My passionate interest in social justice and social responsibility has always stood in curious contrast to a marked lack of desire for direct association with men and women. I am a horse for single harness, not cut out for tandem or teamwork. I have never belonged wholeheartedly to country or state, to my circle of friends, or even to my family. These ties have always been accompanied by a vague aloofness and the wish to withdraw into myself increases with the years. Such isolation is bitter, but I do not regret being cut off from the understanding and sympathy of other men. I lose something by it to be sure, but I am compensated for it in being rendered independent of the customs, opinions and prejudices of others, and am not tempted to rest my peace of mind upon such shifting foundations.
—Albert Einstein
Acedia
During the last few months, I have not wanted to be in the world. In truth, I had grown weary with the world, the politics, the unending changelessness of things. The Bush administration. A presidential campaign lasting for more than two years. The power and wealth of the few and the continued suppression of the many. The continuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq still mounting in their toll of innocent lives. Aids, famine, financial greed, all increasing at alarming rates even when the tools to bring about change exist.
I do not want to be with friends nor do I seek to engage in new friendships. Phone calls go unanswered or unreturned. Going to work each day becomes a chore rather than an enjoyment. I watch the clock, something I had not done before, waiting for the day to end so that I could go home to the blissful solitude of my own surroundings.
I am on a journey, not unlike journeys I have taken before except for the absence of a fixed timetable and this journey is internal not external. Whenever I take journeys out into the world, I always come back with stories and experiences to share with friends. Small tokens commemorating the places to which I traveled. Pictures, postcards, etc. I always come back a different person than the one who started the adventure initially but this journey is proving to be much different from any I had taken before.
At first I thought I might be in a state of depression except for the fact that my feelings are not out of hopelessness or inadequacy, nor are they out of synchronization with the events taking place in the outside world. For me, it is more of a transition, a transformation of sorts. A transformation which takes me to my depths, rattles my brain and replenishes my spirit. It is in a word, "acedia." I know acedia is defined as "spiritual or mental sloth; apathy" in today's English dictionary, but I prefer the medieval Latin and more philosophical spelling and definition to the modern psychological one. In Latin, "accidie," as it was spelled, is a state that inhibits pleasure and prompts the rejection of life.* Thomas Aquinas associated it with the turning of one's back on things, a torpor of spirit. Acedia is often translated as sloth, which is actually quite different.
The conditions of such a journey make it difficult to share with friends. I have no photographs of pristine mountains covered with glistening white snow. No stories to share from fellow travelers met along the way. What I can share is this. The journey of transition is a most difficult one, to be made on numerous occasions throughout our lives. It requires a strength of belief in oneself that you may not even know was possible until you experience it and like those journeys taken into the outside world, you will return a much different person than when you entered. You will return with a greater truth and belief in yourself and your place in the world. Your awareness, acceptance and understanding of life will be enhanced by the discoveries you learn about yourself. There is no preparation you can make ahead of time. No gear to pack. No magic wand will assist you along this journey. For as Lilly Tomlin so aptly said, "Just remember, we are all in this, alone."
I wish you well.
*Blackburn, Simon. The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy. Walton Street, Oxford, England OX2 6DP: Oxford University Press, 1994.
Photo Credit: Hermit