Rather than rent a car, Adam and I mapped out our journey to Subiaco via public transportation. We took a city bus, to the Metro, to a county bus which wound through the countryside before dropping us off in the middle of this little town.
Then we just followed the signs, on a three mile hike through town and up the mountain.
We picked up a picnic at a little grocery store on the way up. No one there spoke English, but with some help from the owner and a few interested customers, we got some bread and the perfect cheese, plus some apples and yogurt.
It was a cool autumn day - great for walking. It was a long walk! Lots of stairs, too. But you know, it was more satisfying because of that - we felt like we were really on a journey, really on a pilgrimage. And the walk seasoned us for really experiencing what we would see and feel there.

First we stopped at Santa Scolastica (named for his twin sister). It's the older site, and one of the original dozen monasteries founded by Benedict. But it's been added to many times and was partially bombed in World War II.
We rang a bell for the "porter," or doorkeeper. Lovers of St. Benedict will know the porter has a very special role in a Benedictine monastery - to welcome visitors and greet them with a blessing.
Well, let's just say our porter was a bit brisk and we didn't exactly get a kiss of peace. However, he did summon an elderly monk who was just lovely to us. When he found out we needed a tour in English, he found a young man who was a local student and oblate (associate) of the monastery to take us around instead.
There are three cloisters and a beautiful campanile built over a few hundred years, level by level.
There are 13 monks now, and they live in both monasteries. They wear a full habit. They're from all over the world, and so are their visitors. But it's pretty quiet in November, which was nice.
After our tour, we filled our water bottles and kept climbing UP! It was another mile and a quarter uphill to "Sacro Speco," or the Holy Cave, where Benedict lived as a hermit. That's where the other monastery is - San Benedetto.
Here's our view looking back down at St. Scholastica and the town of Subiaco, beyond. There was a monk leading a flock of goats through the pasture on the right, their bells jingling.

Steep winding paths meant lots of stops to catch my breath, but we finally made it up! And were welcomed by a greeting right in the path:
Shortly, we saw that the monks drive up and down the hill when they're running errands between monasteries. Hey, we're the pilgrims. They live here.
The view was stunning, especially with the fall colors. The monastery is built onto the side of a cliff, of course, over the cave. We had just enough time to dart in and glimpse the church and its frescoes before they closed things up for siesta. (Most things in Italy close between noon and 3 or 4.)

(Note the local Rotary involvement.)

We didn't realize we weren't supposed to take pictures until later. Oops. But so you can see how gorgeous the frecoes are, I will post my contraband photos.
Benedict and Scholastica. One evening, she did not want to let him go home because they were in the middle of a really good conversation. So she prayed for a terrible storm to keep him there, and lo and behold, it worked! Note her sly look, and the monk on the left looking up at the storm.
I can't quite recall what massacre this may have been. Note the monk getting his tongue pulled out and the women getting beheaded. Not sure who the confident central monk might be - a rival? Monastic life isn't generally peaceful, contrary to popular belief.
Mortality is a popular theme at Sacro Speco. Note the people trampled under the hooves of Death's horse. Maybe more teenagers would come to church if we had this sort of art on church walls?
If you are seeking the light, Benedict, why do you choose the dark grotto?
The grotto does not offer the light
you are seeking.
But continue in the darkness
to seek the shining light,
Because only on a dark night
do the stars shine.

Soon, we had to leave and a kind monk smiled and waved as he locked the doors for lunch. It was 12:30 and they would open again at 3pm. It wasn't too long, really. We camped out on the plaza to eat our lunch and enjoy the quiet and beauty while we waited.
There were bathrooms, thankfully. And a water spigot (brick pillar). The lamppost made me think of Narnia.
When they re-opened, we went back in for a second, more leisurely look. The cave itself was a bit "done up," just like holy places in the Holy Land:
Lamps, statuary, flowers, marble flooring, dramatic lighting...! At least we know this is in fact the spot, since people have been honoring it since the day Benedict left it.
Well, the sun was going down, and we needed to start walking back.
There's Santa Scolastica and Subiaco again, in the golden light of the evening sun.

Walking down was much easier than hiking up. We didn't have to wait long for the next bus back to Rome, either. We slept very, very well that night!

Subiaco was one of our favorite days. It felt like a truly sacred place - hushed, beautiful, and a journey there and back. Benedict is buried somewhere else (the monastery at Monte Cassino), but Subiaco seemed full of his spirit nonetheless.

The strange thing is that I found I felt closer to him in September, while I was staying at Holy Wisdom, the monastery where I'm an oblate, than here. But I think that's appropriate - there, I was able to live out a part of his Rule of Life with the sisters. I experienced Benedict's legacy as a living, breathing community and not just paintings and a cave. The brothers at Subiaco live that life, of course, but we were only passing through their monastery, rather than staying with them.

(Which you can do, by the way. They have a guesthouse - La Foresteria.)

But I'm thrilled we went and will always treasure that day.

We spent our whole two weeks in the same convent guesthouse, on the edge of a neighborhood called Trastevere (tras-TEH-veh-ray), across the River Tiber from central Rome.

These were the wonderful sisters who hosted us.
None of them spoke English, but two spoke Spanish. So between Adam's Italian and my Spanish, we stumbled along in communicating with them. Luckily, we learned to say "due cappuccini" every morning just fine.
Breakfasts were simple. White rolls, jam, nutella, yogurt, and cappuccino or espresso. We loved it that the nuns had their own espresso machine. Of course, this was Italy.

There are many churches, of course.

