7:53am. How the world is utterly changed by a good night’s sleep. It’s raining heavily again. I feel I should have mentioned it was a full moon a night or two ago.
I did virtually nothing all day yesterday. Went down to lunch and supper, but otherwise stayed in the caravan, meditated, read Karamazov (we are meeting Father Zossima, the elder, a saint; he is curing the peasants and others with love), played Go – I have promoted my opponent to 15 kyu and have so far (10 games) not managed to beat him / her / it. Read Rumi. S came up in the rain in the afternoon, having worked all morning on the accounts. Colette from Chatellrault is visiting her today and she wanted to prepare some ‘problems’ to show her. I said she should set herself an achievable target – say have everything neat and tidy up to the end of May – not try and do it all before she goes. She only has 6 more days. I wrote a poem for her last night; how easy to miss her when she’s not here, how hard it is when she’s beside me in bed. And a lot of quotes from Rumi, who’s eminently quotable on love – ‘pain is the door to love’, which can I unenthusiastically attest.
Belle got almost shirty with me yesterday. Told me to be more detached, to look after myself, go for a wet walk (I didn’t), read, sleep.
I couldn’t look S in the eye when she came up to the caravan. We just sat and chatted and smoked a cigarette. I went up to her room after I’d done the washing up, and we did a bit of her jig saw together, a Van Gogh of a wood which I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She asked me to stay, and I was tempted, but I kissed her goodnight and went back to the caravan at about 9:30 and watched a soppy film about an American falling in love with a French vineyard owner. Gentle and pretty. And wrote the poem. About how once she has gone I shall regret every one of these nights apart, but I don’t regret last night being here now, at all. And the night before would have been no better, probably worse, had I spent it with her. Perhaps tonight, if she’ll have me. And anyway, I need a shower.
Reading Rumi and Karamazov made me think how self obsessed I’m being. Not self pity, but this love business is not selfless at all. I was far more loving in that selfless detached way, last year in the farmhouse. This is just pain. Rumi says ‘Love took away my sleep: this is what love does’ and ‘You want to open that door [into the heart]? Then sink into pain’. And as for selfless love of god, whatever that is . . .
I also read more of Laurence’s The Teacher Within, but can find very little in it that makes any sense. I said to S how all the Jesus and god talk here, the liturgy and the words, has mostly just buried any sense I had when I arrived of what he was.
Time to meditate.
Henriette wants to have a quiet word with me about Antoinette.
Today’s reading – Luke 11:47-54
‘Alas for you lawyers who have taken away the key of knowledge. You have not gone in your selves, but you have prevented / hindered / {the French version} others going in who wanted to’
‘Alas for you who build the tombs for the prophets, the prophets your ancestors killed’.
Who are the prophets I have killed and what have I built in their memory? What is the key I have failed to use? Who is the lawyer who refuses to give it to me?
‘Toni’ has spoken to Laurence about her stay. She also told Sebastien (on Sunday) that she had a dreadful time. She then said something to Henriette about ‘have I been hassling you?’ as she was getting into the taxi (and making it late for Lillian) – although I never mentioned Henrietta's name when I spoke to A that morning. Don’t think I mentioned anyone’s name. The plot thickens. I’m getting an unpleasant itchy feeling around my neck. Who invited her? Is she a person of significance? Why, if so, were we not warned? Did she leave any sort of donation?
Very intense chapter meeting after lunch. Everyone seems to be in a much worse case than I. Heidi was very upset at how unhappy everyone seemed to be. Henriette seemed least distressed, and me after my little retreat of the past few days. Mind you, they should have talked to me yesterday. Catherine started referring to the ‘leadership team’ i.e. her, Giovanni, and Sebastien (G is on holiday in England, and Seb has gone to ground feeling overwrought apparently) which gave the chance to raise the issue I wanted to at least bring up if not discuss. That is, that it is perfectly proper to have a ‘leadership team’ for the business of ABP – events, the building and development work, managing the volunteers, guest bookings and so on, but absolutely inappropriate to manage or ‘lead’ a community of half a dozen people, and that she and the others need to sit down with us, the community, and thrash this out. And very definitely not Laurence, until we as a community have developed a common mind and can speak to him as a united body. I think it could happen. We also need to shut down the Abbaye completely for a week and give ourselves a chance to care for each other.
