17. Pursuiing My Unifying Theory

Thursday 4 June.  12:50 p.m.  Cloudy day, cold with some mist.  I note that a cold day in June has a completely different meaning than a cold day in December.

On the day, Tuesday, I completed my novena, simply mass and the rosary every day (though I missed mass last Saturday), I wrote a short story.  Nothing much, but I felt good about it.  I do not feel bad about my novel start, but I am stuck for transition to different parts and worried about whether it is any good and wondering and worrying about whether I should be writing something that does not help me progress in my relationship with God.  It is a case of trying to make a living vs. trying to be a saint, or at least progressing in the latter regard.  There is so much room between the two!  (Let's leave it at that!)

Now I am, remain, torn about my future.  It's as if I were to send in the letter to the headhunter I will be jeopardizing my purity vis a vis Jones, Jones.  I want to stay here, but the tug of security and progression in a known world is attractive, more so than I thought it would be, when placed against the uncertainty of change.  On top of this basic problem is the knowledge that I would rather write than anything else, and which is more conducive to that?

I consider it a little more than coincidental that I wrote my story on the day I finished my novena.

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I am now up to Nehemiah in the Old Testament.  It is a beautiful book.  It is nice to read in the first person and the narrator appears to be a deeply humble man of God.  As I read in the book another recounting of the relationship of God to the Jews, I couldn't help but think that it almost seems as if God needs mankind or else why does He put up with so much.  It's as if He needs a two way relationship with us.  Upon reflection, it seems that perhaps what I see is God's love.  After all, a lover will pursue His beloved (did I perhaps really love M.?, for I did really pursue her).  So, the lover pursues the beloved against all odds, against rejection.  But then, is the pursuit totally selfless?  How does this work?  It is easy to see this with my children.  I pursue my love relationship with them because I care for their well being, I want their best.  With Cathy I see greater self appreciation; meaning, I want to be with her because she makes me happy, though I also admire her and want the best for her.

It is much easier to see our relationship with God (the Jews being our stand in) as parent-child, not husband-wife, because we are not at all equal.  In this sense our relationship falls into the more conventional one, for when we think of God, we think of Him as Creator, and, thanks to Jesus, as Father.  So I can see that God's continual pursuit of the Jews is more like a father pursuing a wayward child, wanting what is best for that child.  The child keeps running away, getting into trouble.  The good parent (the good shepherd of Jesus, but the idea of the good parent/shepherd is also very strong in the Old Testament) keeps coming after the child, rescuing him or her.  We think we can take care of things by ourselves, but we keep getting into trouble!

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Note regarding our old street: De Osma: this is where St. Dominic was in the monastery in Spain!  St. Dominic "hoarded the grain rats; cast it to the winds it brings forth fruit." (p.70).

Cathy in a quandary.  She knows she has been affected by this year, but sees herself falling into the same old routine.  How can this be, how to explain how this year has affected her if she does in fact go back?  (Same as my thoughts, though she has expressed it better than I could, especially in her pure sense of a simple question!)

The thought occurs today: live by money, die by money, live by God, die by God, etc. along the lines of "live by the sword, etc."

Turned into a cold, rainy day, good rain from 1 till about 3:30, probably a few light sprinkles at 4:50 now.  It is Thursday afternoon.  Love the sound of footsteps on the gravel, it comes with the Thursday afternoon local newspaper and also with the mail (the "postie").

Friday 5 June.  2:20 p.m.  It is a cold, dark, wet and windy day.  My mind was just recalling the cold days of December and thinking how pleasurable they are: to be safe within the warm house, reading and writing.  Thinking of those cold days makes me feel good; I don't seem to mind them at all.  I suppose though that we take for granted the knowledge that they do not last forever, and the sun comes soon enough to displace them during the year.

Worked on poetry manuscript today for another contest.  40 poems.  Less hopeful, more businesslike.

5:25 p.m.  Back from a walk to Smith's to pick up pictures.  Still cloudy, though no longer raining.  After the walk doesn't seem cold any more.  Walking home I smelled the sweet smell of decay, and was reminded that that smell is not a cold weather phenomenon, but a part of the warm season, as the rain dampens dead leaves, and the smell is one of over ripeness more than anything else, too sweet to eat, but sweet enough to bring a pleasurable sensation in memories.

Tuesday 9 June.  10 a.m. Cambridge library.  Clear, mild.  Dropped car off, then bus into Cambridge from Sawston.  Dreamt last night that I had a real communion with Jesus, as in a total devotion and giving of myself.  Walked out of church (after I had become a priest in furtherance of that communion) and someone reminded me that I was married; put everything up in the air.  Then I awoke at 4:20, quite light outside, I thought I had overslept, but the alarm not set to go till 5 a.m. (Robert is going to Boulogne, France for the day.)  Fell asleep, awoke with a start again at 4:35 or so, thinking I had overslept again.  Time to get up.

Thinking that I have an excess of feeling.  Read a review that said something was not sentimental but had unvanquished romanticism.  My excess feelings.  I do not know what to do with them.  Can I put them to constructive use or merely wallow?

Read Robert A. Maheu's book, Next to Hughes.  Good story, but more Maheu than Hughes, the man of action.  Then Maheu gets his heart attack, his wish to see the next sunrise, brings himself out of depression by realizing he had stopped talking to himself.  (That's all I ever do!)

Spent yesterday packing some books, sorting pictures, ready to get the scrap books going!  Also thinking how I have fit so well into this year of travel, of not "doing" anything.  I can recall the moments of stress and demand at work and dread them, but then I have a stronger feeling that I should have those moments, as much as I don't like them.  Now I do not know whether or not that is true.  Thinking back to remarks made by my teachers: you have potential, work harder.  Or when I was in summer school in 1963 and opted to skip so I could visit the shops.  My easy way out has been to disengage myself from problems and things I do not enjoy (conflict or boredom, hard decisions).  Yet I can also tackle things I like with a formidable interest and vigor.  Writing I suppose tackles myself in a way that I would like to be able to use to make a living, because that is what I like, or at least seems to have the most things I like.  Law is related in that it presents puzzles and word games to work out.

 But I don't suppose I have a lock on wanting to avoid the difficult.  I think of my friend Peter who would often call me up to do something.  That was the way his personality worked: let's do something; for him to sit around and do nothing would be painfully boring, so he called me.  I, on the other hand, would seldom call, either because I did not wish to disturb or because I liked my own company.

If my type of personality is more likely to be one with "potential," then perhaps the potential is to simply follow more actively that road you are one, the road to meditation, wonderings, etc. rather than any specific career.  Perhaps my teacher meant I should just pursue my natural abilities more than spend my time in meaningless activities.

 I went to a priest for confession on Saturday with Jeffrey (Farm Street Church), not feeling particularly sinful, but that I should set an example.  Priest listened a lot while I talked, I said I should exercise more discipline to fight off daily temptation to daydream after things or watching lovely women go by.  He said, discipline is the word.

There have been times I have been very disciplined, stopping smoking, drinking.  I can do it if I want, I have the will power, yet often find that I go over the other way, indulging myself in petty pleasures whether eating, drinking, looking, shopping, etc.

So I have to decide/determine whether potential can get confused with indulgence.  Am I indulging myself that I am a writer?  Scott Meredith said nice things, but I need work.  Others have said nice things, but either because I took time to write a letter (for example), etc.  If potential is too broadly  defined than it turns into indulgence, i.e., potential without limits.  In a way I guess I am like the physics professors searching for the one unifying theory of the universe: I am searching for my own unifying theory.