Santa Maria de Trastevere (built on the site of an early house church - the walls and footprint date to the 4th century). The community of San Egidio worships here, if you've heard of it.
Jesus, with his arm around his mother.
St. John Lateran, where the papacy was based until the 17th century.
The ceiling of the Gesu.
Michelangelo's "Moses", at St. Peter in Chains.
My favorite Madonna, at Santa Maria Maggiore. ("Talk to the hand"? I love how her face is both beatific and "I'm pretty busy here with a toddler, so... yeah.")
Marble skeletons and skulls are common on the tombs of important people. (St. Peter in Chains, above, Santa Cecelia, below.)
St. Paul's Outside the Walls
(So much for family friendly, right?)

St. Paul's is traditionally the site of Paul's tomb. Paul's death isn't mentioned in the Bible, but tradition says he was beheaded by sword along the Appian Way. We can't ever know for sure that Paul's remains are here, although Pope Benedict felt certain they were, after a carbon-14 test placed the bones in the 1st century. I was powerfully moved by the presence of what may be his body, so close. I had a little conversation with Paul about being a priest there, and thanked him for his letters, which have often helped me.

The lid of his tomb.

The Episcopal church, St. Paul's Within the Walls (See what we did there?) It's 19th century - we're latecomers.
My favorite baptismal font was there.
Santa Prassede at night.
Mosaic of four women, at St. Prassede (three saints - Mary at center - and the square blue halo marks a person still living at the time the mosaic was made).
Even church sewer / undercroft grates were beautiful.

Also, I became captivated by ancient tombstone bits and pieces. Several Rome churches have fragments of catacombs tomb lids inlaid in their walls or entryways. The carved words seemed like handwriting to me, and the old Christian symbols simple but very moving.
Birds symbolized the soul, rising to heaven.
Anchors were a disguised cross.
I don't know what whales symbolized, but they seemed pretty fierce.
Sometimes the names were recognizable - "Felix."
"Eulalia" "Maximinus" (looks like a fun guy. Or maybe he was a priest - hands in "orans" position?) "Paulus" was a priest, a "presbyter." This just seemed like a nice couple.
I saw lots of variations on this geometric shape. Interesting...
AIIIIGGH!!!

Tombstones are personal, religious, familial. Whether for St. Paul, or for the unknown Eulalia, seeing them made me feel connected to the individual bodies, identities, and beliefs of their owners of long ago.

More on Rome still to come.

However, as soon as our little group crossed the border from Israel into Jordan, down south in the city of Eilat, what we noticed was that everyone seemed to be smiling. Even the border police.

We were in Jordan for a week, and the first two nights we spent in Aqaba - a city on the Red Sea / Gulf of Aqaba. (You may remember Aqaba from the movie, "Lawrence of Arabia.") Now, it's a resort town, maybe like a small version of Miami, full of European and Arab tourists, except there are guys with camels walking the streets trying to sell you a ride.

Here's the view of the sea from our hotel room. That's Israel and Egypt in the distance. There are also a few jet skis in the picture, toward the right.

Note the cargo ships - Jordan is undergoing a huge construction project to move the industrial port further south so the waters around the city itself can be exclusively for swimming, pleasure boating, and snorkeling.

Our lovely hotel lobby and pool.

Of course, note the garbage and empty lot surrounding. I imagine this is common in poorer countries with tourist industries. That street was full of stray cats and the empty lot actually was home to two of those tourist camels I mentioned earlier. One morning, perhaps one hadn't gotten his breakfast yet, so he started eating a palm tree.

Just like the Gideons in an American hotel, there were holy texts and tracts left out for guests to find.
And a shelf of novels available to read, in English, Norwegian, and Dutch, among other languages.

Adam and most of our group went snorkeling in Aqaba, but I was stuck in our hotel room, rehydrating after too much desert exposure!

On our way out of the city, we stopped near the Saudi Arabia border crossing to wave hello.

And marveled at dozens and dozens of oil trucks from Iraq, in line along the highway, waiting to drop off their cargo at the port of Aqaba. It was a bit dizzying to think of what dangers they may have faced, and yet, like anyone, I'm sure these drivers are just trying to make a living and support their families. If you squint, you can see Arabic letters in red on the tankers. I think they say "Iraq," but I can't recall for sure.

From Aqaba, we drove up, up, up to Wadi Rum, at 5200 feet above sea level. "Lawrence of Arabia" was filmed here (to represent Saudi Arabia).
Stone carving of Lawrence in a rock (the Bedouin still admire him greatly.)
Watching the sunset.

The tent where we slept that night, carpet spread right on the sand!
Unfortunately, this is also where I got bit by a stray cat. It came over while we were sitting on cushions, having dinner, and was very friendly and clean-looking. I gave it a pat and it bit my hand, hard enought to draw blood. As the nurse nervously got out iodine and bandages, our tour guide poured vodka over my wound. Adam got some great photos of the cat, who sat nearby under a table, watching, perhaps feeling regret. Perhaps not.

Then we drove up to Petra, Jordan's most famous and popular tourist site. Petra was originally a sort of city for the dead, with hundreds and hundreds of tombs carved into the rock of a deep, almost hidden valley. Later, the Romans made it an actual city and people lived in what were tombs, or chipped them apart to built houses nearby. Now, it's just empty - but huge. And haunting.