S went for a long walk with Heidi later (she left the meeting after introducing Chanterelle / Claret / some French name, our new temporary accountant – 1 day a week – so didn’t see all the upset from Catherine, Lachlan and Mary K), who said she was very worried and distressed by the state of the community, and how each time she has come to stay, it seems to have got worse. She, Heidi, already looks like she’s been here for 6 months, not 6 days. S said she thought it would be a good idea if I talked / listened to Heidi too.
Lachlan has been doing the cooking for a week, with support, and much to my surprise has done it pretty well. All vegetarian, but tasty and varied. S thinks he’s finding it quite a strain. On the other hand, at least he has something on which to lavish his OCD / spectrum need for order and control. We had a bit of un-PC discussion of the alpha male issues, Seb and I treacting to the spotty teenager telling us to be quiet in the kitchen, and then announcing that no one could leave the lunch table until half past one, at which point Seb had exploded (quite rightly, and with my full support) and said something about not being in a kindergarten. I said someone was being intolerant at which point the woke members (female) accused me of being unkind. I said I wasn’t being unkind or judgemental, just making a statement of fact. Anyway I said Seb and I were both reacting to Lachlan throwing his weight around in an alpha maley way (and that therefore the more sensitive members of the community could just stand back and laugh at the little boys, no need to get knickers knotted about it). Ditto my fight with Giovanni in the office the other day. It started with me upbraiding him about the architects’ meeting being organised months ago fro a Wednesday, i.e. desert day, without anyone bothering to consult us. Pauline was very upset, rightly, and has gone into purdah prior to leaving us to go back to India. If it happens again, we should just put the up the barriers, turn off the phones, and go on strike. G and I’s fight ended with us both shouting at each that the other wouldn’t stop talking, and Mary K as onlooker, getting very upset by our ‘violence’ - as she told us later, her own family history – alcoholic mother, controlling father – triggered by the whole thing. And her unwonted present fragility. She said at the Chapter meeting she was at the end of her tether, really scraping the bottom, and she clearly means it.
I did virtually nothing all day yesterday. Went down to lunch and supper, but otherwise stayed in the caravan, meditated, read Karamazov (we are meeting Father Zossima, the elder, a saint; he is curing the peasants and others with love), played Go – I have promoted my opponent to 15 kyu and have so far (10 games) not managed to beat him / her / it. Read Rumi. S came up in the rain in the afternoon, having worked all morning on the accounts. Colette from Chatellrault is visiting her today and she wanted to prepare some ‘problems’ to show her. I said she should set herself an achievable target – say have everything neat and tidy up to the end of May – not try and do it all before she goes. She only has 6 more days. I wrote a poem for her last night; how easy to miss her when she’s not here, how hard it is when she’s beside me in bed. And a lot of quotes from Rumi, who’s eminently quotable on love – ‘pain is the door to love’, which can I unenthusiastically attest.
Belle got almost shirty with me yesterday. Told me to be more detached, to look after myself, go for a wet walk (I didn’t), read, sleep.
I couldn’t look S in the eye when she came up to the caravan. We just sat and chatted and smoked a cigarette. I went up to her room after I’d done the washing up, and we did a bit of her jig saw together, a Van Gogh of a wood which I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She asked me to stay, and I was tempted, but I kissed her goodnight and went back to the caravan at about 9:30 and watched a soppy film about an American falling in love with a French vineyard owner. Gentle and pretty. And wrote the poem. About how once she has gone I shall regret every one of these nights apart, but I don’t regret last night being here now, at all. And the night before would have been no better, probably worse, had I spent it with her. Perhaps tonight, if she’ll have me. And anyway, I need a shower.
Reading Rumi and Karamazov made me think how self obsessed I’m being. Not self pity, but this love business is not selfless at all. I was far more loving in that selfless detached way, last year in the farmhouse. This is just pain. Rumi says ‘Love took away my sleep: this is what love does’ and ‘You want to open that door [into the heart]? Then sink into pain’. And as for selfless love of god, whatever that is . . .
