Thoughts while in a monastery...

Early December finds me in Colorado Springs frequently visiting a Benedictine Monastery, which would be called a Convent if it were not for negative associations or an Abby if it were more theologically aligned with Rome, nestled in a grove of spindly pines on the outskirts of this sprawling city. Here the young and old devotees seek out what Plotinus once called "the flight of the alone to the Alone." The sisters here are quiet, seeking the ultimate unity collectively and deeply personally, each striving in her own way. Some stay strictly to the worn path Catholic mysticism others draw from numerous traditions. They stand in solidarity with simplicity and a modern interpretation of renunciation and self abnegation. There is a peace about this place which strikes me in the same way evening vespers stuck me in Mt. Angel on numerous occasions. I wonder if some here ever doubt there vows or at the very least the value of their vows. Or if and when they are assaulted by doubt do they find solace in the new physics...in the unified field theory or in the non duality which persists in the subatomic levels of the cosmos. If it were myself who had taken vows I would fall into a war of definitions not wanting to attribute spiritual attributes to a purely, and no less mysterious, physical reality. But in no way can anyone fault these women or their male counterparts or even their fellow contemplatives in other traditions for their vows. It is my belief they resonate with the cosmos more truly than most. Not even to mention the selflessness which comes from living in community for a lifetime.

These past several days I have been able to sit in on conversations between MIT Ph.D's, Zen Masters, Vietnam veterans, and nuns discussing the dissolution of the ego. It would seem that a constant conversation of ego reduction only serves to swell and empower what T.M. would call the false sense of self. Although I no longer claim Christianity it would seem that if one truly desired the dissolution of the ego it would be most productive to act upon the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount....a selfless less life seems better than a selfless orthodoxy.

another

Autumn has arrived south of the Mason-Dixon. The grey chill in the air reminds me of the North West. Jamaica has come and gone as has New Orleans, Morgan City, and the cotton farm. Travelers accumulate experiences like bank notes and restlessness like a genetic disorder compounding with time. Our boots were stitched from songs about highways...but highways are wearing my soles and waiting is wearing the more intimate fabric of my soul.

How does one mark the passage of a year spent in waiting? That continued birth and death of expectation...living for 365 days oscillating between promises of two weeks and the undetermined has left no other recourse but to plot onward into an increasingly hazy and obscured future. Since this time last year the country has been crossed four separate occasions for truly no other purpose other than movement, as if one could replace the movement towards goals and transatlantic life with the passage of domestic miles. Alaska is no longer that large state to the North but a place known at least on the surface and Canada has worn my boots down as well. As I contemplate those miles, encounters, and hours spent on the open road I can not find in it the vitality travel once brought. No longer can I confuse one for the other.

This years has been fraught with loss. Most recently my dearest friend has gone away to die in seclusion from cancer. All that stands in his memory left available is a rock wall built together, a zippo lighter, and at night while in bed the quiet wheeze of my lungs which was audible in his throughout the day.

...Now my departure from OR is looming once more...but the destination is yet unclear and not without it's consequences...and still I wait for the job in Tanzania to show itself real...

to hell with all of it.