Turning Outward

Someone told me last year that the God I seek (a God Who has sometimes felt agonizingly elusive) is to be found living among other people. The idea isn’t unfamiliar: Jesus makes it a point to emphasize that you must “love your neighbor as yourself,” and He says that “whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of Mine, you did for Me.” It’s a fundamental Gospel truth.

But sometimes, the search for God can become very abstract and highly internal. This isn’t bad in itself, for God transcends all our ideas about Him, and a turning inward – to the heart and the soul – is a natural part of the spiritual journey. However, if you’re anything like me, you have to be vigilant not to lose your grounding in the order of the world. For to be lost continually in examination of the self keeps a person from experiencing the freedom of communion with someone outside the self, and keeps her from seeing the dimension of Christ that’s expressed in the humanity of other people.

Granted, when a person is suffering intensely and – especially – chronically (whether in body, mind, or spirit), it can be very hard to turn the attention away from the self. This may be a simple fact of evolution – an instinct toward self-preservation and energy conservation. So we have to be gentle with someone who is suffering, and take care not to add to her sufferings by making her feel like she has failed to be a good and moral person. There is an important difference between a selfish person who cares little for others and a person who cares a great deal for others but who, because of her trials, finds herself entrenched more deeply in a state of self-absorption than she would like.

That said, whenever it is possible for us to turn our attention more toward others – toward loving them – it would be good to do so. It may, in fact, be a balm to the soul. If we remain trapped inside ourselves, we experience a kind of personal hell. As I wrote a few years ago: “Without communion, we are imprisoned in our own reality – and to suffocate by self-smothering is perhaps the worst kind of death.”

We have always heard that it is not good for man to be alone, and indeed love, by its nature, is an outpouring of self. So let us focus a little less on ourselves (insofar as we are able) and a little more on seeing Christ in the people we encounter today. As we do, we may find our faith, once prone to fits of disbelief, returning to us in a new and more supple way.

Memo to a Doubtful Writer

Why try to avoid the thing that will give you peace? Why avoid the call to WRITE?

Write because you’ve got something to say, something to discover, something to share. Write because, in the grand scheme of things, you’re really a writer at the core.

Don’t worry about how things will shake out, about how you will make your living, just now. I know you’re concerned with the thought of becoming too isolated, of not doing enough to enter into the humanity of things and to be of service to the world. But these are fears which are keeping you from doing the work that’s asking to be done – and if you would sit down and keep to it, you’d see that many of the dilemmas sort themselves out on their own.

You’d find, in fact, that the writing leaves you feeling a little lighter, a little unburdened – and that’s because you’re dumping out the chaos that’s filling your head and assembling the pieces into something more digestible.

Not to say that the process of finding Truth is easy. There are times when you will stumble your way through the dark, trying to find the barest of scraps to hold onto. But there is value in that, and there is value in laying things down just as they are, unpainted and unscrubbed. To earth out the reality of things – that is your goal.

So don’t think that, by writing, you are divorcing yourself from reality. On the contrary, you are doing the work of sorting out the pieces of your life – the pieces which have seemed so fragmentary – and finding the meaning in them. Your desire, I think you’ll find, is not to escape the reality you live in, but to inhabit it more fully, with more understanding and grace.

And I believe – but you will have to wait and witness this for yourself – that the act of writing will lead you to conversations and meetings with real people who have real things to say about the things you’ve written. Think of it, perhaps, as a bond that connects your mind to the minds of passing strangers – strangers who may one day turn into friends.

So enjoy the fruit of your words, for life is meant to be celebrated, not despaired of. Time to let loose the restrictions that keep you cleaved to a mistaken and shrunken idea of truth, and instead embrace the way that is broad and colorful and full of the ups and downs of being fully alive – pen in hand, so that you’re poised and ready to record it all.

A Case of You

A song I could listen to for hours on end. One of my favorites.

Resolutions

The magic of the new year consists in new beginnings – in the fresh energy that we receive to start anew and to apply ourselves hopefully to our desires and plans, without the weight of so many accumulated disappointments and expectations of failure.

That’s not to say that our streak will be perfect – that our resolutions will never falter or flag. Of course they will. But it’s helpful, I think, to start out with a little bit of that idealism that the new year usually brings: a push in the right direction, an extra measure of optimism to give some gas to the initiation of our efforts to be better, happier people.

And when we eventually realize that we can’t uphold our resolutions perfectly, it won’t really matter, because we will have at least taken a step or two forward and tasted the goodness of a healthy habit – and that may be enough to get us back on track, and to remind us of the “possibility of higher things,” as we live out the reality of our messy days in the weeks and months to come.

Happy New Year.

Brief Thoughts (No. 8)

Surely we aren’t meant to be contained – surely we aren’t designed to squeeze into a box and come out looking just like everybody else.

“Just be patient and accept the journey that you’ve been asked to take.” – Mark Ruffalo.

You are not called to be less human. Your role is to be fully human – fully alive. Do not mistake the call to holiness for a call to become something you are not – or to forsake that which you truly are.

A chance encounter: You lost your way among the crowds, but the one you were seeking found you in the commotion, tapped you on the shoulder, took your hand, and led you home.

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