Cloister Time

I cleaned the house Saturday morning, even though the only rooms needing much attention was the kitchen because I cook more now and, of course, the bathroom. Most of the time I enjoy cleaning, using the time to rearrange some tabletop vignettes or to discard no longer wanted items, especially books. 

This time, however, I realized the house feels different. It still feels pleasant and comfortable to me. I am fully at ease here and love what we have created, a welcoming and hospitable home. The problem is that no one has crossed our threshold since the beginning of March. Such a stark contrast that is to the way we have been used to living and to using our home. I miss opening the door and saying, "Come on in. I'm so glad you are here."

                                                                          

True, we have had very small gatherings--one or two people at a time--on our small patio or in the Paris garden, but no long leisurely dinners at the dining room table, and none of my spiritual directees have climbed the stairs to the garret. I miss my twice a month writing group sessions in the living room where we each had our assigned seats, just like pews in church! 

You have probably heard me refer to my love of Cave Time, which I experience in the winter when cold and snow and ice allow me to hunker in and hibernate. That is usually a productive time for me. Cave Time, however, doesn't seem like an accurate term for what I am experiencing now during the pandemic. Instead, thanks to writer Anne Hillman, this time feels more like Cloister Time. Doesn't that sound more spacious?

Cloister implies a solitariness, solitude, but without strict rigidity. Air moves within the cloister, and there is a kind of calm energy. At times there is a knock on the door, and the response is, "Come, meet me in the garden where it is cool and quiet." There is room for others in my cloister, even if it is in the form of an email, letter, phone call, or ZOOM meeting. I am in Cloister Time, but I have the ability to reach out, to connect in other ways. I am not unreachable or unresponsive. I have not disappeared for a season. 

As with both Cave Time and Cloister Time, life goes on, and not always in joyful, fulfilling ways. Dear friends are experiencing deep loss in a variety of ways, and I ache that I can't hug them or say "Come, let me take care of you. Stay as long as you want to." There is room in my heart for their cares, however, and I am present to them in less visible and tangible ways, but no less meaningful. 

Cloister Time is easier for some than for others, but we are all finding our way. We are all finding new ways of being with ourselves and with one another. 

I wish you well.

An Invitation

What are you learning during Cloister Time? Or do you have another name for this time? I would love to know. 

BOOK RECOMMENDATION: Much to my embarrassment, I finally read Just Mercy, A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stephenson. https://justmercy.eji.org What a book! Masterfully written (There were times I realized I was holding my breath!), it is the author's story, as well as the story of those unjustly caught in what is hard to describe as the criminal "justice" system. So many times I found myself saying "How can this be?" as I read story after story of wrongly condemned individuals. There are heroes in this story--heroes who act with passion and compassion and even forgiveness. If you haven't read this book yet,  do not delay.