The feeling of being lost, of being adrift without oars and out of sight of land, persists. Meditation is, when it is not a struggle with distracting thoughts, simply being there – which raises the question of what it means to be. To be with people – fine; to be doing something constructive – fine; to be engaged on a project – all fine; but just to be, poised before – what? God? He is not an object of experience and I am wary now of making assumptions – even assumptions disguised as acts of faith. Poised before nothing. Eckhart would approve I think. But this ‘nothing’ has a way of leaching determination out of the will, of deflating courage and of knocking the props out from under endurance. Hence I feel deflated, dégonflé, crevé, épuisé. (Why are the French words more expressive than the English. Perhaps it is something to do with the lingering, falling last syllable.) There remains only hope that sometime the darkness will give way.

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