This topic was actually a matter of lengthy discussion this weekend in our monthly Carmelite community meeting . . . several of the younger members commenting on the “great pains” of sitting among other parents during their kids soccer games. An experience I know quite well.
There comes a time when the lures of the world begins to lose its meaning. This is often experienced in the form of a separation from other people with whom we now “seem” to have absolutely nothing in common. Routine conversation can become a great chore; perhaps even seeming petty, shallow and insincere. Old friendships might even be lost. We now see ourselves no longer in this world . . . but, at the same time, not yet firmly established in the next. So it might seem as if we’re being pulled in two directions . . . suspended between heaven and earth, in a manner of speaking.
What’s happening is that God, through the light of self-knowledge, is calling the soul unto Himself in greater intimacy. Silence and solitude with Him now becomes our only joy, refuge and respite. Often this is a sign, according to St. John of the Cross, the soul is being led toward a more contemplative way of life. Seperation and detachment from things of the world is a very big part of this process.
Having gone through this myself I’d simply say this: seek this silence and solitude if you feel drawn to it . . . but do your very best (as I’m sure you are) not to be judgmental toward those whom you feel the need to withdraw from for this can be a great trap. God calls each of us by our own name . . . and it never ceases to amaze me how “subtle” our judgments can be of those who don’t walk the same path we do.
You might even find there comes a time when you desire to “re-imerse” yourself into the world . . . energized and better equipped, through your silence and solitude, to meet the needs of those around you. Not where “your at” . . . but where “they’re at.”
While it might not seem it at the moment, the desire to withdraw is a great blessing if embraced with great love . . . for both God and neighbor.
Dave