I am a monastery

I am a monastery by debgrant

I am reading Joan Chittister’s “The Monastic Heart: 50 Simple Practices for Contemplative and Fulfilling Life.” The title still makes me snort. Simple? Ha! Fulfilling? Takes a lot of hutzpah to make that promise in the title of a book, but that’s book marketing for ya. They gotta sell books. They gotta promise something. No one ever sued a book publisher because they promised “you can’t put this down!” and you did? They get away with making empty promises. To be honest, I think the prayers I am writing for Barefoot Crossing are some of the best writing I have ever done. My opinion doesn’t make it so. I suck at book marketing.

I am only halfway through Chittister’s book. One chapter at a time is filling which is different than fulfilling. I have always been curious about the monastic life. I had a cousin who became a Trappist - the ones who stay silent all day - I figured being one of 11 children was part of his motivation. The monastic life didn’t last long for him. He fell in love with a nun. Apparently, that is not one of the monastic practices.

I never desired to BE a nun. There isn’t a Roman Catholic bone in my body thanks to being soaked in the Lutheran Reformation most of my career. I have always wanted to be more disciplined. I rarely go through a day without thinking, “I really need to be more disciplined.” Mind you, I have my routines but mostly they are driven by my dog’s digestive tract and my parrot’s annoying habit of actually asking me for food and water.

This morning it occurred to me that maybe I AM a monastery. I am building myself into a building with the specific purpose of creating a shelter for those who work and pray. So far, the building is going well. I have no ambitions to embrace all the 50 simple practices of the monastic life according to Chittister, but some of them, I am already doing by accident. That isn’t very disciplined but this is my monastery so I get to decide.

What I am learning about the monastic life in history is that they were formed at a time of chaos - social, governmental, ecclesiastical, public health - you name it, chaos. The monasteries popped up and many provided hospitality, shelter, food, safety, and communities formed around them extending that shelter and connectivity to clusters of people at a time when no person, no government, or no church could be trusted to keep them safe. The monasteries had their problems too. Their downfall was that they let people in to stay. People always mess things up. I would mess up any monastery if I ever joined one. I am the worst pew sitter in the world.

I will keep reading and being my own monastery for a while. I may even welcome visitors as long as they stay long enough for me to love them and don’t stay too long and mess me up. Not sure that will work, but I am a monastery under construction.

Peace,

Deb

p.s. The photo is one of those silhouette paper art forms that were popular once. The artist used black paper and scissors only. She cut the silhouette by looking at her live subject in person and cut the paper into a profile in a matter of minutes. The black paper silhouette was then pasted on a white card. I was nine years old when the artist made this portrait of me. She did a perfect job with my nose. I have always loved my nose. My nose will be a favorite place in my monastery.