Came across this a couple days ago in Kathleen Norris’ book, Acedia and Me.
It is easy to fall in love over a meal in a restaurant, where someone else does the cooking and the cleaning up; it is hard to tolerate, much less love, the person who shares our kitchen, bath, and bed. How does repetition turn relationships stale and lifeless, so that a once beloved face becomes an object of scorn? What is it about repetitive acts that makes us feel that we are wasting our time? Although it is easy to dismiss our daily routines as trivial, these are not trivial questions, any more than sloth is mere laziness without spiritual consequence.
(She does go on to answer some of these questions. But I think just the idea of being faithful in the tedious and repetitive is challenging and insightful. Especially to a 3rd generation Italian-American who is prone to grand gestures of expression.)
No related posts.
Twitter Updates
You made some decent points there. I looked on the internet for the issue and found most individuals will go along with with your website.
An interesting dialogue is price comment. I think that you must write more on this topic, it might not be a taboo subject but typically persons are not enough to speak on such topics. To the next. Cheers