I was up all night last night. First, spending precious time with Bede. Then, in the workshop fabricating the metal bits of my amplifier project. This project is turning out to be more difficult than I imagined--but I'm certainly learning a lot. The value of a good table saw and drill press, for example! I working so hard on it right now because I want to get it completed before I leave for New Jersey to see my mom. Once I leave, I won't have easy access to these tools. I suppose that since the major fabrication is done I might be able to finish without a workshop, but I just as soon get the damn thing built while I have my work spaces set up, etc.
Also today I have one last interview to do, a short list of B-roll to shoot that I haven't gotten already, a session with the monks to go over some final details about the website, and then packing up all my crap (and there is a lot of that).
Even as I write this I realize I'm going to have to drop something. Either I spend another night here (disappointing my mom), or else something doesn't get done. Sigh.
-t
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Winding Up
I leave Holy Cross tomorrow. It hardly seems like I've been here for more than a week or two. Probably the two side-trips I took (to NYC and to North Carolina) contribute to that sense the time here has been brief.
In the first few days when I arrived we had a community meeting to talk about what I wanted to accomplish viz. the website. I've actually managed to do most of that, though plenty still remains. Notably:
I've made progress on each of those, but they are daunting tasks. Setting up a content management system, for example, has turned into building my own from scratch in PHP (a programming language). So first I had to learn PHP! Progress in developing the tool with which Holy Cross monks will be able to edit data online is steady but tedious.
Producing a series of videos is another example. I've interviewed almost all the monks and a few friends and Residents. There are only a few left to do today and tomorrow. That means about 12 hours worth of interviews in the can. Then consider that I taped all these interviews with two cameras (for two different angles) and used my digital audio recorder as back-up--so that's a total of 24 hour of interview footage, plus another hour of B-roll, plus about 10 hours worth of footage of liturgies. When I get back to Toronto I should easily have enough for six or seven 12-15 minute videos! Yikes!
But when I first sat down with the monks I was aware that it would be unlikely that I would complete everything on the wish list during my stay. It gives me something to do when I get home, I suppose. And in truth, most good websites keep evolving, anyway. The only way it would have been possible for to have completed everything on the list would have been a death-march like effort that would have left me exhausted and haggard when I should be feeling relaxed and inspired from my time here.
So do I feel relaxed and inspired? Yes, I do believe I am. In a few minutes I'm saying Mass in the chapel. I'm looking forward to that. Then I have an interview to do. I'm also hoping to complete my amplifier today. Yesterday I spent about five hours working the wood to create the enclosure. Because the workshop here is very hit-or-miss when it comes to even basic tools, I had to do a lot of improvising. Even simple tasks like cutting a straight line with a table saw was made difficult! So today I should be able to stain the wood and then, hopefully, do final assembly.
There is a saying that the benefits of retreat are gained in the last few minutes before it ends. Certainly this last week or two I've felt very much at home here. I think "the house" and I have re-established our relationship on new terms. There was nothing wrong with the old terms of that relationship, except that they were old and therefore in need of renewal. The benedictines say, "And always we begin again." I've had to build up relationship with some new people and refresh other relationships that I've had for many years. So it goes.
One of the Brothers asked me when I'm coming back. As it turns out, I'll be back in September with my confirmation group. That will be only a weekend, but it will be great, I'm sure. After that, who knows. The baby will determine a lot of my schedule come December.
So tomorrow I'll pack up. But today there is still a lot of work to do!
-t
In the first few days when I arrived we had a community meeting to talk about what I wanted to accomplish viz. the website. I've actually managed to do most of that, though plenty still remains. Notably:
- Redo the Order's website
- Set up a Content Management System
- Establish a social networking tool for Associates
- Add videos to the website
I've made progress on each of those, but they are daunting tasks. Setting up a content management system, for example, has turned into building my own from scratch in PHP (a programming language). So first I had to learn PHP! Progress in developing the tool with which Holy Cross monks will be able to edit data online is steady but tedious.
Producing a series of videos is another example. I've interviewed almost all the monks and a few friends and Residents. There are only a few left to do today and tomorrow. That means about 12 hours worth of interviews in the can. Then consider that I taped all these interviews with two cameras (for two different angles) and used my digital audio recorder as back-up--so that's a total of 24 hour of interview footage, plus another hour of B-roll, plus about 10 hours worth of footage of liturgies. When I get back to Toronto I should easily have enough for six or seven 12-15 minute videos! Yikes!
