Hier wat stukken uit m`n logboek dat ik bijhield op Caldey Island.
Caldey Island is een eiland voor de zuidkust van Wales vlak bij Tenbey. Het eiland wordt momenteel bewoond door Cistercienzer monnikken die zich gespecialiseerd hebben in bidden en de productie van chocola en parfum. Hier vind je meer informatie over Caldey zelf en wat mooie plaatjes.
http://www.caldey-island.co.uk/ Het logboek is helaas voor de Nederlandse lezers geschreven in het engels, omdat ik het dien in te leveren als onderdeel van een cursus die ik hier volg; mijn excuses voor het ongemak. Stukken die ik geknipt heb zijn aangegeven met (...). M`n Caldey Journal is erg persoonlijk. Ik heb alleen die dingen geknipt die betrekking hebben op andere personen of die net iets te persoonlijk waren om op het internet te publiceren. Ik realiseer me dat ik me hiermee erg kwetsbaar opstel, maar aan de andere kant denk ik dat dit blootgeven onderdeel is van het onderhouden van een weblog. Hoe dan ook. Hier zijn grote brokken Caldey Journal.
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Caldey 9/5/2005
We leave Lampeter in a van. A group of individuals who knows close to nothing of eachother. The only thing we seem to have in common is our destination; Caldey Island. We drive down to Tenby where we have to wait a while before a boat takes us to Caldey itself. I take the time to climb the nearby castle hill. I want to see the island before it sees me. After all the stories I’ve heard of how a trip to Caldey is a life-changing experience I want to know as best as I can what I’m getting myself into. From a distance Caldey Island seems like a lurking predator, lying low in the water, waiting for any hapless soul to come to close and be devoured, chewed upon and spit out again into the world, changed forever. I’m not quite sure if I even want to change. Still I’m going. Once more curiosity drives me out into the unknown.
On the boat over to Caldey the island seems to grow even more vicious, but I have decided to come and I am not turning back now. Even if I would hate it, it would still be a great experience. No matter what would happen, it will never be a waste of time. I got to know some of my travel companions a little bit and it is indeed a very mixed group. Each and every one of them has their own interesting stories to tell and their own private reasons for going to Caldey. It will be interesting at the least.
Once I set foot ashore and am greeted by the guest-master Father Sennan, I feel an inexplicable calm. It is as if the savage monster had only been a disguise for a friendly shepherd dog. Even the ducks in their happy little ponds have nothing to fear on this island and keep quacking away at every visitor that might give them a bit of bread. I still don't let go of all my reserve though. This is my first day here and I reckon the island is probably just at its best behavior, just waiting to lash out in some unforeseen but fatal way.
However, the sea is calm the people more than friendly and all seems to go exceedingly well. Soon, however, I am leaving the peace and quiet behind me again and make straight for the spot on the map that is marked 'dangerous cliffs' near the Caldey lighthouse. It is great to be up there and feel the wind blow through my mind. This is the holiness I had expected, not the chocolate box monastery down in the village where the air is thick and cultivated. I feel much more at ease here at the cliffs. It is what Dr. Wooding calls indeed one of those rare thin places. I feel the wind about me, how it revives me from the depths of research and from the books I have been reading. Out here I am in tune with the elements again. I feel I can look at my studies and my daily life from a distance and evaluate them more or less objectively. The cliffs, seagulls, skylarks and the wind all give me a sense of eternity. The timelessness of a natural place, a holy place outside of regular time is forming the backdrop for a sacred journey.
On my return, the old Priory only enhanced the feeling of thinness. Being there on my own it is as if I can almost touch history. I go in and light a candle; not believing in its saving powers, but as a tribute and as an act of remembrance to those who do believe, my mother and my grandmother in particular. It is also a sign of respect for the spirits of old which I feel dwell in such ancient places. It all seems to add up at this point. Timelessness and holiness go hand in hand but I haven't figured out how and I wonder if I ever will.
Coming from the cliffs and the Old Priory, I am a little disappointed by Compline in the monastery church. It doesn't have that poignant aura of holiness as much as I felt at the cliffs. It is only the monks themselves who are able to transfer some of their religious feelings to me and the repetition of their voices create an echo of what I have experienced on the cliffs and at the Old Priory. It is them that make the abbey church holy and timeless. Their devotion is at the same time cultivated as ancient and timeless. The mixture of these elements gives the office its charm and meaning.
