Adjusting to Silence

TUESDAY: Well, I had every intention of getting up at 3:40 AM to catch the first service at 4:00. In fact, I opened my eyes, checked my watch (it was 3:15), and thought I’d catch just a few more winks before getting dressed. When I opened my eyes, it was a few minutes past 5. So I shook off my sloth and arrive in time for Lauds Service at 5:45. The air is full of the most tremendous birdsong; perhaps twenty different kinds of birds took part in the symphony.

The guesthouse is about a quarter mile from the sanctuary and the rest of the complex. We share the trail with bunnies and small lizards. On the way in, I drove over a few dead snakes, so I keep my eyes peeled.

At Lauds, the abbot announces that today is the Feast of St. Benedict, and a “founders day feast” is planned. We switch to a Sunday schedule with an elaborate festival mass. Following mass, there’s a coffee hour with sweet breads and goodies. The “silence” is lifted, and we find the brothers to be quite chatty. The monks are putting together a volleyball game for the early afternoon, and all the guests are invited to join in.

There are no work assignments for the guests, so I have a lot of free time to read. Between the chapters of the book, I started to feel lonely – specifically, I’m missing Jamie and the kids. All cell phone contact dropped thirteen miles ago. There’s no electricity in our quarters, no internet coverage, no pay phone. And I start thinking, “I’m here voluntarily; am I out of my mind?!?” A short nap does me some good, and I realize my headache will improve if I drink some water.

I have never been in a place this quiet. Many of us daydream about an oasis from our noisy, cluttered lives, but I have to admit it’s no picnic when we arrive there. People have asked me for months: “What do you do in a monastery?” What we do is cease our noise, be still, and gather seven times to pray the psalms. That is why I came here; but detoxing from my Noise Addiction makes the first day quite difficult. I didn’t expect that.

The worship services also help greatly, with psalms both soothing and disturbing. The ancient texts push me to “cast my care upon the Lord.” As the glums hit me again, dinner is served – and it is an abundant feast of BBQ chicken, corn on the cob, refried beans, plus all the Budweiser and white wine we can swallow. Abbot Philip invites me to his table, where he’s holding court with one funny story after another. He says, “There are two hidden secrets of the monastic life: God and good beer.”

Dinner fortifies me, and evening worship services are suspended for the feast day. Out of lingering need, I hop in the car, drive 45 minutes toward the main road, and call my loved ones. I simply need to be in touch. (Take a look - wouldn't you want to chat with beauties like these?) Reassured that I’m not crazy, I turn around and drive 45 minutes back up the canyon, taking care not to plummet into the river. I crawl in bed, tired and comforted, and fall asleep quickly.