On Illusions, a Journal Entry from Henri Nouwen, and Naming Distortions
A Note from Me
I often imagine that one day life will slow down.
I picture myself older, maybe in my sixties, with fewer responsibilities and more room to follow Christ without hurry. Those quiet days sound glorious. But here’s the irony: when quiet moments come now, I often resist them. I look for ways to fill the stillness, to push life back into motion, to speed up.
That’s when I realize how strong my illusions are.
I think I want slowness, but when it comes, I’m not so sure. At first that feels disappointing, almost paralyzing. But the longer I walk with Jesus, the more I appreciate seeing the illusion. That sight is a seed of freedom. It reminds me that I’m not living fully in reality yet—and that awareness can be the start of change.
Maybe the kind of slowness I long for isn’t something that just arrives later in life, when circumstances shift. Maybe it’s learned, like the way I had to grow into the taste of black coffee or red wine. It took time and patience to finally enjoy it.
Perhaps slowness works the same way. I need to let a little of it into my life now, not later, and learn to sit with it as it shapes me.
Deep down, I do believe I want slowness. I just need a little time to grow into it.
A Voice from the Past
“When I took a closer look at this I realized that I was caught in a web of strange paradoxes. While complaining about too many demands, I felt uneasy when none were made. While speaking about the burden of letter writing, an empty mailbox made me sad. While fretting about tiring lecture tours, I felt disappointed when there were no invitations. While speaking nostalgically about an empty desk, I feared the day on which that would come true.
In short: while desiring to be alone, I was frightened of being left alone.
The more I became aware of these paradoxes, the more I started to see how much I had indeed fallen in love with my own compulsions and illusions, and how much I needed to step back and wonder, ‘Is there a quiet stream underneath the fluctuating affirmations and rejections of my little world? Is there a still point where my life is anchored and from which I can reach out with hope and courage and confidence?’”
—Henri Nouwen, The Genesee Diary
A Question to Carry
Can you name one of your illusions? How might naming it lead to fruit?
Keep watch,
—Jon
I can certainly relate to this paradox of “human nature” now in my late 60’s with more quieter days. I’m no different than the cow standing in a lush green pasture, stretching across the fence to that which is restricted.
Recently, I’ve been very focused on illusion and delusion in my practice. Being a head-type, one of my main illusions is getting caught up in my head, believing my own thoughts rather than opening my heart to let it help me “see”.