At the end of the first day I wonder what all this has to do with me. What is it about this island, or about islands in general that make them thin places, holy places? What part of this is going to change me and how? What is the significance of living on an island to your view of the mainland? I can only try and find the answers to these questions through experiencing as much as I can of Caldey Island life. I wonder what's going to happen, but I think my reason for being here can best be summed up by a phrase which has led me in to no small number of interesting experiences; I wonder what will happen if…
Caldey 10/5/2005
The Cistercian values contain a necessity for solitude; imitating Christ in the desert and the early desert fathers. The exterior solitude of remote or desert places provides the foundation for a deeper interior solitude that allows the monk to deepen and strengthen his relationship with God. In his ultimate solitude the monk is completely abandoned to God. This strikes me as I hear Brother David talk about the Cistercian origins and values. Be still, be there and be nothing, are the three essential bee’s for a Cistercian monk. Yes, this is more easily said then done.
This second day on Caldey Island and already the place seems familiar and I can feel a certain attachment. I enjoy myself most along the beach, at the lighthouse with its magnificent cliffs and in the windswept fields. I start to greet the animals as if they are old friends. The seagulls come in massive numbers and seem an intrusion from the mainland, but this is more their place than mine. In fact I am the intruder here. I am out near the island of St. Margaret when I come upon the lord of the fields and his ladies. A stare down with the bull freezes us both for a couple of seconds that seem to stretch into eternity, but then the bull loses interest in me and walks away, sniffing diminutively and mooing his harem to follow. Apparently we have come to an agreement, one with which I so not fully understand but with which I am quite happy I must say.
I am still trying to find my place in this little world while at the same time trying to trace down the exterior solitude the first pilgrim saints must have experienced when they first came here. By going on my long walks I Hope to create some interior solitude as well so that I can take some of Caldey's peaceful atmosphere home with me when I leave. I do hope that I can manage to maintain some of the simplicity of the Cistercian life and implement it in my own. Perhaps it can be done through simple reflection. I never was one to pray or to put my faith in an ever present and meddling God. I always trust in what my own conscience tells me to be wrong and right and like to think that so far I have managed quite well. I will give reflection and meditations a try. I have done so in the past, but was never able to sustain it for very long.
Brother David refers to balance. There needs to be a balance between study, prayer and work. I found that to be very true. Everything in good measure, but I do miss the actual working part on this monastic experience. I expected to have to do some kind of manual work as well, but it seems that as a guest you only have to do the studying and the contemplating parts. Fine, but after a week I probably want to be doing something constructive again. I know myself well enough to get dissatisfied if nothing visible comes out of my hands for any length of time. I do think the system the Cistercians use makes sense, but you will have to do it all study, prayer and work for it to be effective. I do not agree with the extremity they devote to prayer and I do not have the faith they do, but if the praying part is determined by once personal faith and can be substituted by meditation and reflections, I think it could work rather well as a way of life ‘out in the world’.
Caldey 11/5/2005
Aelred of Rivaulx wrote 'the Mirror of Charity'. It provides a deliberate exaggeration as a model to follow or to aspire to. I feel like that about the monks of Caldey Island. Their faith and their extreme devotion seem like a deliberate exaggeration of how any other Christian would lead a good Christian life. They provide a model for the rest to follow and praying elite for those who need their comfort. Love, Aelred wrote, is divided into three categories; love of self, love of neighbour and love of God. All three of them need to be working together.
(...)
In his lecture Dr. Wooding refers to the early stages of monasticism as a peripheral activity. Caldey Island certainly seems remote, but then again, it may not have been much further away to the early medieval traveler as the next village. However, instead of a village it was a cloister, a little patch of the kingdom of heaven trying to stand its ground on the deserts of this earth. It is one of the places that has a thinness to it that makes one aware of the presence of more powerful entities than humanity; the elements, demons or God, all are felt more present in the desert. Yet still, all monasteries that figure in our sources seem awfully well connected for places of peripheral activity. They may have started as peripheral places, but their importance transformed the periphery into the centre, or so it seems.
This morning my day starts extremely early; 3.00h walking through the darkness of Caldey under a moonlit and star bright sky. It is magnificent, I love every minute of that little stroll in the darkness on my way to Vigil, and the office itself is almost anti-climatic. I still think that Vigil is the timeliest of all the offices. It really marks the watershed between night and day and the knowledge that somewhere in the middle of the night, people are up and about caring for those who cannot sleep, are ill or depressed is very comforting. I know they will never be able to physically intervene, but the knowledge that some-one, somewhere is awake and caring is all it takes really. I can see why people find the monastic life important and are even willing to devote their entire life to it.
(...)
One quote from one of Brother David’s poems particularly comes to mind; “Living in two worlds until both become one.” That’s what I have been doing for a while. I have been dividing my life up in small partitions that have little to do with each other. I have a life with my old high school friends and family back home, I’ve got a life in Utrecht and everyone I met during my time as a student and now I also have a life as a Lampeter student. How many worlds can there be to live in? I think it is time to set aside the safety of always having a separate world to fall back on and try to create one in which I can live completely by merging all three lives into one. Monks do go out into a whole different world all of their own, leaving their old world radically behind them, but still maintain some connection to it. There is something to be said for the bravery of having but one world.
