So I'm back. I survived the perceived isolation, the spiritual retreat, and am somewhat settling back into the frantic pace of the world I generally exist in. I was very proud of myself; I didn't bring my computer and managed to swear off all of my electronic addictions, with the exception of my cell phone, as we were to abide by a very specific schedule and I had no watch. Thus, my meals depended upon knowing the time. I can say, however, that I made NO calls while there and sent minimal text messages. Anyhow, I did write, in some vague form of note taking, throughout my trip so as to enable me to chronicle the visit here. Various wisdoms suggest starting at the beginning and working from there, so I'll choose to abide by them. I'll try to paint this picture as best I can, while leaving experience in the often crippled hands of words.
The morning of Friday, June 12th, 2009 found me just like any other. I awoke and went to work to tie up some loose ends before I disappeared for a weekend. I spent most of the time thinking about leaving and forgetting about working. None the less, I wrapped up loose ends and insured I had all my "necessities" together to head to the Abbey. Some time reminiscent of 2:00pm I was picked up and we headed on our way. It was something around an hour drive from my house in downtown Charleston to the Abbey out in Moncks Corner, SC. We encountered a misguided GPS unit telling us we were worlds away (or an hour) from something a mere 10 minutes ahead, a couple stops for directions, a Family Dollar which served as a landmark, and several instances of "pedal to the metal" to get us there in time. Luckily the monk life would prove to be much more patient. The check in time was between 1 and 4 and we made it a point to push the limits to just that, their limit. We arrived at Mepkin right around 4.
The first thing you notice is that you are definitely in "God's country", and life abounds. The grass is the green that it should be, the sky is the blue that a sky asks to be seen as, and there is life upon life. The old, turning oak trees give way to small ferns growing on their branches just above various mosses and fungi which are walked upon by more insects than a city life would lead you to believe actually exist. We made our way to the "visitor's center" which doubles as a gift shop. Upon entering we were met by a monk who checked us in, took our information, gave us keys, provided us with the appropriate information, and even tested us to insure that we could make either heads or tails of the provided map of the area. It looked like this from the outside:
The monks follow a schedule that would be foreign to most of us, and we were allowed to follow anywhere from all to none of it. However, meals were very important as they were always at the scheduled time. While the guest eating area was always open, you could only count on certain things being there if you didn't show on time for meals. Here is their daily schedule:
Once we were checked in we drove to the place where we would stay. The houses are named after saints, and we were given St. Benedict, rooms 3 and 4. St. Benedict is an actual house with 4 individual rooms and 2 full bathrooms, thus we would be staying with 2 other retreatants. It's worth mentioning that one of the houses was named St. Bernard, and no, it was not a place for people to house their dogs. Here are some ideas of our house:
Here is my room, number 4, in St. Benedict.
Some other shots around the house:
So much in this house speaks to days well behind now. I couldn't help but take notice of the awesome pattern of a couch/chair set that we couldn't quite pin down to a specific time frame. In fact, we couldn't even decide what it was made of, but the general consensus was plastic. Here it is, perhaps you can pin the decade down for me:
Here is a video leading from the entrance road to our house, just off the main road into the property, and then walking inside of St. Benedict. Check out the furniture and general state of things. I had to smile at the window unit which was not put in the window, but instead in a hole directly through the wall:
Shortly after our arrival, and our unloading of the car, I went outside of our house to sit for a while. I encountered one of our roommates while bouncing around randomly on a joggling board. He is attending seminary at a school in North Carolina. We sat and talked for a while. I didn't immediately remember his name and had to ask him for it a second time after calling him something like "Dave", which wasn't even close. He told me something worth thinking about. He suggested that when you meet someone and you don't remember their name that it is actually reflective upon your state of mind, or perhaps even intentions at the time; when you don't remember the others name you are actually too caught up in yourself, the things you want to say, the stories you want to tell, thus you don't pay enough attention to who the other person actually is. You're more eager to tell someone about you than you are to listen to who someone else is. While I'm not sure I totally agree, I think it is a very interesting point to juggle around in your head, since you clearly have nothing else to occupy your time.
Anyhow, after unpacking our masses of "things", and sitting and talking to my roommate, we discovered that dinner was at 5 and we were cutting it close. So he, my friend, and I decided to take off toward the place we were to eat. We had barely left our house when we happened upon a Black Racer wandering the ground just beside us:
After this we headed to supper at 5. All meals are held in silence. Suppers are small within the monastery and this one consisted of vegetable soup, fruit, and bread with sliced cheese. The retreatants eat in the same actual building as the monks, yet we are separated into our own place by a door that looks in upon the area the monks eat. I would often get caught up watching them. Every movement they make is so determined, so methodical and precise. And you never see even a slight hint of rushing something in them.You really have to force yourself out of your general pace. Why eat quickly, where else are you headed? We're here for the entire weekend.
