Lower the Head, Lift the Heart

Hi friends,

One of the faces on my personal Mount Rushmore is Parker J. Palmer. Over the years, he’s given me such a gift: a new and refined set of eyes with which to see the world. In my conversations with him, the idea that has stayed with me above all others is his definition of contemplation.

Parker says contemplation is any way we’re able to penetrate illusion and touch reality.

Our minds are funny things. They move quickly, laying narratives and stories over every moment—sorting, labeling, judging, deciding. But for those of us who call ourselves contemplatives, or simply long to be, I’ve learned that contemplation is really the practice of placing the dualistic mind gently into the compassionate heart. It’s from the heart that we begin to see reality with new eyes.

Here’s the hard truth I keep returning to: reality is neutral. We are the ones who call it good or bad, right or wrong, for us or against us.

For many of us, that sentence might feel disruptive—maybe even offensive. But I’ve found that the more I can arrive in that same neutral stance, the more the beautifully mysterious and graciously mundane moments start to reveal themselves. They begin to take up more of my field of vision. They become the way I see the world.

I don’t get this right all the time—far from it. But slowly, over time, something shifts.

You’ve probably heard someone say, “Will you bow your head with me?” before offering a prayer. Think about the physicality of that gesture. To bow is to lower the head—sometimes right into the same space as the heart, sometimes even below it. That simple act raises the heart above the mind. And that, my friends, is prayer.

It’s not words - it’s a stance, a posture, a way of occupying the moment with the heart leading the mind.

When the mind is placed beneath the heart, something unexpected begins to happen: we start to taste and see that the entire world is a burning bush—lit with presence, humming with meaning, alive with the sacred hiding in plain sight. What once looked ordinary reveals itself as extraordinary. What once felt mundane becomes a doorway.

As we begin to reflect on what 2025 has been, and as we sketch the early contours of what 2026 might become, may we remember to lower the head just a bit.

And maybe—just maybe—our hearts can look back with gratitude and look forward with a sense of wonder and awe at what may be.

With you on the journey,

Ashton