But when I first sat down with the monks I was aware that it would be unlikely that I would complete everything on the wish list during my stay. It gives me something to do when I get home, I suppose. And in truth, most good websites keep evolving, anyway. The only way it would have been possible for to have completed everything on the list would have been a death-march like effort that would have left me exhausted and haggard when I should be feeling relaxed and inspired from my time here.
So do I feel relaxed and inspired? Yes, I do believe I am. In a few minutes I'm saying Mass in the chapel. I'm looking forward to that. Then I have an interview to do. I'm also hoping to complete my amplifier today. Yesterday I spent about five hours working the wood to create the enclosure. Because the workshop here is very hit-or-miss when it comes to even basic tools, I had to do a lot of improvising. Even simple tasks like cutting a straight line with a table saw was made difficult! So today I should be able to stain the wood and then, hopefully, do final assembly.
There is a saying that the benefits of retreat are gained in the last few minutes before it ends. Certainly this last week or two I've felt very much at home here. I think "the house" and I have re-established our relationship on new terms. There was nothing wrong with the old terms of that relationship, except that they were old and therefore in need of renewal. The benedictines say, "And always we begin again." I've had to build up relationship with some new people and refresh other relationships that I've had for many years. So it goes.
One of the Brothers asked me when I'm coming back. As it turns out, I'll be back in September with my confirmation group. That will be only a weekend, but it will be great, I'm sure. After that, who knows. The baby will determine a lot of my schedule come December.
So tomorrow I'll pack up. But today there is still a lot of work to do!
-t
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Frog Legs
I thought you all would appreciate this--me trying Frog Legs for the first time. The community wanted to thank me for redoing their website, so Bede and Bernard took me out to Peekamoose for a very special meal. Peekamouse is an amazing restaurant near Woodstock that serves some of the best food I've ever had--no exageration. I would match it any day with the best places I've eaten in New York, Los Angeles, and even in Nice, France!
So when I saw Frog Legs on the menu I just had to give them a shot. My impressions are below...
-t
So when I saw Frog Legs on the menu I just had to give them a shot. My impressions are below...
-t
Sunday, August 9, 2009
An Unusual Vespers
Long Retreat is over, we are all talking now. I'm glad for it, myself! Matins and Eucharist in the morning, of course, and then the monks and I went out to a diner for brunch. People were in a good mood. Now that Long Retreat is over about half the monks of the house are taking vacation time. Some have already left (but not without giving me hour long video taped interviews, first!), but for lunch it was decided to go out to a diner. In the afternoon I took a nap before Vespers.
Vespers was remarkable for several reasons. First, a storm come on. Between having the windows open and the rain hitting the roof, it was quite loud. Just before the Angelus bells rang, Bede told us that the incense he would be burning was a slightly different variation of the scent oils--he wanted feedback about how we liked it. As the bell rang and we started the Office a family came into the chapel. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a woman with a kid in arm crossing herself with holy water as she entered.
As the family settled in, I could sense that the community was a curious, by they seemed so natural and self confident that I thought that they were probably related to one of the monks, and were planning to go out for dinner or something (Sunday night are often a convienient time for that kind of thing). It was a husband and wife and two boys, perhaps as young as 5 and 8. As it turns out, they have NEVER been to Holy Cross before. The husband is a professor at Vassar and his wife is from France. They have been aware of Holy Cross for sometime, and have been checking out the website. Something inspired them to come on this particular day, for some reason, and we received them graciously. The boys did extremely well for such a quiet service, and I think we were all delighted to have them. Of all the Offices that happen in the course of a week, I think this is the one I would pick to take young kids. Sunday Vespers is always pretty relaxed--the mark of the end of the week and the beginning of sabbath rest. The next Office isn't until Tuesday. Almost every guest has left by Sunday Vespers, so it is usually just the monks and residents at Vespers.
So between those three things--new incense, the rain storm, and the family--it was a very energized Vespers!
BTW, I've interviewed about half the monks, now. Lots of really excellent material!
-t
Vespers was remarkable for several reasons. First, a storm come on. Between having the windows open and the rain hitting the roof, it was quite loud. Just before the Angelus bells rang, Bede told us that the incense he would be burning was a slightly different variation of the scent oils--he wanted feedback about how we liked it. As the bell rang and we started the Office a family came into the chapel. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a woman with a kid in arm crossing herself with holy water as she entered.
