A Contemplative Moment: On Perseverance in Cell

« Whoever perseveres without defiance in the cell and lets himself be taught by it tends to make his entire existence a single and continual prayer. But he may not enter into this rest without going through the test of a difficult battle. It is the austerities to which he applies himself as someone close to the Cross, or the visits of God, coming to test him like gold in the fire. Thus purified by patience, fed and strengthened by studied meditation of Scripture, introduced by the grace of the Holy Spirit in the recesses of his heart, he will thus be able to, not only serve God, but adhere to him. » Carthusian Statutes

What do you Like Best About Eremitical Life?

 [[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered if you could explain what you like best about the eremitical life? Since you don't do a lot of active minis-try that would provide variety, I am assuming that is not a favorite part, so what is? Maybe this is not the best way to ask the question. I guess I am really wondering what part of your life is most enriching or what part you look forward to every day especially if every day is the same because of your schedule. I hope you can understand what I am asking here. Thank you.]]

Now that is a challenging question! It is not challenging because I don't know what I look forward to each day or really like, but because there is no one thing I like best. I guess saying that out loud gives me the key to answering your question then.  What I like best about eremitical life is the way I can relate to God and grow in, with, and through him in this vocation. This is also a way of saying I like the way this vocation allows me to serve the Church and world despite or even through the limitations I also experience. Each of the elements of my life helps in this and some days I like one thing more than another but still, that is because each one contributes to my encounter with God --- usually in the depths of my own heart --- in different ways, to different degrees, on different days.

So, on most days I love the silence and solitude and especially I love quiet prayer periods or more spontaneous times of contemplative prayer which intensify these and transform them into the silence of solitude --- where I simply rest in God's presence or, in the image I have used most recently, rest in God's gaze. It is here that I come to know myself as God knows me and thus am allowed to transcend the world's categories, questions, or judgments. Sometimes these periods are like the one prayer experience I have described here in the past. But whether or not this is true, these periods are ordinarily surprising, or at least never the same; they are transformative and re-creative even when it takes reflective time to realize that this has been happening.

Another thing that I do each day which is usually something I really love is Scripture, whether I do that as part of lectio or as a resource for study or writing. Engagement with Scripture is one of the "wildest rides" I can point to in my life. It is demanding, challenging, and often exhilarating. Sometimes it doesn't speak to me in any immediately dramatic way. But it works on my heart like water on something relatively impervious --- gradually, insistently, and inevitably. Other times, for instance when reading Jesus' parables or other's stories about Jesus, or even the theological reflection of John and Paul, I have the sense that I am being touched by a "living word" and brought into a different world or Kingdom in this way. It always draws me in more deeply and even when I have heard a story or passage thousands of times before something speaks to me on some level in a new way, leads to a new way of understanding reality, or shows me something I had never seen before.

A third piece of this life I love and look forward to is the writing I do. Some of this is specifically theological and there is no doubt that my grappling with Scripture is important for driving at least some of my writing. Whether the writing is the journaling I do for personal growth work, the blogging I do which, in its better moments is an exploration of canon 603 and its importance, a reflection on Scriptures I have been spending time with, or the pieces which can be labeled "spirituality," they tend to be articulations of what happens in prayer and in my own engagement with Christ. One topic I spend time on, of course, is reflection on the place of eremitical life under canon 603 in the life of the Church herself. Since I am especially interested in the possibility of treating chronic illness as a vocation to proclaim with one's life the Gospel of Jesus Christ with a special vividness, and since I have come to understand eremitical solitude as a communal or dialogical reality which is especially suited to the transfiguration of the isolation associated with chronic illness, etc, I write a lot about canon 603 and the solitary eremitical vocation.

A second area of theology I return to again and again is the theology of the Cross. I remember that when I first met with Archbishop (then Bishop) Allen Vigneron he asked me a conversation-starter kind of question about my favorite saint. I spoke about Saint Paul (wondering if perhaps I shouldn't have chosen someone who was not also an Apostle --- someone like St Benedict or St Romuald or St John of the Cross) and began to talk about his theology of the cross.  I explained that if I could spend the rest of my life trying to or coming to understand his theology of the cross I would be a happy camper. (I have always wondered what Archbishop Vigneron made of this unexpected answer!)

