Catholic Hermit: Slowness; Wisdom Vindicated by Her Works

I did not write other than correspondence in the last week of Advent, Christmas, and following holiest of days including Holy Family and Mary, Mother of God worshipful observances.

Some thoughts I expressed in a letter involve "slowness."  Advent is slow and well to be slow in the prayerful, expectant waiting.  The on-going work of finishing this hermitage continues, as it must be sold; time is sifting and finances dissipating.  It is all a slow process, is finishing work; and the process is made all the slower by added pain considerations, as well as more correspondence and a few phone calls from people who desired a listening ear, a bit of advice, encouragement, and my promises to pray.

(I'm sharing with you some of the letter to my spiritual father.  My bodily pain is high after finishing some drywall mudding of a small, downstairs office/bedroom, with closet.  I tend to take the path of slowness in drywall mudding.  Some drywallers blade mud thick and then sand and sand--and tend to have electric drywall sanders with dust bags attached.  Others apply the mud in thinner coats, layer upon layer, using larger and larger blades, until the final result is that of the mud drying and having a feathered appearance.  Very little sanding is needed, thus.  Yet it is a slow process, requiring dry time between each layer of drywall compound.  Anyway, I am weary tonight; and while not necessarily the pith of my thoughts on slowness, the letter provides a "thin coat".)

"I love the statement of Jesus in the Gospel:  'But wisdom is vindicated by her works.'

"Yesterday morning I primed the widened hallway near the laundry closet.  There is a very tiny utility closet that I had framed in that hallway, plus instead of just lowering the ceiling under the stairs, I instead “wrapped” the beams of the landing above, with drywall, and all of that needed drywall mudding.  It was a tedious and lengthy job, particularly since I can only manage using my hand and elbow for one tray of drywall mud and using the drywall blade to apply it, about one time a day and sometimes not every day.  Over time, though, it got done.  That includes the tiny little closet in which I could barely fit up in it to mud every corner and juncture point, over and over, until smooth. Then to sand it all smooth--I needed to use a flashlight in order to see any imperfections requiring sanding!

"Yesterday afternoon, 'M' wanted to come and help me for a few hours.  I’d had a hard time thinking of what we could do, for I am so used to loping along in the pace I am able.  My mind is geared to doing all humanly alone, yet with the grace of God's presence and surely my angel and whoever else you might think is helping me, for all this is not of my doing, that is for sure.  I’m going along in blind faith, I suppose, and also in blind confidence in having to do what I’ve not done before.

"So M came, and she taped woodwork upstairs that I’d installed, and I caulked it all.  The tape is to keep the caulk from smearing on the walls and woodwork and  is to provide a clean line when the tape is to be removed. But I ended up having to re-caulk a lot of it, for the caulk seemed to stick to the tape and lift up when the tape was removed.  I will need to paint over all the caulked lines, next, and then due to the caulk slightly smearing, will take an artist brush and touch up all along the woodwork with wall paint. I don’t mind; it is easy and meditative but still more time which slows the finishing. 

"Then we painted a color coat of paint on the laundry hall and in the tiny, utility closet, and all around the various ceiling parts that I had not made simple as a low ceiling.  But my, it does look good—and interesting, that ceiling!  Wrapping the landing joists overhead makes the ceiling seem higher, which is always a good thing in aesthetics.  Plus the added unique design creates interest.

"M expressed as she was leaving yesterday, that she wishes I could finish faster.  I laughed and told her my dear spiritual father had written that he hoped I could finish by Christmas.  But alas, nearly 17 years ago after my private procession of hermit vows in a most beautiful ceremony, I was told the first three of what became nine S’. Yes, I had been told to try to go forth living out these three words:  Silence, Solitude, and Slowness.

"It is so inspired!  So it is that “slowness” is perhaps quite difficult to endure and with which to contend.  Slowness requires waiting, it seems: Waiting while yet existing, waiting while attempting to think or feel or do much of anything.  It is slowness that is required if one is to live in the Order of the Present Moment.  