As the family settled in, I could sense that the community was a curious, by they seemed so natural and self confident that I thought that they were probably related to one of the monks, and were planning to go out for dinner or something (Sunday night are often a convienient time for that kind of thing). It was a husband and wife and two boys, perhaps as young as 5 and 8. As it turns out, they have NEVER been to Holy Cross before. The husband is a professor at Vassar and his wife is from France. They have been aware of Holy Cross for sometime, and have been checking out the website. Something inspired them to come on this particular day, for some reason, and we received them graciously. The boys did extremely well for such a quiet service, and I think we were all delighted to have them. Of all the Offices that happen in the course of a week, I think this is the one I would pick to take young kids. Sunday Vespers is always pretty relaxed--the mark of the end of the week and the beginning of sabbath rest. The next Office isn't until Tuesday. Almost every guest has left by Sunday Vespers, so it is usually just the monks and residents at Vespers.
So between those three things--new incense, the rain storm, and the family--it was a very energized Vespers!
BTW, I've interviewed about half the monks, now. Lots of really excellent material!
-t
Red Heads and Pain
Did you know that people with (naturally) red hair require higher doses of anesthesia and other pain killers to have the same effect as people with blond or black hair? Apparently the same gene mutation that causes red hair also effects the performance of various drugs:
As a result, Red Heads have a statistical tendency to avoid dentistry.
As an aside, when I was at the hospital I noted that pain management was often a weak spot in medical care. Doctors are often nervous about prescribing narcotic pain killers, even in a hospital setting. God help you if someone writes "drug seeking" on your chart! I remember one doctor who became suspicious of a patient simply because that patient asked for a specific drug with a specific dosage, never mind that this person has a painful chronic condition and had been through hospitalizations enough to know what worked to control his pain, in this case knowledge worked against him. There have been a lot of studies that have concluded that many (by no means all) doctors under-prescribe to treat pain, probably because there are no objective metrics clinically available to quantify pain. As a result, they end up asking that "On a scale of 1 to 10" question, which honestly seems lame to me. People have no reference point. Better to ask, "Do you think you are in more pain today or less?"
Honestly, I was also very suspicious of the class and racial bias that may exist in pain management. I knew a black woman with Charcot Marie-Tooth that has some real horror stories of what it was like to present herself at an emergency room asking for help with pain from her condition. She is currently working on a timely documentary about how race affects medical care in this country.
-t
The MC1R gene belongs to a family of receptors that include pain receptors in the brain, and as a result, a mutation in the gene appears to influence the body’s sensitivity to pain. A 2004 study showed that redheads require, on average, about 20 percent more general anesthesia than people with dark hair or blond coloring. And in 2005, researchers found that redheads are more resistant to the effects of local anesthesia, such as the numbing drugs used by dentists. (NY Times)
As a result, Red Heads have a statistical tendency to avoid dentistry.
As an aside, when I was at the hospital I noted that pain management was often a weak spot in medical care. Doctors are often nervous about prescribing narcotic pain killers, even in a hospital setting. God help you if someone writes "drug seeking" on your chart! I remember one doctor who became suspicious of a patient simply because that patient asked for a specific drug with a specific dosage, never mind that this person has a painful chronic condition and had been through hospitalizations enough to know what worked to control his pain, in this case knowledge worked against him. There have been a lot of studies that have concluded that many (by no means all) doctors under-prescribe to treat pain, probably because there are no objective metrics clinically available to quantify pain. As a result, they end up asking that "On a scale of 1 to 10" question, which honestly seems lame to me. People have no reference point. Better to ask, "Do you think you are in more pain today or less?"
Honestly, I was also very suspicious of the class and racial bias that may exist in pain management. I knew a black woman with Charcot Marie-Tooth that has some real horror stories of what it was like to present herself at an emergency room asking for help with pain from her condition. She is currently working on a timely documentary about how race affects medical care in this country.
-t
Friday, August 7, 2009
Monastic Mass
I said Mass for the monks this morning. It was the second time this retreat I've had that honour, and only the third time in my life. I arrived early in the sacristy and made sure that the sacristans and server had done their jobs (they had, to perfection), so I put on my alb and cinture and paced on the "Lesser Cloister." The Lesser Cloister is one of my many favourite spots around here. It is a colonnade portico open on the river side. It's easy to find yourself on a bench there, gazing through the arches at the Great Oak that sits in the courtyard between the Church and the Guest House. Beyond the Oak is the ever-present Hudson River and beyond that is Hyde Park. Betsy and I had the receiving line of our wedding on this cloister. I'll never forget the antipasti-style table that rewarded those patient enough to stand in line to great us: local cheeses and freshly-made pickled hot peppers (my request). Our caterer, Claudia, was incredible.
