"My God, it is that gap and that distance which kill me."

-- Thomas Merton, Seven Storey Mountain, p421

I just came back from retreat.  Three days at Conception Abbey.  It wasn't that great.  I was befuddled, anxious, distracted.  I hadn't been on retreat since the end of March.  See, this is what happens.  I lost my rhythm.  And to boot, preaching, two funerals, and going to China in a couple of weeks.  Merton felt a gap between g-d and him.  He craved constant connection with g-d - constant Presence.

Truthfully, all I live in is gap.  It is the all-too-infrequent spark of the divine that snaps me to attention. But the sparks are few and far between... too far between. 

The answer:  flee, flee, flee.  Flee to silence.  Flee productivity.  Flee.  My hands got ahead of my heart and my mind.  I stopped taking every thought captive to g-d.  I settled in for Control of my universe.  And I do so naturally - control is my default setting. 

Flee inward to solitude.  Stare down the false self.  Cut deep.  Go to the dark night and wrestle all night and walk away limping.  But - also - get a new name: one who wrestles with g-d.  Yes.  Flee and wrestle.  There is no other way.  All else is just self-made sin management, meant to put me in control. 

Close the gap. Flee.  What other choice do we have?