Spending a Couple of Days at New Camaldoli Hermitage

I was able to spend a couple of days at New Camaldoli this week in Big Sur. It was wonderful and, though I have been an oblate with the Camaldolese (associated with Transfiguration Monastery in Windsor, NY) for almost sixteen years, I had never been to New Camaldoli before this week!! I had not really known what to expect. Benedictine hospitality is a value the Camaldolese of course practice, but while reading the comments on the place or I heard from others comments like, "the accommodations are basic", "clean sheets, but not sure how often they wash the blankets", "the food's not the greatest but better than at Vina (the Trappist place in No CA)", and "we were able to stay in one of the newly refurbished spaces. The older guesthouse is not (refurbished)!" From these and others I was a bit apprehensive and brought a few extra things with me (a couple of cans of chunky soup, a comforter, some packages of Easy Mac (Mac 'n Cheese) --- just in case).

I needn't have been concerned. The food was terrific, plentiful, and diverse. Pickup meals (breakfast and supper) were more than sufficient unless one had their heart set on eggs Benedict or something, and dinner (the noon or main meal of the day) was simply excellent. The guesthouse kitchen was open 24 hours a day and had cereals, yogurt, breads, peanut butter, jellies, honey, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, eggs, fruit, etc., always available in case of attacks of the munchies at odd hours. (I know because I was up in the middle of the night getting a peanut butter and banana sandwich and cold glass of milk). Some folks brought their own food from the trip before coming up the mountain and kept it in the refrigerator. Hand sanitizer and masks were provided in the entryway to any common area for those who were unvaccinated.

The rooms were more than basic --- though I suppose not if one is used to luxury. Each of these was clean and minimalist by design. Still, each had everything anyone might want in order to spend comfortable time in silence and solitude. (Unlike some hermit saints, I cannot pray well, and I especially can't journal, if I am cold -- hence the concern with having my own comforter.) There was a large desk in my room in front of a large set of windows with a straight-on view of a private patio area and a direct and awesome view of the ocean, which it overlooked. The patio area had a chair where one could sit in the sun and birdwatch, read, pray, or just check out the ocean; throughout the day this patio area (gravel with flower beds on either side) hosted any number of birds and small critters. (I wished I was more knowledgeable about the birds of the area!! I did see quail, and some kind of dove that nestled down in the gravel for a time.) A cupboard on the right-hand side of the desk held a slide-out surface with a tray holding a set of dishes for one, along with silverware, juice glass and coffee cup. A smaller cupboard on the left held a pitcher, a hotpot, an individual coffee holder with coffee filters for making drip coffee in one's own cup. (I was especially grateful for the hot pot. To be able to make tea or coffee in my own space without running even a short distance to the kitchen was a blessing.) In the desk drawer was a Bible and brief history of the Camaldolese (thanks to Thomas Matus, OSB Cam). 

There was no closet but there was a shelf with a set of pegs below for hanging clothes (perfect for my cowl, cap and veil, and jacket). The small dresser had three deep drawers for anything else. It also held a lamp and alarm clock (though the bells for office and Mass as well as preparatory bells for each of these are rung throughout the day). Next to the dresser was a combination glider-rocking chair. The bed had three drawers underneath it with extra blankets, a down comforter, extra pillow and pillowcase. The heater was powerful and above the heater was a shelf with a flashlight, umbrella and above that, though not used, a hatch for delivering food to the room most familiar to fans of the Carthusians and Camaldolese. (A friend had been to NCH when the monks delivered food to each guest room in this way. No longer!) Some, carrying food to their cells further away from the guest house, had tiffins --- the stacked steel containers also associated with the Carthusians and Camaldolese --- in fashion centuries before bento boxes!!! 

For me though, one thing that was wonderful was the opportunity to pray Office and celebrate Eucharist with the monks. I use the Camaldolese Office book ordinarily, so while there were a few chants I did not know (different versions of the Our Father, etc) most was already familiar. I still find the tempo and rhythm of praying with Camaldolese monks difficult (space is created in everything they do including liturgy); it takes a while to feel this much slower and spaced rhythm/tempo internally, but it serves both to slow one down and to quiet one's expression. As a woman I find singing with the guys is difficult because of pitch too. To sing right at their pitch is difficult and often too low to hit the note solidly, while singing up an octave makes one stand out and is often too high anyway --- more uncertainty of pitch!! Hesitancy and chant are not a good combination in any instance!! Still, since I do these chants alone at Stillsong, the chance to sing in choir with others was wonderful.

Silence was maintained throughout the place and the guests honored this as well (a real difference from other retreats I have been on). I had conversations with a couple of monks --- one who came after Lauds to introduce himself and meet me. (See corresponding picture, center front. That's the guy, er, monk!!) Our relatively brief conversation was delightful; he had a wonderful sense of humor! We spoke of chant ("why? (is it hard to sing with us) --- because we're so good??) --- said with a clear and ironic twinkle in his eyes, habits (he is the community tailor and checked out my cowl, felt the fabric, asked about the maker, etc.), bishops (what do I think of the Bishop of Oakland and the bishops who preceded him?), and oblature (you've been an oblate for sixteen years? And you've never been here before (not a question) -- why that's almost a sin!). Another sought me in the guesthouse with concerns that everything was okay and that I had what I needed. (He was actually looking for someone else who had had some problems with her car, but he still was entirely gracious to me once we figured out I was not the person he had sought.) These brief, spontaneous, and lovely kinds of encounters didn't intrude on the silence; they grew out of it and led back to it.

St Romuald receiving gift of tears

Simply spending time at a Camaldolese House was a powerful experience for me. I came away with a clearer sense of myself, especially my identity (as Camaldolese and a hermit); there were some shifting senses of my own gifts, strengths, and weaknesses (unconscious things were brought to consciousness and could be viewed in this new light), and a strengthened sense of the nature of certain relationships whose bonds are very deep and sustaining for me. I wrote in my journal at one point that sometimes we don't know how really close to another person we are until we go away. What I was thinking of here was that I had experienced a felt sense of these persons' presence, prayer, and love --- distant as we were geographically. I felt their presence even more clearly not only because they are part of my life ordinarily, but because of the depth of the bonds we share with one another. (These bonds are what allows one of these persons to say, "You came into my awareness," rather than, "I thought of you" the other day, for instance.) I had gone to NC Hermitage with the desire to experience the quality of the silence and solitude there. I was not disappointed. It is a living, breathing reality, grounded in and shot through with Presence --- of God, certainly, but of the monks and guests who have come here through the years as well. 

As I worked and prayed in my own cell I recognized how like being at home in Stillsong it was and how living in this space required no real transition for me. While that was not really surprising, it was still affirming. What I experienced is, I think, what happens when a solitary hermit and Camaldolese oblate comes to a house of Camaldolese hermit monks for the first time (or any time). I was at home and felt the gift of this place and all who also call this home even as I was aware that I brought the gift of my own eremitical life and Camaldolese self to this place as well. This is what real hospitality can bring and be. It is certainly what Camaldolese hospitality is about for both monks and guests.

Postscript: For those who wondered if I practice any asceticism at all and asked what I was doing up in the middle of the night raiding the kitchen (yes, I received snarky questions about this!), I was up getting something with potassium, calcium, and magnesium, to help balance and increase certain electrolytes. Enough said!!