Pacing in this lovely spot, I wasn't particularly concerned about the upcoming liturgy. It's simple enough, what Anglo-Catholics might call a "Low Mass." No sermon. No singing. Just the Eucharist. On my mind, instead, was the first Mass I ever said. It was in the Holy Cross Chapel, too, and much like the one I was about to say. I wanted to say my first Eucharist here because the place had been so important to my vocational discernment and priestly formation, and I like full circles. I'll never forget the nervous energy, yet the calm inevitability of it all that was also present. How natural most of it felt.
Douglas, OHC, was my Deacon. He was Prior, then, and has now gone on to his reward. I chose Douglas for many reasons. I wanted to involve him, I knew it would mean a lot to him, and I knew, also, that he would do an excellent job patiently keeping me on track. He has stood beside many a nervous seminarian before.
Indeed, when I was about to make my one mistake of that day, presenting the gifts before doing the fraction, he gently touched my side to correct me before I could misspeak. Now that's a Deacon!
He passed away a few years ago, after I moved to Canada, but I find myself thinking a lot about him on this retreat. The only other monks who have been here every time I've been here are Bede and Ron. Most of the rest are at other houses of the Order, or perhaps decided they weren't called to monastic life after all.
So I paced back and forth a bit more, thinking about Douglas and about death and architecture. I thought about how these buildings make me feel. Even though the oldest among them only dates to the 1900's, they make me feel more connected to something ancient than say, The Cloisters in NY or the ruins of great monasteries in Europe I've seen. I think that's because the monastic life is still happening here, and that somehow soaks into the stone, brick, and wood. I can just look at the stone work and feel something. "I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out" (Luke 19:40).
Five minutes to Mass. I went into the sacristy and put on the stole and chasuble the Sacristan had selected for me. Just then, my glasses broke. A polycarbonate lens clattered to the floor. Not enough time to go back to my room and put in my contacts. I tried a quick repair with the edge of a scissor blade, but it wasn't quite the right shape to catch the tiny screw head, and my pocket knife (which I know works for this), was back in my rooms. I decided simply to say the Mass without my glasses. I'm nearsighted, anyway, so I don't need my glasses to read prayers.
When I sat down in the choir I felt very relaxed and, well, priestly. The feeling continued. I timed the silences by saying the Jesus Prayer in my head. I noted that I couldn't see people's expressions without my glasses, but I could read without straining too much.
I said a collect to the prayers of the people from memory. Once at the altar I felt totally at home. My manual gestures were intentional, unhurried, and expressive of the theology of worship that suits this place and suits me: precise and intentional, neither rigid nor fussy. Smooth like good scotch, with just a touch of bite. When I was learning priest-craft I used to practise setting the Eucharistic table over and over and over again. I watched videos of the Japanese Tea Ceremony and reflected about the most direct and best way to, say, cup the chalice with one hand to wipe out the interior with the other. In the seminary chapel I used to study and critique the various styles of manual gesture that our professors would use when they celebrated mass. Rowan Greer's humility and respect for the tradition. Marilyn Adam's extemporaneous genuis. Brian Spink's minimalism.
Since then, and since saying my first Mass at Holy Cross some six years ago, I've done this probably a few hundred times, and most of the movements I worked so hard to learn are now mostly automatic. Still, when someone else is celebrating I almost always watch their hands. You can tell a lot about a priest by his or her hands.
After that first Eucharist six years ago, I stood in the chancel and gave blessings individually (an old tradition). A few of the people who came forward also kissed the palms of my hands (an even older tradition). It was a tender moment. It made me think about one of my favourite prayers when I was in college. I used to put my hands, palms down, on the Holy Table (they would never call it an altar) in the college church and pray that God would make them instruments of healing. A dangerous prayer, be careful what you ask for!
The monks' hands as they came forward to receive--so different from each other, not alike at all. One monk sort of rolled his hands out like they were flower petals. Another seemed to make them incredibly flat. Yet another didn't receive at all due to an allergy, but instead bowed and bid a blessing.
At the credence table doing ablutions, I looked Mary in the eye through a very old icon. This particular icon was once stolen from the monastery by an overzealous Orthodox Christian--"Anglicans don't deserve Icons"--his parish priest brought it back with apologies.