We saw the most beautiful mosaic floors in Jordan. The first were part of what was once a huge church and monastic complex, now called Umm ar-Rasas. It used to be that a church could only have a Eucharist once a day, and so many churches and chapels were needed to serve a large population. By the time this area became Muslim, the town here had been abandoned, so the churches weren't converted into mosques and so we have these remains.
The large shed shields the mosaics from the sun and blowing sand.
See all the blurry places? At one point, Christians got nervous about images of people or animals, especially faces. A movement was started to get rid of all representations in art - and so the faces in this mosaic were all blurred out. One face was saved, probably because it was hidden under something
Here's a view of the bridge built over the floor, so no one has to step on the mosaic. Unless someone, say, drops her sunglasses, and a staff person has to go get them for her. Just as a hypothetical.
The church floor in Madaba, Jordan, on the other hand, is still in actual building where an Orthodox congregation still worships every Sunday. It's a map of the Holy Land. Here's the Jordan River flowing into the Dead Sea:
Jerusalem:

We saw two other traditional Christian / Jewish sites. One was Macaerus, one of Herod's great forts and major prisons. This is the place where Josephus tells us that John the Baptist was beheaded by Herod. The fortress is now just a ruin.
The Dead Sea is in the background. You may also be able to pick out caves along its midsection. These are caves where hermits used to live. The valley around Macaerus is dotted with many. Some still have remnants of walls and ceiling blackened from fire and oil lamp or candle smoke.
Caves like these can be found in locations throughout Jordan and Israel, and all around the Mediterranean.

Mt. Nebo is the place the Bible tells us that Moses laid eyes on the Promised Land before he died, and that he was buried in an unmarked place nearby. There is an active Roman Catholic monastery still active on its peak.
The view, toward Amman (Jordan's capital), which you can see in the top right corner.
The monastery and its chapels have been destroyed and rebuilt many times. One remnant that reminded me of contemporary churches were these mosaic plaques, which basically say, "Remember Matrona, who donated a bunch of money to build this church" and "The heirs of Gayanos the priest gave this furniture in his memory."

There was also a friendly stray dog at Mt. Nebo, who wandered around, sweetly hoping for a pat or a snack.

Don't worry, I didn't touch him.

Then we crossed the border back into Israel at Jericho. It took us three hours. They take their borders seriously, which is understandable.

And yet, while we were there, I both loved it, and felt very confused and conflicted - about organized religion, about tradition, about God's presence, about "separate but equal," about security and freedom, about tourism, and about having olives for breakfast.

I was often full of joy and wonder, with a sense that Jesus was near.

Then Jesus would seem very, very far away.

By the end of our two-week stay, I couldn't get OUT of Israel / Palestine fast enough.

And yet, I love the place, still. Somehow. Especially the Old City - Christian, Muslim, Jewish.

Some photos, to help explain...

Just inside the Damascus Gate, the warren of shops, streets, and passways begins. (See clump of pilgrims in white robes, background)

Dome with laundry on a rooftop. Black and white water tanks (black = Arab, white = Jewish)

Rooftops, minaret, child's bike, hills. A city like a rabbit-warren.

People picking up dinner at a falafel stand, Nablus Road and Sultan Suleiman Street

Boy with parrot, near Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Stray cats are everywhere.

More of the rabbit-warren.

Stairs, tourism, air conditioners, clotheslines.

Tourists; courtyard of The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (those ancient flagstones are all over the Old City)

Tourists and vendors, early evening light, Christian Quarter

My favorite doorknob in the whole world (Redeemer Lutheran Church)

My favorite cross-stitch style: Palestinian traditional (often seen on older ladies' dresses, but I was never brave enough to ask to take their picture):

Narrow streets; near Ecce Homo, Christian Quarter.

Dome of the Rock, with Mt. of Olives behind (from the Ecce Homo convent roof)

The view from the top of the Mt. of Olives, east toward the Jordan mountains and the Jericho wilderness

Valley between the Mt. of Olives and the Dome of the Rock, with palm and olive trees.

View from the west hillside of the Mt. of Olives.

View from Dominus Flevit chapel courtyard, Mt. of Olives.

This city has attracted violence and extremism for centuries. It has also attracted pilgrims, charity workers, poets, artists, and musicians. The layers of miracles, prayer, and art are mixed with layers of oppression, blood, and plunder.

I miss Jerusalem already, and yet I can't imagine going back - unrest aside - for maybe another 15 years, yet.

I apologize for my long absence here. I did not bring a laptop abroad with me to save space, but that has made posting photos almost impossible and posting text cumbersome. We have not had reliable internet access. When we have, it's been slow, limited to hotel lobbies (in Jordan), or available at a time when I was too exhausted or ill (see below) to write coherently.

We finally have gotten internet access here in Rome. I won't bore you with the rigamarole of that process. Soon, I will post some photos, although I still need to use Adam's laptop for that. I've posted photos on my Facebook page, though (again, apologies, but it's so easy to do via a cell phone), and I hope to have some here soon!

For now, I'm just going to post text because it's faster.

Our experiences in Israel (mostly Jerusalem) and Jordan were very profound and very difficult. We loved the Old City markets, where Arab families still shop for all kinds of everyday things, sold in centuries-old stalls: underwear, pastries, raw meat, shoes, cell phones, fine jewelry and for tourists, yes, souvenirs galore - for all three religions.

There are locals and tourists (pilgrims, really) everywhere. Many languages. Many forms of piety, from kippah and headscarves, to cross necklaces and nuns' habits, to side curls and "I love Jesus" sweatshirts. I won't even get into the politics, protests, checkpoints, etc. here.

