Yes, these are the Alps, screened by trees in early spring: the line of Alps ascending to the Grande Chartreuse--those farthest reaches to which St. Bruno and his six companions fled for relief from the world.
Even though John Ruskin, poet, wrote on medieval landscape that only for punishment or in despair did men agree to climb the "crocused slopes of the Chartreuse", and a monk once wrote that he did not come there to look at the mountains, St. Bruno expresses a differing view.
"I am living in a hermitage in every direction remote from human habitations. I could not sufficiently convey to you the amenities of the place, the temperate and healthy climate, could not adequately describe the wide plain with its pleasing view, which penetrates far into the hills, its green meadows and pastures, bright with flowers. Nor could I describe the landscape of hills rising on all sides with gentle slope and shady valleys watered by streams, brooks and springs. There are well-watered gardens and an abundance of trees of various kinds.
"Enough of this. The wise man knows delights far more attractive and profitable, because they are divine. Nevertheless, when human weakness has been fatigued by a strict discipline and spiritual exercise, the spirit often finds rest and refreshment in the prospect of these natural beauties. A bow cannot be always bent. But the profit and delight which the solitude and silence of a hermitage bestow on those who love it can be known only from personal experience.
"Here toilers can retire into themselves, as often as they please, enjoy their own company, cultivate the seeds of virtue, pluck the fruits of Paradise. Here that eye is opened whose calm gaze wounds the Bridegroom with love, whose purity beholds God. Here leisure is busy, activity repose. Here God rewards His athletes' exertions with a peace unknown to the world, the joy which is the gift of the Holy Spirit.
"This contemplative life is the beautiful Rachel dearer to Jacob, though less fertile, than the more fruitful but blear-eyed Leah. The children of contemplation to be sure are fewer than the children of action. But Joseph and Benjamin are loved by their father more than their brothers. This life is that best part Mary chose which shall not be taken from her...."*
In the film Into Great Silence the gracious beauty of the Grande Chartreuse refreshes with sip-glimpses. A hermit does benefit by nature, by gulps of fresh refreshings offered by God of His created wonders.
Perhaps that refreshment causes nothing to persevere with the plantings, the trees, the flowers, the ground covers and grass, the rose garden and mulch. It is hard work for one with debilitating pain, yet the fresh air and views of sheer elegance of morning dew and pond ripples, the birds awakening the body to sound rather than the pecking nerve pain--it all provides contemplative perspective. A sense of ontological aloneness is then filled with hope for another breath breathed through God's breathing.
Nothing is blessed, and it knows this blessing despite the efforts against opposing forces, of the world and in nature. Truly, the soul encounters these forces and learns to overcome. Gratitude, trust, detachment to all but God's provident desire, indwelling love: the soul is bequeathed of His peace.
*Watkin, E.I. The Neglected Saints. 1955. London: Sheed & Ward, pp. 38-39.
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