversations start without you. By the time processing catches up to the exchange, the moment has usually passed. Combining these sensory realities with an AuDHD brain running fast and making unexpected connections creates a profound disconnect. Every post-service gathering turned into an exercise in standing alone alongside others forming groups effortlessly. Paid support was always required to physically arrange interactions for me, meaning nobody was actively choosing to seek me out independently.

Theology has shifted significantly over this period. Hell is framed now as separation and distance from the Source, instead of a place of punishment. Heaven represents being drawn into unity with creation. God moves through wind, trees, water, and breath, flowing through what exists whenever I stop blocking it. Viewing the Trinity as a manifestation of the divine across different modes offers clarity. This framework survived the dismantling of earlier beliefs and provides a much more robust foundation for faith.

Christian contemplation is where my spirituality actually lives today. Writers like Richard Rohr, Thomas Merton, and Julian of Norwich have given me the language for a faith rooted in presence over performance. Rohr’s teachings on the True Self resonate deeply, stripping away the ego-driven compliance I maintained for decades. Lectio divina, centring prayer, and sitting in silence ask nothing of me except to be there. Mindfulness and slow living naturally accompany this path, offering a way to exist without the constant pressure of social demands or displaying correct reactions.

Operating monotropically means attention goes deeply into whatever subject is currently active instead of spreading across many fixed categories. Books, classical music, or self-inquiry capture my entire focus when they are open. Choosing to limit the information I consume aligns with this cognitive style. News, politics, and history are engaged with only upon necessity, not as ongoing commitments. Slow living becomes a practical requirement for staying intact, not merely an aesthetic preference.

Deciding to go to an online church has been a logical response to these compounding exclusions. An internet-based community structured around contemplative practice removes the need to stand in a noisy hall hoping someone walks over. Participation is built into the format itself, circumventing the barriers of sight, hearing, and reading a room. Structured liturgy provides stability, the welcome is genuine, and the gathering focuses on practice over inaccessible socialising.

Isolation remains a stark reality in my daily routine. Most of my in-person interaction is limited to a support worker and a therapist. Spaces designed around disability rarely align with my other interests, and general groups do not suit my pacing. Acknowledging this loneliness takes effort. Yet, putting down unsuitable expectations has brought an unexpected freedom. Accepting the actual shape of my life is allowing me, very slowly, to finally become myself.

#FaithDeconstruction #ChristianMysticism #ContemplativePrayer #ChurchAccess #DisabilityAndFaith #Accessibility #LectioDivina #CentringPrayer #Monotropism #Burnout #AuDHD #OnlineChurch #NewSeason #RichardRohr

Twenty-seven years of church attendance has brought me to a point of profound realisation regarding belonging. Sitting in services, bible studies, and fellowship groups gradually revealed how these spaces were not structured for my participation. Access was rarely offered proactively. Printed song lyrics or service sheets were frequently unavailable, and requesting them positioned me as a burden. Accommodations for sensory overload were never suggested by leadership. My presence was simply taken as evidence of coping, which meant actual needs remained unaddressed.

Participating in traditional fellowship presents insurmountable barriers when you cannot see or hear the room. Missing the subtle visual cues or auditory tone of an approaching person means conversations start without you. By the time processing catches up to the exchange, the moment has usually passed. Combining these sensory realities with an AuDHD brain running fast and making unexpected connections creates a profound disconnect. Every post-service gathering turned into an exercise in standing alone alongside others forming groups effortlessly. Paid support was always required to physically arrange interactions for me, meaning nobody was actively choosing to seek me out independently.

Theology has shifted significantly over this period. Hell is framed now as separation and distance from the Source, instead of a place of punishment. Heaven represents being drawn into unity with creation. God moves through wind, trees, water, and breath, flowing through what exists whenever I stop blocking it. Viewing the Trinity as a manifestation of the divine across different modes offers clarity. This framework survived the dismantling of earlier beliefs and provides a much more robust foundation for faith.

