The last few days I've been reading a book called "The Intimate Merton" that is an edited compilation of the personal journals of Thomas Merton. Merton, as you all should know by now, is my favorite monk from the 1940s-1960s, and he is almost certainly the most influential writer in my personal spiritual journey over the last 5 years or so.
It's been interesting to read some of the day-to-day life of this guy who had so many good, deep, relevant things to say to me and to the world about God and about life. In a lot of ways, I've found in his journals a mind similar to my own -- thinking deep and big things about God and life, finding joy in solitude and contemplation, and yet having a "feisty" personality, often conflicted, sometimes feeling selfish and impatient, and in all this stuff being pretty open about writing it all down. Merton was a writer, and I think I am too -- give me a moving topic, and I could write about it for.. well for a long time.
As just one example, he says insightful things that I relate to like this (speaking of his journal entries a year previous):
The first thing that impresses me is that practically all I wrote about myself and my trials was stupid because I was trying to express what I thought I ought to think, and not for any especially good reason, rather than what I actually did think.
He uses the word stupid. Self-deprecating. Not that I'm proud of it, but.. it sounds like me sometimes. And he's comparing what he actually thought with what he was supposed to think -- a charge similar to what people have told me: that I quote books rather than thinking for myself -- of course here I am talking about that by...
quoting a book(!) Laugh with me.

This book was also the genesis of my recent Facebook status comment about 1966 -- the year in which Merton ran into a situation similar to my recent life (same length roughly, same time of year, etc.). When I bought this book, I went to Barnes & Noble for a different book, but wandered to the Christian section, and then to the Merton shelf, and found this book. I thumbed through it, and found the entries from 1966... and decided with all that similarity I'd better buy the book.
As a side note, I find it entertaining to walk along nature trails while reading books like this. I get a little walk in, and get reading time in. It just feels like it's in the spirit of being a contemplative while walking through life. And I'm just different and like to do weird stuff like that.
With all that said, I would recommend this book if you're up for a long-ish read to see into the mind of one of the great spiritual thinkers of the 20th century. You just might find a kindred spirit as we all struggle to trust God and to make life with Him relevant to ourselves and our world.
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