It was bound to happen - a matter of when rather than if - and yesterday was the day: my most recent "monk moment." (Kathleen Norris) In this season of hibernating for health and solidarity in solitude, I have started to revisit my home library for books I've always wanted to read but haven't, or, those I once started but never finished. I tore through two biographies (Dorothy Day and Phyllis Tickle) and then pulled down Richard Rohr's Immortal Diamond and The Music of Silence, a dialogue between David Steindl-Rast and Sharon Labell. Rohr is differentiating between the "true and false self" - what I think of as the realm of deep spiritual insights versus surface level religiosity - while Steindl-Rast and Labell are exploring what it means to pray the traditional monastic hours in a 21st century world. Both are invitations to honor honesty and humility as the heart of our faith journey. Rohr challenges us to make peace with our false self so that we might nourish our true self and Rast/Labell push us to practice resting within the wisdom of silence.One of my favorite authors, Kathleen Norris, crafted the introduction to the book on monastic prayer. In her opening words she recounts a time when she was introduced to the world of computers. At first Norris marveled at their speed and efficiency. In short order, however, she became increasingly irritated whenever the machine made her wait on a correction.
One day, when I timed an annoying delay and found it constituted all of ten seconds, I had what would call a "monk moment," a quick slap that told me: Pay attention - watch yourself. And seeing myself as I was - groaning with impatience over so small an increment of time - made me laugh. I had let technology and its attendant idol, efficiency, make a fool of me... Economists and politicians tend to interpret advances in technology as advances in affluence. But as David Steindl-Rast so eloquently puts it in this book: "the economics of affluence demand that things that were special for us last year must now be taken for granted."
Each night while reading these authors I have been wondering when and how my false self would show up again. I got a clue when my equilibrium was rattled after replacing a kitchen light fixture. We've hated the old one for 13+ years and finally replaced it as part of my kitchen painting adventure. It looks great and adds 50% more light. The problem was a breaker switch kept shutting off. I get nervous when it comes to electricity and this set off a ton of inner triggers. We eventually resolved the problem - THANKS BE TO GOD - when I found two of the essential wires had come undone.
Already tender within by this encounter, I began to unpack our cupboards so that I could start the painting. What a ton of junk! After separating what we'll keep and what will go elsewhere, I discovered that I couldn't take off the hinges and hardware from the cupboard doors. My best guess is that they had been painted in place. They say confession is good for the soul so let me own that as I looked at the mess I was unnerved. I HATE clutter. And by this point there were pots and pans, silver ware, bowls and who knows what else strewn throughout the kitchen, living room and my study. It would be an understatement to say I was not a happy camper. I am willing to endure a wilderness of mess in pursuit of the greater good - a really clean and lovely new kitchen - but this was getting under my skin. I carefully taped the woodwork and corners to paint the ceiling - and it went well. I was shocked. No mishaps. No stepping in a paint bucket. No spills and no hassle.
That's when I should have become suspicious that chaos was just around the corner. I started to paint the cupboards after washing the walls and cabinet doors. Unfortunately the dark green enamel was streaking and slipping all over the place - it looked truly horrible. Within seconds of starting I knew that I should have applied the KILZ primer first. But I hadn't. And here's the kicker: knowing what I should have done, I still plowed on thinking if I just used more paint and a better brush I could remedy this mistake. WRONG. I only made it worse. And truly hideous. So I had to wait for the mess to dry before applying the primer I should have started with to cover up disaster.
In retrospect, I laughed: there was that monk moment again where I tried to fix what was broken with willpower and aggression. It's never worked before but... maybe now would be the exception. Of course, it wasn't. In so many ways I keep refusing to learn from this flaw: I want to be in control. I want to make broken things whole. Only too often I am in too much of a hurry and fail to stop and regroup when everything is going south. Talk about a life time of tumbling down one rabbit hole after another. When I woke up aft 4:00 am this morning, I just sat with this monk moment for about 45 minutes before offering it up to God in thanks. The root word for humility and humor also includes humiliation. No wonder Fr. Richard Rohr prays to God for at least one encounter with humiliation every day. It keeps us honest - and able to laugh at ourselves.
Today was a fresh start - I worked much more slowly - and ended the day with a simple plate of pasta and then an episode of "Call the Midwives." Maybe I'll have this finished by Friday. Maybe...
No comments:
Post a Comment