One’s capacity at the moment.

A line of cars-so many SUVs in one place!-surround my hideaway. Being the only pilgrim squirreled away in the monastery guest house I suspect that all these mothers, fathers, caregivers, doing the carpool lane for the school have no inclination to suspect I am inside….watching them snail by…

I’ve spent the day wondering why I am here.

Not entirely mind you; I took a great walk. I’ve seen views from Covington I didn’t know I’d see. I went to midday prayer and enjoyed the company of the nuns for an hour.

But it’s much different here. And all I can hear in my head is ‘you should go home’. ‘I should just go home.’

Because, I realize, quite frankly I might as well be; at home. I am not in the monastery proper, but in a guest house across the fields, three stories high in an ancient brick and stone manse. Sounds like home to me…

At home I’d be more useful; worthwhile engagement would be going on. Here I am puzzled and in flight; my brain unanchored where I thought I would find a foothold for the investment of time.

I ponder; perhaps it is a) too soon after the February retreat and b) too much like being in my own house, alone to c) connect and ground in this March solitary retreat. There is no meat in it and I have brought no meat to it.

I am going home.

Tomorrow, after midday prayer, I will let Sister Mary Carol know I am high-tailing it to the highway; taking myself back to the center of Lexington to my safe house.

I have written briefly. I have catalogued the experience; brief. And I have soaked through the luscious library.

That is one thing I will miss; they have the best library of any I have seen thus far. Hands down. I’ve photographed covers and will take them with me to find on my kindle when back to wifi.

I am going home.

Solitude waits for me there, in its own right, and I will find it, and put it to work for me, now that I realize I was already in it, all along.

Perhaps April will find more engagement and appreciation. If not, I’ll know something needs to shift. In the meantime, I am going to respond to the prompts picking on me all day, and just go home.

Makings sure to do so when the SUV trail is well dissipated and I can get away~

I am going home.

Letting this too, even this, be counted as the experience it was meant to be. In this year dedicated to visiting monasteries to engage in the solitude and silence of the monastic practice, even this seemingly failed attempt has to count, for something learned.