From the tenor of my recent posts, even I can tell I've been struggling a bit on and off.
Since childhood, I've sometimes had these attacks of a strange, misty, unspecified feeling of guilt and unease. It haunts me through the day, surging up at random moments, and wakes me with a mild sense of dread at night. I can neither banish it nor attach it to any particular source.
I give myself an examination of concience, and try to match up my sins with the feeling, but while many of them have consequences and baggage of their own, they remain seperate from this malaise. It's a really yucky feeling - I try to escape it by centering down, but it seems to exist as a strong barrier against the one thing which could be its cure.
I know it will pass, as it always does, and in the meantime I recommend myself to my Friends' prayers, and abandon myself weakly to God. I am trying to be humble and peaceful in it, rather than taking it and running with it in some orgy of analysis.
It may be the Spirit's way of drawing me nearer by reminding me of my helplessness...not in a self-scourging way, but by lighting up the differences between cleverness and wisdom.
Trust in the Lord with all thy heart; and lean not to thy
own understanding.
In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he will direct thy
paths...
...despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither be
weary of his correction:
For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as a father
the son in whom he delighteth...
...The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth; by understanding
hath he established the heavens.
By his knowledge the depths are broken up, and the clouds
drop down the dew.
My son, let not them depart from thy eyes: keep sound
wisdom and discretion:
So shall they be life to thy soul, and grace to thy neck.
Then shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and thy foot shall
not stumble.
When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: but thou
shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet.
Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of
the wicked, when it cometh.
For the Lord will be thy confidence, and will keep thy foot
from being taken.
2 comments:
NOT, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist -- slack they may be -- these last strands of man
In me or, most weary cry "I can no more." I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruised bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, foot trod
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
(as posted by Melynda)
Melynda, since leaving the Church, I'd forgotten Hopkins. Oh, I adore him. Thanks for reminding me. This poem is perfect...
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