Carlos Eire, having won the National Book Award in 2003 with his first memoir, Waiting for Snow in Havana, must have felt author's anxiety as he approached the blank screen a second time. After fearing what he calls the Void all his life, he did what all great writers do—he turned light on it and made it an integral part of his story.
I like the energy and talent in our praise group, but invariably I'm the one who asks if the bass player could turn
down his amp. I've also been known to ask if we could sing more songs that let
Jesus down off of the cross.
While on retreat recently, I picked up Patrick Leigh
Fermor's A Time to Keep Silence. I
was making my own transition from noisy life and noisy mind to four days of
retreat when I came upon Fermor's description of his retreat at a French
monastery in the '50s.
The language of vocation confirms that at no time in our lives are we
exempt from responsibility for others. We never stop being called
to share in the creative and redemptive activity of God through lives
Søren Kierkegaard, 19th-century Danish philosopher, would not be impressed with our busyness today. “Of all ridiculous things the most ridiculous seems to me to be busy—to be a man who is brisk about his food and his work . . . What, I wonder, do these busy folks get done?” Stephen Evans, Baylor University philosopher, says Kierkegaard saw busyness as a distraction from the really important questions of life, such as who we are and what life is for (Quartz, April 16).