Christian contemplation is where my spirituality actually lives today. Writers like Richard Rohr, Thomas Merton, and Julian of Norwich have given me the language for a faith rooted in presence over performance. Rohr’s teachings on the True Self resonate deeply, stripping away the ego-driven compliance I maintained for decades. Lectio divina, centring prayer, and sitting in silence ask nothing of me except to be there. Mindfulness and slow living naturally accompany this path, offering a way to exist without the constant pressure of social demands or displaying correct reactions.

Operating monotropically means attention goes deeply into whatever subject is currently active instead of spreading across many fixed categories. Books, classical music, or self-inquiry capture my entire focus when they are open. Choosing to limit the information I consume aligns with this cognitive style. News, politics, and history are engaged with only upon necessity, not as ongoing commitments. Slow living becomes a practical requirement for staying intact, not merely an aesthetic preference.

Deciding to go to an online church has been a logical response to these compounding exclusions. An internet-based community structured around contemplative practice removes the need to stand in a noisy hall hoping someone walks over. Participation is built into the format itself, circumventing the barriers of sight, hearing, and reading a room. Structured liturgy provides stability, the welcome is genuine, and the gathering focuses on practice over inaccessible socialising.

Isolation remains a stark reality in my daily routine. Most of my in-person interaction is limited to a support worker and a therapist. Spaces designed around disability rarely align with my other interests, and general groups do not suit my pacing. Acknowledging this loneliness takes effort. Yet, putting down unsuitable expectations has brought an unexpected freedom. Accepting the actual shape of my life is allowing me, very slowly, to finally become myself.

#FaithDeconstruction #ChristianMysticism #ContemplativePrayer #ChurchAccess #DisabilityAndFaith #Accessibility #LectioDivina #CentringPrayer #Monotropism #Burnout #AuDHD #OnlineChurch #NewSeason #RichardRohr

Twenty-seven years of church attendance has brought me to a point of profound realisation regarding belonging. Sitting in services, bible studies, and fellowship groups gradually revealed how these spaces were not structured for my participation. Access was rarely offered proactively. Printed song lyrics or service sheets were frequently unavailable, and requesting them positioned me as a burden. Accommodations for sensory overload were never suggested by leadership. My presence was simply taken as evidence of coping, which meant actual needs remained unaddressed.

Participating in traditional fellowship presents insurmountable barriers when you cannot see or hear the room. Missing the subtle visual cues or auditory tone of an approaching person means conversations start without you. By the time processing catches up to the exchange, the moment has usually passed. Combining these sensory realities with an AuDHD brain running fast and making unexpected connections creates a profound disconnect. Every post-service gathering turned into an exercise in standing alone alongside others forming groups effortlessly. Paid support was always required to physically arrange interactions for me, meaning nobody was actively choosing to seek me out independently.

Theology has shifted significantly over this period. Hell is framed now as separation and distance from the Source, instead of a place of punishment. Heaven represents being drawn into unity with creation. God moves through wind, trees, water, and breath, flowing through what exists whenever I stop blocking it. Viewing the Trinity as a manifestation of the divine across different modes offers clarity. This framework survived the dismantling of earlier beliefs and provides a much more robust foundation for faith.

Christian contemplation is where my spirituality actually lives today. Writers like Richard Rohr, Thomas Merton, and Julian of Norwich have given me the language for a faith rooted in presence over performance. Rohr’s teachings on the True Self resonate deeply, stripping away the ego-driven compliance I maintained for decades. Lectio divina, centring prayer, and sitting in silence ask nothing of me except to be there. Mindfulness and slow living naturally accompany this path, offering a way to exist without the constant pressure of social demands or displaying correct reactions.

Operating monotropically means attention goes deeply into whatever subject is currently active instead of spreading across many fixed categories. Books, classical music, or self-inquiry capture my entire focus when they are open. Choosing to limit the information I consume aligns with this cognitive style. News, politics, and history are engaged with only upon necessity, not as ongoing commitments. Slow living becomes a practical requirement for staying intact, not merely an aesthetic preference.

