What is it about the night that it’s able to bring such moments of doubt and sadness? I’ve always loved the night, loved the quiet it offered. Lately, though, the night has been an enemy; I’m tired but unable to sleep. The nighttime becomes an opportunity for my confusion to come to the surface. Forget the noonday demon, acedia strikes at night for me.
I label acedia as “why bother.” I’m not sure if I understand it correctly, I think I do. It’s part depression, part rebellion, part anger, part ambivalence…a deep and cavernous puddle of “what is the point?”
This is what struck me last night. The voice I hear in my head says “This will be too much work and will not make an ounce of difference in your life.”
Strangely, when I have told friends I am exploring Orthodoxy I have not yet had anyone tell me it was wrong or that I was crazy. I’ve had a few odd comments but mainly my friends have listened and nodded a lot. I wonder if they don’t know what to say or ask. I know that if they felt strongly they would say so. I almost wish someone would say something to dissuade me. The negative voice in my head could use some backup.
It is, of course, the grace of God that I’m surrounded by such a loving and beautiful group of humans on this road. I could not have planted a more bountiful garden of care and nourishment on my own. I know this well.
It’s daytime now and hope does (as it’s said) spring eternal…but the night will come again and I will ride it out and lean on tradition as I’m able…stumbling and limping toward the light.