2006 and beyond

Dear Gentle readers-

I wonder how many are still reading. It's a Saturday night late in February and I'm back at the blogging life. I hadn't written in so many months as life was in full force and I was akin to a bouncey ball shooting all over the room. I have been painfully, joyfully, emotionally, and acutely re-entering life after a shot at the religious community of St. Maragaret's in Boston. I was with the sisters for almost 2 and 1/2 months --which some days felt like a million years and some days felt like a blink of an eye. I left in early December and it's been a long, short, strange and ordinary journey to come to where I stand today.

When I left Boston, I was convinced that vocational life was done and that my trials and tribulations were no longer going to plague me and that my darkest nights were behind me. I thought that I had walked through hell and back and was done. WRONG. The transformation and the growth and the joy and the wonder and the pain and the pleasure continued and continued and continued. I look forward with both awe and trepidation to what is unfolding.

The other day in a sermon given by the rector of my church, I saw the following passage that really struck home with me.

"My wife said that for every transformative experience and every victory, we must work that transformation and work that victory."

Transformations can happen without our consent but I think the transformations that are life and soul changing are those that we have let go of the expected results and just work to the best of who we are and are open to what is going to happen.

I am amazed to look back at the short and long journey from December 5th to almost Ash Wednesday and am quite surprised, amused and in awe at how solidly I was supported, encouraged and loved throughout this period of continued self-discovery and awareness. I have never been so loved in such an unconditional manner. The words "welcome home" have never felt so wonderful and they were not voiced by my parents. It was such a joyous homecoming.

I was walking into my house today and thinking that I am finally feeling at home here back in Pasadena and back teaching. I've been here since December but am finally feeling comfortable. I am finally feeling comfortable at my job which is teaching 7th and 8th grade middle school English. My friends and I are feeling comfortable as we negotiate what it's like to for me to be back. It feels both strangely familiar and yet brand new. It's a fine line.

I saw this prayer in the on-line office and was inspired.

A Prayer of Self-Dedication
Almighty and eternal God, so draw our hearts to you, so guide our minds, so fill our imaginations, so control our wills, that we may be wholly yours, utterly dedicated unto you; and then use us, we pray you, as you will, and always to your glory and the welfare of your people; through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Amen--I say again.

awkward party of one....

Dear Gentle Readers-
It's been a busy morning. The community officially found out either last night or early this morning when I walked into morning prayer wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. As my friend the Raccoon said, in regard to the distance I am feeling between the community and myself, "the community has to stop falling in love with you." The same is true the other way around as well. I have lived, worked, cried, prayed and laughed with these women and I have felt at ease here and comfortable. I feel genuine love towards them, especially some of the older crusties that I watch wheel of fortune with. The other postulant is avoiding me as if her vocation is at stake. I did tell the superiors that I am willing to talk about what and why I decided what I did. I need to be open. I just feel vulnerable and wobbly right now.

I know that this sounds wierd but today feels like when a couple splits but decides to live in the same house for a while til the other can get back on their feet. The complicated dance begins. Things feel ambigious and gray at times. I sort of move between my room, the kitchen and the bathroom. Today I'm not feeling comfortable anywhere else. I feel confused. I feel fragile. I feel very tired. I feel sad and wonder what the hell I'm supposed to be doing now. Yet, I'm glad to just have time to sit and think/feel/pray this transition through.

I have moved rooms. I am now on the 2nd floor in a guest suite. As I was leaving my 3rd floor room, I stopped briefly and was grateful for the ideas and the knowledge that I wrestled with in there. The room seemed so much different with all my pictures gone and my fabrics gone. It took about 10 trips to get everything into this new room. The first thing I did in this room was to move the bed against the wall--I dont like my bed in the middle of the room. I have not unpacked a lot, just what I think I need for the next week or so.

love-
me

growth spurts

Dear Gentle Readers,

I've decided to post about a decision that I have been battling against making since I stepped off the plane a little over 7 weeks ago. In these weeks, I've been forced to look at myself, inside, outside and upside down--light has been shined in the dark crevices and nothing has gone unexamined. In these weeks, I've come to see another, deeper side of myself, a side that is totally incompatible with religious life. I've not been honest about how miserable I've been feeling and what I really, really desire.

I made the decision to leave California and come back East way, way, way too fast without processing anything from my summer in Africa.

I've finally been able to see that my hearts desire is to be in a relationship, to be active in the outside world, to make retreats and not to live a retreat, to maybe have kids, to maybe not have kids. To be active as a lay person with a life both at church and in the world. Yet, I had to come here to find this out. The other day at Eucharist, I thought, wow, this is a lot to have to give up or put on hold in order to realize my deepest desires of honest to God intimacy with another person.

