hermitage

I posted a picture on Facebook today from a monastery calendar.It is a green ,poor ,falling down shack somewhere on the grounds of the Holy Spirit monastery in Conyers,Georgia.Embraced by snow and vines, it was once a place of complete solitude.This picture speaks to me profoundly.

What would I hear should I spend time alone there?The wind,an unearthly cry from the peacocks,leaves rustling in Fall,perhaps the distant chant from the monks in the church.Eventually, in my wooden chair by the small fire,I would open God's word and let it flow through my mind.The candle light would flicker often and a settling would occur.Like the tinkling of a gentle chime, words like "forgiveness","let it go", "this is all that matters","seek Me,love Me," would fill my mind  because here, in this solitude, whispers can be heard.

I once went for a solitary retreat at the monastery and while walking the grounds, encountered a young woman from the county paper.She interviewed me about why I was there(solitude),what it was like(refreshing ), and took my picture.I must have been affected by swimming in the grace of important things because ,surprising myself,I never sought out the paper and my name and face in it.