I am faced with an evidently useless life. Solitude can do that to you unless you engage in some holy activity like prayer or scripture reading (and these people are fooling themselves). I am allowing myself to be nothing and facing the truth that no amount of accomplishment or achievement fixes the futility of human life. Not being a stellar employee or business woman. Not having children which are brain surgeons or astronauts. Not being an astronaut or brain surgeon. Not being a monastic. Not attending Eucharist. Not an elite runner.
I run alot and I qualified for Boston with a 3:57 time. But I eschew the Boston marathon as a group specialness experience. What do they do as soon as they get there? Buy the jacket. Why? So they can prance around and brag about running Boston. Big deal! In the marathon I ran last weekend, the top three women in my age category (50-55) finished in 3:30 to 3:45. Now that is impressive. My Boston qualifying time means nothing compared with a 50 something who can run 26 miles in 3 and a half hours.
I am and I am not. I have eschewed ordinary human life. I have not transcended it or made my self into anything. I have discovered I am nothing and my vow is to face this dirty secret behind all human lives. None of us are anything. The result is to just get along. No big deal.
When I was in religious formation in a Roman Catholic monastic contemplative order, I learned how special vowed religious were both to the Church and to God. The monastic profession made a person special, irrevocably different. I bought this dogma hook line and sinker. I wanted to be special to God more than anything in the world. I hung in there for three full years.
Then on an 8 day silent retreat, I had a dream. The dream told me that love was the predominant mode of existence. I was kicked out of the monastery the next day. A day later I was hustled away with a box of clothes and an incensed ego.
In the past 7 years I have continually diminished in status and notoriety. I discovered the secret. I don't mean anything. There is some life force within me that probably does mean something but since it does not speak, it cannot help the poor human ego and its quest for specialness.
What am I trying to say? Why have I written this? Just an expression of my thinking. The solitary must face that inner emptiness. I look at it. I stare into the abyss. I seek the peace of utter quiet. I will not yet run away from this journey.