8 November 2004 I wrote a poem yesterday -- the first I've written in well over 20 years. So now I'm trying very hard not to expect that he will grace me with one every day, or every week, every month, or indeed, ever again.
How do poets do it? Does every poem they write have to be squeezed out against its own will, or do some come easier than others?
How do writers do it? It's hard enough for me to keep opening this journal on a regular basis. So many manuals and writing magazines exhort you to write every day, whether you feel like it or not, preferably at the same time every day, and in the same place. Ugh! What drudgery. Yet, come to think of it, musicians do that when they practice -- maybe not always at the same time, but usually. But they have music in front of them, ready-made. A blank page is so intimidating.
UNION
I seek you in the silence of day
among angel pines that mark
their silent, immovable march
before the light that is your glory.
Words like slow flames
warm the barrenness of me;
words silent, unheard, pulse
as blood in flesh.
In this waiting wonderment
I am content.
I seek you in the silence of night;
in my cell, dimness gloves
these clasped hands raised to you
through the dark that is your agony.
Whispers stir beneath breath;
heart within heart, wound within wound,
whispers silent, unheard, pierce
as iron in flesh.
In this groaning stillness
I weep with you.
10 November 2004 Happy birthday to me. 45. Oy.
I think we're going to lose E_ (our other postulant). She's really struggling with the life, and, so Sr. Mary William observed, her personality isn't "flowering" in this community. Both she and Sr. Maria Cabrini hinted she may leave. She's only been here a month! But Sr. Mary William says there's no point in drawing things out; if it is agreed on both sides that a postulant isn't meant for this life, make the final decision as soon as possible.
There is a wide-spread myth out in the world that the ones who are best suited for the contemplative monastic life are generally quiet, meek, and unquestioningly obedient. It's not true. Most of the women here have strong, vibrant personalities; they love to talk and laugh, and they've had their share of struggles with obedience.
No, what is called for, from what I've observed, is adaptability, especially to schedules; a capacity for hard work, and a certain amount of organizational skills. You must know how to use your time well. Also docility -- almost always confused with meekness. "Docility" comes from the Latin docere, "to teach." Being docile simply means that you are teachable. All this is necessary, in addition to love of Christ and neighbor and the sincere desire to help save souls. This is a hard life; I wouldn't kid anyone. Those who think cloistered nuns simply glide through dark hallways with eyes downcast, from chapel to cell and back again, are sadly misinformed.
If God wills you to be here, he will give you the necessary grace to persevere. All you have to do is say "yes" and then trust him with all your heart and soul. I know there are people who doubted, and still doubt, that I'm truly called to this special life; they think I'm too strong-willed and used to having my own way. But God's grace can do wonders. It can transform entire lives, as it has mine. That doesn't mean you lose your uniqueness; on the contrary, what makes you unique is what's most valuable to your community and to your God. After all, he made each one of us in all our glorious uniqueness. He can transform my strong will into a sincere determination to help others with my prayers and with the very witness of my hidden life. He can turn my selfishness inside out so that it becomes self-discernment and humility. He can broaden the vision of my pride so that I also see the profound weakness behind it. Such is God's grace, without which we can do nothing. We may not recognize or acknowledge that it is his grace working in us, but he doesn't need our acknowledgment in order to love us. He gave us the free will either to turn toward or away from him, and that will is ours to exercise till the day we die.
No comments:
Post a Comment