I figure there are at least 23 hours of solitude a day. This is a lot of solitude and silence in this active, noisy world. I am not used to it, and when a friend called today, I jabbered for nearly an hour with her. I made a quick conversation with a clerk earlier, and other than the sign of peace at Mass, this is about how a day goes--a good day.
On other days I end up distracting myself with running an errand or two, being with people but not speaking much. Or, twice a month a friend who is reading some of the books I am reading, gets together with me to discuss them. On our most recent discussion, I found myself discussing too much otherwise, and I think this is due to the challenges of solitude and silence.
A week ago (or was it two?) I asked St. Sharbel and St. Pio to help me learn silence. Since then, it seems that my friendship base has dwindled, and the phone contacts and e-mails lessened. Even a daughter who used to call me three or four times a week, has ceased. When I send e-mails, more often than not they are not returned, and this from my adult children. It just is happening that way, and I only look to God for answering my prayer and slashing away what would hinder me from more solitude and silence.
In the silence and solitude, I find myself more tired. I take naps and rest much. This is surely due to the hectic, unhealthy, and unnatural pace in our lives which has accumulated over years to equal exhaustion. Viewing nature--the mallards, the heron, the trees and grass, the mud, the waters of Lake Immaculata--is restful. Soon the eyes are relaxing, the body reclines, the breathing slows, the tense muscles loosen, and a nap is around the corner.
There is little push to accomplish unpacking, sorting files, or arranging clutter in the rooms that are easily shut off and not used except to put more stuff in for later sorting. Rather, the priorities are shifting to reading books that will help assuage the sense of loneliness that creeps in, the temptation to doubt what is being done in this hermit life, and to uplift the spirit with friendships in the books, with the authors themselves, many saints and all experts in the spiritual life.
Then there are the candles being lit for prayer intentions, and placing them in front of statues. Or to mist the orchids once a day, or even yesterday's enjoyable task of naming the orchids, naming them each for a line in the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary. So far there are five orchids in residence at Agnus Dei Hermitage. The old spiritual da knew what he was about when he told me to grow orchids.
A major temptation occurred after noon Mass. I saw people leaving and going about their busy business, and of important people meeting together for important reasons. I somehow felt the isolation from the world, of not being a part of it, as I walked to my car and drove off very much alone, knowing that the remainder of the day and night would exist in silence and solitude. Or so I assumed; one never knows.
Early Sunday morning I had a dream in which I was kneeling and my confessor came up and stood behind me; I could see him from another angle, as if out of myself. He spoke to me, unmistakenly, and said there were concerns about the stability of my psychological balance, and that they would like me to be tested. My response was that I had been through this years ago, and with no results other than that I have some spiritual gifts or inclinations that might be considered by some to be unusual but nothing more or less. Then, in typical punch, I said I have no health insurance, but if the Diocese pays, I'll do whatever they'd like. There were a couple other aspects of the dream that seemed strange, but I awoke in much physical pain.
The dream hung on, and I began to wonder if my confessor truly does have these concerns about me. Who could blame him if he did? I examined the odd elements of the dream, and decided that they could be a kind of "test" in a couple other areas of past weaknesses. I wondered why he couldn't tell me these concerns to my face, and began to be concerned, myself, that I was in trouble with the confessor, and if I would need to leave that parish.
Now, this seems rather extreme and unstable in thinking, but at the time it all seemed very reasonable indeed. I went to Mass, and that priest was celebrating. After, I tried to ask, to explain, and did a poor job. However, I got it out, and he very sternly told me that if he had any concerns, he would say them to me directly. In relief but also much embarrassment, I said that fortunately Lent would be over in three weeks; he replied that he certainly hoped I'd be better after Easter. I assured him I would be.
But later, I realized there is no guarantee of this, is there?
So today, I began thinking that perhaps if I had some responsibility of using my talents and gifts, something important to do at the parish, that maybe I'd not be having this adjustment, this difficult Lent (which my spiritual director says is very good to have such a Lent). But no, thankfully I see through the temptation to do, to be a success, to be busy, to be important or do important things.
This is opposite of seeking God for God's sake. This does not go along with what I've just read in Fr. John Kane's book, Holy Mary, Mother of God. I am to imitate Mary, my mistress, as I am her maidservant. She chose silence and solitude, particularly after the death and resurrection of her Son. And, if the devil tricked me by appearing as my confessor, so what? All the better for humility; and my goofiness these days will ensure that I'd be the last person chosen to be on a committee or to help in any capacity at the Cathedral.
So there is no point in yielding to that sort of silly temptation.
Faith is critical in the hermit life. Even with the silent noise of e-mail, the silence and solitude can be deafening and intensely exhausting. One must learn to see with eyes of Faith, of trusting God and that all that happens is from His choosing and allowing. Even the imposter by the devil, which ends up a good. Yes, I am thankful that I was so easily tricked. When Mary's life was one of self-extinction, being so easily tricked and making a fool of oneself leads to the path of self-extinction without having tried.
If what I read is correct, and how can I doubt the saints and Jesus Himself?--then dying is necessary for rising. But I ask, "How long does it take to die to oneself?"
Am reading now Louis Bouyer's The Meaning of the Monastic Life, and there are concurrent truths in this book for a complete hermit, or for one who is incomplete but desiring completion. Perhaps another time I'll write what Bouyer explains more fully, but for now, I mention that he says the meaning of the monastic life, or of the Christian life in fullness, is to seek God. Yes, to seek God above all things. That is simple, huh?