I saw incredible paradoxes and amazing beauty in the symmetries and strangely compelling asymmetries of the cross and I still discover dimensions I had not seen. Most recently one of these was the honor/shame dialectic and the paradox of the glory of God revealed in the deepest shame imaginable. I have written previously about God being found in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. This paradox is a deepening of that insight. The Cross is the Event which reveals the source even as it functions as the criterion of all the theology we have that is truly capable of redeeming people's lives. It is the ultimate source of the recent theology I did on humility as being lifted up to be seen as God sees us beyond any notions of worthiness or unworthiness. My life as a hermit allows me to stay focused on the cross in innumerable ways, not only intellectually (reading and thinking about this theology), but personally, spiritually, and emotionally. That is an incredible gift which the Church --- via the person of Archbishop Vigneron and the Diocese of Oakland --- has given me in professing and consecrating me as a diocesan hermit.

There are other things I love about eremitical life (not least the limited but still significant (meaningful) presence and ministry in my parish it makes possible or my spiritual direction ministry); these are also related in one way and another to the person I am in light of living contemplatively within the Divine dialogue I know as the silence of solitude. One of the things which is especially important to me is the freedom I have to live my life as I discern God wills.

Whether I am sick or well, able to keep strictly to a schedule or not, I have the sense that I live this life by the grace of God and that God is present with me in all of the day's moments and moods. It doesn't matter so much if writing goes well or ill, if prayer seems profound or not, if the day is tedious or exciting, all of it is inspired, all of it is what I am called to and I am not alone in it. This means that it is meaningful and even that it glorifies God. I try to live it well, of course, and I both fail and succeed in that, but I suppose what I love best is that it is indeed what I am called to live in and through Christ. It is the way of life that allows me to most be myself in spite of the things that militate against that; moreover it is the thing which allows me to speak of my life in terms of a sense of mission.  The difficulty in pointing to any one thing I most like about eremitical life is that, even if in the short term they cause difficulty, struggle, tedium, etc., all of the things that constitute it make me profoundly happy and at peace. I think God is genuinely praised and glorified when this is true.

I hope this gives you something of an answer to your question. I have kind of worked my way through to an actual answer --- from the individual pieces of the life that are most life giving to me to the reasons this life as a whole is something I love. One thing I hope I have managed to convey is that even when the schedule is the same day to day, the content is never really the same because at the heart of it is a relationship with the living and inexhaustible God. Your question focuses on the absence of variety and in some ways, the absence of novelty (neos). But really there is always newness rooted in the deeper newness (kainotes) of God.

Imagine plunging into the ocean at different points within a large circle. The surface looks the same from point to point but the world one enters in each dive is vastly different and differently compelling from place to place. So, following the same daily horarium, I sit in the same chair (or use the same prayer bench) to pray; I work at the same desk day in and day out. I open the same book of Scriptures and often read the same stories again and again or pray the same psalms, and so forth. I rise at the same hour each day, pray at the same times, eat the same meals at the same hours, wear the same habit and prayer garment, make the same gestures and generally do the same things day after day. There is variation when I am ill or need to leave the hermitage, but in the main it is a life of routine and sometimes even tedium. But the eremitical life is really about what happens below the surface as one opens oneself to God. It is the reason the classic admonition of the Desert Fathers, "Dwell (remain) in your cell and your cell will teach you everything" can be true, the only reason "custody of the cell" is such a high value in eremitical life or stability of place such a similarly high value in monasticism.