After the meal we headed to the 6 o'clock service. The monks want us to participate as much as possible, thus they give us seating with them in the choir section. The choir is very simple, yet beautiful in it's serenity. It consists of wooden stalls with seats which can be lifted. These are not the types of seats one would use the word "comfortable" to describe, yet the monks sat dilligently and calmly still, while us visitors all had hints of our own individual brand of shuffling about. We arrived a bit late, of course, thus we sat in the general section which consists of chairs in the front of the church looking upon the monks. I didn't mind this much since it would be the only opportunity we had to view the service from a "non-participant's view". The services have a monk playing guitar while everyone sings, focused much upon psalms. They have a predetermined set of songs and readings to be read and sang for each specific service throughout the day. We sat and watched. After the service we were approached by Brother Dismus (sp?), a young guy who appeared in his 20's. He asked us if we would like to be a part of the service or if we would prefer to sit in the audience. Naturally, we asked to be a part of it, and were designated a side to sit in throughout any service we attended. We were given the right side and he told us from there on to simply walk up and sit in the choir when we chose to attend. I was touched by the fact that they realized that we are not them, and they were willing to accommodate us to any degree necessary. They also look you directly in the eyes every time they look at you, and it isn't a normal look in the eyes. It's a look free of judgment and pride, free from dominance.
Here is an image of the layout of a service from an outside perspective:
After the service we headed back towards St. Benedict. On the way there we encountered a Cottonmouth snake hanging out in almost the exact same spot as our previous black racer. He was not happy with us and made it a point to open his menacing mouth to show us his aggression:
Here is a video of him slithering away reluctantly:
From there we decided to wander the grounds of Mepkin, which is no easy task. This place sits upon life itself. There are more bugs in any given square foot than you'd experience most any other place I've ever been in my life.
We began walking the extension of the road that leads you into Mepkin itself. Along the way you encounter bodies of water, woods, open fields, roads, and everything in between.
Along the winding road leading into the land of Mepkin there lie two very large and impressive sculptures carved from old trees. They are a very impressive site to see. Apparently Mepkin let an artist come out, who frequents the place, and carve these pieces to be left on the grounds. Here are a couple shots:
Following the path we reached a spot in the gardens where there is a large marble cross fronted by three marble grave stones:
The cross and grave stones sit atop a hill which descends down to the Cooper River's edge in a large step like fashion. We came upon a turtle wandering an open spot at the bottom of the hill:
This places is filled with gorgeous large old oak trees. Here are some other images of the general grounds, the lakes are a green that I can't describe and the pictures do no justice:
From there we ascended the hill again and walked out through an open field. Lying in the middle was the skeleton of an animal, I'm thinking a possum. There were large, tattered bird feathers scattered around the crime scene. It would appear that whatever did the catching didn't get away without a fight. I kept half of the lower jaw bone:
When we reached the edge of the field we found some stairs tucked away and descending to a bridge. They looked as though they hadn't been walked upon in quite a long time, but we couldn't resist. Down we went, and eventually up another side to a different part of the land. We found ourselves on the other side of the grounds from our house. Back in a nook in the woods, surrounded by a small brick wall, was an old cemetary for the Laurens family. Directly opposite the cemetary was a path leading to the farm where the Monks grow Oyster mushrooms which they sell to make money to support the Abbey. Unfortunately they wouldn't allow us back there. Still, I couldn't resist pushing the limits about 2 and a half steps:
OK, it was passing, but it wasn't really trespassing, but the moral scale at a monastery is tiled from the outside world to the point that this at least made me feel ever so slightly rebelious. God's apparent retort to my sarcastic stepping was to have the sky open up in a downpour, which he proceeded to do. Just after crossing back over the bridge the sky began to get dark and shine a beautifully angry shade of orange:
This would be the only time during my stay that I ran, and had this lighning been headed directly at you then you would have ran right along with me. Just as we made it back to home base, St. Benedict, the bottom fell from the sky:
The storm finally passed and I vowed not to sneak past monastic sinage for at least another day. The downpour gave us a little break time to hang out around the house and settle in a bit. When darkness came we decided it would be nice to eat something, so we snuck off to the kitchen, flashlights in hand. I grabbed some instant grits and apple juice and was a happy man. I peeked into the area where the monks eat and was caught by the cross adorning the front wall of the room. On the way out there was a tree frog plastered to the glass door, and may he forgive me my flash as I forgive those who flashed me......