Walking back to my bench. Feeling the patient silence. So natural was the walk that I could have closed my eyes and found my seat my intuition. No need to remind myself not to walk too fast, the pace to walk was there. Right there, in my body. A monastic walk.
More silence. My thoughts drift for a moment and I bring them to heel with the Jesus Prayer timed to my breath. I brought my attention back to the room, was anyone restless? No, just the vastness of the silence. I took another breath. It felt right to end, so I stood up and said the closing prayers. Back in the sacristy I looked up at the crucifix above where the celebrant vests and was moved to pray a particularly heart felt set of petitions, then I carefully put the vestments away.
The last few days of the "Long Retreat" have been very intense for me. All this silence is really starting to shift and transform things for me. Yesterday I almost cried when Father Superior poured my a glass of water at supper. We didn't say anything to each other, of course, he just saw me reaching for a glass and went ahead and filled it with the pitcher he was holding. No need to say thank you, he understood I was thinking it. I also got a little teary when Br. Jim gave an amazing Tranfiguration sermon. It was personal but relevant, and like the best sermons makes Christ's presence felt as much from the "how" it was delivered as the "what" of the message. In the afternoon I felt both sick and tired, so I went down for a nap and couldn't rouse myself for Vespers. I'm not required to go to Offices, of course, so I'm trying not to reproach myself too much for this.
This is deep stuff. Yesterday I thought about how this retreat has been uniquely challenging to other times I've been here for extended periods. The last time I was here there were three of us "Residents" in the guest house, and we had quite the little confraternity going. Lots of mutual support. We shared common challenges and joys. But this time the only two Residents on the property are up in the gate house, so I mostly only see them at meals and liturgies. Being here for an extended period as a Resident or even a long-term guest is a lot harder than most of the monks realize. On their side of the cloister they have patterns and relationships that support them. On this side of the cloister you have to improvise. Since the monks have been in silence for more than a week, I haven't been able to get that support from them, so I've tossed it up to the Holy Spirit. She makes a pretty good Spiritual Director, as it turns out, but demanding.
The food has been a nice consolation to my spirit. Edward, the cook, outdid himself for several of the meals we've had during this Long Retreat. The warm scallop and greens salad he made on Thursday was so good I had to go out of my way to tell him so, despite the silence! We had a homemade cheesecake with local raspberries last night that was to kill for. Still, I've made a rule not to go for seconds, and have even managed to loose a pound or two.
Things swing back toward "normal" tomorrow. I'm hoping to have a nice long talk with a couple of folks before they head of for their vacations. (Yes, monks take vacations, too!) I'm also looking forward to sharing some of my experiences from this retreat with them. I'm sure they have stories to tell, as well!
-t
Pacing in this lovely spot, I wasn't particularly concerned about the upcoming liturgy. It's simple enough, what Anglo-Catholics might call a "Low Mass." No sermon. No singing. Just the Eucharist. On my mind, instead, was the first Mass I ever said. It was in the Holy Cross Chapel, too, and much like the one I was about to say. I wanted to say my first Eucharist here because the place had been so important to my vocational discernment and priestly formation, and I like full circles. I'll never forget the nervous energy, yet the calm inevitability of it all that was also present. How natural most of it felt.
Douglas, OHC, was my Deacon. He was Prior, then, and has now gone on to his reward. I chose Douglas for many reasons. I wanted to involve him, I knew it would mean a lot to him, and I knew, also, that he would do an excellent job patiently keeping me on track. He has stood beside many a nervous seminarian before.
Indeed, when I was about to make my one mistake of that day, presenting the gifts before doing the fraction, he gently touched my side to correct me before I could misspeak. Now that's a Deacon!
He passed away a few years ago, after I moved to Canada, but I find myself thinking a lot about him on this retreat. The only other monks who have been here every time I've been here are Bede and Ron. Most of the rest are at other houses of the Order, or perhaps decided they weren't called to monastic life after all.
So I paced back and forth a bit more, thinking about Douglas and about death and architecture. I thought about how these buildings make me feel. Even though the oldest among them only dates to the 1900's, they make me feel more connected to something ancient than say, The Cloisters in NY or the ruins of great monasteries in Europe I've seen. I think that's because the monastic life is still happening here, and that somehow soaks into the stone, brick, and wood. I can just look at the stone work and feel something. "I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out" (Luke 19:40).
