Well I've lasted 4 days in the woods. Now I'm sitting in a coffee house in the nearest "city", drinking Cappucino and enjoying a hard-to-track-down Wi Fi connection. Russellville is about twenty miles from the hermitage. Remember when Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie went to Arkansas? They lived in Altus, twenty miles in the other direction. Compared to the Altus (population 400?) Russellville is huge (pop. 23,000). I've only been here once, several years ago. Today I parked the car downtown, and wandered around the streets. If you ignore the nuclear power plant that belches smoke over the horizon, it's a charming city. I needed directions, and went inside a cake shop that looked nice. I asked the lady for directions to a pizza parlor I visited the last time I was here. She said "You are standing in it". I looked around. It was the same place, new owners. I walked right into the same tiny, back alley and picked the same door to go through...somehow that strikes me as deeply funny. Maybe that's what the woods do to you??
The hermitage is lovely. It's very quiet. I sleep like I'm in my own bed, which is amazing considering how far I am from home. I've mostly finished the article, and now I just need an editor to help me reduce the length. I'll start on the booklet tonight. It's difficult to gather statistics without the internet though, which is why I focused on the article first.
The second morning I was there, I visited the parish cemetary. Afterwards I walked down a small road to find a trail just beyond, marked down by the nuns on a handwritten map. I found the first gate, and crossed a long field. When I reached the other side of the field I was pretty far from everywhere, and still had some space to go before I reached the woods. I couldn't see the second gate. There was a rise in the land and I walked further to see over. Just as I reached the first stand of trees, a full grown coyote stepped into view walking towards me. I was so surprised, and he was so large, I thought it was a wolf. My heart jumped into my throat. We spotted each other at the same time, and in unison, we both turned on our heels and walked back the ways that we came. I resisted the impulse to run like crazy. It was interesting to see how fast the mind works. I scanned the grass and picked up a large staff-like branch in a matter of seconds, and, taking the longest possible strides, and looking behind me often, reached the first gate and finally let out my breath.
Note to self: Do not walk so quickly through a field of cow patties in Birkenstocks.
The nuns seemed alarmed that I had seen him during the day. They said there were coyotes, which only here or see at night.
I eat dinner with the nuns, and went to chapel with them once.
I'm sure they are all over 60, and Sister Marian is 89. She is so tiny and bent over, but still active. I haven't seen her much. She went to visit an (actual biological) sister that lives nearby.
Sister Andrea (pronounced On-dray-uh) must be in her 70's. She does the cooking and is likewise very tiny, white haired, and soft spoken. I have to bend down to hug her. I have never felt so served by someone during a meal in my life. I never realize it as I eat, but she is watching me at all times, and the second I think I need something, without asking her, she appears next to me and fills the glass or clears my place. She is like an emobodiment of servitude, completely in tune with people, more than they are with themselves. I can see that she is always thinking of the next thing to serve, without hurrying anyone towards it.
Sister Ethel is very active, always smiling. Well, I think they are all very active. Sister Ethel drives a truck, and often wears coveralls and does outdoor work. She is the one who emailed with me about visiting the hermitage. I think she has been out here for over 20 years. She says that she is a Cajun, from Lousianna. I think it was she who said during a dinner prayer to help the President end the war. I notice that they are very progressive on things like peace and environmental issues. Their new house (The old one was hit by a tornado), uses geothermal heat and cooling systems.
Sister Louise is the most talkative. All of the nuns enjoy a kind of private sense of humor, and laugh easily at things that have meaning to them. Sister Louise I think does the most to laugh at things in a way that is funny to anyone. I was reading a small book that gave a history of St. Scholastica (where they live). In it the tornado that hit the building (which was fortunately empty) is recounted by Sister Louise. She says something to the effect of "....I can tell you that if that tornado had gone just a little ways in the other direction (pointing to a hermitage on the other side of the building) there are a couple of sisters here who would have been looking at their final reward!". She speaks like this about many things. In the garden she exclaimed "I am supposed to love all of God's creatures. But I have a very hard time loving gophers". And when she told me the beans were delicious, she turned to a rabbit laying in the bushes and announced "I'm not talking to you. The beans are not for the rabbits, and there is nothing here you want to eat. Remember that!". And when I asked if it was safe to cross through their herd of cows to reach a certain gate, she said "Yes, but if they choose to stand in front of me on the sidewalk, I don't like to argue".
I think this kind of humor is a part of their culture. I read a fictional account of a convent of Discalced Nuns (they live in complete solitude, go barefoot, fast, do hard labor, do not speak 23 hours a day, and whip themselves on the shoulder...it's a very strict order). Anyway the book talks about how the intensity of the life makes deeply affecting humor found in something as small as a sneeze. The book describes a letter arriving at the convent in a child's handwriting, addressed to "The Disgraced Sisters" and they all found it so profoundly funny the head Mother thought she would have to declare of day of rest for everyone to recover themselves.
Time to head back!
