Adavuruku,
“A
profound spiritual crisis.”
You will be horrified to know
(if that part of you can still do this) that you are a character in one of my
books now. You are a spirit guide to one of my doppelgangers in the story and
we work on a farm and talk of things to do with eternity. I read these books
now and again to sort of catch up on all the things you might say to me if I ever
encountered you in the great hall of faith.
This morning, as I washing
dishes as part of my morning ritual against despair, it occurred to me that
over the last few years I have been experiencing a most profound spiritual
crisis. It was so hidden from my view that I only got hit by it as I examined
the acts and words from me that I do not recognise anymore. It hit me that
perhaps I was off the anchor we all believed in and I am now afloat on a sea of
rubbish with momentary sparks of light. This does not excuse my evil. Being in
a crisis does not mean you do not know what you are doing. It just means this
is the reason you are doing it.
I tried to quickly trace
when I might have slipped out from under the light and I realised that it must
have started sometime after law school. Life breaks us all, the bearded one
once said, and he would know, but sometimes it breaks us off in tiny pieces at
a time so we do not notice. Perhaps finally I have begun to notice my missing
parts.
What does one do with a spiritual
crisis?
I have started to pray more.
I do not think that the act alone is what will cure my ills and so many of my
ills will not be cured on this side of the story but it is the first act of
submission to realise you need direction on how to get back home. There is a
long journey ahead of me but when I get lost I will remember you and all the
saints ahead who made out of the crisis of being human something beautiful and
eternal in God.
And then I miss you, you
fool.
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