So what have I learned? After
nine months of living, praying, and working at a monastery, what does it all
mean?
Was it worth it?
To answer all of these
questions, it may be best to start at the beginning. By beginning I mean the
application that I sent to Sr. Teresa to apply for the monastic immersion
program. I found the file again through my work, and it has been interesting
listening to my self from one year ago and saying, “Ha, if only you knew what
was coming!” One of the most important pieces looking at my application today
was when I was asked to describe my greatest hope for my volunteer experience
(in twenty words or less). I wrote, “To be confident in myself as well as my
relationship with God, spending time in silence and prayer.” Well friends, I
have spent more time in silence than I would have liked and lots of time in
prayer, but what is more striking to me is the first part of my hope, that I
was looking for self-confidence and to feel secure in my relationship with God.
In reflecting on my
experience, self-confidence occurred almost immediately. The first few days
after my arrival left me unexpectedly anxious. I was terribly nervous and
unsure of how to act, what to wear, or where to go. Living among 40 women much
older than I made me feel a bit like an alien from another planet, and suddenly
I did not know what was “acceptable.”
Suddenly, a voice of reason.
I arrived in the midst of an
artist-in-residence program and as a birthday treat they invited me to come
with them to Taco Tuesday at the local Pub & Grub (no trip to the Monastery
is complete without such a visit). Over drinks and tacos, one of the artists
told me, “You know, it’s so great that you can just be yourself here.” Immediately,
my fears vanished. She was right. I could and can only be myself; I cannot be anyone else. I can only be Sarah in all
my multi-faceted, sparkling, fluorescent self. I vowed then to be completely
myself, and if there were problems with that, I would deal with them when they
happened.
There were problems.
While I felt much, much
better by being myself, not everyone was pleased at my presence here at the
monastery. It was as much a growing experience for me being here as it was for
the sisters, some of whom more than once have shushed me if I have gotten “out
of hand.” There has been frequent confusion over which rooms I can and cannot
go in. There are many comments about my youthful energy as constantly run up
and down the stairs, and I am sure no one will miss my incessant “flip-flop,
flip-flop” up and down the halls. Nevertheless through it all, I have
continuously reflected on my behavior and actions. If there is something I did
that was inappropriate or unacceptable, then I would apologize. If I have
behaved respectfully and courteously, then this helps me to see my boundaries.
What is my stuff and what is someone else’s has been a recurring theme for me,
and I have had much practice noting when I am projecting onto others and when
someone else is projecting onto me.
To return to my original hope
for my volunteer experience, I also hoped “for greater confidence in my
relationship with God.” What a strange thing to hope for, in retrospect. My
relationship with God is even more complicated and my spirituality has
undergone great change. The most notable change occurred when I was assisting
Sr. Teresa during a retreat. While much of the information she was sharing I
had already heard countless times because of various classes, one part was
brand-new: Balance. While the struggle for balance has been a theme in my life
for many years, this was my first time truly looking at what balance means to
me. We went through ideas of Benedictine balance (not very balanced), balance
as most people would like it (each commitment being equal to every other
commitment), and the new balance (not the shoe brand). Teresa’s slide for The
New Balance asked just three questions:
Is God part of your life or is God your life?
Is prayer something you do or is prayer an attitude of
life?
Is faith what you believe or how you live your life?
In these three questions, my
spirituality and understanding of my faith has exploded into a realm of
possibility. Moving beyond compartmentalizing, these questions have invited me
to do what I already knew: to live fully and completely as I am. I am living my
faith by being fully who I am, aware of God’s permeation in everything and
everyone, and living in gratefulness and thanksgiving.
Now, while this all sounds
interesting, this in no way means that I can definitively say, “Yes, I do
that.” I cannot honestly say that God is my life, my attitude is prayer, or
that I am truly living my faith always.
But I’m trying.
This is my faith journey, to
strive towards these understandings of God, prayer, and faith as my life. Will
I ever get there? Perhaps not, but that hardly seems to be the point.
There is a story of an elder
monk who is asked by a novice, “So what is it you all do here at the
monastery?” The elder monk replies, “We fall down, and we get up. We fall down,
and we get up.” The point, in my opinion, is that I continue to get up and try
again.
It seems apropos that I end
my blog with the same idea that started it: peering beyond my prayer book. Over
time, my curiosity has drifted from the people… to a leaf. From where I sit,
there is a single leaf that can be seen, presumably attached to a creeping
vine. Every prayer time I check to see if my leaf is still there, and through
everything, even the craziest weather (like hail and snow in May), the leaf is
still there. Over time, I have come to realize that I identify myself with that
leaf. At times when I am ready to leave because of the latest ridiculous event,
I find myself hoping that the leaf will fly away, away from here and free to
soar. At other times, I find myself hoping the leaf will still be there, firmly
rooted and connected at a time when I especially need my own rooted and
groundedness. One such time occurred at the demise of one of the sisters. Maybe
the tenacity of my leaf reflects my own tenacity. I was asked once in the midst
of a very difficult time why I stayed. After thinking briefly, I responded that
I had made a commitment. I committed to my time here at the Monastery, and I
felt that there was still more for me to learn here.
There have been days that I
feel like I am living in the middle of “Freaking-Cottonwood- Idaho,” but then
there are other days that I am struck by something beautiful that it puts me at
a loss for words. Some days I am being told off about something I did or did
not do and other days I am laughing over a great story someone told. There have
been days that I felt utterly alone and days that I felt perfectly at ease. Through
all the drama, chaos, homesickness (mine, not theirs) and menopause (theirs,
not mine), something has really changed in me.
Some soul work has truly
occurred, and I am so much happier for it.
Thanks everyone!