Who Will Come to My Cave?

Posted on May 28, 2005 in Reflections

The worst days are the ones like the light coming through a window and shining on a floor, blank except for the number of the day. I am looking to have things to do. It seems that when I make friends to do things with, the knife of God comes down and pares off part of the square and another part and another until I am left standing on a fleck of cardboard maybe the width of Lincoln’s head on the penny. With so little to stand upon, I lay in my bed and watch rods of light swinging over the sheets.

I can’t figure out people or the cycles of human interaction. I don’t know why a person can be friendly one week and distant the next. I just know that I have a spirit which must callous itself against the freezing air of solitude.

St. Benedict chose to live in a cave. St. Antony of Egypt preferred a tomb. Neither wanted people and yet people came. I want people and they fly from me. People mystify me. I look in my heart and say “Why am I different? What makes me so thick?”

Sigh. I know that I am a good person, but what good is good if you’re alone all the time? Who will come to my cave, knock on my door?