From Comfortable Distances (58 page)

When her cell phone rang,
she hesitated before picking it up—the area code was Woodstock, only the number
wasn’t familiar. Perhaps a realtor looking to buy her mother’s home?

“Luke,” she said. “Hello.
Good morning to you…. No, not at all—it’s a fine time to reach me. Sure, old
Jim gave you my cell phone number. Is everything okay?” Tess paused. “The house
okay? That’s good to hear…. Yes, it’s quite cold down here, too…. I am coming
up for New Year’s—actually a few days before. My son will be joining me…. A New
Year’s Eve meditation sounds nice,” Tess said, putting him on mute while she
shushed Michael, who had just knocked and entered her office, plopping himself
down in one of her plush brown leather chairs situated across from her desk. “Luke?
Let me check with my son…we hadn’t really talked about our plans, but I’ll see
what he had in mind…. Sure, New Year’s morning would be nice, too. Okay, we
will consider both and let you know what works best…. I’m sure you’ll have no
trouble rallying the troops…. I agree—my mother would want it to be…. I’ll see
you soon, Luke….Yes, yes, you will hear from me in the next few days…. You take
care, too. Have a good day…. Namaste.”

“Luke? Isn’t that the
Woodstock Don Juan? I see you have all your bases covered,” Michael said.

“He called me, Michael,”
Tess said.

“Absolutely. All your
courters call you. What’s your point?” 

“I came in to work. I
could be at home doing a dozen other things right now and none of them involve
explaining myself to you,” Tess said.

“No wonder you haven’t
told Neal about Woodstock yet. Everything reveals itself over time,” Michael
said.

“If I had the energy to
bend down, I’d throw my shoe at you,” Tess said.

“I see how you had the
time to marry four husbands. You work quickly. Out with the old and in with the
new.”

“For your information,
Luke called me as he heard from my mother’s neighbor, old Jim, who has been
keeping an eye on the house for me in my absence, that I was coming up there
for New Year’s and he wanted to know if I was open to having a midnight
meditation at the house on New Year’s Eve,” Tess said.

“Well now that you have
New Year’s plans all settled, what about Christmas and your birthday? Are you
planning to go to church with Neal?” Michael said.

“Get out of my office,”
Tess said.

“What? That’s a
legitimate question when your boyfriend is a monk,” Michael said.

“My plans are to do
whatever it is I do,” Tess said.

“You don’t have to tell
me, but I’m hoping you share your plans with your boyfriend,” he said.

She picked up the folders
in front of her and started to go through the paperwork again. Michael sat
where he was, his eyes intent on hers. She spoke into her intercom, calling her
assistant, who answered her. “Lynn, please don’t let any calls come to me prior
to my leaving at 9:30 am—all to voicemail. Thank you,” Tess said, clicking the
intercom off.

“If you don’t mind, I
have a lot to accomplish in the next hour and a half,” Tess said. Michael stood
up and made his way to the door. “Please be sure to close my door on your way
out,” she said.

Their eyes lingered on
one another’s for a few moments. There was unrest in his eyes that was familiar
to her and yet not something she could articulate.

“Michael,” she said, just
as he was about to go. He stopped and turned to her, holding the door with his
hand. “It’s all for the best,” she said. “Everything is going to be fine,” she
said, and with that, he closed the door behind him. 

Tess sat at the traffic light on the
corner of Avenue U and E. 68
^th
street, her fingers tapping the
steering wheel as if the action would speed the light to turn green. Ahead of
her on the corner was Temple Shalom and behind it was St. Bernard’s Church.

The prospective buyer, Antonio, or
Tony as he had asked her to call him, was very promising. He had good taste and
seemed to have the funds to back it up. As she had suspected, he had absolutely
loved the posh home on Royce Place in Bergan Beach. She had saved the best property
for last, a tactic she had learned early on in her career. Tomorrow she would
give his wife a grand tour. Not bad at all in terms of progress and momentum,
although she hadn’t expected to spend so much time with him – nearly three
hours. He certainly knew the right questions to ask, which was fine with Tess
as she had the answers, and if it led to a quick sale, and she anticipated it
would, then it was worth every second of her time right now. Of course she
imagined the paperwork would drag it out for a few weeks, but still, if his
wife loved the house as much as he did, then Tess could get the ball rolling in
the next few days. Her plan was to head back to her office for another few
hours of work, and then she was going to call it a day. It amazed her: she
could be done with this house stuff, ready to leave it behind, and then get
pulled back in so easily. Perhaps there would never be the perfect time to walk
away until she just did it. The light turned, finally, and hearing the church
bells, she made the split-second decision to make a left turn and pass by the
church.

