Last summer I became intrigued by the idea of a silent monastic retreat at Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky. I visited the gift shop and experienced some of the quiet, and it became my fantasy, to spend time in still reflection and writing for a weekend. A friend was also interested, and last December we succeeded in getting a reservation for April of this year.
“But…what will you do there?” people asked me.
“I hope nothing,” I’d answer. “Hopefully write. And read. And just be.”
Most people thought I was holding back the details of some personal predicament. They narrowed their eyes at me and grinned with suspicion. I can only imagine what thoughts ran through their heads. Early mid-life crisis? Seeking forgiveness for secret crimes? Contemplating divorce? Scoping a quiet field to bury a body, where if someone saw me digging they wouldn’t be permitted to shout about…
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