Thursday, September 8, 2011
"I don't have much to say, but I am well-placed to say it"
...says my brother-in-law, standing in front of the campfire, cigarette in hand, giving the audience his best vacuous Brad Pitt glare. The kids were set to go to bed, but one last story was promised, and somebody gave him the stage. Or maybe he just took the stage; I can't remember.
"Nice theatrical presentation," says my oldest son, "Not much of a plot." So somebody told a fart joke, and the kids went in to sleep.
Anyway, the line keeps coming back to me, as I sit here with my blog, not writing anything very interesting, but feeling nonetheless, the need to say something. So imagine me glaring at you right now. I am well-placed to say...something...if I could just think of what's important enough to say.
Last week sometime, I was doing the Sorrowful Mysteries, and the Crucifixion in the last decade came as this wonderful catharsis. Oh yeah, we get to die at the end of all this. Leave it to other people to unravel the mysteries of living in the modern world. I was having a bad day.
Not a week later, same mysteries, same decade, same Crucifixion, I'm in a good mood, and just can't get into it. I don't want to think about suffering right now. I'm happy. Jesus...You're sort of bringing me down.
Just shows how little I actually bring to my prayers. I wish I had more to offer God sometimes, more concentration, more depth, more fervor, a nice juicy plot.
I've had too much output of late, not enough quality input, which equals spiritual and intellectual lethargy. And the cool gray days don't produce much in the way of vim and vigor.
So I think I'll shut up for awhile and do the laundry.