Jerusalem has layers and layers of history. Our course group (a nice size at 8 students and three staff) had an amazing tour of the Church of the a Holy Sepulchre with our course instructor, Rodney Aist. The first time I visited, in 2000, I found the place bewildering. There's no signage (this is because the religious orders in residence there can't agree on anything - they can barely agree on repairs, much less signage or identification of various chapels or mosaics). It's labrinthine. Rodney's tour was historic, not devotional, but it made the place come alive for me and the history of Christian pilgrimages there feel like something I wanted to be part of, although it also brought back more frustration at organized religion. My chosen vocation. (Not that unorganized religion, science professors, or yoga teachers are any less prone to self-righteousness or conflict. Just saying.)

There were two kinds of wilderness places we saw on this course: one, where people had done business and traveled, traded, and built settlements along the Incense and Spice Routes; two, where people had built monasteries and lauras, or groupings of hermit caves, far away from other people and / or on holy sites. We visited a variety of desert places on day trips from Jerusalem: near Jericho, the Kidron Valley, Beersheba, and the Negev. In some places were occupied monasteries, in some just ruins, and in some skyscrapers in the distance.

It was very hot and dry, even though it was fall and not summer, and Adam and I both struggled with our moisture levels. By the time we got to Jordan, I had to stay behind for a day in our hotel, trying to rehydrate. I bought a six pack of liter bottles of water and guzzled almost five liters of water (over a gallon) over the course of a morning. I think I might've needed a hospital stay otherwise. Yikes. Thankfully, I recovered, but felt a bit weak the rest of our time in Jordan.

Adam, on the other hand got to go snorkeling! That may not sound I like the wilderness at all, but believe me, after so much rock, wilderness, sweating, and hiking, some recreation was needed (I just had to get mine in the hotel room). Aqaba is a seaside resort town and has coral reefs, there on the Red Sea. We saw many Europeans on vacation there and a huge hotel strip being developed by some Lebanese businessmen, we learned. We also saw oil trucks who have driven to Aqaba from Iraq, since it's safer to drive from northern Iraq to the sea port here in Jordan than south to their own port at Basra. We drove by the Saudi Arabia border crossing and waved.

There, and all over the wilderness places we visited in Israel and Jordan, we learned how precious water really is. Reading the psalms, Exodus, and the stories of Hagar, Abraham, and Jesus in the wilderness, are all quite different when you realize the meaning of water, springs, wells, and rain in such dry places. "The river of God is full of water," really means something, or "like a tree planted by streams of water." Becoming dehydrated added a whole new dimension to the experience. At one site, I remember even thinking that the sound of our feet on the sand and gravel even sounded drier than sand and gravel back in the Midwest, or even in the Southwest, where we've also traveled.

Then we visited Wadi Rum, or "The High Valley," a desert full of desolate but beautiful mountains. It was cool and breezy and just beautiful. At our lovely open air dinner in a huge, stylized Bedoiun tent, I managed to get bitten, hard, by a stray cat I had decided was cute and clean enough for a pat. It seemed so friendly! Luckily, my tetanus shot was up to date. Not only did I manage to make our course nurse look more worried that she did on the whole trip, even more than at my dehydration scare (I actually developed quite a special relationship with Judy over those two weeks) but Adam has forbidden me from petting any strange animals ever again.

We slept outdoors in canvas tents, which was memorable but not entirely relaxing - the sound of wild dogs in the distance, and bathrooms NOT close by, although there was a big wall in between us and the dogs. Just not the cats.

Then we visited Petra, basically a city of tombs, which the Romans made into a real city at one point, complete with a few churches. Many people love Petra, but I found it spooky and closed-in-feeling. It's also full of people trying desperately to sell you souvenirs, carriage rides, camel rides, donkey rides, and rides on horseback. Some parents (a mix of Bedoiun and Roma) send their children out to sell you postcards. There are two and three year olds, even, who have been set down next to platters of pretty chips of rock for sale, although mostly they play with the rock or their feet. Officially, Petra officials outlaw child labor but it's hard to enforce because Petra is so big and sprawling, and basically has no fences. I just didn't like it much.

We saw ruins of Byzantine churches and monasteries with bits of arches, columns, altars, and mosaic floors. The most interesting mosaics were two maps - one of Christendom at the time, split between East and West of the Jordan River at Umm Rasas, and one of biblical lands, the famous Madaba map. On some mosaics, all the faces of people and animals had been rubbed out, because of popular feeling against iconography of any kind.

We also saw Machaerus, the hilltop fortress (ruins now) where, almost certainly, Herod had John the Baptist beheaded, and Mt. Nebo, where Moses looked out over the Promised Land, after 40 years of wandering, and then died. Both are speckled with hermit caves, and Nebo has a church and monastery.

It took us three hours to cross back into Israel at Jericho. A difficult ending to a difficult journey.

Then, I got food poisoning. From an entirely vegetarian meal, go figure.

Often, I felt overloaded with information and emotion on this course, but it was also an incredible experience and I wouldn't take it back. But I'm still trying to figure out how it's changed me and my faith. We did too much, really, and we gave that feedback. But under all the things we saw (see list above) a lot was happening... With scripture, prayer, landscape, and even just the spiritual discipline of perseverence!

It's wonderful to have two whole weeks here so we don't have to rush, we always come back and sleep in the same room, and we can spend whole days writing, reading, and figuring out what's happened to us on this sabbatical. Besides the fun of Baroque churches and gelato (more on that soon), I've really needed this time in Rome to unwind and reflect, and to transition back to a more Western existence. (Although the organized religion thing is pretty intense here, too. At least no one is killing each other or fighting over it in this particular moment in history.)

Thanks for your patience! We are in Rome for one more week, feeling very grateful, and loving being in a city with so much water (fountains everywhere) and cooler temperatures. So far, no more dehydration spells.

Ack! Actually, I can't do photos from the iPad. I will try this again from Adam's laptop as soon as I can, but our bus is leaving soon! Love to you all.