Hermits, Blogs, Publicity, and the Dynamic of the Camaldolese "Triplex Bonum"

[[Dear Sister, it still seems to me to be a conflict for a hermit to have a blog. I appreciate that you have reconciled this in your own mind and I understand your diocese is comfortable with it, but isn't this 21st C development out of sync with the history of eremitical life in the Church? Now you are featured in an article in the Saturday Evening Post and it is clear from that article that others have the same questions I do. Not all of them are asking these because they are victims of [believing] stereotypes, are they?]]

Many thanks for these questions. They are significant and point directly at the tension or dynamic that is at the heart of my own life, the life of Camaldolese monks, nuns, and oblates, and I suspect, the life of any truly healthy hermit with a strong sense of the Gospel and their own place in the heart of the Church. I am going to answer all of your questions by referring to the Camaldolese charism and also to the history of Camaldolese life in the Church with special reference to both SS Romuald and Peter Damian. My own sense, and something I have written here and spoken about before on A Nun's Life (In Good Faith podcast), is that this specific charism is profoundly ancient and equally contemporary. It reprises the dynamic which is present for anyone exploring the nature of  --- much less justifying --- a life of "the silence of solitude," and which I personally find especially appropriate and empowering for the life of the diocesan hermit.

First, is this dynamic of an eremitical solitude which also reaches out to others to proclaim the Gospel of God in Christ and the redemptive nature of solitude (because that is what I am concerned with in this blog) out of sync with the history of eremitical life? My answer is no. I can point to three significant historical instances or paradigms of eremitical life here to justify that response: 1) the desert Fathers and Mothers, 2) the anchorites and especially the "urbani" of the medieval period, and 3) the Camaldolese (in particular the Benedictine Camaldolese) and their founders, especially SS Romuald, Peter Damian, and Paul Giustiniani (a Saint at least to the "Order"!). Each of these had a significant degree of interaction with the world around them and for each of them the notion of witness (sometimes called evangelization or martyrdom) was central.

Sister Donald Corcoran, OSB and Dom Robert Hale, OSB Cam

The desert Fathers and Mothers left a too-worldly expression of Church to live Gospel lives in nearby deserts. They were committed to a form of witness now called "white martyrdom" to replace the red martyrdom associated with the persecutions of early Christians. They lived lives of solitude rooted in Gospel values but did so on the margins of society. They modeled agrarian practices for their neighbors, bought and sold (mainly sold!) goods in local markets and are famous for the hospitality they embraced as a central value.  Anyone showing up on their doorstep was welcomed as Christ. They were fed, questions were answered, what we would today call spiritual direction was given, so that in example, word, and deed the Gospel was thus proclaimed and Church was lived out. Did they also live a significant solitude? Of course, but at the heart of their lives was their own negotiation of the very dynamic or tension my own life, for instance, attempts to negotiate and embody.


The medieval anchorites, also called "urbani" because they lived eremitical lives in the midst of towns, villages, and cities, mirror the same dynamic in a different way. Anchorites practice a stricter physical stability because they remained in a single small dwelling and were sometimes even walled into or locked within an anchorhold. However, such anchorholds which were adjacent to a church generally had a window opening onto the altar, another opening onto the main square of the village or city, and a third entrance or window through which food and other necessities could be passed back and forth by those who served the anchorite. Townspeople often stopped to talk with the anchorite; it was the medieval equivalent of a counselling or spiritual direction center. There was danger of abuse and distortion of the life in this, of course, and some Camaldolese writers and others wrote scathing pieces on those who abused the practice of converse with others. Still, the dynamic and the tension were present as an integral part of the life.

Finally there is the Benedictine Camaldolese model of eremitical life and the example of its founders. The Camaldolese live the charism referred to as "triplex bonum" or "the triple good", namely, solitude, communion, and evangelization or martyrdom (witness!). Thus, their lives include each of these in a dynamic tension and they have both monasteries and hermitages as a result. Further, there is a strong component of hospitality involved here while monks will travel and sometimes live apart from the monastery/hermitage in order to accomplish a particular ministry. It is not only that some monks live in monasteries and some live in hermitages. Rather what is true in the Camaldolese life is that, again, each monk or nun lives the dynamic of a solitude rooted in community and issuing in ministry or witness in various ways. (The Monte Corona Camaldolese differ in that they only have hermitages, but I would suggest the same dynamic is present.)