Five minutes to Mass. I went into the sacristy and put on the stole and chasuble the Sacristan had selected for me. Just then, my glasses broke. A polycarbonate lens clattered to the floor. Not enough time to go back to my room and put in my contacts. I tried a quick repair with the edge of a scissor blade, but it wasn't quite the right shape to catch the tiny screw head, and my pocket knife (which I know works for this), was back in my rooms. I decided simply to say the Mass without my glasses. I'm nearsighted, anyway, so I don't need my glasses to read prayers.
When I sat down in the choir I felt very relaxed and, well, priestly. The feeling continued. I timed the silences by saying the Jesus Prayer in my head. I noted that I couldn't see people's expressions without my glasses, but I could read without straining too much.
I said a collect to the prayers of the people from memory. Once at the altar I felt totally at home. My manual gestures were intentional, unhurried, and expressive of the theology of worship that suits this place and suits me: precise and intentional, neither rigid nor fussy. Smooth like good scotch, with just a touch of bite. When I was learning priest-craft I used to practise setting the Eucharistic table over and over and over again. I watched videos of the Japanese Tea Ceremony and reflected about the most direct and best way to, say, cup the chalice with one hand to wipe out the interior with the other. In the seminary chapel I used to study and critique the various styles of manual gesture that our professors would use when they celebrated mass. Rowan Greer's humility and respect for the tradition. Marilyn Adam's extemporaneous genuis. Brian Spink's minimalism.
Since then, and since saying my first Mass at Holy Cross some six years ago, I've done this probably a few hundred times, and most of the movements I worked so hard to learn are now mostly automatic. Still, when someone else is celebrating I almost always watch their hands. You can tell a lot about a priest by his or her hands.
After that first Eucharist six years ago, I stood in the chancel and gave blessings individually (an old tradition). A few of the people who came forward also kissed the palms of my hands (an even older tradition). It was a tender moment. It made me think about one of my favourite prayers when I was in college. I used to put my hands, palms down, on the Holy Table (they would never call it an altar) in the college church and pray that God would make them instruments of healing. A dangerous prayer, be careful what you ask for!
The monks' hands as they came forward to receive--so different from each other, not alike at all. One monk sort of rolled his hands out like they were flower petals. Another seemed to make them incredibly flat. Yet another didn't receive at all due to an allergy, but instead bowed and bid a blessing.
At the credence table doing ablutions, I looked Mary in the eye through a very old icon. This particular icon was once stolen from the monastery by an overzealous Orthodox Christian--"Anglicans don't deserve Icons"--his parish priest brought it back with apologies.
Walking back to my bench. Feeling the patient silence. So natural was the walk that I could have closed my eyes and found my seat my intuition. No need to remind myself not to walk too fast, the pace to walk was there. Right there, in my body. A monastic walk.
More silence. My thoughts drift for a moment and I bring them to heel with the Jesus Prayer timed to my breath. I brought my attention back to the room, was anyone restless? No, just the vastness of the silence. I took another breath. It felt right to end, so I stood up and said the closing prayers. Back in the sacristy I looked up at the crucifix above where the celebrant vests and was moved to pray a particularly heart felt set of petitions, then I carefully put the vestments away.
The last few days of the "Long Retreat" have been very intense for me. All this silence is really starting to shift and transform things for me. Yesterday I almost cried when Father Superior poured my a glass of water at supper. We didn't say anything to each other, of course, he just saw me reaching for a glass and went ahead and filled it with the pitcher he was holding. No need to say thank you, he understood I was thinking it. I also got a little teary when Br. Jim gave an amazing Tranfiguration sermon. It was personal but relevant, and like the best sermons makes Christ's presence felt as much from the "how" it was delivered as the "what" of the message. In the afternoon I felt both sick and tired, so I went down for a nap and couldn't rouse myself for Vespers. I'm not required to go to Offices, of course, so I'm trying not to reproach myself too much for this.
This is deep stuff. Yesterday I thought about how this retreat has been uniquely challenging to other times I've been here for extended periods. The last time I was here there were three of us "Residents" in the guest house, and we had quite the little confraternity going. Lots of mutual support. We shared common challenges and joys. But this time the only two Residents on the property are up in the gate house, so I mostly only see them at meals and liturgies. Being here for an extended period as a Resident or even a long-term guest is a lot harder than most of the monks realize. On their side of the cloister they have patterns and relationships that support them. On this side of the cloister you have to improvise. Since the monks have been in silence for more than a week, I haven't been able to get that support from them, so I've tossed it up to the Holy Spirit. She makes a pretty good Spiritual Director, as it turns out, but demanding.
