Friday, June 22, 2012

Monastery: Final Day

Monastery: Final Day

I can already feel a certain amount of adrenaline in my veins. I haven't felt it for four days. Nothing to catch. No appointments to keep. No bills to pay. Nothing that has to be done. Now I'm calculating: "if I catch the 12:30 ferry, I will be home at... then I have to... before....

Getting up this morning was particularly difficult. I commiserated with two of the brothers about 2:30 this morning. "You know," one brother observed, "it doesn't really matter what time you get up. It's always hard. You say to yourself, 'If only I had one more hour...' but it would be just as difficult to get up an hour later." The other brother pondered, "I wonder, since falling asleep is likened to death and waking up is likened to the resurrection, if the final resurrection of the dead will not be more difficult than we like to imagine." We all ponder a moment, groan a little, take a sip of coffee and I comment, "At least God has given us the consolation of coffee. Perhaps there will be a spiritual coffee given us on the morning of the Great Resurrection." We giggle.

The Jesus Prayer was sweet this morning. Some of you (my readers) must have read yesterday's entry and said a prayer for me.

After matins and nap time, we had our "three-course breakfast": A reading from the Old Testament, from the Gospel and from the Epistle. We read Second Peter. Someone pointed out that "the knowledge of Jesus Christ" is only made fruitful by loving the brothers.

By the way, confession went well yesterday. Obviously I cannot reveal anything, but it went as usual: I was challenged. I could have even be offended, but I was not. I will hold it in my heart and think about what was said and maybe from a hard seed a beautiful flower will grow. Actually, I expect this will happen.

I'm on the ferry now. Despite the small amount of adrenaline, I feel very relaxed and peaceful. I want to hold this feeling as long as possible. I'm watching a tug boat pull two large barges of sawdust. It seems to be moving so slowly--but it is moving. Slowly, slowly, slowly. May I move through my summer slowly, holding tightly my barges of full of treasures collected these few days.

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