I also read more of Laurence’s The Teacher Within, but can find very little in it that makes any sense. I said to S how all the Jesus and god talk here, the liturgy and the words, has mostly just buried any sense I had when I arrived of what he was.
Time to meditate.
Henriette wants to have a quiet word with me about Antoinette.
Today’s reading – Luke 11:47-54
‘Alas for you lawyers who have taken away the key of knowledge. You have not gone in your selves, but you have prevented / hindered / {the French version} others going in who wanted to’
‘Alas for you who build the tombs for the prophets, the prophets your ancestors killed’.
Who are the prophets I have killed and what have I built in their memory? What is the key I have failed to use? Who is the lawyer who refuses to give it to me?
‘Toni’ has spoken to Laurence about her stay. She also told Sebastien (on Sunday) that she had a dreadful time. She then said something to Henriette about ‘have I been hassling you?’ as she was getting into the taxi (and making it late for Lillian) – although I never mentioned Henrietta's name when I spoke to A that morning. Don’t think I mentioned anyone’s name. The plot thickens. I’m getting an unpleasant itchy feeling around my neck. Who invited her? Is she a person of significance? Why, if so, were we not warned? Did she leave any sort of donation?
Very intense chapter meeting after lunch. Everyone seems to be in a much worse case than I. Heidi was very upset at how unhappy everyone seemed to be. Henriette seemed least distressed, and me after my little retreat of the past few days. Mind you, they should have talked to me yesterday. Catherine started referring to the ‘leadership team’ i.e. her, Giovanni, and Sebastien (G is on holiday in England, and Seb has gone to ground feeling overwrought apparently) which gave the chance to raise the issue I wanted to at least bring up if not discuss. That is, that it is perfectly proper to have a ‘leadership team’ for the business of ABP – events, the building and development work, managing the volunteers, guest bookings and so on, but absolutely inappropriate to manage or ‘lead’ a community of half a dozen people, and that she and the others need to sit down with us, the community, and thrash this out. And very definitely not Laurence, until we as a community have developed a common mind and can speak to him as a united body. I think it could happen. We also need to shut down the Abbaye completely for a week and give ourselves a chance to care for each other.
S went for a long walk with Heidi later (she left the meeting after introducing Chanterelle / Claret / some French name, our new temporary accountant – 1 day a week – so didn’t see all the upset from Catherine, Lachlan and Mary K), who said she was very worried and distressed by the state of the community, and how each time she has come to stay, it seems to have got worse. She, Heidi, already looks like she’s been here for 6 months, not 6 days. S said she thought it would be a good idea if I talked / listened to Heidi too.
Lachlan has been doing the cooking for a week, with support, and much to my surprise has done it pretty well. All vegetarian, but tasty and varied. S thinks he’s finding it quite a strain. On the other hand, at least he has something on which to lavish his OCD / spectrum need for order and control. We had a bit of un-PC discussion of the alpha male issues, Seb and I treacting to the spotty teenager telling us to be quiet in the kitchen, and then announcing that no one could leave the lunch table until half past one, at which point Seb had exploded (quite rightly, and with my full support) and said something about not being in a kindergarten. I said someone was being intolerant at which point the woke members (female) accused me of being unkind. I said I wasn’t being unkind or judgemental, just making a statement of fact. Anyway I said Seb and I were both reacting to Lachlan throwing his weight around in an alpha maley way (and that therefore the more sensitive members of the community could just stand back and laugh at the little boys, no need to get knickers knotted about it). Ditto my fight with Giovanni in the office the other day. It started with me upbraiding him about the architects’ meeting being organised months ago fro a Wednesday, i.e. desert day, without anyone bothering to consult us. Pauline was very upset, rightly, and has gone into purdah prior to leaving us to go back to India. If it happens again, we should just put the up the barriers, turn off the phones, and go on strike. G and I’s fight ended with us both shouting at each that the other wouldn’t stop talking, and Mary K as onlooker, getting very upset by our ‘violence’ - as she told us later, her own family history – alcoholic mother, controlling father – triggered by the whole thing. And her unwonted present fragility. She said at the Chapter meeting she was at the end of her tether, really scraping the bottom, and she clearly means it.
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