Holding Onto My Leaves

This past Thursday, I packed a couple bags, told Jack to be good, and headed for my car. After removing a McDonald's bag that was full of trash and literally stuck to my windshield, I put my bags and myself into the car and headed for Wisconsin.

My dad has been going on retreat to a Benedictine Monastery just outside of Madison for almost as long as I've been alive. It's one of his most favorite places, and where he goes when he needs some spiritual clarity and refreshment. In need of both, I jumped at the invitation to visit while he was there. He was lucky enough to spend the whole week, but I wasn't able to get away until Thursday morning. The drive up there is only about 2 hours from Chicago, but I hit a few snags along the way. The first of which was running into a major traffic jam. On the one-way street next to my apartment. Luckily, the two cars behind me didn't have all day either and backed up to turn around. I followed suit and was on my way. Then I ran into construction on I-90. From O'Hare to the Illinois/Wisconsin border. I paid $8 in toll fees to drive 45 mph. Still, I tried to focus on where I was headed and maintain my zen attitude.

This is not something that comes easily for me. I didn't get my degree in Theater Performance by chance. I have a flair for the dramatic, for better or worse. These days, I seem to have gotten stuck on the negative side of things more often than not. There are a number of reasons for this gloomy mood, all of which are valid, but none of which are life threatening. And this is not the blog to go into them. Instead, I want to go into the amazing place that I visited: The Holy Wisdom Monastery in Middleton, WI.

This was my second visit to the Monastery. My introduction occurred earlier this year, just before Mother's Day. It was a beautiful place the first time around, so I was already aware that I was in for a treat. What I hadn't planned on was the fact that fall has already started coloring the world in Middleton, WI. Now for the goodies: I got some amazing photos while I was there.

These are a few examples of the gorgeous colors that are starting to turn out. I also have a few shots of my favorite spots on the grounds. The land is primarily prairie, which the Sisters are caring for. Some of the walking trails go through wooded areas, too. You can see a glacier lake and cornfields, not to mention a pretty great garden that provides much of the food served to visitors.

The top photo is a bench that looks down a bit to some prairie grasses and then a lake just beyond. The middle has almost the same view, but not quite. And the last is the bench at the top of the hill. This is the first place my dad visits when he comes here, and I've adopted the tradition for myself. Looking out from this bench, you can see the glacier lake, the Capitol building, and most of Madison spread out in front of you. I'm not sure why I got this angle, but next time I'll do better.

There are a few more shots I wanted to include that just underline how truly breathtaking this place is. It's no wonder my dad has been coming here so many years.

There was a full moon that night and, of course, I couldn't quite get it to show up in a picture the way my eye was seeing it. The moon is elusive like that.

Being in a space like this, I couldn't help but feel some calm settle over me. I'm not really much for formal prayer, but I go to the ones the Sisters host here. They do three common prayer times: morning, noon, and before dinner. Well, I didn't go to the morning ones. But the others I made it to. I would like to mention that I was awake for the morning ones; it's hard to stay in bed when nature is having so much fun around you. I spent a lot of time reading, thinking, questioning, talking to my dad, and a little bit napping. One of the Sisters took us to a nearby college because I found out they had an Art Therapy program and that has been something I've been lazily intrigued by for a couple years. We had political discussions over lunch and joked about crazy "end of the world-ers" over dinner. My dad and I had late night snacks of cheese and veggie chips and spicy peanut sauce. I watched a sunrise. On purpose. It was lovely.

And all of this occurred from Thursday afternoon to Saturday morning. It flew by like a blink. There's a bittersweet aspect to being somewhere that holds your soul so gently. You know you will have to leave. And while there are things about home that I would not give up, I found myself on Saturday fearful that I would lose this sort of gooey, peaceful, just-massaged-soul thing that I had going on. Then we had lunch. And somewhere in the conversation we were talking about fall turning into winter. My dad, being the casual poet that he is, likened a trip to the monastery to a fall tree. He said when he's there he feels like one of these brilliantly lit up red or gold trees. And then he heads home and hits the toll road. And it's like when the winter starts to creep in and blow the leaves off the trees. So the tolls blow off a few of his leaves. Then he hits traffic and some more blow away. And by the time he's home, he resembles a winter tree more than the fall one.

That stuck with me. This is going to go straight to his head and I'll never hear the end of it, by the way. But I latched onto the idea that I want to hang onto my brilliant leaves for as long as I possibly can. It's gonna take a really major wind to blow these suckers off. And I mean something serious because I actually love the wind. And last winter, the cold invigorated me.

So, when I walked out to my car at 7:30am this morning to go to work and found that two cars had left me a total of one inch to go in either direction, I handled it with all my pretty red and gold leaves in place. I got permission from my dad to hit both cars until I could maneuver my way out, and I went on my way with a smile. I may have muttered, "Jerks," under my breath, but with a smile. I think this leaves image is going to be a strong one and it's going to help me keep that monastery experience with me even in this crazy city. Thanks, pa.