Those like myself whose imagination far exceeds their obedience are subject to a just penalty; we easily imagine conditions far higher than any we have really reached. If we describe what we have imagined we may make others, and make ourselves, believe that we have really been there. And if I have only imagined it, is it a further delusion that even the imaging has at some moments made all other objects of desire—yes, even peace to have no more fears—look like broken toys and faded flowers? Perhaps. Perhaps for many of us, all experience merely defines, so to speak, the shape of that gap where our love of God ought to be. It is not enough. It is something. If we cannot “practice the presence of God it is something to practice the absence of god….”
My mind wanders and I spend most of my days intrigued by scrapped notes I've jotted before and after class because during I'm simply busy dreaming.
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