I didn't feel nervous about our trip until this morning, the day we're leaving. We're going to be in southern Jordan for almost a week, and you know - Muslims live there. (Of course, just this past week, a young Muslim man from Bolingbrook was arrested at O'Hare because they suspected him of ties to ISIS. If anyone starts harassing the Muslims in Bolingbrook, their mosques, and school because of this, I'm going to be out on Lily Cache with my support sign, sabbactical be da--d).)

I checked the New York Times website this morning, on the country page for "Jordan." I'm not sure whether to be worried or not -- there's pretty much nothing there. Boring old Jordan. Or is full of SLEEPER CELLS? Of course, Jordan is home to the sprawling Zaatari refugee camp, home to 80,000 Syrians now, which is on the opposite side of Jordan from where we'll be. The Jordanian desert is a big tourist destination, so under lots of security I imagine... and hopefully ISIS has bigger fish to fry, right?

But I'm also thrilled to be able to visit a Middle Eastern country. And to be within shouting distance of the border with Saudi Arabia. Maybe you think I'm crazy, but I think we all have affinities for certain cultures in the world - some people love South Africa, or Japan, or Cuba, even though they've never been there. And that's how I feel about Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine (what's left of it), Egypt, and even Iran. Saudi Arabia isn't a friendly place for women, so it's not on my "country crush" list, but to be so close is just so, well... exotic! (Post-colonial wince.)

We're going to be visiting places with names like Aqaba, Wadi Qelt, and Madaba! Don't worry, we'll post lots of pictures - even of our hotel rooms, which I'm sort of hoping don't look JUST like American hotel rooms. (Watch - there will be prints of mallard ducks on the walls or something.)

We're trying to follow Rick's advice and PACK LIGHT. We're only bringing carry-on luggage (for five weeks!). I keep thinking of little things I'd like to have along both because they're useful and remind me of home - a travel coffee mug, when really just a travel water bottle should be enough; flip flops, when my hiking sandals should be enough; a little purse, when my daypack should be enough.

Some friends of ours bought fake wedding rings for their long travels, but there's only so much time in this life. I suppose it will keep me safe from unwanted attention, right? And if someone really wants it, it's replaceable.

We're packing bathing suits, for swimming in the Red Sea. A pair of small binoculars, for looking high up at church ceilings in Rome (I'm unreasonable excited about the binocs). An envelope with two coins to throw in the Trevi Fountain for a parishioner of mine (Hi Sherry! We haven't forgotten.). A booklight (Thanks, Ruth!). A collapsible tote bag (Thanks, Aunt Beth!). Plug adapters for our chargers (Thanks, Husband!). And a tiny copy of The Life of St. Benedict that the sisters at Holy Wisdom gave me as a goodbye gift. (Thanks, Mary David, Joanne, Rosy, and Karyn!)

Things we cannot pack that I will miss: Fall leaves and chilly weather (it will be in the 80s and 90s in the desert - some of you are envious, but we LOVE 40s and 50s). Our beagle, Odo and grey tabby, Lilith (thanks for watching them, Lucy!). Dependably good coffee. Really good fall apples. My little nephew and niece. My mother and mother-in-law's birthday (yes, on the same day!). Singing the All Saints litany at church (which I realize St. B's may not even do since I'm not there and it's kind of long).

I'm filled with gratitude that we get to take this trip. It will probably show us so many new things and sights, and give us so many new experiences, that we won't ever be able to fully explain what it was like. Or as my mother-in-law put it: "over the next 40 years, the stories will be surfacing."

I'm sorry I don't have any photos to post, here. I could've taken some shots of our luggage, I suppose, but rest assured that there will be lots of pictures very soon!

My favorite bench outdoors for contemplating, reading, and journaling. It's dedicated: "For Love of Jim Gray, Lost at Sea Near San Francisco, 1-28-07."

Mail!!!

I even got my own temporary mailbox...

Watching the sky, the land, the weather change...

A red, red tree:

Don't eff with the bluebirds, people!

My last hike on the prairie.

The aforementioned sturdy shoes that fit (see last post). Also going abroad with me.

Daily prayer - five times a day if I wanted - and singing the psalms. I miss it already.

This is my last night here at Holy Wisdom, after four weeks of quasi-hermit-monastic life. All along, I’ve been collecting “wise advice”. Here it is! You’re welcome.

The natural landscape around us changes in some way every day, usually in ways only noticeable in about three-day increments. Look around and notice time going by…

Our ability to sit still or be silent is probably equal to the degree we accept ourselves for who we are. (This may change on a daily basis.)

Shoes that fit make all the difference. It was very cold when I first got here and I hadn’t brought sturdy shoes. I got a cheap pair at Target, then was miserable for a week, clomping around in them before I caved and ordered something solid online.

Here, we do everything slowly. The sisters read scripture and psalms more slowly. We pause in worship. I walk around the grounds on my own two feet, and don’t drive much. People are working hard here but they aren’t rushing. I’ve been writing letters by hand, and only go on the internet two times a week (except for the weather). Even if we can’t do it all the time out in the world, it’s worth rebelling against the powers and principalities and taking your time with something in your life every day. Choosing the slow line at the store. Driving slowly (or at least not speeding). Whatever.

The speed we do things is the speed time goes by us, I’ve noticed.

Wherever you go, there you are. (Old chestnut, but true.)