On other days I end up distracting myself with running an errand or two, being with people but not speaking much. Or, twice a month a friend who is reading some of the books I am reading, gets together with me to discuss them. On our most recent discussion, I found myself discussing too much otherwise, and I think this is due to the challenges of solitude and silence.
A week ago (or was it two?) I asked St. Sharbel and St. Pio to help me learn silence. Since then, it seems that my friendship base has dwindled, and the phone contacts and e-mails lessened. Even a daughter who used to call me three or four times a week, has ceased. When I send e-mails, more often than not they are not returned, and this from my adult children. It just is happening that way, and I only look to God for answering my prayer and slashing away what would hinder me from more solitude and silence.
In the silence and solitude, I find myself more tired. I take naps and rest much. This is surely due to the hectic, unhealthy, and unnatural pace in our lives which has accumulated over years to equal exhaustion. Viewing nature--the mallards, the heron, the trees and grass, the mud, the waters of Lake Immaculata--is restful. Soon the eyes are relaxing, the body reclines, the breathing slows, the tense muscles loosen, and a nap is around the corner.
There is little push to accomplish unpacking, sorting files, or arranging clutter in the rooms that are easily shut off and not used except to put more stuff in for later sorting. Rather, the priorities are shifting to reading books that will help assuage the sense of loneliness that creeps in, the temptation to doubt what is being done in this hermit life, and to uplift the spirit with friendships in the books, with the authors themselves, many saints and all experts in the spiritual life.
Then there are the candles being lit for prayer intentions, and placing them in front of statues. Or to mist the orchids once a day, or even yesterday's enjoyable task of naming the orchids, naming them each for a line in the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary. So far there are five orchids in residence at Agnus Dei Hermitage. The old spiritual da knew what he was about when he told me to grow orchids.
A major temptation occurred after noon Mass. I saw people leaving and going about their busy business, and of important people meeting together for important reasons. I somehow felt the isolation from the world, of not being a part of it, as I walked to my car and drove off very much alone, knowing that the remainder of the day and night would exist in silence and solitude. Or so I assumed; one never knows.
Early Sunday morning I had a dream in which I was kneeling and my confessor came up and stood behind me; I could see him from another angle, as if out of myself. He spoke to me, unmistakenly, and said there were concerns about the stability of my psychological balance, and that they would like me to be tested. My response was that I had been through this years ago, and with no results other than that I have some spiritual gifts or inclinations that might be considered by some to be unusual but nothing more or less. Then, in typical punch, I said I have no health insurance, but if the Diocese pays, I'll do whatever they'd like. There were a couple other aspects of the dream that seemed strange, but I awoke in much physical pain.
The dream hung on, and I began to wonder if my confessor truly does have these concerns about me. Who could blame him if he did? I examined the odd elements of the dream, and decided that they could be a kind of "test" in a couple other areas of past weaknesses. I wondered why he couldn't tell me these concerns to my face, and began to be concerned, myself, that I was in trouble with the confessor, and if I would need to leave that parish.
Now, this seems rather extreme and unstable in thinking, but at the time it all seemed very reasonable indeed. I went to Mass, and that priest was celebrating. After, I tried to ask, to explain, and did a poor job. However, I got it out, and he very sternly told me that if he had any concerns, he would say them to me directly. In relief but also much embarrassment, I said that fortunately Lent would be over in three weeks; he replied that he certainly hoped I'd be better after Easter. I assured him I would be.
But later, I realized there is no guarantee of this, is there?
So today, I began thinking that perhaps if I had some responsibility of using my talents and gifts, something important to do at the parish, that maybe I'd not be having this adjustment, this difficult Lent (which my spiritual director says is very good to have such a Lent). But no, thankfully I see through the temptation to do, to be a success, to be busy, to be important or do important things.
This is opposite of seeking God for God's sake. This does not go along with what I've just read in Fr. John Kane's book, Holy Mary, Mother of God. I am to imitate Mary, my mistress, as I am her maidservant. She chose silence and solitude, particularly after the death and resurrection of her Son. And, if the devil tricked me by appearing as my confessor, so what? All the better for humility; and my goofiness these days will ensure that I'd be the last person chosen to be on a committee or to help in any capacity at the Cathedral.
So there is no point in yielding to that sort of silly temptation.
Faith is critical in the hermit life. Even with the silent noise of e-mail, the silence and solitude can be deafening and intensely exhausting. One must learn to see with eyes of Faith, of trusting God and that all that happens is from His choosing and allowing. Even the imposter by the devil, which ends up a good. Yes, I am thankful that I was so easily tricked. When Mary's life was one of self-extinction, being so easily tricked and making a fool of oneself leads to the path of self-extinction without having tried.
If what I read is correct, and how can I doubt the saints and Jesus Himself?--then dying is necessary for rising. But I ask, "How long does it take to die to oneself?"
Am reading now Louis Bouyer's The Meaning of the Monastic Life, and there are concurrent truths in this book for a complete hermit, or for one who is incomplete but desiring completion. Perhaps another time I'll write what Bouyer explains more fully, but for now, I mention that he says the meaning of the monastic life, or of the Christian life in fullness, is to seek God. Yes, to seek God above all things. That is simple, huh?
