A few years ago I was, again, at the end with my Latin.
this is the state of affairs when I reach the limits everywhere and don’t know what to do. The old one is no longerpossible, the new one is not yet possible.
these crossroads keep coming back.
The time before I went a few days in the mountains.
now I wanted to go to the monastery.
I did research all over the net and found only lukewarm things.
Evangelical monasteries with guest house.
Living with you.
Silent seminar on living with urban dwellers.
that wasn’t what I wanted.
I wanted it strict and crass.
but the few strict monasteries were for men.
Then I came across the Carceri.
this is a place in the mother house of the Franciscan nuns, where women can go into cloister.
the entire program.
all hourly prayers, strict structure, everything foreign-determined,all predetermined.
I called immediately and had the old nun on her, who would later be my mentor.
I say I’m not Catholic,but I can’t do more.
nowthat I am writing, I cannot think of what she said.
a Sentence and I cried.She crackedme, right away.
two weeks later, I was on my way,
ten hours of driving, from the very north to the very south of Germany.
with the stroll through Swabia.
the last stage is by bus, a tiny village,right in the middle of the monastery.
I sign up.
a sister takes me to the Carceri.
This is an apartment where I will live the next week with several nuns,
I live with three older and two younger nuns.
five and me.
at the moment only I am in cloister.
they show me my room and explain the rulesto me.
my room, this is bed, chair table, closet, bible.
I have my yoga mat with me.
the rules, that is five hourprayers.
get up at half past five.
Half an hour of conversation with my mentor.
pray Pray dinner.
me and community, that has always been difficult.
me and women….GaNZ difficult.
all thetime, with the need for half an hour of conversation and Bible lesson.
they have my brain
either emptiness or by letting only love and Jesus approach me.
The food went like this:
we sat together and ate quietly.
but we were mindful and accommodating.
that is, eat quietly, do not smear, do not rattle with the cutlery.
Don’t look directly at anyone, but see if anyone needs something and then the bowl with the food is enough.
leave no crumbs.
never take too much.
never take the last thing if someone else wants something else.
nobody toldme that.
it was just like that.
I had to understand almost everything by itself.
they got on my nerves at first.
silent adoration: there is the “Blessed Sacrament“, which Jesus represents.
We sit still in front of it.
From time to time a nun says something about Jesus.
I shall lay everything before him.
he stands there, with open arms on the cross.
is poor at it.
But stand there, so that we don’t have to wear anything anymore.
I sit,must not move.
nobody says thateither.
but the others do not move either.
So I lay before Jesus.There.
that I am annoyed and no longer in the mood.
and that their jesus songs go to the Spirit..
jesus is love.
we go to the monastery church.
hundreds of sisters.
most of them with a noble posture and very straight back.
we kneel for 30 minutes and sing litany,
I never know where in the book we are.
from my shamanic time I know trance and here it is.
In the morning I meet my mentor u nd talk to her.
she is deeply psychologically trained.
but what she says, skin slaps in.
is usually a question.
I have such strong psychological tensions.And everyone goes to the station like that.
I’m nottelling her that.
but she still tells me that I would like to move into the guesthouse if it doesn’t suit me here.
we’re talking about my childhood.
on the third night we start.
in the dream I enter cellar dungeons,very deep, there are prisoners sitting in chains, in the dark.
I turn on light and take care of it.
my subconscious is open to the barrier.
especially in the evening I am an empty black hole.
what do they do with me?
I’m going to go crazy.
I can’t think anything anymore.
I am getting more and more empty and
into every vacuum they stuff Jesus in.
when we eat now, I begin to feelmyself.What disharmony I am spreading.
how much the others are against me.
why do they keep me here?
I find them all shit.
why don’t they send me away?
my mentor says: God is the Father, the community is the Mother.
how true.I don’t like the others and I’msuspicious.
the women have always betrayedme.
especially my sister and here are loud sisters.
when eating.I feel it all.
and then itcomes .
this feeling, which should always be treated away in our society.
I sit in front of my soup.
the others eat.
are with me.
don’t look at me directly.
let me free.
but are there.
shame is everywhere in me.
licks through my heart.
I want to sinkinto the ground.
My head is lowered.
tear dripping into the soup.Still.
all are there.
after that I am liberated.
I run like on rails.
my resistance is broken.
I am brainwashed.
I am grateful and full of love.
I go in the end very grateful,
my brother gets me.
It’s hard outside.
they have taken my skin off.
I see how people treat each other, get sore.
Noises are so loud.
I am quite delicate and reborn.
my brother protects me.
after a few days, everything has grown gently.
no thick fur, but a membraneso that I can live outside again.