After a few pictures at the terraza, I packed my bags, ate breakfast, and said good bye to the charismatic Irena, dueña de la casa. I left La Casa de Dante with fond memories of warm hospitality in a lovely city.
One of her employees helped me carry my bags down the 100+ steps and then fetch a taxi. He was a kind man, this bag-carrier. It was not difficult to detect Jesus in him so humble was he. I wish I remembered his name.
One of her employees helped me carry my bags down the 100+ steps and then fetch a taxi. He was a kind man, this bag-carrier. It was not difficult to detect Jesus in him so humble was he. I wish I remembered his name.
Thirty minutes later, I found myself at the Central de Autobus, the main bus station in Guanajuato.
At exactly 11am, the ETN bus left the bus station; the last piece of the Mexico puzzle was now set in motion: a trip to the Benedictine Monasterio Nuestra Señora de la Soledad. I plan to stay here until Friday morning, March 13.
The road to the monasterio was as all roads to a monastery should be, dry, dusty, and harsh. The desert: this is where Jesus was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1), this is where the desert fathers went in the 4th century when life in the christianized Roman Empire became lax and decadent, and this is where I want to go to deal with my demons too.
The drive from Guanajuato to San Miguel de Allende is only 1.5 hours, plus another 30 minutes or so to the monastery. The weather was hot and dry, probably about 30 degrees. The entrance to the monasterio:
The newly constructed church (left), and the small chapel (right), both of them built by the monks.
I checked into the monastery at about 3pm, tired and exhausted. I met hermano Elias, the guestmaster, who was kind and friendly and immediately showed me to my room. My habitation for the next two days is much bigger than expected. I have an entire house for myself, complete with kitchen, reading room, eating room, bedroom and bathroom. Not exactly ascetic...
There are lots of trees surrounding my habitation, providing an oasis of shade during the day. By day, the chirping of birds abound in the trees, and at night, well, an orchestra of frogs and crickets puts me to sleep.
There are lots of trees surrounding my habitation, providing an oasis of shade during the day. By day, the chirping of birds abound in the trees, and at night, well, an orchestra of frogs and crickets puts me to sleep.
At 5:30pm, as the sun set, I went to the church and witnessed the Evening Vespers, tranquil chants of the Psalms by the monks. It was lovely hearing the voices of these young men worship the Lord. My focus and attention was taken away from me and towards the Beautiful.
Dios es nuestro refugio y nuestra fuerza;
nuestra ayuda en momentos de angustia.
Por eso no tendremos miedo...... (Psalm 46:1-2a)
nuestra ayuda en momentos de angustia.
Por eso no tendremos miedo...... (Psalm 46:1-2a)
Right after the Vespers was dinner. On my way to the refectory (common kitchen) I noticed that the sun had disappeared and what we'd been doing in the church was already being done by all creation, the symphony was on, all creatures and critters, large and small, were singing the praises of God.
Dinner was simple but complete. A serving of meat, salad, and bread, and for dessert, fruits. And following Benedictine tradition, there was no talking during the meal. Instead, one of the monks served as lector, reading to us from the book of Isaiah and from some other book I don't remember the title for: food for the mind and soul to go along with food for the body.
I made it back to my apartment by around 7, and upon arrival there, I was all of the sudden struck with an immense sense of loneliness. I think several factors contributed to this feeling. I've been with people 24/7 for the past 13 days in a row, visiting mostly noisy, well-populated places. And now, all of a sudden, I'm alone, in a house well separated from the rest of the monsastic community, in a desert. And my room was surrounded by the thick, black, almost tangible darkness of the night.
Alone. Silence. Darkness. A strange feeling. Tears even welled up. I was reminded of 1 Kings 19:11-12:
Dinner was simple but complete. A serving of meat, salad, and bread, and for dessert, fruits. And following Benedictine tradition, there was no talking during the meal. Instead, one of the monks served as lector, reading to us from the book of Isaiah and from some other book I don't remember the title for: food for the mind and soul to go along with food for the body.
I made it back to my apartment by around 7, and upon arrival there, I was all of the sudden struck with an immense sense of loneliness. I think several factors contributed to this feeling. I've been with people 24/7 for the past 13 days in a row, visiting mostly noisy, well-populated places. And now, all of a sudden, I'm alone, in a house well separated from the rest of the monsastic community, in a desert. And my room was surrounded by the thick, black, almost tangible darkness of the night.
Alone. Silence. Darkness. A strange feeling. Tears even welled up. I was reminded of 1 Kings 19:11-12:
"The LORD said, 'Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.' Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper."
God speaks to us in all conditions, loud or quiet. However, his voice is heard most clearly when it's not in competition with other noises. And that is the first lesson I've learned here so far. God wants to commune with us, and yet we often don't let him, we're too busy, caught up in our "noisy" lives of mundane busyness, enslaved by our schedules to go from place to place, like a yo-yo tied to a string. It's only when we slow down and sit ourselves in a place of quietness - confronted with our own loneliness and need - that we give him the time of day, or in my case, night.
Over the next day and a half I want to do just that: untangle myself - rather, allow God to untangle me - from the web that is this world, which gradually but surely overcomes us with its stress and anxiety, if we are not in a deep and profound way connected to and rejuvenated by the One and only possible source of Peace.
God speaks to us in all conditions, loud or quiet. However, his voice is heard most clearly when it's not in competition with other noises. And that is the first lesson I've learned here so far. God wants to commune with us, and yet we often don't let him, we're too busy, caught up in our "noisy" lives of mundane busyness, enslaved by our schedules to go from place to place, like a yo-yo tied to a string. It's only when we slow down and sit ourselves in a place of quietness - confronted with our own loneliness and need - that we give him the time of day, or in my case, night.
Over the next day and a half I want to do just that: untangle myself - rather, allow God to untangle me - from the web that is this world, which gradually but surely overcomes us with its stress and anxiety, if we are not in a deep and profound way connected to and rejuvenated by the One and only possible source of Peace.
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