Caldey 12/5/2005
Brother David’s second lecture on friendship leaves me thinking of old friends back home. I haven’t seen them in a while, but I must remember to put some effort into maintaining their friendship. It is hard work at times, but it is also very rewarding. I hope it will be true that meeting old friends after a while is like they never even left the room.
Today we had our first lecture of brother Gildas. I have heard a lot about him before meeting him. I wasn’t disappointed. It is strange to hear him talk about the monastic life. I know that monks are just like ‘normal’ men despite their robes and devotion, but it is good to hear it confirmed first hand by a monk himself.
Caldey 13/5/2005
I walk to the vigil again under a splendid night’s sky filled with stars. I am almost reluctant to go into church. You can hear the wind has picked up. During the vigil itself I am distracted by thoughts on the violence of the texts of the psalms and even the peaceful voices of the monks can do nothing to conceal their viciousness. It reminds me of the phrase brother Gildas used that monks are soldiers of Christ; the psalms are fit for soldiers indeed.
(...)
When I am about to fall asleep, my alarm clock calls for Laud and Mass, but I am so tired by then that I turn it off and sleep till breakfast, plagued by strange dreams of high school torments and schoolteachers unforgiven. It is strange to hear Huw say the next day that: “Forgiveness is remembering with love.” I think he’s right, but it takes more than willpower to do just that, even for the little trespasses against us. It is not that I am unforgiving; I’ve only become more conscious of the effort it takes.
I found that a lot of the monastic praying techniques are similar to meditation practices used in other cultures. The crucial thing that makes all the difference is the focus monks use. However, I am still hesitant to choose any focus. I do not commit myself easily to something I do not know in minute detail. I want to know before I can believe, but then again faith has little to do with knowledge. It is said that we do not choose God, but that God chooses us. Until I know more, I am reluctant to choose, or allow myself to be chosen.
Whatever god is perceivable on this island I do not know, but the term thin-place keeps re-occurring in my mind. The wind sweeps up the waves that crash against the jagged red limestone cliffs at the lighthouse and the piercing voices of the seagulls echo against the blue and gray sky. By now I have walked the breadth and width of this island, but I feel I can never be wholly at peace here. There is a solitude that I would like to integrate more thoroughly into my personality but I know that my place is in the world where more things happen and life is ever-changing and ever in motion. I am restless, too restless for a peaceful little island such as this. I can only see this island as a way-station; a place to rest and recharge for a few days. I simply know that my place is not here.
Thoughts keep tumbling through my head. I find myself thinking I am ready to leave. I’ve seen the monks, the island and the tiny little village. I am even a little angry. If I was a monk where-ever I am and whatever I was doing, I would have to drop it and get back to church. I so enjoy just sitting at the cliffs watching the waves. It is the wild things on this island that recharge me, not the cultured tranquility of the village pond and the offices. I am angry and defiant of the things humans have created and the way in which they have imposed their will upon the land. I seem to be the only one who feels this way of our group. Maybe it is because I am still young. The rest seems perfectly happy to doze off in a rhythmic cycle of sleep, prayers, meals and contemplation. Being alone with the elements I find far more uplifting and far more powerful than tranquility and rhythmic devotion. It is outdoors that I experience something of the thin-ness of which Dr. Wooding spoke earlier.
That night I go out. I am as restless as the sea surrounding the island. I take a torch and follow my feet up to the Calvary. Shining my light at the wooden Christ I wish it would be as easy to shine a light of knowledge on the face of the Christian God. Questions storm through my head as the black shape of the seagulls in the storm wind at the strand. To know God you need both Love and Reason; I wonder which of them I’m lacking.
(...)
When I come up to the old priory I notice that tonight my feet seem to drag me to abandoned places. I think I’m trying to find a sense of eternity there, or a resigned-ness to the bashing impetus of time itself which my restless mind is lacking. I feel very uncomfortable, walking the old road up to the Old Priory. Without knowing it, I take the exact same route as the apparition the inhabitants call ‘the black monk’. I hear his story the following day from brother Gildas, but it feels as if ‘the black monk’ is with me every step of the road until I force myself over the threshold into the Old Priory.
Sitting there I write in my journal again. Why do monks do what they do? Christianity boils down to this doesn’t it? “Love your neighbour as you love yourself.” I take that as a guideline and leave the rest simply up to the voice of my conscience. I live within the confines of my own personal morality in which Jesus is a mortal man and an influential teacher and in which God is a possibility. There has to be some force, some source, some origin of all that we see around us; you might as well call it a god. Such are the walls of my inner enclosure, the confines of my heart which I am exploring through solitude and contemplation because there is little else to do.