"So I said to M that somehow the Lord is even making me work all the more slowly—such as the caulk coming up with the tape, thus requiring me to re-caulk and then later to do all that touch-up painting along the baseboards and all other trim around closet doors and such.  

"And I never know how my body will be when I wake up, such as today I had hoped to have had that laundry hall already painted a final coat, but rather I am still needing to rest the pained body, even with the low dose pain pill I took and a cup of coffee consumed.  At least I’m dressed, and I will do that painting yet today.  But there is always the chance that I’d have to wait another day….

"So slowness is something that is quite a teacher; and while yesterday’s boost brought more accomplished in here, I can only go at whatever pace the Lord allows.

"There is a song by a gifted song writer that has some lyrics that remind me of the two of us, as we wait and suffer in this temporal world.  

"'But the ending always comes at last. 

Endings always come too fast. 

They come too fast 

But they pass too slow….'  

"Since it is said that we are only here as pilgrims and all temporal things pass, I find it so true that as we age it seems time passes so quickly, but when we get to our later years and are more physically hindered, it all passes so very slowly.  Yet in the way we try to live in that slowness, how we live and accept slowness, is perhaps 'Wisdom reflected in her works'.

"I’m trying to have a blind faith as far as just passing each day as slowly as is required, for I cannot push more than my body or even my soul can push.  While I can seem to make great progress in some bit of work, there is always the potential for it to end up being slowed down by extra steps required; and there is always the reality that the Lord could allow some type of added suffering to keep me from doing, thinking, or consciously praying.  

"He is teaching and proving that He is in charge of time and the speed of passage, and of what one might complete or not complete, and when or not.  But the attitude we possess is something He notes and desires in the waiting and in slowness.  

"M was eager--perhaps a bit impatient--for me to get more of this renovation finished; and sometimes others have been that way.  And I used to be that way, impatient for progress to be swift and then frustrated when not.  And 'not' is the norm; slowness the norm.  Frustration ensues; and errors and calamities the result in desiring faster rather than accepting slowness.  

"Thus, slowness has become a comfortable friend to me, and I think you have known this friend, as well, for a long time.  Slowness is in Wisdom, and Wisdom is vindicated by her works.  When something is lived slowly, it is more subtle yet also more rich and impressive in some ways.  

"Another Scripture verse lends to this:  'It is in waiting [patience] that one shall possess one’s soul.'

"Anyway I’m ever grateful that I was told early on as a Catholic hermit to live in silence, solitude, and slowness."

To add to the above correspondence...the other day, someone sent a text message: All good things come to those who wait.  I'd forgotten that adage.  Another is:  Haste makes waste.  I'm just remembering now something Jesus told me in a vision over five years ago.  He told me to "Wait"--that He'd come back to take me with Him.  That ultimate, blessed waiting seems ever-so-slow!

Return to Nothing

The third "S" of my Nine S' of the hermit life is "slowness."

In some concrete aspects, my situation here in the past week or so has not been slow.  Had another horrendous pain siege so the work efforts on the fixer-upper hermitage had to go into more time spent on that and no time on reflective writing and sharing.  An electrician came twice, and the work required in order for him to proceed, kept me busy.

Plus, the amount of spiritual correspondence continues, with persons dotted about the country and one overseas who write; they do deserve responses.  Then there are the two people with whom I read a book and e-discuss or on occasion phone-discuss.  This is an excellent way to encourage one another in spiritual reading.  My young friend lives too far from her active parish to be able to participate in such.  This arrangement works for each of us. 

The latest book reading-discussion is Scupoli's The Spiritual Combat.  It is a re-read for me, but with all that has transpired since I read it five years ago, the advantage is good in reading it again!

