I think I've found myself on paper.
Except, of course, that I am not a doe.
And I'm still with the herd.
And the intense loneliness is not manifesting itself very well now so I'm a little extra vain and coquettish. Not for long, but yes, at the moment.
Long Loneliness, The Ways of Peace by Fr. Nil Guillemette.
So that's what this is, this deep-seated longing I can't be rid of until I find what can fill it.
I know I can't find it by traversing the world. It's in me. I know it is.
Have you ever tried looking for something you just know is in you?
Because He's in me. And you. And that's really all we're looking for, isn't it?
I don't think I'm as much impatient as I am excited and nervous. I don't think I'd mind the journey so much if my end of the rainbow was that magnificent. And it will be because I can't stop until I find it. I can remember all the times I thought I'd found it. But it never seemed to last. Perhaps it's one of those things I really have to do alone.
That thought of being alone, all alone, like going on a solo camping trip (which I wish I could but really can't because I know nothing about survival in the wilderness and will probably die out there) or at least sitting by myself in an isolated spot away from civilization at the break of dawn or nighttime when the stars are out has always been so immensely compelling I can't rid it from my mind, whether I'm in a circle of friends or crowd of strangers.
I see myself finding at least a clue to my destination in the lapses that are those fantasies, in the pangs of hunger that burst out suddenly. It's an odd sort of hunger, because the more I try to feed it, the more hungry I become and more I ignore it the more I forget about it. But I don't want to forget about it. I could lose myself in all that forgetfulness.
I so greatly desire to fulfil this crave, yet I find I'm rather enjoying myself.
:)
And I'm still with the herd.
And the intense loneliness is not manifesting itself very well now so I'm a little extra vain and coquettish. Not for long, but yes, at the moment.
Long Loneliness, The Ways of Peace by Fr. Nil Guillemette.
So that's what this is, this deep-seated longing I can't be rid of until I find what can fill it.
I know I can't find it by traversing the world. It's in me. I know it is.
Have you ever tried looking for something you just know is in you?
Because He's in me. And you. And that's really all we're looking for, isn't it?
I don't think I'm as much impatient as I am excited and nervous. I don't think I'd mind the journey so much if my end of the rainbow was that magnificent. And it will be because I can't stop until I find it. I can remember all the times I thought I'd found it. But it never seemed to last. Perhaps it's one of those things I really have to do alone.
That thought of being alone, all alone, like going on a solo camping trip (which I wish I could but really can't because I know nothing about survival in the wilderness and will probably die out there) or at least sitting by myself in an isolated spot away from civilization at the break of dawn or nighttime when the stars are out has always been so immensely compelling I can't rid it from my mind, whether I'm in a circle of friends or crowd of strangers.
I see myself finding at least a clue to my destination in the lapses that are those fantasies, in the pangs of hunger that burst out suddenly. It's an odd sort of hunger, because the more I try to feed it, the more hungry I become and more I ignore it the more I forget about it. But I don't want to forget about it. I could lose myself in all that forgetfulness.
I so greatly desire to fulfil this crave, yet I find I'm rather enjoying myself.
:)