Deciding to go to an online church has been a logical response to these compounding exclusions. An internet-based community structured around contemplative practice removes the need to stand in a noisy hall hoping someone walks over. Participation is built into the format itself, circumventing the barriers of sight, hearing, and reading a room. Structured liturgy provides stability, the welcome is genuine, and the gathering focuses on practice over inaccessible socialising.

Isolation remains a stark reality in my daily routine. Most of my in-person interaction is limited to a support worker and a therapist. Spaces designed around disability rarely align with my other interests, and general groups do not suit my pacing. Acknowledging this loneliness takes effort. Yet, putting down unsuitable expectations has brought an unexpected freedom. Accepting the actual shape of my life is allowing me, very slowly, to become myself finally.

#FaithDeconstruction #ChristianMysticism #ContemplativePrayer #ChurchAccess #DisabilityAndFaith #Accessibility #LectioDivina #CentringPrayer #Monotropism #Burnout #AuDHD #OnlineChurch #NewSeason #RichardRohr

Twenty-seven years of church attendance has brought me to a point of profound realisation regarding belonging. Sitting in services, bible studies, and fellowship groups gradually revealed how these spaces were not structured for my participation. Access was rarely offered proactively. Printed song lyrics or service sheets were frequently unavailable, and requesting them positioned me as a burden. Accommodations for sensory overload were never suggested by leadership. My presence was simply taken as evidence of coping, which meant actual needs remained unaddressed.

Participating in traditional fellowship presents insurmountable barriers when you cannot see or hear the room. Missing the subtle visual cues or auditory tone of an approaching person means conversations start without you. By the time processing catches up to the exchange, the moment has usually passed. Combining these sensory realities with an AuDHD brain running fast and making unexpected connections creates a profound disconnect. Every post-service gathering turned into an exercise in standing alone alongside others forming groups effortlessly. Paid support was always required to physically arrange interactions for me, meaning nobody was actively choosing to seek me out independently.

Theology has shifted significantly over this period. Hell is framed now as separation and distance from the Source, instead of a place of punishment. Heaven represents being drawn into unity with creation. God moves through wind, trees, water, and breath, flowing through what exists whenever I stop blocking it. Viewing the Trinity as a manifestation of the divine across different modes offers clarity. This framework survived the dismantling of earlier beliefs and provides a much more robust foundation for faith.

Christian contemplation is where my spirituality actually lives today. Writers like Richard Rohr, Thomas Merton, and Julian of Norwich have given me the language for a faith rooted in presence over performance. Rohr’s teachings on the True Self resonate deeply, stripping away the ego-driven compliance I maintained for decades. Lectio divina, centring prayer, and sitting in silence ask nothing of me except to be there. Mindfulness and slow living naturally accompany this path, offering a way to exist without the constant pressure of social demands or displaying correct reactions.

Operating monotropically means attention goes deeply into whatever subject is currently active instead of spreading across many fixed categories. Books, classical music, or self-inquiry capture my entire focus when they are open. Choosing to limit the information I consume aligns with this cognitive style. News, politics, and history are engaged with only upon necessity, not as ongoing commitments. Slow living becomes a practical requirement for staying intact, not merely an aesthetic preference.

Deciding to go to an online church has been a logical response to these compounding exclusions. An internet-based community structured around contemplative practice removes the need to stand in a noisy hall hoping someone walks over. Participation is built into the format itself, circumventing the barriers of sight, hearing, and reading a room. Structured liturgy provides stability, the welcome is genuine, and the gathering focuses on practice over inaccessible socialising.

Isolation remains a stark reality in my daily routine. Most of my in-person interaction is limited to a support worker and a therapist. Spaces designed around disability rarely align with my other interests, and general groups do not suit my pacing. Acknowledging this loneliness takes effort. Yet, putting down unsuitable expectations has brought an unexpected freedom. Accepting the actual shape of my life is allowing me, very slowly, to become myself finally.

#FaithDeconstruction #ChristianMysticism #ContemplativePrayer #ChurchAccess #DisabilityAndFaith #Accessibility #LectioDivina #CentringPrayer #Monotropism #Burnout #AuDHD #OnlineChurch #NewSeason #RichardRohr