Our Daily Bread

In preparation for my return to the States to complete the last semester of my MFA at San Francisco Art Institute, I’ve been noticing my life here in Italy, in Calvi, at the Santa Brigida, and at the Art Monastery as it is right now. I’ve been particularly interested in how the Art Monastery exists right NOW, in this moment, when we are not living in a monastery, we are not spending half the day making art, we are not a community of 30. Right now, the Art Monastery exists at Casale Santa Brigida, with 10- to 12-hour work days and a 6-day work week. Right now, the Art Monastery consists of 7 people living together, and the constant struggle to face the current world economic situation with open hearts and upbeat attitudes. The question I’ve been asking myself and the art monks around me is: how do we make sure we’re not waiting? How do we make sure the Art Monastery is alive and happening now, without a monastery, without stable funding, and without a larger community?

At our Monday morning weekly staff check-in, we systematically report on each the progress of each of our many initiatives: planning of the summer festival, marketing of the Santa Brigida, applications for our 501(c)3 status, etc. Before that happens though, we go around the circle and give a report first on our current personal states — how we feel physically and emotionally — and then how we’re doing on our contemplative practices.

It was the YoungMaster who led us into this weekly publicizing of (and asking for help on) our personal practices. It brings our attention to each individual’s responsibility for maintaining their practice. This has been a great gift to me in that my practice has evolved over the past months and I am embarking now on one that feels powerful to me and that I hope to continue from the States.

[A small digression: the nickname “the Young Master” was assigned the first time he came to visit the project in May. It’s usually said with a slight British accent and I’ve always thought of it in a stiff royal sort of way… “announcing the Young Master of Chittendomshire.” In the writing of this blog I see that it could take on new angle: the young master of Zen!]

I once read that the ideal times to sit in meditation are 6 am and 6 pm. Neither one of those times seems particularly convenient to me, but maybe that’s why, after joining the YoungMaster for one of his sitting periods, I brazenly suggested we try it out the 6 am / 6 pm schedule. He asked if I was serious. I said I didn’t know. An hour or two later he came back and said, “I’m in.” This was impressive to me because he’s not the sort who rises before the sun, young master though he is.

At the same time I wanted to be sure that the art was continuing in the Art Monastery as well. Yes, we are focused on the summer festival, but again, what about now and what about us?

So I’m exploring a process piece:

I get up at 5:30 am. I take a moment to notice the moon and then go into the kitchen and make bread. I try to stay completely present with every action and every movement. I try to notice my body, my stance as I knead the dough, the temperature and texture of the ingredients on my hands, my breathing. At 6 am, the YoungMaster joins me and we sit in meditation for an hour. I sit with the dough in my lap, taking it with me on my journey inward. At 7 am, I re-knead and shape the dough into a loaf, again attempting mindfulness. Into the oven and on with the day.

At 6 pm, we sit again for an hour. There’s no breadmaking, but there is a sense of capturing the day, marking it, noting it.

This is more meditation than I have ever done in my life. In the past I have sat irregularly and for varying amounts of time — maybe 45 minutes every other day. This taking it up a notch (or two) in this time of stress has significantly effected my energy level and outlook.

We’re doing this for 14 days, until the day I leave for the US. Today is Day 5. Last night we ran out of flour. I meant to buy more yesterday, but we had guests and it didn’t happen. So this morning, we did our sit, the YoungMaster left to pick up Fibi from the airport, and instead of kneading and braiding, I decided to read some poetry on WorldPrayers.org. This is a lovely site that I discovered when Mystophur and I were developing our wedding ceremony. It’s structured such that you can search or find randomly Adorations, Celebrations, Meditations, and Invocations.

As World Prayers was loading I saw that I had loaded my cousin’s portfolio website last night and hadn’t spent any time on it. I clicked over and moved through his entire collection, delighting in the colors and images, the technique and texture, wondering how these images appear to people outside our family. I think they are beautiful and hypnotic even without an emotional attachment, but how can I know?

Michael Huey. Aunt Dorothy (no. 2), 2006. Based on a ca. 1942 transparency by Richard K. Huey. C-print, 85 x 121 cm.

I returned to World Prayers and clicked for a random Celebration. This is what came:

O gentle presence, peace and joy and power;
O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour,
Thou Love that guards the nestling’s faltering flight!
Keep Thou my child on upward wing to-night.

Love is our refuge; only with mine eye
Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall:
His habitation high is here, and nigh,
His arm encircles me, and mine, and all.

O make me glad for every scalding tear,
For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain!
Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
No ill, — since God is good, and loss is gain.

Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing;
In that sweet secret of the narrow way,
Seeking and finding, with the angels sing:
“Lo, I am with you alway,” — watch and pray.

No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain;
No night drops down upon the troubled breast,
When heaven’s aftersmile earth’s tear-drops gain,
And mother finds her home and heavenly rest.

the mother’s evening prayer – mary baker eddy

This poem has been set to music and is a favorite hymn among Christian Scientists. My extended family is Christian Scientist, Aunt Dorothy (pictured in Michael’s work above) was a Practitioner (healer), and this hymn was featured in Mystophur’s and my wedding ceremony. Michael spoke at the wedding, creating a background for the hymn to benefit the non-CSers in the room, which was just about everyone.

Mary Baker Eddy, 1850s

The serendipity of it all is too much. I’m feeling particularly connected to my family right now, even as I am thousands of miles away from them.

I have had the feeling while meditating that my face is almost pressed up against something — that the tip of my nose is 1 inch from a wall — but simultaneously I can see almost to infinity. I have been feeling, at once, miniature and gargantuan, far away and intimately connected.

