On Knowing

I used to know.

I used to know that I would study fashion. March into a big label. Stand tall. Do something about it all.

I used to know that I would be in love and that it would be easy. I would rise out of this humanness and learn to step in perfect hum with another. Nothing but bliss and longings quenched. Picture perfect.

I used to know that I would build a business. It would be recognized and well worth it. There would be blazers and the perfect office and no one would ever be mad about anything.

Now, I know nothing. How humbling!

I spent last weekend in silence with the monks at Mepkin Abbey. My days were a blur. The only orienting thing being the sound of bells or the routine setting of the sun. A 5x daily 5 minute warning, calling the camp to prayer. Or the smell of incense rising to the tall ceilings of a barren church.

I would bow in union with the monks in their choir stalls — the only words I said out loud and in song — “All glory be to The Father, to The Son and to The Holy Spirit …”

It could throw a person into an existential crisis or a deep abiding peace.

I would walk under the oaks and just look at them. I noticed birds I wouldn’t have seen in my natural, busy order of things. I sat on benches and had no choice but to let myself be. I would journal furiously then crash into my bed — exhausted at my efforts to figure it all out.

I would join our unlikely group in silence at meal times, the room buzzing with thought but no noise. There were two pairs of grandmas with their granddaughters. A muscle man named Gunner. Two boys from upstate. And a collection of other gentle, thoughtful souls. We never spoke to one another, only sent good energy, shared the occasional smile, and sang the psalms in unison.

After night prayer, we would follow each other in a little line, out of the church and back to our rooms. I found myself wanting to grab their faces and say, “You are good!! This is so brave!! I think I love you!” The wordless communion that comes from seeking God in silence.

The first night I fell asleep at 6pm and didn’t wake up until 10am the next morning. I felt confused and bogged down by a deep tiredness that only in this quiet was able to let itself out.

I sat across from one of the monks and barred my soul. Flipping through my journal trying to communicate every detail of this web I’ve been spinning. I stopped my monologue and looked up at him, hopeful for answers. He held eye contact and silence. “Let it be.” and “Keep doing good work.” was about all he said.

I would sit on the edge of my bed. Absolutely nothing to distract me but a rosary.

What now? What next?

At the end of it — I know nothing, but this:

We are good. We are loved. We can only continue on.

As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be. World without end. Amen.

C 🦋