Centering Prayer (resting in God’s love in silence for 10-20 minutes) is one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried – I really gave it my best effort this month. Practicing with monastics who’ve been doing it for decades is both intimidating and motivation (they do it twice a day here). I notice that when I try to meet God in the silence, I can’t help but get in my own way. Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat Pray Love tells an Indian monk that she just can’t get her mind to hold still. He replies, “It’s a pity you’re the only person in the history of the world who ever had this problem.” I repeat this to myself when my mind complains: *This is so haaard! *

Centering Prayer has also taught me to forgive myself every day for (mostly) failing at focusing on God’s love for twenty minutes (heck, for ten), but to keep trying. Keep trying. Keep trying.

Did you know vacuuming is more fun after – just say – you’ve had to vacuum up a whole bunch of ground nutmeg, because then every time you vacuum, the air is filled with the smell of nutmeg!

Roasted vegetables are really delicious. Especially with cheese. Try a mess of them, cut up and mixed with olive oil, at 400F for 15-20 minutes.

It’s surprisingly hard to allow yourself to do nothing. As in, nothing that most people would describe as profitable. (Looking at trees, journaling, reading books you don’t have to, napping, etc.)

However, in a day with lots of "nothing," it’s helpful to have one profitable thing to do (helping in the kitchen, writing a letter, collecting prairie seeds, going to the store, meeting someone for dinner) to maintain an even and peaceable temperament.

It’s surprisingly hard, even when there’s nothing else to do, to do what’s good for you – like take a walk, do yoga, read a hard book, do centering prayer, not eat ten cookies, etc.

Knitting and cross-stitch have aroused in me the same addicted feeling as playing games on my iPhone: half focused, half mindless, with pretty colors and measurable goals. I understand my female ancestors so much better now.

I like getting mail so I started writing letters to a handful of friends to see if they might write back. Not everyone can, but some have. A real joy. Write me a letter and I promise I’ll write you back. (It may take a while, since we’ll be abroad soon, but I promise I will.) 584 Red Barn Trail, Bolingbrook IL 60490.

An acorn grows into an oak tree. I mean, really – this is crazy.

You know what? Adults wake up in the middle of the night. It’s a fact. I’ve been relaxed, sleeping alone on a good mattress, in the midst of a mostly silent monastery campus, soused in prayer and scripture, but I still wake up during the night. I still seem to get rest, but I’ve been learning here just to expect it and then try to ignore it.

Being who God created you to be is hard. That seems ridiculous. But I’ve expended untold amounts of energy and anxiety trying either to be someone I’m not or trying to please others by being what I imagine they need me to be. This is wrong. It’s like lying. And it’s exhausting.

Eating right makes you feel better. I’ve been mostly a vegetarian on sabbatical and eating very few processed foods. My body feels different: light, energized, clear-thinking.

Quesadillas are a miracle food. I mean, you can put anything on a quesadilla and they cook in like three minutes. Except if you’re like my friend Monica and can’t eat dairy. As she put it: there’s really no replacement for cheese.

Humility makes life easier. I don’t mean low self-esteem - just humility. I’m not the greatest and I’m not the worst, although my mind tries to tell me both things on a regular basis.

My favorite spiritual teachers here have been:
St. Benedict of Nursia
Emily Dickinson (a bit of a hermit herself)
Teresa of Avila
Elizabeth Gilbert
The Benedictine Women of Madison
Other guests: Melinda, Mary Lynn, Mary, Judy, Joan, Carson, Mike, Jessica, Cameron, Marj, and Monna.

Scripture we've been reading in the daily office this month:
Job
Hebrews
Ecclesiastes
1 Timothy
1 Corinthians
Psalms, Psalms, Psalms

Third, there are usually at least a few critters around.

For instance, I have nine neighbors who I tend to see only in passing. Four adult and five teenage turkeys live in the oak savanna and woods across the road. They gobble and bustle about, always in a group, pecking for insects as they go. I wish I had better pictures of them, but the shots always seem to be of them running away from me.
(See turkey, running, at lower left.)

When the new monastery building was completed in 2009, a tom turkey would walk by the oratory (or chapel) windows on the ground floor quite regularly, and see his reflection in the glass. A rival! With his feathers puffed up, he’d pose and strut, trying to intimidate the upstart. Benedictines are hospitable, so no one tried to chase him away, even during the daily office.

I met another's acquaintance early on, while I was sweeping the front stoop. I noticed cobwebs all over the door and the sign, so I aimed my broom and brushed them. When I jostled the sign, a tiny paw and wing fell out at the bottom edge. A bat!!! I was so excited! I stood dumbstruck, watching as it jerked and adjusted to withdraw its “hand” back into its sleeping spot. I felt I had to vacuum the hermitage with the windows shut, not to bother the sleeping bat any more than I had already. But the next day, it didn’t come back – that hiding place was no longer dependable.
Other neighbors I’ve encountered are Sandhill Cranes, garter snakes, whitetail deer, coyotes, grey squirrels, hawks, rabbits, chipmunks, and moles. The squirrels constantly scratch and fuss through the leaf litter, looking for and burying acorns – it’s actually unbelievably irritating. Chipmunks always seem to be running for their lives to somewhere or another. I hear coyotes in the distance at night. Hawks whirl around high in the sky (except for the one that sat across from me in a tree, and tore apart some small creature for dinner). My. Finally, I trip over mole tunnels just about every time I leave the house. I imagine the moles cursing in the dark, saying things like: That dang girl collapsed the living room again!

On a regular basis, I smell my neighbors, the dairy cows, on the Wisconsin breeze.

