In my morning reading, Thomas Merton expresses my heart in a way that far surpasses my own ability:
“I can only desire this absurd business of trees that say nothing, of birds that sing, of a field in which nothing ever happens (except perhaps the fox comes and plays, or a deer passes by). This is crazy. It is lamentable. I am flawed, I am nuts. I can’t help it. Here I am now, … happy as a coot. The whole business of saying I am flawed is a lie. I am happy. I cannot explain it… Freedom, darling. This is what the words mean to me. I am free, free, wild being, and that is all that I ever can really be. I am dedicated to it, addicted to it, sworn to it, and sold to it. It is the freedom in me that loves you…
Darling, I am telling you: this life in the woods is IT. It is the only way. It is the way everybody has lost. It is life, this thing in the woods. I do not claim it is real. All I say is that it is the life that has chosen itself for me.”
My heart is full…