Dom Robert Hale, OSB Cam, assuming role as Prior

Saint Romuald is known for his extensive travels in order to reform monasticism, extend the Rule of Benedict to free-lance hermits, and proclaim the Gospel. His own eremitical identity is sometimes questioned as a result, but the Church does NOT question it, nor do the centuries of monks, nuns, and hermits who followed him as Camaldolese. It is significant that the single piece of writing we have from him is his "Brief Rule" which is probably the most paradigmatic Rule ever written for the eremitical life. In it two elements are especially prevalent: 1) the need to sit silently and patiently in one's cell waiting only on the Lord, and 2) the place of Scripture, especially as source of and impetus for the assiduous prayer of the solitary life. Again, the combination is a form of witness to the Gospel because the life (and ANY Christian life) demands it.

St Peter Damian's life was also not stereotypically or even typically eremitical. He was engaged throughout his life with the reform of the Church and religious life. He was a Cardinal, papal legate, theologian, spiritual director, hermit, writer, etc. He carried on an extensive correspondence with many people to address the needs of his day and there is hardly a pressing topic he did not address with astuteness and flexibility. (His view of the laity, by the way, is also startlingly contemporary for he believed profoundly in the spiritual equality of all, eschewed notions of a spiritual elite, and would have rejoiced at Vatican II's proclamation of "the universal call to holiness" or the council's affirmation of the laity's right and even obligation to criticize the hierarchy [cf Letter 10 to Emperor Henry III].) He struggled with the question of vocation: "Should I be a hermit or a preacher?" His "starting point" regarding either vocation was the Scriptural imperative of extending Christ's salvation to others. Damian was particularly critical of a solitude focused only on saving oneself.

This led directly to the dynamic tension every Christian and certainly every Camaldolese and every diocesan hermit knows well: how do I honor my call to solitude and also carry out my Baptismal commission to proclaim the Gospel of Christ? As a symptom of this tension and much as Thomas Merton anguished nine centuries later, Peter Damian struggled with his vocation as a writer which, because it was so profoundly engaged with the Church and  World on so many issues and levels seemed to threaten his life as hermit-monk; he once said (in a letter to the current Pope), "I would rather weep than write," and he was well aware that his own hermit and monastic life was not the norm. Even so, in the end we regard Peter Damian profoundly and sincerely as a hermit-monk for whom all else was an extension of that call.


So, to return more directly to your own questions, no I do not believe it is a conflict for me to also have a blog. I believe it reflects a well-established dynamic and imperative in the history of eremitical life, namely the dynamic of solitude-community-witness, and the imperative that one proclaims the Gospel so that others might be saved by God in Christ. I do try to make sure that I maintain what is called "custody of the cell" (where cell is both my hermitage, a life of essential solitude, and my own hermit heart). There would be no witness, indeed, no capacity for witness without this; further, it itself IS a witness to the Gospel!! But to be very honest, like Peter Damian, I believe that if eremitical life is not generally constituted or profoundly informed by this dynamic in some substantial way (and this is true even for the complete recluse!), it ceases to be Christian. Remember that before I  had read much about eremitical life, much less before I ever considered becoming a hermit, I thought that at best it was a selfish and wasteful way of life. I certainly could not regard it as truly Christian. It took some reading by hermits (not least, Thomas Merton) and of work on Camaldolese life to convince me otherwise. My reading (and living!!) has continued and I am more convinced than ever that authentic eremitical life involves the dynamic/tension mentioned above and embodied by the Camadolese as the charism or gift-quality defining their lives.

A Little about "Friending", Friendships, and Eremitical Custody of the Cell

[[Sister Laurel, do you have friends? Did you have to leave friends in order to become a hermit? How do you maintain friendships and embrace stricter separation from the world? Is it difficult to maintain balance in this?]]