So the manual labor aspect of my eremitic horarium has increased, and the pace not so slow other than when the body demands rest breaks.  The blog writing aspect has been more than slow--to the point of neglect.  The insights and spiritual thoughts, the ideas for writing continue within.  When the faster-paced work efforts can balance out more when electrician's work is completed, the balance will settle once again.

It seems as if I needed reminding that I am nothing and His Real Presence is ALL.  I used to refer to myself as "nothing" when I'd write, and the other day when in spiritual converse with someone across the miles, the topic arose that it might do well to return to this practice as a daily reminder of my nothingness.  Only through, with and in Him am I capable of anything or of existence at all.  Of course, this is truth for each and every one of us.

The deputy called the other day, and we discussed the parish that is closest in location, although even at that quite a distance from this hermitage.  He and his wife sense very much that His Real Presence is not in the Tabernacle at that parish.  Odd, as that is exactly my sense of it and probably why so few people attend, and why there is little to no spiritual involvement nor charitable outreach.  He and his wife have witnessed the priest lifting the Host to his lips but not consuming, and of lifting the chalice to his lips but not sipping.

Many such concerns and others were brought by them to the bishop with no resolution as of yet.  All I know is that the times I have been there, the inner sense and the state during Mass has been what I have come to term "a bad trip." My spiritual father repeats that I must lay low, stay clear, and wait.  We are praying for guidance from His Real Presence.  Once more "nothing" remains in prayer and praise, and am partaking of Communion and Mass spiritually, mystically.  There is peace in this, thankfully.

My nothingness is all the more accentuated and rightly so, in these details as well as in something as simple seeming as plumbing: under the house and screwing in a fixture to the refrigerator water line.  But try as I might, I could not get the fixture screwed to the refrigerator line faucet I had installed between some studs.  

I prayed and prayed--and struggled and struggled.  Not until I told Jesus that He knew I could not do this on my own, obviously, and that He would need to do it for me--that He had to be all and enough for me--did the fixture then go on quite effortlessly.

Nothing is nothing, and only His Real Presence is everything and all.  Nothing needs to more consciously practice this awareness, this truth.  Nothing will stop struggling, even with the parish situation.  His Real Presence has all as He wills, all in His omnipotence and omniscience.

Scupoli reminds that when discerning the spirits, God will in time unfold His will.  For now I pray and praise and wait and embrace slowly, again more fully, my nothingness and His All.

Hermit Ponders Simplicity

A man stopped by the other morning.  There is a story to this.  I had spoken with him on the phone three times last spring, but he was always very busy, rushed, and not able to meet me, not even to say "hello."  I met one of the monk-priests of his monastery, though, one day at the bank.  He said there are the three of them at the monastery.  The monk priest said this man, the abbot, had gone to another state to lead a retreat.

We quipped about how he seems quite busy for a hermit priest and hermit abbot.  Yes, the monk-priest said he sometimes tells the abbot he needs to go off to another monastery for some quiet!

But the abbot stopped the other morning.  He was driving by and happened to see me outside.  He was quite rushed.  I think that is part of his energy level, perhaps, or his way of life.  He commented on the work I was doing to improve the old house.  He said I was welcome to visit his monastery.  I mentioned, as I must, the little situation during Mass, although it may not occur.  Only God is forever, after all.

He then was on his way to his van and was all the more rushed.  He commented he surely hoped I'd be awake for his homily.  Two priests have said that, now, half-joking, and yet not.  I assured him if I visit, and if the state occurs, I would be very deeply aware at another level.

But he was more rushed and not listening by then.  My words slipped away somewhere between the bustling of his full-length, black, orthodox garb about his legs (so as to not get the fabric caught in the door)--and the slamming car door.  I thanked him for stopping to introduce himself, but I think that, too, may have gone unheard.

I noticed a rather significant sign on his dashboard that he is chaplain to a couple of area groups, and he gave me his "business card", as he called it, with his title (the very reverend abbot so-and-so), and thrust into my hand a colorful brochure of his monastery.  It all happened in a rush, and after he sped off, I realized anew:  first impressions do make an impression.

