wasteland

For ages I have told everyone that I don't do very much, that I in fact really enjoy living a quiet life. So now it feels very strange to suddenly have quite a lot to do. It's a funny thing that sometimes when there is a lot that needs to be done, time begins to feel "wasted" and vaguely guilty feelings arise that whatever I'm presently engaged in is not the best use of my time. There is probably some truth in this somewhere. Something about the work I'm doing, or more likely the way I'm doing it, is life-stealing. Perhaps there is too much pride in my work (funny how this is considered a positive thing), or my thoughts about it are pulling me out of the here and now. Maybe I have not taken the time to pray/meditate, or am somehow hiding from God and myself, pretending to be someone I am not. Like a dishonest actor I lack character when I lose perspective and assume my work to be more important than it is. What happens when a seed of truth lands in the wasteland of self-important activity?

There is also something a bit greedy about my busyness, (just how, I blush to admit, there was a lot of selfishness behind some of my laziness disguised as contemplation). Not that being busy is always wasteful or greedy any more that being not-busy always refers to laziness. Deep down, I know the difference. I wonder if I always remembered that nothing that is hidden remains so whether I would maybe put more trust in the promptings of my heart than in the cover of darkness or obscurity. But to always remember requires a life of constant prayer.

Now

Now there is a new busy-ness in my life and a certain joy that I'm not sure how to articulate. I am astonished at how the pieces of my life are falling together. I've made peace with the faith of my childhood and am noticing a subtle but powerful shift in my spirituality. I have a job that I like. It is casual and uncertain but that suits my style of being just fine. There is no life or death intensity to it and it doesn't take all of my energy, but I am occupied with it and content.

But in the joy, underlying it somehow is a kind of sadness. Balancing again on a paradox. There is a tightrope stretched between other determined and selfish determined behaviour--I learned this in Life Skills years ago--and now the nature of this balancing point is a little more accessible to me. I see an example of this effortless, graceful, but intensely compassionate way of being in Jesus as he is portrayed in the Gospel of Luke. I love this man and all he represents, the ancient symbol of the cross uniting heaven and earth. I love him because I can.

To love is the greatest privilege of our existence. I used to grasp at love like a drowning person. I never truly believed in it but I needed it like oxygen. My need for love was greater than any one could fill,and the intensity of my longing only drove people further away. I despaired of love and often of life.

But the kind of love I am experiencing lately is something different completely. It is allowing me to reach out in a new way to others (but I have so much yet to learn about community and celebration, comforting the mourners, actively listening).

I need to continue to discipline myself to not succumb to anxiety or guilt. A big part of my mental and emotional work now is cyphering out hope from anxiety and guidance from guilt. They are not the same at all. But all these words seem to need new definitions. Hope is not really expectation, because I know the consequences of expectation. It is more like a marriage of acceptance and joy. It is possible to hope when I know that what I hope for is available here and now. But to approach God in this way is to walk the tightrope. It requires a lot of trust and release.

Guidance is also only available in the present. It is easily distinguished from guilt for it always comes with sufficient energy to do whatever needs to be done, while guilt immobilizes.

The result is that, although there is still much that is hard to digest,life seems a bit more palatable than it did before. Perhaps I'm aquiring a taste for it.