"A man is hindered and distracted in proportion as he draws outward things to himself"
About this Quote
Kempis lands the punch with a quiet piece of spiritual physics: the more you clutch at the world, the more the world clutters your mind. “Hindered and distracted” isn’t just a moral scolding; it’s a diagnosis of attention. He frames outward desire as a self-inflicted tax on inner freedom, suggesting that what looks like acquisition is really dispersal - of focus, of peace, of soul.
The key phrase is “draws outward things to himself.” Kempis doesn’t condemn “things” outright; he targets the act of pulling them into the self as identity, security, or proof. Possessions, reputation, even other people’s approval become extensions of ego. The subtext is Augustinian: attachment breeds restlessness because the self was never meant to be satisfied by what is perishable. Want turns into noise. The mind becomes a warehouse, not a sanctuary.
Context matters. Kempis, steeped in the Devotio Moderna and the ascetic tenor that would shape The Imitation of Christ, writes for readers trying to practice inward devotion amid institutional religion and social ambition. His era didn’t have smartphones, but it had status, property, patronage, and the constant medieval scramble for safety. The intent is practical: detach not to be “pure,” but to be usable - to pray, to think, to act without being yanked around by appetite.
It works because it refuses melodrama. No thunderbolts, just proportionality: more grasping, more interference. A clean line that makes the self’s clutter feel measurable - and therefore avoidable.
The key phrase is “draws outward things to himself.” Kempis doesn’t condemn “things” outright; he targets the act of pulling them into the self as identity, security, or proof. Possessions, reputation, even other people’s approval become extensions of ego. The subtext is Augustinian: attachment breeds restlessness because the self was never meant to be satisfied by what is perishable. Want turns into noise. The mind becomes a warehouse, not a sanctuary.
Context matters. Kempis, steeped in the Devotio Moderna and the ascetic tenor that would shape The Imitation of Christ, writes for readers trying to practice inward devotion amid institutional religion and social ambition. His era didn’t have smartphones, but it had status, property, patronage, and the constant medieval scramble for safety. The intent is practical: detach not to be “pure,” but to be usable - to pray, to think, to act without being yanked around by appetite.
It works because it refuses melodrama. No thunderbolts, just proportionality: more grasping, more interference. A clean line that makes the self’s clutter feel measurable - and therefore avoidable.
Quote Details
| Topic | Letting Go |
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