I have an apple orchard for a neighbor, which seems almost too bucolic for words. The sisters’ apples are delicious (although it may just be because they’re monastic apples?). I pick up the windfalls. I like to cut one up, poach it in the microwave, and have it for breakfast with honey and toasted walnuts, over oatmeal or yogurt. (I’ve done this with peaches and pluots, too – yum!). But the other day, the ground staff and some volunteers picked almost all of them and put them in cold storage.
Fall is moving along.

Last Wednesday was a “Prairie Workday” and I helped collect prairie seeds. It was like playing pioneer, to walk through the tall grass, hunting seeds, except with pruning shears and plastic 5-gallon buckets. Now whenever I walk by dry Black-Eyed Susans, I have this urge to clip off the tops and put them in a bucket.
Almost every day, fires are my neighbors - I smell the wood smoke from fires around the property where the grounds staff are burning up piles of brush and old wood.

My other neighbors, of course, are the monastic community here. I spend a lot of time in solitude, but I wanted to come here so I could also be part of a community - to join the liturgy of the hours, and share a meal with others now and then. It helps and feeds my time in solitude. Sister Joanne, Sister Mary David, Novice Rosy, and “Sojourner” (or intern) Karyn, as well as the staff and other oblates here, are very dear to me.

Part of why I'm writing for you about tangible things like apples and turkeys is that it's hard to describe what's going on here intangibly. For instance, I wish I could write a post about what I’m learning about prayer here but I’m not sure I know how to yet.

Instead I’ll describe some of the books I’ve been reading:

Seven Sacred Pauses, Macrina Wiederkehr (using the monastic liturgy of the hours, technically seven times a day, as times for pausing in ordinary life)

My Life in Middlemarch, Rebecca Mead (mixing her autobiography and George Eliot’s life with the themes and characters of Eliot’s famous novel)

Thoughts Matter, Margaret M. Funk (how the spiritual life can come out of awareness and self-direction of thoughts – especially about food, sex, anger, despair, pride, etc.)

Addiction and Grace, Gerald Mays (all humans use some kind of addiction to replace the harder trials of love relationships with other humans and with God) Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman, Richard P. Feynman (a scientist tells funny stories about his goofy, interesting life)

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, Frederick Douglass (The institution of slavery and institutionalized racism are deeply ingrained in American history. You already know this, I imagine, but if you really want to know / remember, read Frederick Douglass’ autobiography. It was first published in 1845 but it’s very readable, full of fascinating -and horrible- historical details, and gorgeous prose. And it’s short!)

A Life of Being, Doing, and Having Enough, Wayne Muller (What it says.)

I Could Tell You Stories, Patricia Hampl (on memory, memoirs, human lives, and human history, told mostly through the lives of: Ann Frank, Edith Stein, Simone Weil, Czeslaw Milosz, Sylvia Plath, Walt Whitman, and Augustine) Reading I’ve been doing for our trip to Israel/Palestine and Jordan:
The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, Belden Lane (how deserts, mountains, and other “wastes” inspire us spiritually)

The Spiritual Meadow, John Moschos (stories and anecdotes from a 6th century traveling monk about the desert monks and nuns he encountered)

My favorite neighbor, who I’ve been separated from these last three weeks, is my husband, Adam. He came for a visit this past weekend. It was wonderful to show him what my life has been like here. I’m grateful to him for allowing me to spend a whole month away from home, and for being so interested in all that I’ve been doing and learning here.

You’re going to laugh at me. Or, and my stomach twinges to think it, I may be a cause for jealousy. Because one of my problems living life in a hermitage... is deciding how often I should nap.

This is a problem because I find I want to nap quite a lot. In part, this is probably because I’m tired from seven years of ministry. Also, the hermitage is in the woods and faces north, so not much sunshine makes it through the windows. And without a lot of pressing tasks to keep my adrenalin going, my body seems to say, “Huh, not much going on – how about a nap?”

(Meditating... or dozing a bit?)

But do I want to sleep through my time at the monastery? How can I nap when I could be walking the prairie trails, reading books, practicing meditation, doing yoga, or writing letters? I don’t want to waste my Lilly grant, sleeping through these four weeks!

I go back and forth. Sometimes I give in and nap, and sometimes I get myself outside, or make more coffee, or drive into town, or sit at my writing desk.

But I’ve noticed that when I do nap, I feel very, very loved by God. I feel abundant grace. Taking a nap is grace embodied! Yes, it is good to take walks, read, and all the rest. God has given us the gift of time to use creatively and well, but the gift of time is also to just enjoy.

God rested from all the work that She had done in Creation. (Genesis 2:3a / female pronoun)

(God, napping on the seventh day, while reading...Leviticus?)

In Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert admires the Italian ideal of il bel far niente, or “the beauty of doing nothing.” Dorothy Bass, in her book, Receiving the Day, writes about keeping a day of rest in the week as “practicing, for a day, the freedom that God intends for all people.” The freedom of doing nothing, or playing, napping, praying, and loving - things that might not seem, well, "productive."

(Jesus, napping at a rather inopportune time, or so his disciples thought.)

Sure, I don’t want to nap my life away. But there's a lesson about grace to "just lie down for a while." With every bone in the body, we can let go and experience the feeling that God loves us.

Because:

…what does the Lord your God ask of you? To feel awe and respect for the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways, to love Him, and to serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep the commandments… for your own well-being.
(Deut. 10:12-13, NIV/NRSV, with “fear” translated as “awe and respect” / male pronoun)

God does not ask for our usefulness, profitability, or work, exactly. God does not ask us to prove ourselves worthy. God asks us to love and to live just lives. God asks us to have right and loving relationships with each other (see also: The Ten Commandments). And it seems to me we can do this more easily if we are rested, not stressed out, and feeling loved, ourselves.