The food has been a nice consolation to my spirit. Edward, the cook, outdid himself for several of the meals we've had during this Long Retreat. The warm scallop and greens salad he made on Thursday was so good I had to go out of my way to tell him so, despite the silence! We had a homemade cheesecake with local raspberries last night that was to kill for. Still, I've made a rule not to go for seconds, and have even managed to loose a pound or two.
Things swing back toward "normal" tomorrow. I'm hoping to have a nice long talk with a couple of folks before they head of for their vacations. (Yes, monks take vacations, too!) I'm also looking forward to sharing some of my experiences from this retreat with them. I'm sure they have stories to tell, as well!
-t
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Colder Room = Better Sleep
I know this is true! From the NYTimes:
-t
Studies have found that in general, the optimal temperature for sleep is quite cool, around 60 to 68 degrees Fahrenheit. For some, temperatures that fall too far below or above this range can lead to restlessness.
Temperatures in this range, it seems, help facilitate the decrease in core body temperature that in turn initiates sleepiness. A growing number of studies are finding that temperature regulation plays a role in many cases of chronic insomnia. Researchers have shown, for example, that insomniacs tend to have a warmer core body temperature than normal sleepers just before bed, which leads to heightened arousal and a struggle to fall asleep as the body tries to reset its internal thermostat.
For normal sleepers, the drop in core temperature is marked by an increase in temperature in the hands and feet, as the blood vessels dilate and the body radiates heat. Studies show that for troubled sleepers, a cool room and a hot-water bottle placed at the feet, which rapidly dilates blood vessels, can push the internal thermostat to a better setting. (source)
-t
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Project Updates
Betsy completed the difficult and worrisome trip across the border into Macedonia (FROY) yesterday (Thessaloniki to Ohrid). It was mainly scary because there was so little information available about how to make this trip. We couldn't even get maps for her GPS. When all was said and done she made the trip safely and even met a few fellow travellers who helped with translation and advice. You can read about the train adventure on her travel blog. I was particularly amused by the giant bath towel origami swan that was waiting on her hotel bed.
One of the really neat things she told me when we last spoke a few days ago is that she can now feel the baby moving--no doubt about it. In fact, she was at a hotel pool one day and looked down and could see the little mossling pushing against her belly and making its shape change. This was a big relief for her, and for me. Something about being able see and feel the baby moving is very reassuring!
I'm pretty well recovered from my trip and have been working very hard on two major projects--the HCM/OHC Websites and my tube amplifier. I've been blogging more about the website, but the Tube Amp has seen good progress as well. The only problem is that I keep finding myself missing small but critical parts. The sort of rare and specific stuff that you can't just pick up at Radio Shack. (Ever searched through bins looking for a 47uF 250V Capacitor?) Luckily there are lots of websites on line for buying these kinds of odd parts.
"Didn't your kit come with everything I needed to make a tube amp," you might ask? Sure, it came with everything I needed but not everything I wanted. The initial design is so simple and open to improvement and modification that it is very difficult not to tinker. So at the this point I'm doing all kinds of mods like upgraded transformers, capacitors, and the potentiometer, substantially modifying the AC/DC conversion part of the circuit, and making other changes, as well. For instance, in the original design the inrush current into the four vacuum tubes is uneven, they sort of start glowing in sequence rather than in parallel. This is because, effectively, the circuit trace on the PCB connecting these tubes and providing the electricity to the "heaters" is too thin. Solution--connect the last pair of these pins with the first pair of these pins, thus giving the juice a more even in-rush. Another tip, adding small capacitors between each pair of heater pins to even out juice. But making these mods I just mentioned required some very intricate soldering work. So far all my solders have checked out with an ohms meter--but I do wonder how much time I'm going to have to spend debugging this amp!
I spent a good part of today scanning old photographs from the Order's archives. More of that do. lots of downtime as the scans commence, so I'm reading David McCullough's book 1776 to fill the time.
The Monastery is very quiet. Silence reigns as everyone is on retreat. Quite nice, actually, though I am looking forward to things getting social again.
-t
One of the really neat things she told me when we last spoke a few days ago is that she can now feel the baby moving--no doubt about it. In fact, she was at a hotel pool one day and looked down and could see the little mossling pushing against her belly and making its shape change. This was a big relief for her, and for me. Something about being able see and feel the baby moving is very reassuring!