Really excellent questions, especially the timing of them. If you remember, Friday's readings included one from Sirach which gave lots of sage advice on friendship. I was reflecting on the day's readings the evening before and I realized that in many ways friendships work the same as stricter separation from the world. That is, they provide a privileged, even holy, space where we can 1) be ourselves without the distorting lenses and props of "the world," 2) see ourselves as we are, and even 3) come to meet God. So, on Friday I shared some of my reflections at a communion service. One thing I noted was that genuine friendship involves a mutual commitment to the truth and life of the other (and to oneself). I also spoke a little about the vast difference between Facebook's new verb, "friending" and the reality of genuinely befriending or being a friend. What Sirach said several thousand years ago is true today: "let your acquaintances be many, but one in a thousand your confidant." Tragically, it seems that a lot of people don't know the difference between acquaintances and friends while others trivialize one of the greatest treasures in life --- true friends --- in other ways.

But, your questions were about my own life and friendships, especially as these relate to stricter separation from the world. So, to answer those, yes, I have friends, some very good ones in fact, and a number of others as well. I have Sister friends, friends from orchestra and music more generally, friends from the parish and town, several quite good ones from online (yes we have met in person), and friends from school (elementary through graduate school).

I did not have to leave friends in order to become a hermit, but partly that was because chronic illness had already caused a significant rupture in my ability to maintain relationships as I would have liked --- at least, that is, in terms of making just hanging out or regular (and predictable) contact really possible. It is the case, however, that hermits cannot simply call friends whenever they want, or just drop things to go out, nor even allow friends to drop in at any time --- or even very frequently (eremitical hospitality is a very high value even so and is in tension here). Beyond this there will be parts of the hermitage which are essentially or functionally cloistered. Hence, even without the effects of chronic illness, there will be a rupture in relationships (or at least the way these are lived out and maintained)! 

This is something that aspirants for Canon 603 profession don't always realize, and as a result, they spend time trying to build in (physical) solitude, (external) silence, and stricter separation from "worldly things" (whatever this means!) while maintaining life as it generally was prior to this. So, you are correct in inferring and implying in your questions that embracing eremitical life entails a real and substantial break with one's old life --- a break in which relationships will not remain unaffected. However, it is also true that friendships are important for human wholeness and I (and, I suspect, all hermits) try to keep in touch as is possible and healthy for their own eremitical lives. One technological advance that works well for me is the use of email; because of this friends can write when they want and allow me to get back to them when I can --- all without the ringing of phones, meshing of schedules, etc.

I suspect that a piece of your question about maintaining my balance is related to the idea that what is outside the hermitage is "the world" while that which is inside the hermitage is sacred. But this is emphatically not a healthy or effective way to approach the matter. It is not even accurate since the hermitage is very much a place where the hermit does battle with the world inside her own heart and mind. (This was a very large part of the what battling with demons was all about for the desert Fathers and Mothers.) Sometimes then, trips outside the hermitage are actually necessary because a part of my own heart (my personal center) is also "the world" and resistant to Christ. 

It is true that solitary prayer and lectio help a lot with the conversion of this dimension of my life, but so too do meetings and time with others. After all, it is possible to remain in the hermitage and, in the process, begin to lose sight of the concrete forms of growth one really needs to achieve. In fulltime solitude, one can mistakenly begin to justify a completely self-centered private project in superficial or inauthentic piety. Humility, for instance, can become a contrived and self-absorbed project. Achieving sainthood or citizenship in heaven and dismissing the world of space and time (rather than cooperating with God's work to make heaven (defined as life with and in God) interpenetrate this awesome creation), can become something similar.

