Dear God,

“There are times when it is necessary to read, and even to read quite a lot, in order to store up material and get new perspectives.” Merton

“My prayer is then a kind of praise rising up from the center of Nothing and Silence… It is not ‘thinking about’ anything, but a direct seeking of the Face of the Invisible, which cannot be found unless we become lost in Him who is Invisible.” Merton

Storing up new material and directly seeking the Face of the Invisible through the negation of all thought — two ideas seemingly in contradiction. Yet, this is the center of the mystical traditions in almost all religions. How could it be otherwise? We must approach that Whom which cannot be wrapped in language, for She is beyond all differentiation, through meditation and the negation of the I as well as the ever persistent attempt to come to terms with the No-thing through the repetition and difference of language.

Last night I was alone after having worked all day grant writing. I wanted to write more but was tired. I drank a beer. I read some of Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund (which I’m very excited to be getting into), but even that felt like too much. I opened another beer and stepped onto our balcony to smoke one of the cigarettes Renee left behind. (Sarann was so mad when she came home and smelled me.) I felt listless and lonely. I tend towards melancholy as it is, and up here, since I still don’t know many people, I often feel very isolated. As I watched the smoke trail up from the glowing end, I heard a group of men talking, laughing, and drinking in a yard or on a balcony not far from me. I could not see them, but the camaraderie I heard made me miss my friends. I began to wallow in self-pity.

A moment later, I heard the sound of bottles clanging. I turned to see a man going through the trash cans below. I wondered how alone he felt, with his sad blue raincoat, the hood covering his face, and his large stick over his shoulder, two trash bags filled with cans on both ends. Did he have friends to go home to? Did he have a home? He may have had both, but the realization hit me that I have so much. I wondered if we had any cans that I could bring down to him to thank him for helping me escape my sulky navel-gazing. I didn’t think so, but I don’t think I would have even if we did. The homeless, or those whose need is great enough to dig through trash for cans to recycle, terrify me. I’m not scared they’ll hurt me. Far from that. I’ve talked with enough to know that most are benign if not very lovely. It’s their raw humanity, the implicit claim this makes on me. I have become the kind of man that is afraid to look another in the eye simply because I don’t want to give a moment of time or spare a dollar. And yet in this fear, I loose the truth that you, the Nothing that is All, can be found in the face of the stranger. All the walls I erect to secure myself from the stranger and her claims only keep me away from my humanity, my true self, and thus from You. And yet, I choose these walls. Please give me courage.