As I prepared to write this, reviewing my notes and ideas, the bells rang calling those attending 10 a.m. Mass to hurry along and, then again, to mark the top of the hour. I hear the bells every day, from my parish church at the end of the block that I live on, but especially now with more windows open and time spent outside attending to my plants. They remind me of the bells at the monastery. They remind me of a call to pause and say a prayer. They remind me of some words of Sr. Joan Chittister in her book, The Monastic Heart, that were also used as part of a reflection a couple of weeks ago in our weekly email update from Sr. Joan.
Joan said, “The purpose of Benedictine bells is not to spell out the hour of the day at all; that task is left to horologists. Our bells, on the other hand, are there to wrench our attention back to what is really important in life: the memory of God in our midst. The memory of the purpose of life. The memory that time is moving on and so must we. The recognition that life today is different than yesterday, and we must not try to hold life back. The bells jog the memory that there are actually more important, more meaningful, more demanding dimensions of life than anything ordinary we can possibly be doing as they ring. The bells stop us in midflight to prod us to ask ourselves again if what we are doing is what we are really meant to be doing.”
It’s true that the bells also call us to remember the great concerns of life, such as caring for the poor and people in need, or comforting the sick or grieving. We must ask whether we aware of the concerns of our brothers and sisters in areas of the world ravaged by war, weather or persecution? But they also cause me to pause and look at what I am doing in the moment, is it important? Does it matter? Am I living my vocation in life?
This week I had several opportunities to pause and slow down, to look at my self-care, nurturing or self-compassion. My friend Kate Brown taught a workshop, “Nurture and Grow: Cultivating Self-Compassion in a Turbulent World.” We considered ways to be more compassionate to ourselves and that in doing so we build a reservoir to compassion to give to others. We discussed being more mindful vs mind full and the importance of finding a community of like-minded individuals that will support and encourage us and then we in turn for each other. We also discussed embracing our imperfections and the importance of accepting ourselves, where and who we are at this moment.
Speaking of imperfections, yesterday was my monthly creative journaling workshop and our topic was “Resistance, Joy and Self-Compassion.” Resistance and judgement in our creative endeavors is definitely the thief of joy! We experimented with drawing ovals, faces and a drawing ourselves from a selfie taken during class. Lisa encouraged us to break resistance by doing a little bit of creative art or journaling every day, to make little promises to ourselves to commit to our creativity. But it can be so hard to find and set aside the time for our own self-nurturing. Am I willing to commit to doing so?
Church, convent and monastery bells have provided this reminder to pause to countless men and women throughout the centuries. For some reason, the bells were a soothing reminder this morning of all of the women who have guided me throughout my life. When I remember my mother on this Mother’s Day, I remember a woman who worked harder than anyone I have ever met. I don’t know what she thought about self-nurturing or self-compassion, we never talked about it, at least not in those words. But I do know while she always gave of herself to others, she also knew how to relax and enjoy herself when the work was done, whether it was Saturday night dinners out with my father, their annual fishing trips to Minnesota or backyard gatherings with friends. I remember my “Noni” (Italian grandmother) and times spent with her, usually in the kitchen or the garden. I recall my aunt, a Franciscan sister, who encouraged me in ways that I didn’t realize fully at the time. The Benedictine sisters who invited me to learn more about the monastic life and community remain important witnesses to me of a life of purpose.
Pause for a few minutes today and consider the women who have influenced you in your life, whether mothers, grandmothers or nurturing women and role-models. Did they offer (or perhaps they are still alive and continue to offer) examples of self-care and compassion? Who does offer that reminder to you? Would you be willing, if you don’t regularly, to take a few minutes each day to find ways to embrace who you are and what you feel you need to live a life that supports your purpose and vision in life? Why not start now!
Wishing you abundant peace and compassion, Deena
Picture: of the bell tower at St. Mary Monastery in Rock Island, Illinois. I am an Oblate of this monastery.
Deena Pavinato - Journeys 