Nuggets of Gold [2]
The hurricane will find you, so look for the eye of the hurricane and just be
When I was in the monastery, I had the privilege to witness many wonderous deeds, that can only happen when you are committed to a family or a relationship no-matter-what.
Let me tell you one of those stories.
There is no water in the house
The monastery was one-hundred-fifty acres in the middle of the Andes Sierra about twelve kilometers from a town of a couple of hundred souls at the most. When one morning there was no water running out of the faucet, there was no utility company to call to have it checked.
The Father Superior talked to our neighbors after the Liturgy Terce (9am), and at our work time they had water and we did not. There was a pipe that fed our water line that passed through the main dirt road. The right assumption was the pipe was clogged at the split; according to our neighbor it had happened before with the previous landowner. The split was about five-hundred meters from the main entrance to our site.
After Liturgy None (3pm), Manuel the Superior communicated to the community what seemed to be the problem. Father Ignacio, who was an American in his seventies, had been a hermit for over twenty-five years and oversaw the work at the monastery. Ignacio asked in his poor Spanish what the neighbor recommended. Manuel said he recommended digging where the pipe split and see if it was clogged in the passage to our water tank. Ignacio said he would call the contractor the monastery usually calls for jobs we couldn’t do, and Manuel cut him off and stated that the monastery did not have to pay for something we, the monks, were perfectly capable of doing… after all it was digging a hole in the dirt and there were seven of us. Ignacio kept silent.
To put things into perspective, I have to explain a little about our little community. Like any family, we are not all aligned. Like in most families, the weaknesses and small or large personal faults of character, sting others and create tensions. My perception then of Father Manuel was that he was for all intents and purposes a workaholic, he thought work cleansed the soul and was always pushing for the community to do more work; he was not a learned monk and tested the character of novices with work. Manuel always had a frown on his forehead, and very seldom did he smile and when he did, it felt like he was forcing it. Father Ignacio, on the other hand, was a learned, almost scholarly monk. His homilies were insightful and deep, he had an understanding of scripture and the spiritual path as scarce and unconventional as there probably was; he had a deep understanding of eastern spirituality and mysticism. He was a gentil soul, yet he had more furnace than anyone in the community; he also was spontaneous and funny, made really witty remarks and it was really hard to be cross with. He smiled like a two-year-old baby, with a glimmer in his eyes; and to top it all, he was my confessor. So, I cherish him wholeheartedly.
So, the next morning we went with shovels and picks to the dirt road and began to make the hole to uncover the pipe. I was the youngest, Manuel was over fifty and the rest were over sixty-five. It was a toll for everyone, working for hours on end from 9:15 all work time scheduled, because Manuel requested it. I was a novice, so I was exempt in the afternoon for my bible and monastic studies; but the rest of the monks were called to work also in the afternoon.
Most of the time, monks work in silence, no chit-chat. I can’t remember who made a joke that we were training for when we had to make the tomb for the first monk. We all laughed.
The dirt road ground is usually very compact, due to the passing of tractors, trucks and vehicles. We finally reached the pipe some three days after we had begun. They all were concerned that I be careful, you see I am usually the energetic type that will cut my leg with a machete or be over-enthusiastic and break or mishandle something. They didn’t want me to put a hole in the pipe with the pick. The hole in the dirt road was almost three meters long, about one meter wide and a little over a meter deep.
We cleared the surface of about one meter of the pipe by mid-morning on the fourth day, some hours of work were left. Ignacio promptly said – that’s enough– as if saying our job was done. I said to him – but Ignacio, let’s uncover the pipe more, it is still almost all inside the ground. So, we worked for a little more than an hour uncovering a meter and a half and half-way the circumference of the pipe. Then Ignacio said again – ok, we are done – and I went at it again with candid enthusiasm to the rest of the monks – but if we have gotten here, why not uncover the whole pipe and finish the job? Ignacio was right next to me; in an instant I found his face a few centimeters from mine, and he screamed in English from the top of his lungs – I said we are done and we are not going to work on the pipe any more – when he finished screaming I had his saliva all over my face because of the impetus of his scream.
I was shocked, I turned my attention inside me, I could not make out what I had just witnessed. I looked away from Ignacio for no more than an instant, immediately I turned my attention back to Ignacio and I saw the most radiant childlike smile, with such glimmer in his eyes that I was completely baffled. The mood that had made him explode in such an emotional outburst was nowhere to be found and it was him again.
What a lesson of letting go.
His hermit training had kicked in and the rage and disproportionate explosion was gone. No one in the monastery ever talked about this, not even in jest; not because it was something to hide, but because in our family everything was forgiven, and if you had a grudge you talked about it with the party concerned.
The multi-personality disorder we all have
I heard the other day Sam Harris say in a podcast, if we could connect our inner dialogue to a speaker for all to hear, we all would sound as if we were crazy. It is even worse, those who don’t think they would sound crazy, are the crazier ones. There is no way to hide from disaster or tragedy, mostly because the source of it is inside you. Sometimes falling in love is what ignites the fuse, sometimes it may be the criticism of your coworker or even just the comment of someone you truly like... you don’t know why, but it takes hold of you and it doesn´t let go. You never know who is going to be in control.
If you experience a deep attraction or rejection to something or someone, prepare yourself, you will be taken for a ride. Most times if the rapture feels positive, like falling in love, you think it’s great. It may turn out to be great, but it won’t be because of the natural unfolding of the relationship, but because the parties invested their best to make it work in spite of the rejection counterpart of the attraction.
If the rapture reveals discomfort and uneasiness, we tend to resist it. And miraculously it becomes attached and doesn´t let go… until you humbly confront it. It may take decades; castles may be built around it to protect it. Dragons may lure around it, so you don’t come close to it. The longer you wait, the stronger the fortress and the bigger the monster. You may confront it when you are on your deathbed, weakened by life’s blows; or take stock of your weaknesses and armed with valor take up arms and confront it when it is only rage, anger, disgust, contempt or vanity.
…in case you were wondering about the hole in the dirt
We did uncover the pipe about one-and-a-half meters and the contractor did find the clogged pipe and within a couple of days we had water to bathe and cook.
COMING UP NEXT WEDNESDAY…
The Wall of Darkness
I’d like to share three stories that marked my path and made me confront the monsters within.