I made the decision to leave the community on monday night and the superiors knew on tuesday morning. They were not surprised and had seen this coming. I lived as postulant--soon to be non-postulant--until late Thursday night. Some members of the community knew and some will find the notice posted in the mailroom or they'll see me in secular clothes tomorrow or they'll hear about it at the morning meeting. It was difficult to be in this outfit as I knew the part was over. Tomorrow, I move into the 2nd floor--guest/older sister/open floor and will be there until I leave. It was awkward at times, it was hard at times, it was a chance to live into the decision I made to leave. At times I wanted to shout---hey, look at the big pink postulant in the middle of the room.

To put some closure on this season, however short it was, and to sort out my options--I'll be here at least through Thankgiving so I can adjust and the community can adjust to the change. Upon return after Christmas, which I will spend in SF with my family, I will probably teach again and slowly adjust back to life and see where I am called and how I can incorporate what I learned here into my life.

I do not regret coming here.

In a way, when it all came down to it the convent was a place where I met both myself and God on a deeper level. It was a place where I wrestled with desires I had brought with me, even though I didnt know I had packed them. I am glad I did this. It has been a sacred gift, a chance to go deeper and to discern my desires. The fact that I could answer with more clarity the question--what do you desire ---means that the process works.

St. Theresa said,
"Let us make our way together, Lord; wherever you go I must go: and
Through whatever you pass, there too I will pass."

Thanks for listening and being on this journey with me,

Stay tuned, the adventure is still strong.

Love-
me

ps--why the name change? Because the concept of "me" is open and fluid as monk_1975 is limiting and only one part of who I am. I'll always have monk-ish parts but there's room for more.

Construction sites and country roads

Dear Gentle Readers--

As I re-read this email, I am amazed at how a post about a bad day and an intention to thank a few people turned into a meditation about writing and building. Just keep going.

When I was a kid, I loved to write. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and write. I wrote stories and bad poetry. I was the editor of my high school paper and loved my creative writing classes. However, throughout college and graduate school, my creativity was zapped and drained dry as I was introduced to Academic styles and forced to write within a formula. Perhaps this is why I was considered a bad writer at both levels of school. It makes me think about when Raccoon read one of my student's papers and was amazed at the formula that they had to write in---I had become one of the oppressors and was passing on the oppression I experienced to my students. Anyway, I have reccently re-discovered how much I love to write and how healing writing can be for me. I have also discovered the beauty of written letters. At the end of a bad day, I have discovered again that writing always makes me feel better.

Well, I digress.......GREATLY........:)

Today is one of those days--a day where I yearn for my west coast community and west coast weather. As I wrote to the raccoon, "I don't know how to do 30 degrees." So the yearning for the West Coast combined with the weather did not make for a happy monk, instead I ached for the familiar today and had to be very gentle on myself. Thank God for emails and for the kindness of friends, both old and new.

I didnt want to blog today. I almost wanted to put up a graphic on the blog that said, "monk1975 under construction" and then I realized that this is exactly what is happening. I am under construction and construction sites are messy, they are scary, they are a crucible for the present meeting the past, they follow a plan but what's written on the blueprint may or may not work out, the creation may not come out according to the vision of the architect, it's a dirty place where the dirt gets under your finger nails, it's a place where tears are shed and frustrations arise and it's a place for falling down and getting up again, over and over again, trying to get that blue print right. In the end, the beauty of the building is enhanced by the sweat and tears of those who worked on it. Yet, the beauty often isnt seen until the construction process is over.

My friends, thank you for being with me at the construction site, as I puzzle over the blue prints and figure out where slot A goes and what type of materials to use.

Keep out those hard hats, I don't think we're close to being done.

Much love,
Monk_1975

A cat of one's own, we've already got the room..

Dear Gentle Readers--

http://www.broenink-art.nl/maukie2.swf --this link came from one of the community and it got sent to all the 3rd floor members.

By the way, what literary reference am I making in the title area? I'm referring to a specific piece and author. Prayer points if you get it right...

click on this link and you'll see how desperate the sisters are for a cat of our own, not a room of one's own, we already have that, but a cat of our own. The 2nd floor cat does not travel beyond his kingdom of the 2nd floor and the dog is really more interested in eating trash and jumping on people.

So gentle readers, some 17 grown women now either get their animal needs met by on-line creatures or a stuffed animal of some variety. I know it's wierd, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

I will admit to a newly purchased long legged, red monkey named Buster. I'll post a picture of him soon!

