I live with two disabilities--rather two SETS of disabilities.  There are my own: bipolar disorder, diabetes, food addiction; and those of my wife: they are several, not the least of which is narcolepsy.  This letter is made all the more difficult because my wife has always been the one in charge of bills, coordinating our life, logistics, etc.  I simply delegated our entire life to her long ago.  Now, that system doesn't work well.  Yet, for various reasons, I can't help her.

Further, there is a physical distance between us because I now work outside the country.  I can only come home sporadically now.  Obviously, this is extremely difficult for my wife and kids.

I have two jobs.  One is as an international executive recruiter (sounds fancy but isn't) and another side project.  I just keep hoping that all will work out fine.  Everything I have divined, through a variety of sources both under my influence and not, tell me that all will be fine: I just need to keep on going.  So, I keep on going.  It is just that my life becomes very dry.  Every moment spent not working seems like theft from the family.  I try to remember that I need to keep myself physically and emotioanlly healthy, and I'm succeeding in that, but still, everything seems pretty bleak sometimes.  We have a pernicious money problem that I have been unable to solve for a long time now.

What does this all have to do with mysticism?  Or, more appropriately, 'wandering mysticism'?  Everything.  The wandering mystic starves just as the typical mystic fasts.  The wandering mystic is blessed with the scourges of family troubles, child issues, money worries, etc.  The desert mystic has more control over his/her circumstances and welcomes fasting and difficulties.  But still, even the most humble mystic's hut suffers from leaks from rains, attacks from the ignorant, etc.

So, I feel in solidarity with the poor. Although I would never claim to suffer as much as the truly poor. 

I realized the other day.  I had taken a "carro" (overgrown mini-bus that poses as public transportation when I am) to a very remote area of this sprawling megalopolis.  It was extremely poor by my standards.  The houses were mostly of unfinished concrete, although there was power and city water---there are many district far more desperate.  And that is when it hit me:  these "poor" are actually doing well by global standards.  They are eating X calories a day, probably more than necessary to survive--no one looked hungry, and they are clean with shelter.  The fact that the area is a sea of concrete and dust is just a relative lack of window dressing.

Then I thought of myself and my issues.  Soon we may be in dire straights.  But we do have family that can shelter us at the least.  90%+ of the world lives day to day--why should I complain to be included in that figure?

I have experienced some drastic life changes in the past nine months.  They have had dramatic effects on my life, and that of my family and my Church.  I really can't get into the details now because some of the issues are sensitive relative to certain individuals.

But I can make a few observations.  The most drastic of my changes has been a move, in stages, out of the country.  It has been mostly full of work, diversion, fun and more work.  But as of today, everything has slowed down to a standstill.  I'm waiting on a piece of technology that will allow me to begin putting my new business into full swing, and I'm stymied until Monday when it is SCHEDULED to arrive. Plus, I've finished doing everything I can bear to do on setting up the internal workings on the business, my apartment and any and all logistical stuff.  That just leaves me with "me".  And it's sort of boring.  Even though I am surrounded by at least one person at every moment.

I think this is the "boredom" and "me" that I have been needing to feel for a long time.  I can't tell if this is a good or bad sign, but I'm betting on "good" sign.  Still, what does this mean?  Does this mean that no matter what I do in life I will eventually be left with a "me" that, at its core, has no desires, no wants, only a vague pain--like flesh exposed to too much cold or a tongue burned with too-hot coffee.  Still, there are degrees, and I don't think that "unringing the bell" is going to be an "even trade".  On the contrary.  But what DOES it mean?  Does it mean that I am now in the position to do what I need to do?  Is THIS the work or is the preamble to the work.  I think the latter.

Still, I am left with my prior life, which is, by the way, still going on--very much so.  I don't know what to do.  I am also dealing with a spiritual fugue as well as a mental health condition that both require rapt attention.  Who knows how this will all turn out.