Nada, Nada, Nada

November 1, 2012

I was out of Silver Saddle by 8am in order to make the most of my short morning in Santa Fe. Thanks again to Jen, I ate confidently at Cafe Pasqual's, and received especially attentive service from Arturo who kindly offered to give me his number so that we could “hang out” when I returned to Santa Fe. Though tempting, I passed. After an all-too-rushed loop through the sights and shops of historic downtown, I grabbed a quick but very delicious lunch at Chocolate Maven and then drove the 3 hours to the Hertz location nearest to Crestone: The San Luis Valley Regional Airport in Alamosa, which makes South Bend’s airport look more like O’Hare. Everything, including the ticket counter for Great Lakes Airlines, security, baggage claim, the Hertz counter, the departure waiting area, and the bathrooms sit in a room no larger than a Hallmark store. I may have the great fortune of revisiting that mecca of modern transportation in December in order to make my way to The Harper Family in Ft. Collins.

After about a 45 minute ride through the Valley with one of the Carmelite community members, Connie, we arrive at Nada Hermitage.

I meet Sr. Ceil who had been my contact over email the last several months. The Spiritual Life Institute is one community of 7 lay, religious, and ordained members divided between two retreat centers: Nada in Crestone, Colorado and Holy Hill in Sligo, Ireland. Knowing that Ceil spent most of her time in Ireland, and that her name is Cecilia McGowan, I was prepared to meet a native Irish woman. Her Chicago-land accent surprised me. Fun fact, though: you are eligible for Irish citizenship if one grandparent was born in Ireland. This is the case for Ceil, so she has dual-citizenship.

Anyway, Ceil drove me and my luggage down the road to my home for the next 5 weeks: the Dorothy Day hermitage. Of all the 18 or so hermitages at Nada, I couldn’t have been better placed. (Except maybe for Ignatius, but I need a break from him anyway.)

Now, here’s where things get sensitive, so fair warning. My heart sank a bit when we stepped inside- after I practically knocked over the poor nun with my unnecessarily large suitcase! (Why do I consistently overpack?!) I had a flashback to my first day of college- August 1996- at the moment my family left my dorm room to return home after moving me in. Of course I wanted to be there, but it didn’t feel how I imagined it would. (The Modern Family episode where Claire & Phil drop off Haley at college captures this moment well.) Instead of comfortable solitude, it felt like stark isolation. Soon, other discomforts would arise. The pantry staples don’t look like my kitchen (more to come on that!) The bed doesn’t feel like my bed. The shower doesn’t heat like my shower…in that the water ceases to be hot after about 5 minutes, which is quick even for me. (Bill Haley would never survive!) And it’s so very quiet. What I wanted, yes. But the reality is just so real.

Here it is. Don't blink or you'll miss it.

I settle in, unpack, and consider my dinner options. It’s a little late to attempt a real meal on the available hot plate, and the toaster oven is temporarily, well, broken. I make some tea, eat a Mexican wedding cookie, courtesy of my friend, Arturo in Santa Fe, and decide that the altitude has sufficiently suppressed my appetite for the night. (I have renewed sympathy for Obama’s 1^st debate performance in Denver. 8000 ft. can really zap you of all energy and alertness, in addition to inflicting headaches and nausea! I’m convinced Romney was under the influence of some major stimulants.)


Welcome to contemplative life, Jessica.