Reflection on Week One

Ceil- our program director of sorts- asked us to complete weekly reflections on our experiences here. To those out there wanting a deeper glimpse into my sordid mind, this is for you. (Two disclaimers: one paragraph will sound familiar from an earlier post; and, this was written 1 week ago, so stay tuned for more recent thoughts in my next reflection.) 

In one way or another, I’ve looked forward to this experience since learning of it months ago, even when I had yet to be accepted! And probably like all things in life, our imagination runs wild in the face of the unknown. When that unknown is potentially negative, we imagine the worst-case scenario; when the unknown is potentially positive, we imagine the best-case. I believe this is why humans are capable of taking vows. Engaged couples imagine a happily-ever-after life together; if they were to imagine the reality, many probably would stick with the single life! It’s romanticism writ large.

And so it was with my journey to Nada. I imagined a utopia of sorts, from my perspective of the ideal. Time, for one. Time to spend as I chose, preferably reading, journaling, letter-writing, walking, studying Spanish, and sleeping.

Secondly, comfort, though admittedly my imagination hadn’t actually conceived of what that comfort would include; I could only feel it, and it felt easy and effortless- eating, sleeping, moving from one activity to the next, comfortably.

And desire- a true wanting to do the things that would fill up my days here. Prayer, work, community building, activities I had brought from home.

That’s how these 5 weeks would go: limitless time to comfortably do the things I’d desired to do.

Unlike a typical marriage, though, I seemed to have skipped the honeymoon period. My utopia wasn’t here when I arrived on November 1^st and will likely not appear before December 5^th!

My heart sank a bit when Ceil ushered me into my hermitage. I flashed back to the moment my family left me in my freshman dorm on that first day of college many years ago, and to my first days in Bolivia last summer. Of course I wanted to be there, but it didn’t feel how I imagined it would. Instead of comfortable solitude, it felt unromantically lonely. It took less than a minute for me to pull out my phone and text a friend, even though I told myself that texting wouldn’t be part of this experience. But I needed a familiar connection to make this cabin feel more comfortable. Soon other discomforts would arise. The desert doesn’t comfort like the ocean. The pantry staples don’t look like my kitchen. The bed doesn’t feel like my bed. The shower doesn’t heat like my shower. And now, the mice have arrived to disturb my night’s rest.

Thank God for Desert Days! Until today, I began to wonder if I’d ever have time to do the things I’d planned to do during these 5 weeks. I hadn’t expected to feel busy here; in fact, I came here to escape busyness! But that’s how the first 4 days felt at Nada. I must have been naïve to imagine it any differently.

And to imagine that every piece of every day here would meet all my desires. That the entirety of contemplative life would fill me with delight. And yet, very little feels desirable now that I’m here. Even prayer is leaving my mind & heart as dry as my sinuses. The activities I eagerly stored away for weeks to do at Nada haven’t been touched. To be clear, I’m not feeling unhappy, just lacking desire to engage.

To be fair, my baggage included not just shirts and socks, but symptoms of full-on burnout. This sense of lacking desire, time, and comfort wasn’t waiting for me at Nada, but rather arrived with me. But in my romanticized vision of Nada, this lacking would instantly be filled by the beauty, and grace, and rhythm of the hermitage.

But alas, utopia was not to be at Nada. Nor were my inflated imaginations. Reality feels much more real. And it’s here to stay, for 5 weeks.

So, what to do? It’s my nature to seek out change, to fix situations that are askew, to improve things that aren’t quite perfect. Many of my romanticized images involved the daily practices I would cultivate during this experience, in that quest for perfection, I suppose. But I hadn’t considered the very necessary spiritual practice of adaptation. Flexibility. Conforming to what is rather than fighting to change it. And receiving the grace that comes with resisting rigidity. That does not come easily to me, a born agitator. But with age comes wisdom, and I’m learning the hard way that some conformity is sometimes the better of the options.

So, since I can’t avoid eating, showering, or sleeping for 5 weeks, and I can’t recreate my home-version of those experiences in my hermitage, I’ll need to practice intentional conformity and surprise myself with my ability to carry on unscathed.

Since I can’t change the program’s schedule to fit my personal clock, I must practice intentional conformity and notice how another’s prescription might teach and transform me.

Since I can’t fabricate desire for my daily activities, I will practice intentional conformity and discover how the Spirit creates something out of nothing when I simply show up.

And so, the grace of this first week is this insight: romance gets us to the altar, but the real work begins after the vows.