I’ve been hit by a wave of fatigue so intense that I can barely keep my eyes open, and that makes me think of nothing but attaining the haven of my bed and a dark room – and which probably guarantees that the minute I do, I’ll be distressingly, nightmarishly wide awake. Thank you to my brain, and thank you to ten years of fucked-up sleeping patterns. Cheers.
But I’m too tired to come up with something intelligent or meaningful or even worth reading, so again I’ll turn to the wisdom of someone far worthier than I: Thomas Merton.
I’ve been to choir tonight, surrounded by friends who are light and love and strength and hope for me, and who allow me to be that for them. In these friendships I’ve participated in the love of God.
Merton: Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find it with another.
The meaning of life doesn’t lay on the floor of the choristers’ vestry, any more than it dwells on the altar or in the branches of the tree under which I sometimes sit outside the Cathedral, any more than it dwells in my to-do list or my journal. But it’s found in all those places. The love of God is found in all those places. And tonight, for me, the love of God was again found in the faces and the hands and the voices and the hearts of that family of people I love, and who love me.
Thanks be to God.