When I made it back to the room I decided to crash, which was around 10:00. As I was getting ready for bed I found a mysterious red ant clinging to my pant leg:
Saturday
The monks arise daily at 3:00 am. I am not a monk. I made my valiant efforts to get up in time for the 5:30 service, and I managed to roll out of bed at 5:15 that morning, but my motivation had stayed under the covers. So instead of attending the service I decided to walk outside, and the sounds were something I had to capture as best as I could. There is life everywhere and I heard sounds I've never heard before:
I made it to breakfast at 6. Once again we all ate in silence, and breakfast, like dinner, is a small meal. We had hard boiled eggs and bread with jam. Of course, we had the stash of apple juice, orange juice, milk, instant oatmeal, instant grits, cream of wheat, and various boxed cereals to choose from that the monks stock the place with. After breakfast I walked outside and stood in a field, where I found a deer hanging out just beside of their library:
I headed back to the house to take a shower before Eucharist at 7:35. Among the casualties of the road was a mouse, and puddles abounded from the previous nights rainfall (remember, brought about by my negligence).
I hung around the house for a bit and then headed off to the church for the 7:35 serivce. The service went as before, more singing, more guitar playing and reading from the Bible. This time I was up in the choir section sitting with the monks. They talked about speech and meaning what you say. They also told us not to swear on our head, and since I am firmly planted on my feet I feel fine in saying @&%*. Toward the end of the service we all filed out of the choir section and circled around the alter as the monks blessed the bread and wine in preparation for communion. After completing their task they brought the bread around to each of us, one by one, taking it to their fellow monks first before proceeding to us. Some chose to hold out their hands, others to open their mouths and have the bread placed directly in. I was an opener, as this was an opportunity not many get to have. We then filed to the cups where we drank the wine and sat back in our stalls in the choir section until everyone was finished.
I didn't do any more photographing of the services or the monks. For some reason I didn't feel like I should, or at least I was more interested in experiencing it and less in documenting because the images and videos I did take seemed to fall so short. I also felt it disrespectful to be invited to sit beside them during their service and be snapping off pictures the whole time. I will say that there were approximately 12 or so of them and they were dominated by very elder men. Two of them seemed to be in their 20's.
After this I sat out on an excursion throughout the land to see whatever I may. Almost immediately I came upon a tree with three large Barred Owls hanging out in it. Two of them took off rather quickly but one stuck around and let me watch it for a bit:
Since I was already down by the lake I continued on around looking for the fabled alligators said to be in the waters. We found one, but only after I walked within ten feet of it, passed it, and someone else said "um, it's right there". And it was right there. It wasn't huge, but my arm would have been well within it's diet. We stood there with it taking pictures and slowly creeping closer and closer quarter steps at a time. Finally it threw itself into the water with a swiftness that fully solidified the speed with which it could have thrown itself into me. It was a beautiful sight:
I went back and slept a while, took a cold shower, and asked my stomach to stop speaking to me. The next service was at noon, and it is called Sext. That's right, MONKS HAVE SEXT AT NOON EVERYDAY. That should help their numbers. Anyhow, on the way to attend Sext we encountered a woman who worked at the Abbey, who, upon not knowing we were retreatants there, told us we had to go to church or leave. This was the only hint of negativity I saw the entire time there. To be fair, she realized she'd been rude and made attempts to reconcile, or rather to explain it away as being concerned for our 'safety'. After Sext was lunch, and this was the best meal, as it is the largest and we also get to go through the same food line as the monks do here. So we all file into the kitchen behind the monks and grab our food in silence and creep away to our room of the building to eat in. Their food was vegetarian and very good. I could happily eat that way everyday and not complain. One of the things contained some of the mushrooms that were grown at the Abbey. During this meal a book is real aloud for everyone, and I couldn't understand a single word of it from our room, but I can take a guess at its subject matter.
The rest of the night I roamed and saw another owl. It was amazing how time slowed down at this place. A minute could be an hour for all you'd know, and you'd find yourself slowing down right along with it all. I spent some time just being in the woods then went home and read myself to sleep.