Apparently the school day was
over—children were walking out of the school building, and parents were
scattered all about the entrance, some talking, some straining their heads, she
supposed, to find their kids. On the right side of the street loomed the church
with its three church bells reaching over 10 feet into the air, the sound of
their ringing resonating as she moved closer. She inched her way to Veteran’s
Avenue, careful to be mindful of the children crossing the street, the double
parked cars scattered about, and there, out of the corner of her eye, she saw
Neal. Was it Neal? He was standing looking at the church, with his back to her.
The minivan behind her beeped; yes, she was sure – it was Neal. Why was he
looking at the church?  Then as if in answer to her question, he made the sign
of the cross, turned around, and was moving away from it, parallel to her, so
that if he looked to his left with the slow moving traffic, he would have seen
her. He walked as if in a trance, like he had just exited a movie theater into
daylight. Had he been in the church or had he only stood outside of it? He was
making his way to the bike rack; yes, he had deliberately gone to the church,
rode his bike there. The car behind her was beeping again and she had to move,
step on the gas, reach the corner, make a left turn and head back to her office
where work awaited her, but something in his trance struck her. Ah, damn that
car behind her! She pulled off to the right and motioned the car to go around
her, but due to the traffic on the other side of the road, there was no room.

In the ruckus Neal turned slightly,
almost seeing her before he faced forward again, and then as if someone had
tapped him on the shoulder, he turned fully now, just as he approached the bike
rack, so that he and Tess’s eyes met. Or was he looking beyond her? She
exhaled, not realizing that she had been holding her breath, and her instinct
was to keep going, to pretend as if she didn’t see him, but she was stuck in
traffic as the crossing guard on the corner held the cars still while she
beckoned students to cross the street. Neal gazed at Tess and she gazed back
and for those seconds, it was as if the world had stopped, as if there was
nothing else to see or know or feel but that moment.

The car behind her beeped again; now
there was a steady lingering of beeps from various cars, all desperate to get
themselves out of the gridlock, to move on to the corner, to turn left or right,
and be on their way. She could pull over to the curb, that much she could
maneuver, only then what? What was there to say?
I know
? I understand
why you were at the church today. Because she didn’t know. This was guesswork,
this was what she feared most and so thinking it so was easiest for her. What
if he had decided no such thing? What if he had spoken to the priest and told
him that he was leaving the church forever? That too was a possibility. Why was
she so fatalistic?

They held each other’s gaze and she
kept driving, kept moving, making her way to the corner and as she passed Neal,
she stared back at him in her rearview mirror and he was still, watching her
with his gaze, not moving, expressionless. She thought of that very first night
they spoke at this same church, how when they had parted, she had watched him
on his bike in her rearview mirror. How free and happy and serene he had seemed
that night. And now? How did he seem now? Pensive, serious.

At the corner, she was free to pull
over – perhaps wait for him to come to her or go to him. His eyes still on her
in the distance, she hesitated, what was it in his eyes? What was he trying to
say to her? And in that instant, she knew. She understood. She glanced left and
right before she made her way through the intersection, and as she moved
forward, tears formed in her eyes, and the heaviness that had manifested in her
heart and throat overwhelmed her, so that she fought herself from pulling over
and weeping. He was going back. She had seen it in his eyes – the silent confirmation.
He had received his message from God.

In Your Own Garden

A Separate Peace: December 2003

“What do you seek?” the
Abbot asks.

Truth. To know myself and
to know God in myself.

“What do you seek?” the
Abbot asks.

The one life.

With each departure, a
return is implicit. I understand that now. It is not about coming or going, but
about reconnecting. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that back does
not mean backwards. Back can be a movement towards the future, the unknown. 

I had thought that I
needed to be away from the monastery in order to be closer to myself.  I had
thought that I needed to be away from God and voices telling me what I should
believe. I have begun to understand that it’s not about where I am. I have begun
to understand that the world becomes one place once I tap into the one life.

I chose to be a monk
because I was chosen to be a monk, not because I was looking to escape
anything. Monastic life is human life. I knew that at the monastery but ideas
of the secular world tempted me into believing otherwise. Now, I am sure that we
are all the same—monks, lay people. The problems that riddle people outside of
the monastery are problems that riddle those of us in the monastery. The human
heart is a region of conflicting desires. Of wanting it both ways: now this,
now that. Hearts are not left at the gate of the monastery. One brings oneself
wherever one goes.

The biggest struggle of
my life as a monk was the everydayness of being a monk. The routine. Waking
each morning, praying, reading, scrambled eggs, tea, work. I had wished for
diversion, newness, but I had taken a vow of conversion, stability, which had
to do with staying in one place, under a rule and an abbot. That vow was taken
so that I might put down roots. I had taken a vow in the same way that lay
people take marriage vows. If I kept moving from place to place, I would never
be grounded. My vow was not to be an obstacle in my life as I let it become,
but rather a guidepost.

I have spent days
watching trees—the way their leaves dance in the breeze, the way their branches
sway. If a tree wasn’t rooted and firm, it wouldn’t be able to sustain itself
against the wind or the rain or snow—it would collapse. It’s only the grounded
and rooted trees that endure. I understand that now.

I was afraid of the
solitude in the monastery. Although my brothers surrounded me, I often felt
secluded. I didn’t want to always be so alone. Now, here, with you, I’ve come
to accept my aloneness a bit more. I’ve begun to understand that aloneness
doesn’t mean lonely, it means being okay with myself, enjoying my own company.