On the other hand, a challenging (though loving) conversation with a friend, or an uncomfortable confrontation with another musician can point up one's self-absorption and pettiness in short order. The basic Christian requirement that we love another person concretely can unmask all pretensions to having grown significantly in the love of God or true holiness. Eremitical life has always been criticized for its lack of opportunities to love one's brothers and sisters in concrete ways. This is a criticism which MUST be taken seriously in one way and another. The bottom line for discernment is always what is the Spirit of wholeness and true charity summoning me to at this point? Mainly the answer will be, "to dwell in my cell where I learn "everything" I need to know," but some of the time the answer will be, "to spend time with my friends, peers, and acquaintances, so that I might learn to love all the better and share (the fruits of) this great journey with them in the way God wills."

Maintaining balance is not so hard once one realizes that one cannot simply continue as one once did. Penance (and the other essential elements of eremitical life) will likely mean giving up aspects of friendship one enjoyed (hanging around together, for instance, or being able to call someone most any time), and it will assuredly mean a commitment to custody of the cell as primary and foundational context of one's life. But once that is defined and maintained in a way which is integral and fundamentally life-giving, time and space for friendship can (and will actually need to) be worked out as well.

I hope this helps. As always, please get back to me with further questions or needs for clarification.

Changing the world in continued faithfulness and perseverance

Deacon Greg of Deacon's Bench blog posted an astonishingly beautiful couple of picture symbolizing the impact of one person's prayer over time. Quoting the story he read, he writes: [[According to the report: "70 year-old Buddhist monk Hua Chi has been praying in the same spot at his temple in Tongren, China for over 20 years. His footprints, which are up to 1.2 inches deep in some areas, are the result of performing his prayers up to 3000 times a day. Now that he is 70, he says that he has greatly reduced his quantity of prayers to 1,000 times each day."]]



We often are tempted to think our prayers produce no fruit, no perceptible change, or that faithfulness especially to the tedium of monastic, eremitic, or lay lives is worthless. In fact we simply cannot see the effects of our faithfulness, our perseverence in all the small acts of faith and commitment to living our lives in Christ we undertake day in and day out. Remember these pictures. Beautiful as they are, they are but a shadow of the changes such faithfulness and perseverence bring in and to our world.

Balancing the Cenobitical (Communal) and Solitary dimensions of Diocesan (and Camaldolese) Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister Laurel, how is it you balance the two aspects of Camaldolese life? I am asking in light of the goals or resolutions you wrote about yesterday. Doesn't your Rule simply tell you what you may and may not do? Thanks.]]

Speaking as a diocesan (solitary canonical) hermit who is also Camaldolese (an oblate), let me begin by saying that discerning what is necessary and what is unnecessary, or what is the apropriate balance between cenobitical and strictly solitary dimensions is first of all, not always easy to achieve. (I read recently that one young monk at a Camaldolese house pronounced it an impossible task!), Also, it is not a solution which is set in stone for all time. That is to say, it is a "balance" which is fluid and dynamic and what works for some time may not work at other periods. Bearing this in mind, I suppose there are two basic approaches one might adopt: the first is to begin with the communal demands and dimensions of one's life and then be sure to build in lots of solitude to counterbalance it. This would be the approach taken by those who treat "solitary life" as a part-time vocation, something married folks could undertake, for instance. More legitimately to my mind, it would also be the basic approach taken by apostolic or active religious in insuring that ministry does not swallow up an inner life. In my own experience however, helpful as this may be in some situations, it does not result in essentially solitary or eremitical life and is not the way to go (for the hermit, that is) except as one needs to intensify the more strictly solitary dimension of one's life because solitude itself calls one to this. (How cenobites should or do approach these matters is another question.)

The second basic approach is to begin with what is called by many hermits, "custody of the cell" and faithfulness to that, modifying it with the communal demands and dimensions necessary for a healthy psycho-spiritual life, as well as to those which one's Rule binds one in obedience (ideally these are largely synonymous). Personally I think this is the better approach since it demands faithfulness to an essentially solitary life, but respects the ways in which that must be modified because of 1) external demands (parish, community, limited ministry, directives of superiors, etc), and 2) internal demands the hermit herself requires either for well-being or as a natural outgrowth of solitude. This latter point (internal demands) is an important one, however, because I think it is the internal demands which must ultimately govern the external ones. What I mean by this is that one cannot really just do a quick (or even complex) calculation of solitary vs communal demands and give 60% (or 75% or 50%) to one and 40% (or 25% or 50%) to the other, for instance. Instead one must look at the reality that defines one primarily (in the life of a hermit it will always be faithfulness to, or perserverence in cell with all that implies re personal encounter with God and personal growth, growth work, etc), and then work out the ways one is called BECAUSE OF THAT FIDELITY, to communal expression and sharing of the fruit of one's solitude.

