MONOTONY OF A MONASTIC LIFE

The sheer singleness and repetition of a Monastic life is most highlighted in my Hermitage.

All things are over and over and over again.  The white molding, the beige plastered walls, sage colored drapes in my bedroom with pictures of Mary, ever-Virgin peering over... indeed, a nothing-ever-changes Life.  

My walks outside remain staid each day, 

seemingly unadorned and lifeless in purpose.

But, no ... 

It happens each second in a most miniscule way.  God is in the splinter of a glint, the flakiness of a light shown into my Hermitage,  my Cottage-in-the-Trees.  

God, I can smell` for he roams my kitchen in simmering Lentil soup with smoked turkey, apples and cinnamon wafting scents of good wholesome food!  

God, I can see` for each shine of the Western sunset breaking into my silent cell with His Royalty of purples, pinks, reds, crimsons, white, grays slashing about the darkening sky!

God, I can touch` upon each object I see for God is the God IN all things, THROUGH all things, and OF all things.

God, I can hear` through the motoring life outside, through movement of  green Peppercorn trees with winded ballets, their life I witness in my stillness. 

Oh, it may appear that no/thing changes in my Hermitage; however, those who see no/thing are Thomas.  Those Thomas'  necessitate proof of some/thing. 

However, those who need nothing, oh, so reach and further fly!  toward this Holiest of Holies! while unfettered wings blaze true bright 

in unquenchable fire.  

How Holy Is His Name!