Mind, heart, and soul, anyone?

Here I have not had so much as a cold since New Year's Eve 1997, and I have had two sinus infections since December. I'm not suggesting, of course, that this is of general interest, but, with its being unexpectedly debilitating, I'm not quite up to the Passiontide posts I'd love to be creating. (Let alone the essays I'm planning for my Internet site.)

So - this is a mere 'rant' - flavoured with puzzlement. I enjoy good company, and love very few things more than a decent conversation. I'm not the sort for clubs, and I'm weary of such things as volunteer service, of which I've already done enough for five lifetimes. I gave myself permission to have some fun, finally, a few years back, and am sorry that it's very difficult to find anyone with which to share this. My generation have become frumps, and, worse yet, totally health obsessed. People have feared death since the expulsion from Eden, but, until recently, I believe they were resigned enough to its inevitability not to constantly be dwelling on sickness and death unless these were a present, personal reality. Those of my age group, who have reached the age that would have been considered 'old' a century ago, cannot admit to a fear of decline and death, but rather seem to think that the right 'fitness programme' will mean being still in middle age at 90 and never dying at all.

A few years ago, I saw an Internet site which was about meeting new friends. (It was not a romantic site.) My interests are many and varied, and I had hoped that I could find a few new companions with which to talk, hear a concert, share a gin, watch an art exhibit, and so forth. I posted a summary of my interests at the site... and the few responses I received made me resigned to being a hermit.

Recall, now, that they came to me! Responses were along the lines of "had I changed my entire lifestyle" since I posted. (Note that my description did not describe a degenerate - merely one who has the sort of interests listed in my profile here.) Others wrote "I am concerned that you did not mention a health and fitness programme." (John Cassian's version is good enough for me. Not to mention that, if I take after my dad's family, at age 80-93 my heart will stop, and that, if I take after my mother's, I'll eventually be 104 wishing it would stop.) A few "helpful" souls thought that, for example, my mentioning an interest in the arts was a plea for someone to get me to abandon such pursuits to spend more time out running.

Of course, judging from the few Yahoo groups of which I've been unfortunate enough to be a temporary member, lots of Internet junkies are in "self help" mode. They seem to thrive on being self absorbed, having all sorts of meddling to justify as "concern," and to enjoy playing at being mentally ill. In case this was not obvious, the groups on to which I would sign were on topics of interest to me, but the nut cases always find their way.

I'm not disparaging people's having an interest in sport, fitness and the like. One of my blog members is a marathon runner. What I'm criticising is two-fold: first, an obsession with "fitness" which blots out all other interests and, second, a degree of self absorption which makes one assume the new, improved 'you' is so wonderful that everyone on the planet is looking for your advice. (With this infection, I just don't have the strength to write a scorching denunciation of capitalist gimmicks - false needs which are presented to turn some vendor into a guru on which one's life depends - but I'll get to this at another time.)

Earlier in this post, I mentioned John Cassian, a great master of ascetic theology. His wise emphasis was on disciplining thoughts, to remove distractions to intimacy with God and love of neighbour. It is quite difficult, but a great gift, to embrace the asceticism of this type, because it means letting go of the false self. Yes, this is a process for a lifetime, and I'm not suggesting I'm far along. But love is ultimately about self forgetfulness, not self absorption.