(no subject)
Early heat stifles Trappist monasteries as well. I'm in the basement, waiting for the sun to go down until I return to the third-floor dormitories.
To keep cool during the day, I set up camp in the lower scriptorium with a jug of water and Graham Greene's The Quiet American. I started it yesterday, and the way the heat's affected sleep around here, I should finish it before the night office. The monastery has nothing close to air conditioning, at least for the monks- The guest houses have cooling units, of course, as does the wine warehouse and fruitcake factory- but otherwise, Cistercian sensibilities don't go for freon. On the inside of the cloister even fans are suspect. The church was cool this morning, but it didn't last. We chanted the Office with all the doors open from Sext onwards. I found myself kneeling well before prayers, if only to find lower, cooler air.
The community seems to take the heat in stride. This morning I drove the diesel tractor around the grounds and limbed branches with an Ash Williams-worthy chainsaw. The temperature was around ninety by the time we usually quit. Before John asked me to do some extra work, he asked me cautiously, "Are you hanging in there Brother?" Never felt better, was the only thing I could think to say.
Tomorrow Mark has asked the two other retreatants and I to tell our stories. He wants us to be able to name particular times in our lives that have been important, and to be able to convey these moments of our lives in a narrative. As such, I've been looking back on the Digital Narcissism Collector, aka HERE, at some of my older entries. Something prescient (but for other reasons!) that I liked finding:
Scene: Troy and I are past our Zuhandens in Heidegger and Husserl, it's fall, and we're on a cigarette break in the park. I say something about my latest relationship going down, and Troy reflects.
"You know, in some sense dating a girl is like Leibniz's idea of moving the universe over three feet. It doesn't sound so bad, but in my experience it's next to impossible."
Wisdom is vindicated by all of her children.
To keep cool during the day, I set up camp in the lower scriptorium with a jug of water and Graham Greene's The Quiet American. I started it yesterday, and the way the heat's affected sleep around here, I should finish it before the night office. The monastery has nothing close to air conditioning, at least for the monks- The guest houses have cooling units, of course, as does the wine warehouse and fruitcake factory- but otherwise, Cistercian sensibilities don't go for freon. On the inside of the cloister even fans are suspect. The church was cool this morning, but it didn't last. We chanted the Office with all the doors open from Sext onwards. I found myself kneeling well before prayers, if only to find lower, cooler air.
The community seems to take the heat in stride. This morning I drove the diesel tractor around the grounds and limbed branches with an Ash Williams-worthy chainsaw. The temperature was around ninety by the time we usually quit. Before John asked me to do some extra work, he asked me cautiously, "Are you hanging in there Brother?" Never felt better, was the only thing I could think to say.
Tomorrow Mark has asked the two other retreatants and I to tell our stories. He wants us to be able to name particular times in our lives that have been important, and to be able to convey these moments of our lives in a narrative. As such, I've been looking back on the Digital Narcissism Collector, aka HERE, at some of my older entries. Something prescient (but for other reasons!) that I liked finding:
Scene: Troy and I are past our Zuhandens in Heidegger and Husserl, it's fall, and we're on a cigarette break in the park. I say something about my latest relationship going down, and Troy reflects.
"You know, in some sense dating a girl is like Leibniz's idea of moving the universe over three feet. It doesn't sound so bad, but in my experience it's next to impossible."
Wisdom is vindicated by all of her children.