Preparing the Vessel

So obviously I have not written much here as of late.  Topics arise and I consider posting some thoughts all the time, but then I quickly feel them not worth the effort and abandon them, leaving my blog dated and somewhat barren.

The last six months have not been uneventful, however.  I traveled quite a bit – Portland, OR… Napa Valley, CA… Harsen’s Island, MI… Buffalo, NY… Woodstock, IL – and enjoyed each trip to its fullest.  In between those times, though, were some dramatic and scary events – a car accident that could’ve been much worse than it was, and the sudden – shocking – death of a close friend, pretty much right in front of my eyes.  Coupled with that I’d pushed aside the more difficult feelings regarding having cancer and what that meant for me long-term emotionally.  I knew I would have to deal with it eventually, but put it off  as long as I could, just grateful that the cancer was caught extremely early, and my ordeal soon over (NOTE: Ovarian cancer is one of the deadliest of the gynecological cancers – most women are not diagnosed until Stage 3 or 4.  Mine was caught at Stage 1 – a miracle in itself!).

Now, I don’t want to give anyone the impression that my outlook on life was anything less than hopeful. I have not been in a deep, incapacitating depression – BUT I’ve felt listless and unmotivated. My creativity has been left simmering too long on the stove to evaporate into thin air… my needs for physical activity and occupation are iffy at best. Yes, I recognize that there is some mild depression going on for certain, and I decided I couldn’t let it linger. Time to meet it head on and send it packing!

I talked with my doctor about it. I talked with my pastor about it. And I came to the conclusion that the yearning for a spiritual retreat was something I could no longer put off either – I needed to do it sooner rather than later.


My thought was to head to Saint Meinrad, the great Benedictine house in southern Indiana. Perhaps someday I will make it there still, but after discussion about my options near-by with my pastor, as well as with another friend (former pastoral associate) from church, I was pointed in the direction of the Sisters of Saint Francis in Oldenberg, IN. I could not have made a better choice.


I was greeted with a warm hug by the dearest lady imaginable – a doting auntie with depths of wisdom and sage advice. She took me around the retreat center like it was a home, and that I was truly an honored guest. My room was spare, but large – and even though it was simply appointed there was hospitality within its walls. The slim twin bed called to me, and after settling in (I unpacked, which I rarely do when I travel) I took a brief, refreshing nap.


That evening I took myself off to dinner (great pizza – and a treat for Sister… Graeter’s ice cream in a cup!) and then the grocery store for a few supplies. I read a bit, looked at my current writing project and turned in VERY early. During the evening, though, I took time to think about what I had been really feeling the past few months and how I wanted to approach my talks with Sister.


Earlier in the week I had talked with another friend who admitted she had been neglecting her spiritual vessel, and it needed filling. That image stayed with me… but I didn’t exactly feel empty. I have been feeding my spiritual self to some extent, though with little effect it seemed. So if I wasn’t empty, what was I? I continued to keep the image of the vessel before me all week, but it was full and I’d continued to fill it.


However, it came to me that I was like a crystal vase with flowers in it.


But the water wasn’t fresh, and the flowers a bit past their prime.


Perhaps the vase had its water replenished, but it was never fully emptied out and given completely fresh water, so that the liquid under the faded beauty above had become stagnant and brackish. I realized that the flowers and cloudy water that were me needed to go – my vessel needed a thorough spiritual scrubbing and fresh, clear water to fill it!


So Sister and I talked at length how I might go about doing that. Almost instantly a poem came to mind to her and she quickly looked through her bookshelf to find one that seemed to have a spot near her regular workspace. The poem is by Rabindranath Tagore from the collection: Gitanjali (“Song Offerings”)…

I

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.


This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.


At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.


Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.


Published by Macmillian Company – NY 1915 with introduction by W.B. Yeats


It truly struck a chord with me and reminded me a lot of some Rilke poems I love from Book of Hours – the intimate discourse with God that I yearn for but struggle to achieve. Perhaps I just try too hard. I spend a lot of time talking to God, but precious little time listening… or frankly, just being with God.


