Mother Superior demands a report on the state of the order. Here it is, "such as it is."
(as Annie Dillard writes in an author's note for her book of essays Teaching a Stone to Talk, "...this is not a collection of occasional pieces, such as a writer brings out to supplement his real work; instead this is my real work, such as it is.")
I am living in a house heated with mostly wood. I'm learning to keep the fires going. There are the devotions that I've at last had patience, courage, and strength to enact, and through them I'm learning more about the rhythm of a day and a week. I'll get to a month, a year sometime; they seem tremendous blocks now. So does a minute still.
(as Annie Dillard writes in Holy the Firm, "Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down...")
I am hanging my jaw open. It's necessary relaxation for my mind. Like the Real Girl from the movie "Lars and the Real Girl," a Barbie parted-lips look, or like someone retarded. I'm working on becoming less aware with the narrow gateway of rationale and more aware with everything else. I'm on the brink of starting to see things move, and tune to the sounds behind the static.
Sharon is in Italy. Meredith is in New York, but on the move. Jeffrey is in Minnesota. Patrick is in Everywhere. I'm in Vermont. This is the ever-expanding state of the order. I understand we're still in a state of diffusion, but many things are being left behind; I'm only keeping the essentials. And certain orders, the orders of each day, are clarifying. This is my real work.
