The Irish Da wrote some thoughts by St. John of the Cross on possessions. The bottom line is to not crave possessions or objects but to utilize what one has or needs without attachment. The motivation of the mind and heart, the will, are key.
I have been distracting myself, seeming to not be able to settle down.
But this is improving. On days in which I do not have errands, there is a peace after Mass, coming back to Agnus Dei, and spending the next 23 hours here until Mass once more.
Odd-ball relationship problems have developed. A woman became a problem, and it required avoiding her. This ended up being an answer to prayer, discerning if I should be in a club, religious goal that it has, but yet somewhat social in nature. I am not going to be in the club.
Then, a lovely Catholic woman friend has had to withdraw. Granted, I was too attached and even annoying with contacts and involvement in her life, and that of her active family. A religious solitary cannot have such a particular friendship.
The attempt to donate the hermitage to the Diocese failed for their are tax disadvantages to the Diocese in having a donation with a new mortgage; it must have at least five years paid.
But I did read in another Diocese' requirements for hermits, that they may have ownership of their hermitage, and thus be exempt from that aspect of the vow of poverty. They are to keep what assets provide for their financial autonomy from the Diocese and to provide for themselves.
Also, a property line issue needed to be resolved by having the surveyor mark the corners of the lot. My neighbor and his wife, adult son and that son's little boy who live there, are rancorous toward me now. They never were very friendly. It is of the man that I had a disturbing warning dream a couple months before obtaining this lot. It is proving accurate, and even back then I knew I was to pray for this man's soul. Now I must pray for all of them, and also live with the acrimonious relationship. Even in this, God is enforcing soliltude for they do not speak, slam doors, and try to irritate with passive aggressive (and sometimes aggressive) actions. The woman shouted hateful accusations and words about me; it was unexpected from her, and they have turned the little boy to be afraid of me. I am using Holy Water much, daily, and especially on the latch of their mailbox which is beside mine.
Above all and more a loss of sorts, is my dear Irish Da's physical decline. By means of using St. John's Gospel, last Sunday's Mass reading, he prepared me in the content: I am going to the Father, I will not be with you long, but I will not leave you orphans, and some day you will see me again, and so forth.
I grieved heavily with the jolting reality. Selfishly, I questioned how I could manage here, and that this was maybe too much solitude, if he weren't on earth to be my anam cara. But I am now able to be happy for him, and it could still be that I would go to the Father first!
All these losses are helping define my vocation as a hermit. God is answering my prayers that I do a very good job at this vocation, that I glorify Him and adore Him, that the work done here in prayer and the nine s' be successfully accomplished. He is stripping me of the distractions that hinder, and of the attachments that chain me to selfishly and in fear.
The minutes and hours flow seemingly endlessly. With darkness now not blanketing the earth until later in the evening, time seems to go slowly until bed. Going to bed appeals for then I can rise and go to Mass. Then, however, it is back to the hermitage, unless there is an errand, and I think I have exhausted most of the errands to the point of stashing entirely too many non-necessities that I talked myself into as necessities.
On the other hand, on days of distractions and errands, one or two after Mass, the peace and stillness is disrupted and a kind of guilt pervades. This morning, in fact, I looked at a photo of my late grandmother and told her that she lived more a hermit life than I, the aspiring hermit, was living. While it might not be true, she did live more simply, staying with her adult children and their families, not owning a home, and being rather a maidservant, helping for the most part in the background, and not much socializing outside the family.
It was this grandmother who appeared to me about 20 years ago and told me that I would need to learn to hibernate like a bear in order to protect myself from "the world." This was one of the first pre-announcements or warnings of what was to come in light of this vocation, the reality of this vocation of hermit life. When she disappeared, heavy perfumed air remained for some time in the room.
I am figuring that these months now are a fairly typical period of adjustment. It is a give and take, a dance in and out of the world, and the emotions that go with comprehending one's worthlessness and loss of earthly identity, in exchange for work in the supernatural realm yet while in this physical realm.
Tonight many Cathedral parishioners are enjoying a lovely dinner and party for volunteers. I was included, and I had to decline, for obvious reasons. It was social. A hermit has guidelines and definition, after all. Yet, it is more a sacrifice than what I thought, for it is a definitive break from even the world of the Church, of having that distraction of conversation and observing people. I decided to cook dried peas for an authentic peas porridge hot, and offer the sacrifice to God as a commitment to this life, as well as for intentions for souls. In faith, I must know deeply and in trust, that God will use this.
