How shallow I can be. Pausing to pray or meditate, my mind goes flibbertygibbet. Off in all different directions. But, when I sit down to write, it’s a different story. I can focus and concentrate. I often can get lost in the thoughts without wandering off. Well, mostly.
I was thinking about this today. How unspiritual I often feel. Someone said yesterday that I was a spiritual man. I almost choked and fell out of my seat. What? He had to be kidding. But it made me stop and think. Not about me being spiritual, but what is it that seems to hold me back?
In my mind I went back to the past. Back some 60 years ago. Back into a time, when I was living a spiritual life. I can remember going into the chapel in the evening. It was dark, the pews and kneelers would occassionally snap back into place from the pressure put on them by the crowd in the early day. There was a red glass sanctuary lamp in front on the altar, the only light there. Except for the occassional sounds of those pews, it was silent. In there, for about the half hour or so I spent, I was focused in the darkness and the silence. I felt a presence and was content. Happy might be another word.
On occassion, when I wonder what’s going on, I go back there in my mind and remember another time, before alcohol took me down another road.
Anyway, I’ll stop. Just thinking this day about sobriety and being glad that I am where I am.