...it's not dark yet, but it's gettin' there...
Today's poem is by a Trappist monk of the Strict Observance, the late Thomas Merton. My experience reading the poem mirrors my own flirtations with serenity a few years back. Every time i think i get it, it slips away. Ultimately, i just give up.
When in the soul of the serene discipleWhen in the soul of the serene disciple
With no more Fathers to imitate
Poverty is a success,
It is a small thing to say the roof is gone:
He has not even a house.Stars, as well as friends,
Are angry with the noble ruin.
Saints depart in several directions.Be still:
There is no longer any need of comment.
It was a lucky wind
That blew away his halo with his cares,
A lucky sea that drowned his reputation.Here you will find
Neither a proverb nor a memorandum.
There are no ways,
No methods to admire
Where poverty is no achievement.
His God lives in his emptiness like an affliction.What choice remains?
Well, to be ordinary is not a choice:
It is the usual freedom
Of men without visions.
Surely you jest.
Annie, ordinary, run of the mill? Serene?
You have chosen a path that does not lead to serenity. It is not in the law school playbook.
The only lawyer who I ever met who came close was Bishop Pike, and he was far from ordinary, but nearly serene.
Give it up, Annie; go for "fulfilled".
Posted by: shelly on Sep. 7, 2005Merton's poetry is hard to come by. His collection, "Tears of the Blind Lions" has a moving poem about his brother's death in WWII.
Merton wrote some of my favorite lines...don't know if this is exactly right, but it went something like this:
"Do you have a guardian angel?"
"yes, thank you, I have one of everything,
Even thought the nights are never dangerous."