God spoke to me. That is
why I became a monk. It wasn’t in a complete sentence and the voice came and
went, but it came to me. As much as I want to pretend that it didn’t at times,
as much as I want to run away, to be free to do and live as other men, God is
with me, speaking to me, through me. He asks so little, but still he asks: “Do
not harden your heart to my voice.”

To love, I believe, is to
possess the capacity to receive and to be touched, to be drawn into something
more. Something beyond the self, beyond this realm.

I have always lived by my
heart, letting its deepest desires drive me. I often wish I could share my
heart with you. Show you how it works, but no matter how much I try to share
it, I am always left with something of myself that I cannot give to you. That
is something that I am coming to accept. I cannot give away my most pure
thoughts and feelings, as there is always something that gets lost in
translation because I am me and you are you and our interpretations are
distinct and unique. I had mistaken that being trapped within myself was a monk
thing but now I understand that it's a fate we all share regardless of our
paths.

I entered the monastery
because I wanted to be near God. The voice influencing me to stay here now—to
keep going and living as I am— may never fade, but in the silence of each
morning, the silence of each night when the world is still and I can be alone
with my thoughts, I believe that my vocation is to be with the Lord. To wake up
this Christmas morning and say Mass with my brothers. It doesn’t always make
sense to me why that is my vocation, but that doesn’t make it any less true in my
heart. My first love was, is, God. Just because I have walked away from the
monastery doesn’t mean that I have walked away from my heart, which is where
the God I love and know resides.

“What do you seek?” the
Abbot asks.

The mercy of God.

Dear Neal,

I’ve always felt it’s
easier to talk to a person face to face, but I understand now that I haven’t
been able to do that very well, as often, what I think is not what I say. When
opportunity arises for me to talk to you, I seem only to be able to make small
talk although there are so many questions that I want to ask you. I want to
know me through your eyes. Only I don’t know if that’s possible—as you’ve said,
there are limitations as you are you and I am me and things get lost in
translation.

I used to think that if I
had someone around me, I could get away from myself for a bit, and now I’ve
begun to embrace my aloneness and honor it, crave it, because it’s the space in
which I get to know myself. I sought company all along when perhaps it was me
that I sought—the chance to know and hear and see and feel and listen to me. I
think that’s why no man was ever right for me—it had nothing to do with another
person. That’s why working all those hours for all of those years helped me to
pass the time, but never filled me up. What I sought had nothing to do with
accomplishment. That’s why my mother never made me feel the security I felt I
deserved, that I craved. All along, it had to do with me wanting me and not
knowing how or where to reach me.

I’ve been thinking about
moving back up to Woodstock. Somehow in my mind, that has seemed to be the
logical thing to do. Return. Start over, try again. I’m not sure if I am trying
to redo anything or if I feel that parts of me never left there. I’m beginning
to believe that life in many ways is circular and that where we start is where
we will end. When you told me that the other half of the rainbow is beneath the
surface, I thought I understood it, but today it is a bit clearer to me. All
the beauty, along with the sorrow and the joy and the mysteries, are always in
motion. Life keeps going, round and round, one big giant circle, so to think
there’s a place to get to is an illusion. We are always exactly where we need
to be.

I don’t know if I’ll go
back to Woodstock for good. I’m not sure that’s the answer, as I don’t yet know
the question. Somehow, we have arrived at the same place, one of comings and
goings and perhaps the questions or answers to our riddles are irrelevant. Perhaps
whatever we each do is fine.

In
The Bhagavad Gita,
Krishna tells Arjuna that he must follow his dharma, which is to fight his
family and friends in battle, but he reminds him to keep his feet pointed at
the lotus heart of the Lord—to remain open to love, to life’s wonders. Krishna
reminds Arjuna that one must embrace one’s duties while remaining mindful of a
more timeless reality—that one must sometimes act without consideration of the
immediate results. We must each follow our paths, Neal, but we mustn’t lose our
joy, our love, and we must remember that there is a higher reality than this
one.

I think sometimes about a
reality with you other than this one, Neal. A timeless reality when you and I
may share our dance for a bit longer, without any choices to be made or places
to go; without any other duties than to hear the music and move to it,
together. I think so many things at so many different points in the day that I
wonder what it would look like if I were to draw a map of my thoughts. Would I have
traveled anywhere or remained in place? I’ve clung to my life as I know it
because it’s what I know. I’ve resisted change while the world changed around
me. The other day, I drove to New York City and I didn’t know why I was there
until I arrived at the church quote board.

A caterpillar who seeks
to know himself would never become a butterfly.
—Andre Guide

Perhaps all this trying
to know oneself, trying to understand oneself, searching one’s soul, is what
keeps us from the next chapters of our lives, which will come, inevitably,
whether or not we continue to cling to what is.

The plane ticket included
in this letter is for you to return to Saskatoon on Christmas Eve so that as
you desire, you may wake up amongst your brothers on Christmas day.  I hope
that you will take this gesture as I have intended it: my seeing to your safe
return, my honoring your decision, and as a token of my respect for you. I will
miss you, Neal, and I’ll never forget this path we have traveled together.  I
am not sure if we ever truly know if we’re traveling in the right direction,
but perhaps if we listen—to our hearts, our soul—we will always arrive.

Fondly, Tess