I love my books. It would be very difficult for me to bring
myself to voluntarily sell them and give the money to the poor! There was
something similar in The Way of a Pilgrim,
I think. He lost his Philokalia, or
it was stolen…and he was heartbroken. But he learned to live without it, and
then it was restored to him.
The environment for prayer that I have created for myself is
important to me. I know it’s important to be able to retreat to the hermitage
of my heart, too, but my spiritual director has pointed out that, since we are
physical beings with five senses, the environment for prayer is important – or at least it can
enhance and encourage our spiritual efforts and experience. My environment is
conducive to prayer, and since I am in
that environment so much, it also reminds what to pray and when to pray it. I
cultivate that, because I figure one of these days I might be senile, and if I
have a routine in a particular environment, perhaps I will be still be able to
pray from that little island in the midst of my dementia.
When I have complained about the people who distract me and
give me no peace, and say that I wish I could live in silence and solitude, my
spiritual director has pointed out that I will still have to live with myself.
More and more I discover how difficult that really can be.
I guess “peace” comes in Heaven. We’re not supposed to find
it here. It’s supposed to be a struggle. That was also brought home to me a
while back when I was reading a chapter in my Desert Mothers book. Can’t recall
which story it was, but there was the comment that a holy woman and her brother
“struggled in the ascetic life” for many years. And I thought. THEY struggled?!
Duh. It’s always a struggle. It’s supposed to be. No pain, no gain, and all
that.
No comments:
Post a Comment