This is a continuation of the reflective thread begun in the previous post (‘the misanthrope bows out’).

Escape is a common theme for the good-hearted pilgrim who is unwilling to entangle themselves in mainstream pursuits. My youthful response to the repellent selection of ‘acceptable’ life paths on offer was to carve out an impressively colourful array of (attempted) ways out. The more notable methods I used involved detailed explorations of alternative culture and extreme fringe activities, immersion in music as a temporary means of exiting self and various unhealthy means of sedation and stimulation. There were periods of intensive travel that included the building of various retreat fantasies in foreign lands and the tactic of situating myself in remote, rural locations. I sought out every unusual experience under the sun, determined to find or build something decent and to ameliorate how deeply sad I felt on the inside. The haven of a lush, subtropical island, the peace of my own slice of rural woodland, the safety of distance from family and heritage….all of these were transitory balms to my inner fragmentation. 

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them.
I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure,
For my heart rejoiced in all my labor;
And this was my reward from all my labor.
Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done
And on the labor in which I had toiled;
And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind.
There was no profit under the sun.

Ecclesiastes 2:10

With hindsight, much of what I was doing was simply an attempt to shield myself from the pain and disharmony that I felt around me. I wanted to create a place of sanctuary, somewhere that I felt safe and protected. My desire for solitude was an inversion of my desire for communion, founded in good measure on what Thomas Merton rightly articulates as a “frustrated need for human affection”. 

In placing the search for comfort and sanctuary ahead of the search for truth, I had my priorities askew. I was destined for repeated, necessary failures. I had to explore futility in many of its manifestations in order to know those dead ends for myself. At times the journey was exhilarating. At other times it was pure hell. The more I insisted on seeking meaning apart from God, the louder and more aggressive the hurdles in front of me became. This continued until I paid attention, acknowledged where I was and changed direction. 

“Truly, if you wish to transform all your poverty, then go to the abundant treasure of wealth beyond measure, and you shall be made rich. For you shall know within yourself that He alone is the treasure that can fill you and make you replete. ‘Therefore’, you should say, ‘I wish to come to you so that your wealth shall fill my poverty, your infinity shall fill my emptiness, and your immeasurable incomprehensible Godhead shall fill my base and wretched humanity.” Meister Eckhart

Today’s maze of futility is more of a puzzle than a nightmare. Though the discovery of further dead ends will continue to cause some unpleasant bruising, I feel hopeful that for every cul-de-sac reached, another piece of falsehood is being deconstructed. The need for escape lessens with each new step.