Caldey 14/5/2005
Coming up to the Calvary today I see the wooden image of the crucified Christ again. It seems that my stay at this island is all leading up to a formulation of things I already know but have never fully worded. When it comes to faith, this is what I think I can believe in.
I do love the world around me with all that lives. I like what I am and where I am at this point in my life. I do my best to live the thought of loving your neighbour. I do believe that this wonderful universe has an origin and an ending. I do believe that there is a source, a force responsible for all this which you might call a god. The process of evolution, free will and change are inherent in the creative forces of this universe. Furthermore I do believe that there was an impressive man named Jesus who managed to attract a large amount of followers with his message to “love the father, the creator of this universe and love everything in it, yourself and your neighbour as yourself.” According to me, religion could very well do without all the rest. It is not much of a ‘confessio’, but it is mine, a personal view, a private mysticism if you will and now for the first time it is actually written down.
Looking out over the sea, I notice that it is as smooth as the village pond next to the gift shop. It seems as if my mood has followed the turmoil of the sea, or vice versa. I find it strangely appropriate to see inner turmoil reflected in the elements and the elements reflected in inner turmoil.
Caldey 15/5/2005
There are no lectures today. It is Sunday and the last day on Caldey island. I take the time to go to as many of the offices as possible and I have peace with it. Despite that I am brought up as a Roman Catholic I can now perceive it as an interesting cultural phenomenon. I can sense that it has meaning for the people around me and I feel the communal atmosphere that is important in everyone’s life, but I know that I am witnessing a ritual that has little to do with the things I believe in. I’ve found my own personal faith in a way on an island wholly involved in Christianity. Because of that I decide not to receive communion. Not out of defiance, but out of a self-affirmation of what I now believe in. It is a separation rite for me, although it was odd to feel the disconnection with the community made direct.
Back at the Guesthouse we are asked to reflect again on the concepts of Sacred Time, Sacred Space and Sacred Journey. These things keep reoccurring in my own personal experiences on this island I guess. I have discovered that Sacred Spaces to me are those places largely untouched by human will and hands or those places that are alone and abandoned and exude an air of eternity because of it. At places like that there seems to be no time and every second spent there is in a way suspended in Sacred Time as well as in Sacred Space. It is probably the same thing the monks experience in their cloister and in their daily routine of prayer. God is by them perceived as being outside of time, so the closest any living being can come to God outside of time is to create the idea of timelessness through repetition, endless repetition. I can see Caldey as such a consciously constructed timeless void in which it is as easy to see St. Samson land as it is to see an UFO. Past, present and future seem to have little meaning here. To me however, the peripheral cliffs, seaside and rocks have a more natural timelessness and sacred pull.
I realize now that I have answered different questions than those with which I came here. The academic made way for a personal internal Sacred Journey that turned this trip in an exterior Sacred Journey as well. I didn’t know I set out to answer questions of this magnitude, but it happened nonetheless and I do not think it would have happened soon if I hadn’t undertaken this journey. I am grateful for this opportunity and I think I understand monasticism a little better now, but I still think I need to follow a different road. A road which I see a little bit clearer now, because this opportunity has forced me to sit and think things through to their natural conclusions.
Lampeter 16/5/2005
Coming back from Caldey we go through the busy streets of Tenbey. I think I understand where part of the stress and strain of daily life is coming from now. There are too many people, occupying too little space. Everyone needs room to roam and not worry about unknown circumstances. Every single person on the street is an unknown factor. The more there are, the more you need to be aware of them and the more stress is involved. Ecologically, cramping too many people in a too small area is also a strain and stress on the environment. I do not know a solution for this problem, but the more I think about it, the more it seems to be one of the big challenges of the future; how to sustain ourselves in a world that is unable to sustain all of us living as we westerners do nowadays? Now that I have been to an island that offers a little room to roam and whose community does not seem to overstretch the limits of sustainability and know-ability I notice how much peace it can bring and how it immediately reduces stress and anxieties on both the individual and on the environment at large. I think I have found something to strive towards as well; an ecologically sustainable way of life while taking with me my now articulated view of what I believe in.
When I left they said Caldey Island would change me. It did, but not in a bad way. It made me more conscious of my own thoughts and ideals and it created a way-station so that I could review and recharge myself to better understand where I am coming from and where I intend to go. Overall it has been a valuable experience to walk within the confines of my heart. I think I understand monasticism a little better now, but more importantly I think I understand myself a little better after this week.