Being vs. Doing – that’s the other thing I struggle with constantly. There’s a difference between taking a few moments just being present, and taking time being idle. Just Being gives one the okay not to think, not to do, anything. Being Idle brings with it feelings of guilt that my garage needs its own deep clean, or the laundry is piling up or the ceiling needs painting – thinking of so many things I should be doing I get overwhelmed with what to do first and not get anything done.


God doesn’t care if my garage is a mess. Really, He doesn’t!


But I do… and I will straighten it up at some point. But I will make time just to Be as well.


And that’s what I did on Saturday. I had my talk with Sister then spent the next two and a half hours roaming the convent grounds, just being… no agenda… no duties… all worries and concerns left behind me for the rest of the weekend. I took some pictures, walked down to the farm, trod the labyrinth (a little different than the usual Chartres-style I’m more familiar with), walked a bit through town… I came back and had a light lunch and looked through a huge labyrinth tome that Sister loaned to me, went back to my room and napped and day-dreamed, then spent a good hour or two writing down impressions and ideas for myself about how to fill my vessel.


Occasionally my neighbor on the floor would spontaneously burst out into song in the next room – such a joyful noise! I need to learn to be less inhibited and do the same…


For dinner I decided to walk a block down the street and eat at the Perle Strassen Pub – yummy made-from-scratch food that you don’t often find anymore – and an obvious neighborhood favorite. Once I returned to the retreat center I met up with Sister again to talk about my day, and I had lots to show her… she enjoyed the day’s pictures that I downloaded on to my laptop, I shared a second of Tagore’s poems that also spoke to me, I read a bit of my novel Maid & Hood to her then showed her a bit of my writings about our discussion. It was a good day, and I felt bursting with energy to share my creativity with her!


After our talk I headed back to my room and did some pleasure-reading and again turned in early, completely forgetting that daylight savings time was ending – so I went to bed even earlier than I thought!


I attended mass in the Franciscan chapel on Sunday. One of the brothers who lives in the rectory across the street celebrated mass, and he was jolly and bursting with enthusiasm! I also enjoyed the sisters’ tone chime choir that played during the Preparation of the Gifts. We were also joined by a group of students from a nearby university on retreat (their group was called Kairos -- in Christian retreat terms meaning “God’s time” – something else for me to ponder!), so that brought a youthful energy to a community that is mostly retired, senior-age nuns. (Though not that the sisters don’t have their own vigor, believe me!)


After mass I had the opportunity to have coffee (well, juice for me) with a sister who has been a pastoral associate at my home parish, but has been quite ill the past few years. It was a blessing to see her, and see how much better she is doing! I took another little walk in the cemetery after that, looking for the grave of a sister who was the aunt of a family friend. I quickly found it, said a brief prayer then headed back to the retreat house to meet up with Sister to have some lunch, sitting with a lively group of nuns who had many topics of conversation going.


By then it was time to start packing up. I stripped the bed and remade it with fresh sheets, blessing the person who would next sleep there, packed my suitcase and carted it all down to the car. Once that was all done I sought out Sister for one last chat (and to settle up, of course!). We prayed together, enjoying the sunshine streaming into her office as we sat there. She encouraged me to return, which I will… hopefully in the spring… so I can take stock of how I’ve been implementing my Fresh Clean Water Act within me.


I tried to keep some vestige of peace on the drive home, leaving off the radio and CD player in favor of witnessing the beauty of God’s creation along the way. Because, of course, as soon as I returned to my daily routine the next day there was very little of that serenity to be found! I’m still working at Being this week – and my Water needs to be dumped again already… yet, at least now I’m aware of it needing to be done. I watered my actual plants today, and I’m trying to remember as I physically nurture those houseplants that I need to take my fifteen minutes to nurture myself as well.