It wearied me.  What I seek in this phase of life is more simply, God; and to aid the search, I seek aspects of the Nine S' as platforms to help me support the living out of the Gospel rule of life.  I lately have been pondering simplicity.  Yes, it seems to me all of the Nine S' do complement each other like threads interwoven in the warp and woof, creating a softly strong tapestry.

I'm not sure how I'd feel being an abbot of two in a monastery of which land was purchased years ago, following a shift from a previous career.  I'm not sure how it would be to be a hermit priest yet so rushed and busy.  It is nearly four months since my phone call suggesting I meet them, not knowing then how many monks there nor how busy the abbot in travel and the group tours they conduct.  One time I called, he was awaiting a busload to give a tour of their compound.  The next time he was leaving to give a retreat in a major city in another state.  The other time he was busy at his chaplaincy job.  Calling a fourth time was out of the question.  I was worn out by the third.

The brief visit the other morning left me exhausted yet with some humor about how quickly he fled--about as quickly as he appeared on the scene, having rushed down the drive.  I first noticed his head--the long, yellow-white hair and immense white beard.  I thought a drifter had come, or some recluse neighbor to complain about the work I am attempting here.  Then I noticed the full-length, heavy, black habit.  By then he was already introducing himself.

All is a blur of rapid-fire exchange.  But that does not mean it was hectic or a blur for him.  We are on different paces, different breath traces, different spaces and places.

Sometimes I can grasp aspects of simplicity when I encounter what seem not to be aspects of simplicity.  I am seeking God by way of simplicity and in the rest of the Nine S' that are interwoven:  Silence, Solitude, Slowness, Suffering, Selflessness, Stability, Stillness, Serenity. This makes for a smooth, strong fabric.

Not heavy black rayon, but just simple, natural, fiber fabric of some soft shade that is serene--that whispers simplicity.  Just simplicity, that is all I seek by God's help, in self and others.  Genuine, slow, still, serene simplicity--no need to seek further than peaceful simplicity--and God shows Himself.

I have not the need, desire nor energy to keep up with intensity.  Lord, let me find sublimity in the softness of the Nine S'.  They suffice to support daily and nightly practice of the Gospels.  Some day, if out on a walk, and I see either of the two monks or abbot about, I can offer a simple, loving "hello".  But I have not wandered that direction up the road in months.  I have ceased looking for, or perhaps expecting, others to bring me "home."  Religious life and positions can become rather a complex business. 

Perhaps Anthony of the Desert became busy and rushed, the more people came to his hut?  Did Benedict rue the day his hermit life became disrupted?  Wasn't it something like two short years before his life changed to that of being well on his way as abbot of a religious order, writing rules and being responsible for many followers?  (And the more the rules, the more are infractions, the more corrections are needed, and then more enforcement.) 

It seems thus, but none of that is for me.  I am not seeking in the rushed, the complicated, the busy, the organized--which might so easily become another form of temporal structure.  Too much of that type of energy dust has been shaken out of me.  Cannot people be inspired to God with simply simple simplicity?  I pray so.

Today, across the road, a tan mare and her likewise tan filly are newly arrived and grazing in the pasture.  I wonder if there will be five horses now, or if the two I do not see now, have been taken to a different farm for boarding.

These horses, grazing and meandering about the field, have become my daily view of simplicity.  With the break of dawn, I can make out their shapes across the road in the pasture.  Sometimes they are laid out on the grass.  Other times they take their usual position of neck craned forward, head down, silently nibbling, nibbling.  They slowly amble to another area of nibble-worthy grass.  Sometimes in inclement weather, I see someone has placed garments upon their backs to give protection.

The horses more state the appeal for the humble lessons of life.   They live sumptuously simple lives.   Their pace is softly gentle, their communication mostly silent, their existence sincerely serene.  They mostly pass unnoticed in their natural coats and habitat.