Let me give you an example of what I mean. In my own life I can draw up a balance sheet between the things which occur outside of the hermitage and the things which occur within it. (In fact, this can come in handy when someone objects that you spend a lot of time outside the hermitage, but when statistically it really adds up to a day or two out of each month. I recently resorted to this as the result of one person's objections to the degree of contact I SEEMED to her to have with others. it put things into new perspective nicely.) But this is only helpful to this very limited degree, and is not a method I ordinarily use. Thus, a few months ago when I decided to take one week per month of strict reclusion, and then eventually changed that (experimentally and temporarily) to ten days per month, it was not a matter of adding up the hours spent in and out of the hermitage and tinkering with those that assisted me. Instead, solitude itself was demanding more time alone with God; my prayer life was demanding it; my time with others and capacity for loving them was demanding it and these demands had to be accommodated.

Similarly, as my life in the parish changes and intensifies, I am faced with various choices (not given in any order of preference but merely to indicate some of the major choices I would need to consider): 1) Do I drop or further limit direction clients in order to meet the challenges coming from the parish ? 2) do I drop other major activities (orchestra, quartets), or 3) Do I cut back on my involvement in the parish or refuse further (more extensive and intensive) involvement? Alternately, do I continue as I am or, do I increase this where asked and/or appropriate? 4) Do I enlist parishioners' aid in meeting needs which take me outside the hermitage regularly, and if so, how often and to what extent? How would I determine such things since most of these activities in varying degrees and ways, are life-giving to me and tend to involve personal commitments which are significant? (I admit having friends/parishioners run errands for me because this is a somewhat difficult part of my life is attractive, but for that very reason, I am not apt to request it unless it is clear this is done BECAUSE the combination of solitude AND life in the parish requires it.)

It seems to me that the way to discern what steps should be taken therefore involve first, being sure that I am completely faithful to "the discipline of the cell" (custody of the cell) apart from these things, and then, determining which of these, and in what way and degree contribute to that, flow from it, or mitigate and disrupt it, etc. Discernment would ALSO include a look at the various ways each of these things challenges and enriches me since it would be possible to choose to drop one thing simply because it was more challenging personally, or more uncomfortable, or simply more difficult to harmonize with some merely exterior idea of eremitical life. While that last criterion might be a telling and genuinely significant one, it also might cause me to let go of something which would be the occasion of greater growth rather than less, so discernment is necessary. (And of course, these are not the only questions I ask in discernment, but they are two of the basic thrusts of my questions.) One of the things which is assumed but not explained here in any depth is the notion of custody of the cell. I can say more about that at another point if you wish. For now let me merely point out that as an instance of Benedictine stability it is not simply about place and commitment to place, but about love of God (and those he cherishes) and obedience to him within the context of this place. In its own way it is as much an interpersonal term as is Benedictine stability.)

As for your second question, I wrote here in the recent past that a Rule was not a list of things to do and not do, and that while such a document is legislative (that is, while it has the force of law), it is more essentially inspirational. Thus the short answer is that generally, no, my Rule does NOT SIMPLY tell me what I must or must not do (especially the latter!) in detailed ways. The above considerations relate directly to this observation. Part of maintaining "balance", as your first question put it, involves reflecting on my Rule and what it calls for, but in discerning what my Rule allows and what I am called to do in regard to it beyond the general requirements of liturgical prayer, lectio, and the like, it is in rereading the sections of it (and by reading I mean lectio or prayerful reading!!) which describe the essence of solitary life for me, and especially the Scriptures or other texts which moved me to embrace this life in the first place that are most helpful.

