morning

Promptly at six in the morning the jays came, chattering quietly. By 6:03 they were off to other tasks. They’ll be back. For the first time in a while clouds are on the horizon, peeking out over the hills and trees to the east. I don’t mind, they add texture to the sky. A bold cheery bird sang loud this morning, its song filling the time between times. The pitter patter of a squirrel running across my roof ends with his small head peeking out over the edge, looking down at my balcony for seed, or maybe for nearby coyotes. Apparently, he does not like the menu this morning, he withdraws, though I don’t hear him running elsewhere. Maybe he is meeting a friend, and is deciding to wait outside.

I feel sloppy this morning, in soul and spirit. The word I feel like saying: “blah!” It could be the running thing I mentioned last night, though I also think this morning that it is easy to place blame, and the physical responses sometimes drain us of the commotion incited by spiritual causes, but do nothing to address the source.

Acedia creeps, as I knew it would, even with this. It asks, “Why write? For myself, for others, for some eternal prize? What is the point? It’s all meaningless, shadows, wasting time.”

The jay is back, and chattering loudly now, calling to friends.

It continues, “What is the point of praying? It’s all going to naught, isn’t it? When has God come through before? He’s playing a game, leading you and will abandon you. In fact, he already has. You’re not getting paid for this, you’re not getting paid for anything. What a waste. If God wanted you on this path he would have blessed you, kept you safe from the worries which afflict. Humble yourself, get a mindless job, the other paths just aren’t for you. God hasn’t opened doors, because he doesn’t care.

“You’ve messed up too much to make anything of. I mean just look at yourself, look at how you spent yesterday, look at how much time has gone by with nothing to show for it. Sure you have friends, but they just pity you more than anything. Think of the ones who have little to say to you anymore. They’re right. You’re going to age and realize what a bum you are and everyone is going to feel real sad for you, but say it was your fault.

“You should have joined the army after college. You should have gone to law school. You’d be happy now. What a waste it all has been. And here you are sitting still, typing useless words which no one will read. Can’t even find acceptance in a church, can’t even convince a fellow Christian you are worth anything. Just quit. God isn’t worth it, not to you. If he loved you he would show you, not lead you to pits and swamps, letting you wallow alone. It’s all a joke, and you are the victim. They’re all right you know. You are deceived, and sad to see.”

So acedia speaks to my soul, my watchfulness having collapsed and let its voice in. There is no rest under its call, there is no peace. It speaks louder than God this morning, accusing and despising me.

To acedia I reply, “Screw you, I’m going kayaking.”