The monastic cell
Here’s some advice from the Desert Fathers and Mothers: Go to your cell, and your cell will teach you everything you need to know.
—Ronald Rolheiser, Domestic Monastery
During morning prayer today, I noticed the energy centers in my body align. As I rested in that gentle connection to earth and the heavens, a realization bloomed in my mind: I understand what it means to go to my cell and to learn everything I need there.
I first came across this idea when I read Domestic Monastery as a new mother. Feeding my child at my breast at all hours, I would read Ronald Rolheiser’s gentle reflections on the monastic gifts of daily life to get a fresh perspective on the precious and exhausting work of taking care of a new baby.
Throughout my life, I have often felt restless in my “cell”—that is, restless in my commitments at work, or as a student, or in my always-messy-home. I have often felt trapped in the routine of it all, always living for the next thing. The spiral of the passing weeks, of the passing liturgical calendar, of my own body’s rhythms, often felt like it was closing in, trapping me in an endless tunnel of sameness and suffering.
This year, I have been harvesting the fruit of years of healing and transformation, and I finally understand something of what the Desert Mothers and Fathers meant:
I don’t have to leave the commitments of my life to change my life.
Part of this has meant practicing simplicity and letting go of what is not necessary. I’ve stopped consuming any television, movies, or books that stress my nervous system, and that don’t contribute to the health of my spirit. I’ve taken my social media addiction seriously and drastically reduced my social media use by at least 90%. I’ve practiced letting go of the future and letting go of revising the past (those imaginary places where my brain likes to escape!).
Another part has been becoming more skillful with my emotions. I have this habit of mind where I blame people/situations/circumstances outside myself for my suffering—for the hours, days and even weeks when anger, fear, resentment, and a feeling of helplessness have lodged in my body and I didn’t know how to uncouple my recursive thoughts from the emotions, to let those emotions complete their natural cycle. Through daily meditation and the teaching of Thich Nhat Hanh, I am practicing letting go of the thinking that transforms my pain into suffering. I am creating an island of peace within my body where I can shelter from the storms of my emotions, which allows those emotions to pass in a minute or two, instead of festering in my belly and poisoning my heart. I am becoming more skillful at noticing the conditions of happiness within the cell of my life, and of taking pleasure in them.
All of this has put my life into better proportion. My “cell” is the same (my soul, family, intentional community, work, church), but I am more present to the good, and it strengthens my spirit.
My cell is the same, but the pain I encounter flows through me, instead of damming up behind a wall of self-rejection and fear of inner sensation.
My cell is the same, but the boundaries of my inner landscape have expanded, able to contain the sensations and emotions of my life, giving them an immense and kind space in which to resolve.
My cell is not a terminal; my cell is a portal.
I have tasted the fruit of stability, and it tastes like freedom. Thanks be to God.
“The kingdom is available to us, but we might not be available to the kingdom, so the practice is to make ourselves available to the Pure Land, to the Kingdom that is already there. And that practice is not too difficult.”