A picture of a
sheer white monastery in a face of rock—stunning. I think of living there, of who and what I would be,
regarded always by the sea. I have
stayed before at bedrock, in the Pennine Alps, and think that psychologically I
am disturbed there not to be able to dig deeper, beneath, within. To know that no concealment is
possible. No burrowing, burying,
even borrowing.
In a white
monastery, I would be stripped to my essential elements. I would live simply; be wise,
chastened, strong as copper wire.
I would write ghazals, perhaps.
Learn Portuguese or ancient Greek.
I would drink sage tea, eat eggplant curries, buy an antique telescope,
paint my few pieces of furniture deep blue, make friends with a painter of
icons in the nearest village. Be grateful through and through.
image: Patmos Monastery, Seven Art Friends
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All those things, you could still do them at home, right? Your house can be a white monastery if you want to. Only, just you will know...
ReplyDeleteCoincidence: I bought sage herb tea the other day, but I won't drink it. I'll use it for hair concoction. Sage is very good for hair strength.
Wow—I know sage is good for many, many things, but had no idea about that one! And thanks, Jay, for the reminder that I could live life as if living in a white monastery. An excellent outlook to begin the week! Have a good one.
ReplyDelete