Emerging from the Monastery

That's a metaphor. I haven't been wearing a robe and shaving a bald spot on the back of my head.

But I have emerged from a somewhat monastic sabbatical from "public" life. My retreat was imposed, in part, by several circumstances of my private life. But I found the exile useful and continued in it for a time by choice when life circumstances no longer required it.

Why the retreat?

First, blogging had become a burden. Too much "look at me" had crept in. I don't for one minute think I've escaped that. But now I think I let it scare me away from something I was meant to do: write. The looky-me serpent is always going to be there, looking to derail and sidetrack me. But now I'm thinking: Better to stare it down, and get on.

Second, I worried that I had nothing to add, really, to the conversation (in the blogosphere or anywhere else, for that matter). And when that wasn't niggling in my brain, I worried that I would add my two cents only to find myself suddenly out of step with people who I'd very much like to walk alongside. Both of these worries persist, but neither justifies silence. Again, better to stare it down, and get on.

Third, despite the insupportable motivations for escaping, I found leave-taking a refreshing experience. I not only stopped blogging, I backed away from several other activities (church-related and otherwise), declined to accept several invitations to participate in several others, and those few in which I continued, I cut back, so they occupied less of my time.

For the first time in years, I spent many hours at a stretch in solitary activities: One was mourning. Old losses and new. An important task I had been putting off. Another was learning to truly enjoy my own company. I walked. I read. I indulged my for movies, I even began experimental cooking again (something I've rarely time and inclination for). I also spent time thinking without feeling the need the need to talk about it or explain it or blog it and worry whether or not I was making an idiot of myself. I really needed that. And I got to where I really liked the quiet and solitude.

As a result, my stress level (which I hadn't thought was so high) abated significantly, and in the calm, I realized it had been quite high indeed.

It wasn't all peace and contentment, however. Since my last post, I have been hospitalized (Thanksgiving Day!) with blood clots on the lungs, a condition from which I am recovering. That was a shocker. On the other hand the three days I spent in the hospital after the inital shock were among the most freeing — and healing — of my sabbatical period. I had no computer, no responsibilities, nowhere to go and had the best excuse in the world to opt out altogether for a long weekend and let others take care of the world! I think it was a God thing.

Sometimes we just need to stop, if only to figure out where we are, where we've been and where God might be leading. So I did.

In the last couple of weeks, I've found myself writing post-like comments in e-mails to others and on other's blogs. I realized that it was time to emerge from exile and start again.