I'm pretty well recovered from my trip and have been working very hard on two major projects--the HCM/OHC Websites and my tube amplifier. I've been blogging more about the website, but the Tube Amp has seen good progress as well. The only problem is that I keep finding myself missing small but critical parts. The sort of rare and specific stuff that you can't just pick up at Radio Shack. (Ever searched through bins looking for a 47uF 250V Capacitor?) Luckily there are lots of websites on line for buying these kinds of odd parts.
"Didn't your kit come with everything I needed to make a tube amp," you might ask? Sure, it came with everything I needed but not everything I wanted. The initial design is so simple and open to improvement and modification that it is very difficult not to tinker. So at the this point I'm doing all kinds of mods like upgraded transformers, capacitors, and the potentiometer, substantially modifying the AC/DC conversion part of the circuit, and making other changes, as well. For instance, in the original design the inrush current into the four vacuum tubes is uneven, they sort of start glowing in sequence rather than in parallel. This is because, effectively, the circuit trace on the PCB connecting these tubes and providing the electricity to the "heaters" is too thin. Solution--connect the last pair of these pins with the first pair of these pins, thus giving the juice a more even in-rush. Another tip, adding small capacitors between each pair of heater pins to even out juice. But making these mods I just mentioned required some very intricate soldering work. So far all my solders have checked out with an ohms meter--but I do wonder how much time I'm going to have to spend debugging this amp!
I spent a good part of today scanning old photographs from the Order's archives. More of that do. lots of downtime as the scans commence, so I'm reading David McCullough's book 1776 to fill the time.
The Monastery is very quiet. Silence reigns as everyone is on retreat. Quite nice, actually, though I am looking forward to things getting social again.
-t
Monday, August 3, 2009
My Wife the Photographer
Betsy is finished with her language programme in Athens, so the second part of her trip (research) has begun. That means travelling, mostly by herself, all over Greece and into Macedonia (the part that is in the Former Republic of Yugoslavia, not the province in Greece). You can read about the details of her trip on her travel blog.
Before she left we bought her a second camera, a discrete little point-and-shoot canon sureshot along with a small tripod. It honestly seemed a little redundant to me to bring two digital cameras, but they have turned out to be very complementary. For instance, when visiting sites she has often given a friend her point-and-shoot while she takes charge of the DSLR. Also, there is a lot of sensitivity in some places about looking too professional when you are taking pictures of the art. In low light situations it simply isn't practical or advisable to try to set up the DSLR for a tripod shot. The point and shoot, on the other hand, can be deployed quickly and discretely.
She has been taking hundreds and hundred of pictures of churches like this one:
as well as some more artistic shots like this one:
I'm very proud and her and her pictures. I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of them when she returns...
-t
Charlie and the Chicken
Here's another video of my sister's family visiting my dad and his wife. They have a number of semi-feral chickens that run around the place eating bugs. Here, with Mary Lou's help, Charlie learns how to pet a particularly tame hen.
-t
-t
Dad's Engine
My sister and brother-in-law are visiting my father out it Hawai'i. My dad likes to restore old engines--by which I mean old farm/industrial engines of the type used to pump water or run mills, etc. Here is footage and explanation as he starts up a 1931 Fairbanks-Morse engine which he has restored at attached to a generator. He can run his whole house and the guest house on this engine quite efficiently. The start-up procedure at the minute mark is pretty neat. Basically you just give in a shove and it starts running. There no electricity in this engine whatsoever. It was built to be tough as nails, too, this thing spent many decades rusting the tropical weather before my dad got a hold of it and restored it.
And people wonder where I get my technical bent!
-t
And people wonder where I get my technical bent!
-t
Sunday, August 2, 2009
A Southern Wedding Weekend
I know I haven't been blogging much during this down time. It's partly because I've been very busy between prayer, Tay-time, website development, and then just this past weekend with a wedding I did in North Carolina. Normally, I would not have consented to take a wedding during the middle of my vacation time, but it was an old friend (more than 13 years) and you just don't turn those down. I just got back to the monastery a few hours ago, and my body feels like I was in a fight.
It was a real Southern wedding, complete with Antebellum plantation backdrop, mint juleps, and the sort of stories and drama that you could never make up. Alas, a lot of it is not blog-safe, but I will tell some stories about it eventually ;)
-t
It was a real Southern wedding, complete with Antebellum plantation backdrop, mint juleps, and the sort of stories and drama that you could never make up. Alas, a lot of it is not blog-safe, but I will tell some stories about it eventually ;)
-t
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