Hidden cloister

ermitage Charles de Foucauld

 

The hidden cloister, the imagined cell.

Because it isn’t a real cloister but rather an imagined cloister, a place of emptiness within. (As if any cloister  could be just brick and stone, pillared, a sealed fountain, a courtyard with  herbs and flowers,  a private sanctuary for the external life.)

It is primarily if not altogether metaphor and  this is my way of working with that metaphor.

The  idea came to me as I was thinking about Charles de Foucauld this morning, watching the dark blue dawn sky above the locquat tree. The desert within.

“Let us concern ourselves with those who lack everything,” he stated, “those to whom no one gives a thought. Let us be the friends of those who have no friends, their brother. The love of God, the love of men, that is my whole life, that will be my whole life, I hope. When we can suffer and love, we can do much, the most that one can do in this world.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s