Photo by GoBostonCardIn preparation for my return to the States to complete the last semester of my MFA at San Francisco Art Institute, I’ve been noticing my life here in Italy, in Calvi, at the Santa Brigida, and at the Art Monastery as it is right now. I’ve been particularly interested in how the Art Monastery exists right NOW, in this moment, when we are not living in a monastery, we are not spending half the day making art, we are not a community of 30. Right now, the Art Monastery exists at Casale Santa Brigida, with 10- to 12-hour work days and a 6-day work week. Right now, the Art Monastery consists of 7 people living together, and the constant struggle to face the current world economic situation with open hearts and upbeat attitudes. The question I’ve been asking myself and the art monks around me is: how do we make sure we’re not waiting? How do we make sure the Art Monastery is alive and happening now, without a monastery, without stable funding, and without a larger community?

At our Monday morning weekly staff check-in, we systematically report on each the progress of each of our many initiatives: planning of the summer festival, marketing of the Santa Brigida, applications for our 501(c)3 status, etc. Before that happens though, we go around the circle and give a report first on our current personal states — how we feel physically and emotionally — and then how we’re doing on our contemplative practices.

It was the YoungMaster who led us into this weekly publicizing of (and asking for help on) our personal practices. It brings our attention to each individual’s responsibility for maintaining their practice. This has been a great gift to me in that my practice has evolved over the past months and I am embarking now on one that feels powerful to me and that I hope to continue from the States.

[A small digression: the nickname “the Young Master” was assigned the first time he came to visit the project in May. It’s usually said with a slight British accent and I’ve always thought of it in a stiff royal sort of way… “announcing the Young Master of Chittendomshire.” In the writing of this blog I see that it could take on new angle: the young master of Zen!]

I once read that the ideal times to sit in meditation are 6 am and 6 pm. Neither one of those times seems particularly convenient to me, but maybe that’s why, after joining the YoungMaster for one of his sitting periods, I brazenly suggested we try it out the 6 am / 6 pm schedule. He asked if I was serious. I said I didn’t know. An hour or two later he came back and said, “I’m in.” This was impressive to me because he’s not the sort who rises before the sun, young master though he is.

At the same time I wanted to be sure that the art was continuing in the Art Monastery as well. Yes, we are focused on the summer festival, but again, what about now and what about us?

So I’m exploring a process piece:

I get up at 5:30 am. I take a moment to notice the moon and then go into the kitchen and make bread. I try to stay completely present with every action and every movement. I try to notice my body, my stance as I knead the dough, the temperature and texture of the ingredients on my hands, my breathing. At 6 am, the YoungMaster joins me and we sit in meditation for an hour. I sit with the dough in my lap, taking it with me on my journey inward. At 7 am, I re-knead and shape the dough into a loaf, again attempting mindfulness. Into the oven and on with the day.

At 6 pm, we sit again for an hour. There’s no breadmaking, but there is a sense of capturing the day, marking it, noting it.

This is more meditation than I have ever done in my life. In the past I have sat irregularly and for varying amounts of time — maybe 45 minutes every other day. This taking it up a notch (or two) in this time of stress has significantly effected my energy level and outlook.

We’re doing this for 14 days, until the day I leave for the US. Today is Day 5. Last night we ran out of flour. I meant to buy more yesterday, but we had guests and it didn’t happen. So this morning, we did our sit, the YoungMaster left to pick up Fibi from the airport, and instead of kneading and braiding, I decided to read some poetry on WorldPrayers.org. This is a lovely site that I discovered when Mystophur and I were developing our wedding ceremony. It’s structured such that you can search or find randomly Adorations, Celebrations, Meditations, and Invocations.

As World Prayers was loading I saw that I had loaded my cousin’s portfolio website last night and hadn’t spent any time on it. I clicked over and moved through his entire collection, delighting in the colors and images, the technique and texture, wondering how these images appear to people outside our family. I think they are beautiful and hypnotic even without an emotional attachment, but how can I know?

Michael Huey. Aunt Dorothy (no. 2), 2006. Based on a ca. 1942 transparency by Richard K. Huey. C-print, 85 x 121 cm.

I returned to World Prayers and clicked for a random Celebration. This is what came:

O gentle presence, peace and joy and power;
O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour,
Thou Love that guards the nestling’s faltering flight!
Keep Thou my child on upward wing to-night.

Love is our refuge; only with mine eye
Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall:
His habitation high is here, and nigh,
His arm encircles me, and mine, and all.

O make me glad for every scalding tear,
For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain!
Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
No ill, — since God is good, and loss is gain.

Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing;
In that sweet secret of the narrow way,
Seeking and finding, with the angels sing:
“Lo, I am with you alway,” — watch and pray.

No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain;
No night drops down upon the troubled breast,
When heaven’s aftersmile earth’s tear-drops gain,
And mother finds her home and heavenly rest.

the mother’s evening prayer – mary baker eddy

This poem has been set to music and is a favorite hymn among Christian Scientists. My extended family is Christian Scientist, Aunt Dorothy (pictured in Michael’s work above) was a Practitioner (healer), and this hymn was featured in Mystophur’s and my wedding ceremony. Michael spoke at the wedding, creating a background for the hymn to benefit the non-CSers in the room, which was just about everyone.

Mary Baker Eddy, 1850s

The serendipity of it all is too much. I’m feeling particularly connected to my family right now, even as I am thousands of miles away from them.

I have had the feeling while meditating that my face is almost pressed up against something — that the tip of my nose is 1 inch from a wall — but simultaneously I can see almost to infinity. I have been feeling, at once, miniature and gargantuan, far away and intimately connected.

Photo by GoBostonCard