I sit on the couch, drinking my first cup of press pot coffee, struggling against acedia. I realize that I've been absent, but my experiences do not lend themselves to easy description, which probably says more about my ability to talk about my inner life than it does about the experiences.
The two key elements of Ignatian spirituality are the daily examination of your actions (the Examen) and imaginative prayer (projecting yourself into the story). I got fairly adept at spending my time this way. Whether I was doing it correctly or just goofing off is a good question. I did my best to be real. Those of you who receive my Facebook rambling feed probably know how silly I often appear. This is a mask I wear, I realize now. Like many, I struggle with depression. Another day older; one day closer to death. Life appears pointless, the goal to accumulate things and fret about not having enough. Are we just trying to distract ourselves from the awful truth, from life's finite. My way to distract myself is to take pictures and be clever in online fora.
I thought this just a phase experienced during Holy Week, but it's something I seem to return to. Is there more to life than distracting ourselves with people and activities?
This spiritual discomfort is what I need resurrection from.
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