Sunday
I arose just after 5 am and at some point in there had a conversation with someone who suggested that people's reactions to you and the things they do and say involving you are really highly reflective upon themselves. I went to the least services today and spent the most time out and about on the land and just relaxing. In fact, there were many times of the day that looked like this:
I wandered back down to the water and got myself involved with some alligators. They were on both sides of me in the water just swimming around and looking at me as I looked back at them. One crept slowly closer and closer to me in the water. I stood there and watched so long that I missed lunch and only made it in time to grab some orange juice, but it was somehow enough. On the way to a kitchen I also caught a heron flying away from me:
From here several of us headed over to the monastery's gift shop. I wanted to get something as a keepsake and I also felt it would be nice to help them out with some income to keep the place going. Afterall, they did invite us in and feed us and house us. The shop is filled with beautiful hand made pottery from all over. I could have emptied my bank account on it but I decided temperance might be a wiser route. They also sell a large selection of religious books. But, when I stumbled upon the case filled with rosaries I knew what I had to get. So I picked out a bright red one made from red coral with an elaborate cross hanging from it. It was very pretty and very Catholic. I also grabbed a package of the aforementioned oyster mushroom that they grow there and some creamed honey made by their brothers at a monastery in Virgina. And just so you know, it's very good.
From there I headed back to the room to crash for a long time because I was exhausted. I sat down in the living room briefly and a book lying on the coffee table reminded me to "be patient with the faults of others, they have to be patiend with you". I awoke a couple hours later.
It was just in time to run to the 5:00 service and then to supper at 5:45, which was welcome since alligators had prevented me from eating my lunch. Luckily, supper on Sunday is larger than supper throught the week and we got to go through the line with the monks once again. Supper was great, as would be expected, so I filled myself beyond capacity, listened to the music they were playing, and watched the monks make the exact same routine movements they had been making at every previous meal, then headed back out into the land. Here is another shot of the area the monks eat at night:
Cut back to the land. While playing with more alligators we discovered some even creepier steps than the other ones we trekked down which were located off a path leading behind the lake. Naturally, I had to climb them. Imagine my disappointment when all I was met with was a sign of a monk putting his hand out telling me to stop. I must not have learned my lesson from the last thunderstorm because I decided to be a rebel again, and put my arm behind it. I am hardcore:
At some point in there another snake came creeping out of the tall grass at the edge of the lake:
We also came across a very cool bird's nest containing 4 baby birds handing on the tip of a branch of a tree just beside the old, small cemetary that we discovered earlier:
Among the other cool things I saw today: a bicylcling monk, a car driving monk, a monk give a guy a high five, and a praying mantis. Unfortunately, I only photographed one of those.
I went home and went to bed in preparation of attending the 3:20 am service, which I hadn't done yet.
Monday
Up at 2:45 am to make the 3:20 service. The walk to the church was in complete darkness with only the aid of the 3 flashlights that each of us were carrying. The sky was amazing, there were more stars than many of us have probably ever seen. This was my favorite service of the entire trip by far. The church was very dark and during the readings they turned off all the lights except for one light that shined down upon the one monk reading from the bible. It was very peaceful. Interestingly, when the 3 of us showed up to the church we found exaclty three stalls set up, opened to the pages for the morning service, and ready to be used. Perhaps they knew we were coming?
The walk back to the house went just as the walk to the church and somewhere along the way I decided to shine my light into the woods around us. We were surrounded, and everywhere you looked were the tiny spots of deer retinas sending the light from my flashlight back in my direction.
We finally wandered back to our house, packed up our things, and sunk into our beds to get a little more sleep for the last time before we left. I never got to sit and talk with a monk, but the experience was a great one. These people opened up their entire world to us. Acclimating to the pace of the outside world would not be easy. This place is so full of peace, and slowness, and honesty, and the higher points of humanity.
Around 8:30 we jumped into the car, returned our keys, and headed out. I was lucky enough to have one more treat in store. On the way home we ran by the Birds of Prey refuge located in Awendaw. This is a place you need to see. They have tons of birds; owls, hawks, eagles. I was told they get these 3 ways: 1) injured from the wild, 2) raised by humans and unable to acclimate to the wild again, and 3) from trade with other places to increase diversity. And diverse they are, as they have owls from all over the entire world, and seeing them was completely amazing (owls are my favorite birds). Here is a barn owl dancing with me, or perhaps telling me to go away:
From there we went home and I went to work, just like any other normal day. This was a great experience and I highly recommend it to anyone. The question I keep getting asked is this: do you feel enlightened? I feel lightened, and while perhaps not completely enlightened, I don't see any reason why I really have to be right now.
Other Details
You can find out more about Mepkin, as well as schedule your own retreat here.
You can learn more about a visit to The Center for Birds of Prey here.
