Thomas Merton

Yesterday I went to a Franciscan retreat center. It was very refreshing to be in a place devoted to spirituality. There was a meditation chapel with stained glass and carpets. Out side there were trees, roses, and a desert path and labyrinth. There has been this constant feeling of being surrounded by city and city consciousness this entire trip. But here was a place that was hidden from that life, and living one altogether different.
I bought two books there, both journals of two spiritual men, Nouwen and Merton. Keeping a journal myself, I enjoy reading these because they ask and comment like humans and it is easier for me to connect with them, as opposed to reading a book they’vewrittenn.

I have started Mertons. And that is another thing that is good about journal books: you do not have to start in the beginning. Somehow that helps me to get into a book, not having to start on page one of chapter one. There is a lot to digest in his writing and it is very refreshing to refreshing to read a mystic, someone concerned with Eros as much as Agape.

I wonder if Agape is really higher thanEross? Perhaps to ourcnditionn it is what saves us? But thenEross from God I wouldventuree to say is transformational to know that He who created you longs after you.

I am reading sections where he talks about a littlehermitagee that has just been built.

“After having thought for ten years obuildingng hermitagege, and thought of the ten places where one might be built, now having built one in the best place, I can not believe it.
It ineverthelessss real--if anything is real. In it everything becomes unreal. Just silence, sky, and trees.”

I know the feeling that is so amazing, if only I know it to a small degree. In Costa Rica there was a littbodesega that held the library, music kiln and dance floor. There, alone, I spent most my day. Hm. I have never thought of that before. I thought I was weird for spending so little time in my room now, but as I think about it I never did spend much time in my room. I have always been an outside person and one to spend time in places that no one else likes much. (especially with books)

Anyway, the Bodega was locatbetweenewn the cedForrestest and the “Forrestrest”. In front of it was an orchard. Next to it was the barn and animals. The gardener would come in the morning and be gone over the property most the day. This was my sanctuary, and indeed when I think back to Costa Rica I long for this place. It is here where I feel that I have been the closest contemplativeative life.

I suppose that if it were not for the Bodega I would run off to join a convent wihermitagetiage. But I know that one can live these sorts of lives outside of an order, and because I am not really any denomination but all of them combined I have a hard time limiting myself to one way of life. As a Catholic I miss the theology and philosophy developed by the reformation. And as a Protestant I miss the wonder and mysticism that the Reformed church is lacking.

So all this to say, yes, I am a mystic, but one who does not have an outlet to be mystical in a country where the cold forbids you to spend hours in stillness outside with trees. And a life that isbusybuisy to think about it. But it sure is refreshing to remember it and read about it.