Autumn

The bare branches echo the call from within to let go.
The fallen leaves reflect the burden of the non-essentials that eventually I will have to let go.

The sound of solitude

It's biting me again: that deep ache, that feeling of being alone whilst surrounded by a crowd. Perhaps it is autumn, or perhaps it is because after a month in a community of Sisters whom I have grown to love I am on the move again. Yes, I am feeling the ache once again.

Yesterday the Pope gave a homily in which he talked about solitude. Among other things he mentioned:
"The drama of solitude is experienced by countless men and women in our own day. I think of the elderly, abandoned even by their loved ones and children; widows and widowers; the many men and women left by their spouses; all those who feel alone, misunderstood and unheard; migrants and refugees fleeing from war and persecution; and those many young people who are victims of the culture of consumerism, the culture of waste, the throwaway culture."

We do a lot things to run away from solitude. We listen to music, we watch videos, we play video games, we talk non-stop or we navigate the internet. We move on from one relationship to another, from one past time to another. We try out new food, we shop until we drop, or we window-shop. We talk about people, about the world, we engage ourselves in "important" causes. We do everything so as to stifle the voice of loneliness that just emerges so loudly at certain points of our lives.

But what if I just stop and really feel the pain seeping through my entire being? God calls me to make this courageous choice not to run away, not to have immediate answers, but to live the tension of being in a limbo, of having balls in the air.

At the end of the day, it is really to ourselves that we have to go home to. Even the people closest to us cannot enter inside the deepest sanctuary of our being. That sanctuary is only for me and my God. Solitude is a call to be at home with my God.

Advent

There was an ache in my heart as I left Krakow yesterday. I was leaving behind an experience that for almost ten years have engaged me. I was cutting close ties with people whose lives have somehow intertwined with mine.
How wonderful to do it at autumn when nature itself reminds me to surrender, that it is necessary to lose, to say goodbye and to live little deaths; that somehow life goes on.
How wonderful that I do it at Advent time when the Church goes on a journey of simplicity, of inviting us to the things that reallhy matter. The Lord comes and makes his visitation. I may lose everything. Nay, I am called to lose everything for it is the law of life.  But when the Lord is present, life goes on.