(My dog, Odo, practicing this teaching.)

Also, God asks for a relationship with us.

I do not call you servants any longer… I have called you friends. (Jesus, John 15:15)

Friends! God, in Christ, wants to be our friend. Wants to hang out with us, talk to us, to love and be loved by us.

A beginners' way to hang out with God, it seems to me, is to nap.

Perhaps naps should be included in the list of spiritual disciplines. Perhaps as a subcategory under “Sabbath-keeping.” A nap is a mini-sabbath. It could be just twenty minutes (which studies show is one sleep cycle). If you’re sleep-deprived, as many of us are, your body may cry out for more. (If you’re feeling love- or grace-deprived, too.)

We don’t earn God’s love with the number of tasks we achieve. We don't make ourselves better people by spending every minute of our time profitably.

Sometimes, to remember what life is and what love is, I’m discovering on my sabbatical, it’s important to stop, just be with God, and maybe take a little nap.

I love this font - it's big, FULL of water, and still as glass... but a steady stream of water runs down its side, so the water is still moving: living water!

(Here, with people nearby to show you its size):

See the water, flowing down the front corner, there? It makes only the quietiest trickling sound. Here's a close up, in better light:

It runs in the smoothest stream, down the side. It makes me think of water flowing from the rock when Moses struck it, or the sheer sound of silence Elijah heard, or blood flowing down the side of Christ's body on the cross.

Here are some more photos of the monastery from past visits to give you an idea of the particularly simple beauty of this place. (It's been too cloudy and rainy here for pretty photos the past few days.)

From the back:
The large worship space: (over 200 for Sunday Eucharist!)
Stations of the Cross:

And here's where I'm living this month. It's a duplex - "Mary" on one side and "Elizabeth" on the other. There are lots of squirrels outside and spiders inside (it's in the woods, after all).
This is the Oratory, the smaller worship space where I come three times a day for the Liturgy of the Hours, also called The Daily Office.
Each time, I walk down a little dirt road from the hermitages, which slows me down, in a good way.

Prayer Schedule at Holy Wisdom:
7:35 - centering prayer
8:00 - morning prayer
11:45 - midday prayer
4:30 - evening prayer
4:55 - centering prayer

(I'll start going to centering prayer next week, I think - 20 minutes of shared silence.)

At prayer, we speak some parts, and sing some parts. Every morning we sing the Benedictus - the song of Zechariah after John the Baptist is born - and every evening we sing the Magnificat - the song of Mary after she learns she is pregnant with Jesus. Both come from Luke 1.

I love singing plainchant. Singing it 2-3 times a day reminds me of the year I spent in seminary at Seabury. Chant is like meditation - doing something with your body that refocuses your mind and heart, and gets inside you.

Otherwise: I spend time in silence. I read (see below). Sometimes I eat with other guests, but mostly I eat on my own. I'll see a good friend who lives in Madison tonight for dinner. I walk or do yoga. I talk to God.

I get bored sometimes, or get a little wonked out by all the quiet. I found this somewhere, and it's been helpful:

GOD:
Stills you
Reassures you
Leads you
Enlightens you
Forgives you
Calms you
Encourages you
Comforts you

THE EVIL ONE:
Rushes you
Frightens you
Pushes you
Confuses you
Condemns you
Stresses you
Discourages you
Worries you

I've also been doing fun stuff: I made up a banana bread recipe, riffing because I only had certain ingredients, and well, it's all I can do not to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I read a sort of dumb novel about people living in a lighthouse that I found here in about 3 hours straight (skimmed a lot, since it was often tedious).

I'm rereading Eat, Pray, Love for the third time. She went to Rome and I'm going to Rome, so it's fun to see it through her eyes. And I always learn a lot about prayer (again and again) from her experiences in India and Indonesia. It may be strange to have Elizabeth Gilbert as one of your meditation teachers, but I don't care.

I'm also reading books about prayer that are just putting me on Cloud 9:

Teresa of Avila's Way, by Mary Luti

Into The Land of Silence, by Martin Laird

Poems, by George Herbert

I may be a reading junkie. Teresa of Avila was one, too, apparently, so it can't be too bad.

Well, midday prayer is at 11:45. I'm only online Fridays and Tuesdays - see you later. Thanks for reading.

Originally, I told many people that I would publish new posts every Sunday. I've found that hasn't been realistic. Because of traveling, unreliable internet, and other unpredictables, posting has been a moving target.

I don't have a connection at the hermitage this month either. (This might be a good thing!)

Thank you for reading! I will post as regularly as I can, and as regularly as seems good for taking this time of rest and prayer.

Grace and peace, Heidi

In case anyone out there has been romanticizing the start of my hermitage stay, it's taken me about 36 hours to unpack, grocery shop, realize things I forgot to bring (include warm clothes - hello?), go to Target for a few said warm clothes plus a few kitchen things, figure out how to work the coffeemaker, and get myself to daily prayer. Spiritual life is never a downhill jaunt, I'm just sayin'!

My sabbatical has also been shaped by what I've been reading - themes of journey, interior and exterior, self-identity, simplicity, and food!

Emily Dickinson: A Biography by Connie Ann Kirk

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed

You're Made For a God-Sized Dream: Opening the Door To All God Has For You by Holley Gerth

Food Rules: An Eater's Manual, by Michael Pollan

7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker

Cheap and Good, by Leanne Brown (how to eat well on $4 a day - a cookbook designed for folks on SNAP) http://www.npr.org/blogs/thesalt/2014/08/01/337141837/cheap-eats-cookbook-shows-how-to-eat-well-on-a-food-stamp-budget