Divers sorts of meditations there be which our Lord putteth in a man’s heart. Some of them shall I tell thee of that thou mayest exercise thyself in them. In the beginning of the conversion of such a man as hath been much defiled with worldly or fleshly sins, commonly his thoughts are much upon his sins with great compunction and sorrow of heart, with great weeping and many tears humbly and busily asking mercy and forgiveness of God for them. And if he be deeply touched in conscience for them (for then our Lord will soon cleanse him from them), his sins will seem ever to be in his sight, and that so foul and so horrible, that hardly can he be able to brook or endure himself for them; and though he confess himself never so clearly of them, yet will he find difficulty and a fretting and biting in his conscience about them, thinking that he hath not confessed right. (John Climacus)

I am a sinner both in what I do and what I do not do. I am especially inclined to the sin of pride, by which I fail to love neighbor, God, or - in any meaningful sense - even myself. Rather than loving, I worship a false image of myself that separates me from God and neighbor.

Despite the depth of my sin, I do not perceive that sinfulness itself draws me to meditation. I am not, typicially, preoccupied by my sin. My sin has become, for better or worse, as an annoying yappy dog that is bound to me, embarrasses me, troubles my day, but that I consider separate from myself.

I am drawn to meditation by a brilliant light, a beautiful music, and by the pull of a strong oceanic current that is taking me someplace - not yet knowable - but from which, even far out to sea, the breeze brings a wonderful fragrance.