In chains

(The post title refers a boat having lost the wind and now sits idle in the water.)

I've failed my saving throw; I've gone adrift, I am forced to admit.

Those familiar with Dungeons & Dragons will recognize this as the statistical probability that a magical attack (in this case Sloth) will succeed. For the past three weeks or so, I've not written a thing in my spiritual journal. I've kept up with the readings, but only just. I've prayed, but haven't written about my experience.

The essence of the Ignatian method is colloquy--writing while praying. You are not supposed to use any other method, like mindfulness knitting, which I've been doing obsessively, therapeutically, for a couple of weeks.

My first girlfriend had a thing for balance--I've lost it. I have been more sociable with my family and have been more focused, when not knitting. This knitting is not an entire new thing; I learned when I was a teenager, at my mother's knee. Thus the practice of knitting is both soothing because it is a tactile experience, the occasional pressure of the needle points and the feel of the yarn, and because it is something positive to remember of my mother. It is something to remember. My memory plays me false. I fail to cue. It is not that I don't remember things, although that is the appearance. Once I am cued--whether by myself or others--I remember that I remember. That is the problem with my mother. She has dementia. My grandmother had it. Every time I forget something, I fear it.

The break in spiritual journalling started when I had a meltdown and was emotionally and physically exhausted for several days. Meltdown=psychiatric drama. Enough said. I've used enough energy having the (I hope) occasional temper fit.

Then we had bad weather and I was tired from having to prepare: wood on the deck (I am not the acme of fitness) and new shingles on the roof.

I lost the initiative, to use another phrase from D&D. That's my excuse.

Now the whole world knows.

A Letter to God

At this point in the retreat, after focusing on sins some more, I am to write a letter to God. Since I am stuck at home by four inches of snow resting on a thin coating of ice, I'll tell you, as well.

Do I really abhor the sinfulness in my life? I am really having trouble with this one, especially the last sentence. Of the Eight Thoughts (avarice, lust, vainglory, anger, glutton, acedia, dejection, pride), I really only suffer from three. One of them, gluttony, is surprising, given that I am thin (but with a bit of a belly). I crave and consume with great relish sweet things. If there is an alcoholic sweet thing, even better. Well, I should expand it to consuming things. If there is something, I will consume it before others get much of it. So I'd say this counts as a mortal sin. The other thoughts I deal with are acedia (not so much any more), dejection (or is it just winter-based clinical depression?), and anger (in the form of irritation at being criticized). I may have a touch of vainglory now and then, but that could be the bipolar grandiosity flaring.

Do I abhor these? I tend to think that if I truly did, I'd not be afflicted. This is paradox. It isn't possible to be totally free from sin, whatever form it takes. There are different metaphors for sin. The one I'm encountering in the retreat is contagion, contamination, I think. Terms like weeping sore lead to that kind of view? Another one, favored by my spiritual director is alienation. Sins do tend to do that, after all.

God has touched me by giving me insight into these troubling conditions. I recognize that it is inevitable that I will continue to have to cope with these or other issues, but hopefully not without benefit. Like the nails on the Cross, the sins pull at you as you struggle. Sometimes the wood hurts too.

How does the World, that which draws me away from God, influence my life and decisions? Not in the way that you would think. I am not overly distracted by cares. I am observant in both senses of the word: I see what happens and I pray about it. My Facebook experience that way. I don't just share-troll, but participate in online religious community. The way that the World influences me is by irritating in various ways. It bothers me that people (like my son) who that the only way to be a Christian is to be a fundamentalist and if you don't worship the Bible...

Ignatius says: demand the grace. One I have received--I am no longer crippled by sudden anxiety. Formerly, when faced by a household task like cleaning the refrigerator (once every few months), getting the truck stuck in the ditch, or some sudden catastrophic event, I would have this blinding flash of light behind my eyes & and an indescribable sensation (hard to process) and I would be unable to cope. Now, it is merely unpleasant. I resolved to give some vegetables decent burial, etc. I no longer dread unfortunate events. I am the same, but different in a way I can't explain.

On Hell and Sin

The Ignatian retreat seems to be focusing quite a bit on sin, with occasional references to the ultimate consequence of going to hell. I have read elsewhere that it is a purgative path. At first I thought that meant that it was apophatic, but that means refers to the ultimate unknowableness of God. Given that God's first language is silence, this makes sense. Focusing on sin is Ignatian spirituality's way of getting to the good stuff.

That said, I am having trouble with the whole notion of self as cesspool, as weeping sore. Yes, we all sin involuntarily, even those of us who try to walk a virtuous road. But as I may have said elsewhere, there is sin (or sins) and then there is Sin. Our sins add up to Sin, or we commit sins because of Sin, our essential brokenness, which alienates us from whomever we sin against, God, our neighbor, or ourselves (strange as that may sound).

But focusing on sin in this way seems to me too much like being on the pity wagon--Oh woe is me, I'm a sinner. I've sinned all over myself again. How can you make progress if you are so down on yourself? Can you tell I grew up during the self-esteem generation? 

Dwelling on sin in this way leads quite naturally to hell. The progression is an infinite one--a series of infinitesimal rejections of God. The calculus of sin; each leads to the next. You get that much farther away. Next thing you know, you're breathing your last and, wouldn't you know? there -is- an afterlife! Not what you were expecting. And you thought Facebook was bad. 

I have difficulty in believing in a place of torment after death. Hell has been defined as the absence of God. But isn't He everywhere? Stealing an idea from my spiritual director, I  maintain that it is quite possible to tune God out (just ask my son). Hell is where those people hangout. 

So how do you avoid locking God out of your life? I'd say incrementally. Start with the small "yes". Instead of saying that I'll pray later, do something now. Even if it seems like nothing. 

After all, Christ has no mouth but yours.