Everyone who keeps a journal or diary does so in his or her own way. There are no rules. My earlier scratchings were very different from later. Once I began blogging in 2007 my journal notes dropped off some, though never entirely. It is invaluable to have a private space where we can "let our hair down" and be wholly our selves, in God's presence, free from the critical scrutiny of others.
What follows are some notes from four days in 1993.
June 13, 1993
"Never measure the height of a mountain until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it was."
—Dag Hammarskjold, Markings
"If I freeze in the moment like the rest who don't try, what good am I?"
—Dylan
In reading Unamuno I am confronted again with the need to go to Cervantes — the seminal fount of so much that is noble.
* * *
Sermon today on Lot &c. Genesis 19. "Lot hesitated."
I find I can relate. But by grace he was saved from the fire. His wife, on the other hand, was not saved. What I find myself asking is… Did Lot's wife really turn into a pillar of salt? Or is this a story to teach us something about looking back?
* * *
For him who truly Hungers to live, only living fully, deeply, satisfies this longing. We satisfy our hunger to live by Living.
* * *
Evening
Purchased the Don Quixote this afternoon and a book of Kafka's short stories. In opening the Kafka, it immediately opens to a short story that is a tribute to Quixote about Sancho's part in the story. Kafka tips his hat, as did Unamuno.
Shall I not also pay my respects?
* * *
June 14
"We cannot afford to forget any experience, not even the most painful."
—Dag Hammarskjold, Markings
D.H.'s book is an honest, deep, "picking at the scabs"—trying to understand the mysteries of injury and healing, pain and meaning. And [it's] good writing, too.
Productive weekend included finding book treasures, watching movies, finishing practical tasks, and completing some writing.
Of D.H.'s Markings: The book is a treasure trove filled with gold pieces.
Here and there, pockets of inspiration and hope nurture the weary traveller… and his heart is lifted.
Rejoice, sons and daughters of Jerusalem. Rejoice!
* * *
June 15
Am reading the Quixote. In caricature we see our selves. How often are we not so unlike the Quixote, imagining ourselves fighting battles for righteousness while others only see a grown man making a fool of himself?
* * *
June 16
We live, we move, we have our being.
This waking hour, this mortal frame
This fleeting breath we call life's game
Reminds us where our Rest shall be
Not here on earth, but eternity
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