For instance, it is in reflecting anew on the story of Jesus' post-baptismal sojourn in the desert, what occured there, what led there, and where that led him subsequently that assists me in determining where God is calling me at this point in terms of the two poles of Camaldolese life. Remembering that the Spirit lead him to the desert where he worked to consolidate his baptismal experience and new appreciation of Sonship, and only thereafter moved back into community to minister from this new vantage point is really helpful to me. Likewise, remembering that in all things he was obedient to the Spirit, including in his ministry to others and his returns to solitude, is really helpful. It is not that it tells me precisely what to do in a given situation, but rather it inspires me that the pattern and priorities of my life represent authentic eremitical life and encourages me always to put Daughtership in Christ and growth in that personal identity/being first. Thus, this story is a fundamental and primary part of my Rule of Life, and it functions far better for me than a list of "can's" and "can't's" ever could.

Other parts of my Rule (theology of the eremitical life, place of silence, theology of the vows, etc) function similarly despite there being very few statements of what is or is not allowed me. (This is not to say that a few can's and can't's are not helpful, but only that my own Rule is not generally composed in that way, and functions more to inspire rather than to legislate. There are sections which include concrete guidelines and goals, but again, not lists of things which cannot be done. I think this is a fairly good rule of thumb for all Rules of Life. Constitutions and Statutes, which are necessary for congregations but not for solitary hermits, are a different matter.)

In the same way St Romuald's brief Rule becomes more and more important to me as well, not as a legislative text (though I recognize and respect this dimension of it), but because it is clear Romuald has captured the very essence of eremitical life in this short passage, and that to the degree I am doing what he advises here, discerning what else is legitimate and spirit-driven for me will be much easier. What I am saying here is that St Romuald, despite the fact that he mainly did not LOOK like most people's idea of a hermit for much of his life, lived this Rule profoundly and thus was able to discern what the Spirit wanted from him which flowed FROM this Rule, even if it SEEMED to conflict with it. I trust this Rule and it inspires me (empowers me with a vision of who I am called to be) more than it sets up a legislative calculus of some sort. (See below for a copy of Romuald's Brief Rule.)

One thing I must say about discernment in this matter of balance is that one of the the most basic things I can say about the eremitical life is that it is one of love, love first of all for God, and secondly and integrally, for all that he cherishes. For some it is possible to love God mainly (though not only) through loving others. For the hermit, the truth is the other way around: one loves God first and foremost and to the degree one does this (and allows him to really love us), this love will, in one way and another, spill over to others, demand others and service to them, be called by others, etc. If these demands lead away from the hermitage (and here, assuming a definitive commitment and vocation to eremitical life, I mean more than occasionally and in a way which doesn't lead right BACK to the hermitage as well), or from "custody of the cell" with its personal and interpersonal demands for growth, then something has gone seriously awry and one has made a mistake somewhere along the line. Perhaps then, "balance" is not the best way of describing this matter (though I have used the term myself a number of times). It is perhaps not so much a matter of balance as a creative and dynamic tension between two dimensions which mutually reinforce and call for one another. If one dimension dies, so, perforce, will the other.

You may want a more concrete answer to parts of your questions. Please let me know if this is the case, or if what I have written is less than helpful to you. Meanwhile, here is Romuald's Brief Rule:

Sit in your cell as in paradise.
Put the whole world behind you and forget it.
Watch your thoughts like a good fisherman watching for fish.
The path you must follow is the psalms --- never leave it.
If you have just come to the monastery, and in spite of your good will you cannot accomplish what you want, take every opportunity you can to sing the psalms in your heart and to understand them with your mind.

And if your mind wanders as you read, do not give up; hurry back and apply your mind to the words once more.

Realize above all that you are in the presence of God, and stand there with the attitude of one who stands before the emperor.
Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes nothing and eats nothing but what his Mother brings him.