I was given the night off tonight so I'm going to read some fiction and fall asleep early.

Sleepily yours,
Monk_1975

Calgon take me away

Dear Gentle Readers-
Yes, this post is late. Yes, all emails that normally get sent out in the morning will be late. I knew that today would be a crazy day. When I woke up at 5am, I thought, when will I be able to have some quiet, down time today? Well, I reasoned in the early hours and came up with a list of viable and soul nurturing quiet times during my early morning, early afternoon. I had quite a few things to get done today-- finish my lectionary analysis, look up some info on the library, work on a book for study, a book for pleasure and then just have some quiet, no assignment time to listen to music, to watch the yellow leaves fall off the tree. Carving out these quiet times makes a busy and chaotic day a little easier to swallow.

I knew that the kitchen sister wouldnt be here today as she had errands and that I would be responsibile for checking in with the cook, coordinating the dishwasher and just making sure that everything got done. Usually not a problem, until today! Well, it all went to hell in a handbasket fast! When I came down at 930 am, I knew that the dishwasher wouldnt be there til noon, so I decided to do the dishes. I actually enjoy doing the dishes as we have this high power machine that takes about 1 second for the rack of dishes to be steam cleaned. I thought, I'll do a nice favor for the dishwasher. I told the cook I'd check in with him around 1215 pm or so since we like to eat at 1230pm. When I arrived at the kitchen after noon day office, the cook said, "uhm, I hate to tell you this, but the dishwasher isnt coming at all." OH CRAP!! This sent us into a fit, we start brewing coffee, setting the tables, filling waters, etc, etc. This is normally part of the dishwashers job. Meanwhile the over 80's are gathering outside and watching and trying to figure out what in God's name is going on.

So Lunch got served, fortunately, and then the fun began. It was me for the most part. And this time, washing the dishes was not as much fun. No longer was I captivated by the quickness of the machine. Now it just seemed that there was one load after another and silverware, dishes and mugs kept appearing like something out of the dancing kitchen scene in Beauty and the Beast. I was getting water everywhere; my apron was soaked, my shoes were soaked, the floor was wet and as I'm wiping the floor with what I think is a regular towel, anothe sister comes running in and says, "no!!! that towel isnt for that....and did you save food for someone who wasnt here.." Well, no, no one told me about the towels or the food. Oh well.

It took us almost 50 minutes to get the dishes done, washing the serving dishes, pack up the food, etc. The entire time, I kept realizing and appreciating the grunt work that even postulants dont have to do. I trudged upstairs for a 20 minute break before a class and the only thing I wanted to do, besides moisturize my hands was call the raccoon.

I just had a 2 hour lectionary class. I'm off to another meeting, then choir, then Evening Prayer...and well, if you thought being a postulant was all angelic singing, think again. It's a lot of work, phsyical, mental and emotional.

Love and lots of hand lotion,
monk_1975

Emails from ex students

Greetings Gentle Readers-

It has been a long, long day here at Holy Hill. I didnt sleep well last night and 5am comes so early. I had 3 meetings and then a 2 hour class. I had 15 minutes off this afternoon and immediately fell asleep. The class today was on the Book of Common Prayer and how to use it-- there are so many things inside the book besides the offices and the Eucharists. I also learned the Episcopal Church sanctions exorcisms but only a Bishop can do them. I learned what a "golden number " was and how to find it.

On another random note...

Each morning I sit for a 1/2 hour in meditation in front of the Blessed Sacrament. TOday, I read a prayer for kindness and really, really prayed for the other postulant and how I see her . I have come to the idea that she is a person just like me and I need to honor who she is and where she is. She is as much a part of God as I am. Thank God that the Spirit moves in ways we cannot imagine.

Anyway, I have 15 minutes before another event--psalm rehearsal---and I got 3 emails from former students asking for the real reason I left. None of the students know the real reasons but in each of the emails, the kids say, "we miss you and we dont care why you are gone, but we want you back!" It's funny, some part of me yearns to be back there and then when my friend Scout talks about grading and correcting essays, I dont miss that and appreciate the 2 hour class I sat through on using the prayer book. I miss aspects of my old job but am enjoying what I am doing here and who I am becoming.

Otherwise, not much new here. I saw the movie "Jarhead" yesterday because I adore Jake Gyllenhal. It is about the 1991 Desert Storm Marines. I walked out of the movie thinking that truly postulancy is easier than boot camp. I told that to the superior and she laughed.

Love and abundant peace,
Monk_1975