I would like to write a story. A fascinating, thrilling, brilliant story. One that would propel me from obscurity to fame. This is not a unique desire. It is one I have had many times, one that many writers have. And in my case, I know that it is nothing more than a sign of self-doubt.
A sign, a signal, to stop and doubt one's doubt, or to take things slowly. To breathe.
I would like to know my past and future the way I have at times known the moment of the present, as I might again. This too is a signal of self-doubt, against which, one must act to confess that doubt.
There is no formula for working one's way out of self-doubt. I think I mind it less now, having become a Catholic, as I tend to see these times as a kind of trial, a "cross to bear"' as the expression goes, as it has gone on for centuries now, even in the vernacular.
It would be interesting to read a history of Catholic persons' common usage of terms over the centuries. I can say, based on my so-far scanty reading, that many usages have been in place for a long time. It is strange to read a journal or biography from centuries ago where the writer expresses him-or-herself in prayers that we employ now, or to see the same self-concerns.
And, so, one is sometimes jostled out of self-doubt feeling informed and, well, slightly embarrassed. After all, look at my advantages. Who am I to complain?
But, I trust my active heart (i.e. conscience), which is where meaningful work occurs. If I am sad or doubtful, it means something. And I cannot afford to neglect that doubt.
So, I do not doubt in a strict comparative - though I do doubt whether I have anything to offer - but I tend to vacate myself and simply doubt as one who has lost themselves to themselves. Not always a bad thing!
Catholic. That word carries a lot of connotations. One of which, to the purpose of this posting, is a dedication to prayer, to different kinds of prayer. The Protestant and Fundamentalist churches have been known to take Catholics to task for "formulaic" prayer. That is, praying by rote, not from the heart. This is a formless, weightless criticism. Any Christian of non-Christian is capable of prayer, in word or deed, that is as intense or real or legitimate as the need or desire occasions, and to criticize that based on a person's affiliation is, I think it fair to say, ludicrous, or an exhibition, and not to the point.
Catholics, like others, pray as they need to pray. The literal difference is that Catholics recognize the efficacy of "sacramental" prayers. The Rosary being a prime example. By use of the word "efficacy" I mean to indicate that those prayers work. One can pray and get exactly what one asks for. I have done so and am merely one among billions.
And yet, I doubt myself! It really is comical, isn't it. The co-habitation of these facts leads me to this definition of life. Life is that occasion where utterly contradictory facts occupy the same place, in the same time, under the guise of salient forms.
I have a sudden impression of St. Paul clucking his tongue and shaking his head. He is the Patron Saint of writers, by the way. An intimidating thought!
Well, my friend, this is all a kind of work. In large part, to clear one's mind.
Another effect of having become Catholic, I see each day as a creation, a point of beginning that ends with sleep. So the concerns and doubts, and too the celebrations, end with that day.
To "clear the mind" means to do what must be done, what is "right and just." For that day. For me, this can be accomplished through writing poetry, or a blog (such as this one), or through celebrating Mass. It is sometimes done through political means, offering echoings of justice. It is only rarely accomplished merely through prayer. No, prayer is a call for help to clear one's mind through one or another of these vehicles of...accomplishment.
Ah. It is complicated. These are the inner workings. Catholics are exhorted to read about the Saints, to study the Bible. And we do, because it makes sense to do so, and it helps. It helps in the matter of endurance, sticking with the truth, even when you don't "feel it."
No wonder then that the Lord advised his disciples to pray constantly. That, my friends, was nothing other than a kind, practical suggestion. You can ask anyone who has done so. One might include, to "act with justice" constantly. Surely the Lord would not object to this addendum.
I am almost done with this day - to the sudden impression of St. Paul faintly smiling. And, if this is mere projection, one might suggest, is it so slight as to be disregarded entirely? I am among men and women, alone and in pairs, old and young, writers and workers and poets who work. Are we so alone in noting our impressions as to doubt our own happiness or that of others?
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