At this time, I am experiencing a void of desire, wanting nothing in particular, yet unable to bring peace into my moments away from mass and the Eucharist.  There is something I want, yet no worldly thing attracts.  It is a time of transition regarding worldly matters.  The call to work with the Hospice being left to disregard and silence does mystify, allowing discontent to breed, calling forth a serious examination of conscience and circumstance.  I went back to older writing, intending to post a piece, identifying relevancy while driving, yet when opening and reading, I experienced an aversion, the witnessing of the work of a man who no longer exist.  My previous writing efforts I find unnecessary to explore.  The desire to be a writer no longer exist.  It is a part of dying to self.  Dabbling with poetry and my blogging efforts suffice.  I must say this two day excursion back into a private and personal realm calls forth the possibility of the cloistered life stronger than I considered.  Idle time brings into focus a lack of definition, an absence of direction, a longing desiring to be fulfilled on a worldly level.  This week will be interesting.  Last night, thoroughly enjoying the classical guitar performance, I could not deny a stronger yearning for the wide open spaces of North Dakota.  Cleveland feels contrived and crowded; unable to sanctify, finish, and satisfy.  Once more, my future becomes oblique.  I will answer the call with Chaos, encountering a foreign film, a Sicilian movie, the Taviani brothers, based on the turn of the century stories woven together through the theme of the Greek idea of Kaos, the name of the writer Pirandello’s village, a black crow uniting.  Absorb these images.  Where are these children?  Where are these beaches?  Where is this voice?  Metaphorically, the tantalizing nature of the spiritual life calls the loudest?