CELL | SANCTUARY AND PRISON
You Reading This, Be Ready
Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?
When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life –
What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?
By William Stafford
My wife and I made our way to Korea on May 7. As is the case for all incoming foreign nationals with a short term stay (less than 3 months), we were herded (in some cases literally) through the entire customs and the COVID protocol and ultimately landed in a hotel room for a 2 week mandatory quarantine until May 21. The unexpected? My wife and I are separated into two separate rooms! This possibility never entered my mind. What ungodly and unjust system is this! Nevertheless, it has become a reality in the last 10 days. Thus I am in my own small hotel room, I mean “cell.” True, this is a very “luxurious cell” with all the technology, perks, and comforts. It is no cave, to be sure. This is undoubtedly a newfangled and fascinating experience I have not experienced before. So this blog post is about what I have processed and reflected in the last 10 days or so.
“Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” Abba Moses, one of the great Desert Fathers in the 4th century, advised one of his followers. I suppose there are multiple different ways to define what cell refers to. In early Christianity, cell was an actual cave, place, or a rudimentary room for radical ascetic hermits. Most of these cells were self-sustaining; they could survive days and even years, provided someone from the outside supplied them with food.
Centuries later, Saint Francis developed a compelling application of this “cell.” “Wherever we are, wherever we go, we bring our cell with us. Our brother body is our cell and our soul is the hermit living in the cell. If our soul does not live in peace and solitude within this cell, of what avail is it to live in a man-made cell?” What a profound application!
For me, this “cell” has felt like sanctuary and prison. Sometimes a sanctuary, sometimes a prison. . . Sanctuary means safety and protection. It also connotes temporal reprieve, as life cannot be lived only in a sanctuary. Prison means strict restrictions and loss of freedom, which is identical to my situation. Interestingly, it felt more like a prison initially, and I find myself moving toward this cell becoming more of a sanctuary. I still have my bursts of restlessness and bouts of head-spinning craziness, but so far, no full-on hyper-ventilating episode. Maybe it will come. . . but I am not holding my breath!
Here are a couple of musings so far.
“Time is life itself,” Richard Rohr said. Time moves slower in this “cell.” I noticed myself becoming far more restless when I began thinking about the number of days to go. My mind would check out of this cell while my body was still here. The discrepancy of my mind’s activity and my body’s awareness created restlessness and angst, especially on the 2nd and the 3rd days. Over time, I learned to focus on the life that was unfolding right in front of me and right in this cell, rather than to be fixated on the day of freedom. I salivate just imagining all the Korean food I can eat! With supreme irony, the freedom I was desiring was imprisoning me. A few days ago, in my cell, I discovered (through Parker Palmer’s Facebook post) the poem above by Stafford, and the invitation was lucid. Stafford’s question, “What can anyone give you greater than now, starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?” jolted me out of the funk and sealed the lesson for me, catapulting me toward greater fidelity to the present moment.
Then it occurred to me that a slowed-down life doesn’t mean I am not living an unproductive or unfruitful life. It could be that the complete opposite may be true. Time, or I should say, the present moment, is elusive for me (as I sketched above). I am always fixated on future matters, concerns, and visions. I realized that I was not helping myself by thinking about what to do after I get out of this hole. To maintain minimal sanity and perhaps even enjoyment and full aliveness, I must be fully present in my hole, I mean my cell, one day at a time.
Practically, this process necessitated developing a daily routine and rhythm. Thankfully, I experienced very little jetlag. My day starts out with a shower, silence, Pray As You Go reflection, and breakfast that is delivered to my door. Only then can I open the door. One time, I opened the door during non-meal hours, and the alarm went off. (Did I tell you this felt more like a prison? I thought the prison guard was going to come and pound me. :) ) Then the highlight of the day: making my own cup of coffee using the hand grinder and the Aeropress I brought from home and enjoying the pure bliss. I murmur to myself, "I am alive." Reading and writing fill the rest of the morning, followed by a lukewarm lunch. By the way, since my wife and I are separated, we decided to zoom and eat meals together and have conversations. In one of the conversations, she told me you should write a blog about what you are learning. So here it is.
Afternoons consist of further reading and writing and keeping up with emails and text messages as well as workouts. Ever since my children got me an Apple Watch last Christmas, I am somewhat obsessed with closing the 3 exercise/activity rings daily, while my wife would tell you I am very obsessed. Closing the rings means I have to be creative as to how I exercise in a confined hotel room. I am exercising in ways I didn’t think were possible. I am not only doing this for closing the rings but also to pass time and to maintain my sanity. It gives me something productive to do. Occasionally, I would watch the Lakers or the Dodgers, which easily becomes another highlight of the day, especially when they win. After dinner, it is time to get caught up with the news, watch some Korean TV, and/or movies. Fortunately, I have at least one or two zoom calls per day, which move the day forward.
As reality (or a day) unfolds, I need to let the Big Reality (God) simply take over by turning off or at least recognize my own interior noises, interpretations, and commentaries of reality, which are basically designed to save ego, reputation, and worth. Reality, often, is not the same as my interpretation of reality.
One other lesson: Paying attention to small and immediate things. I sense that this is an overarching invitation from God during this trip. Pay attention to “small” or seemingly less significant conversations, encounters, or people. Even getting to a certain destination, I remind myself that the goal is not the final destination, but that in the process of getting there, I need to “sober up” and pay attention. I notice the muffled noise of the cars whizzing by outside. I am grateful to smell and listen to the spring rain the last two days, almost mimicking the rain lullaby I had forgotten but stored in my childhood memory bank in Korea. The other morning, a bird flew up and thumped the window as if to greet me. Grinding, smelling, and drinking coffee in the mornings has become an important daily ritual. Following my afternoon workout, enjoying the very few pieces of fruit, like one tiny slice of orange, 3 grape tomatoes, and 3 grapes given to us during breakfast (no exaggeration here) has gifted me a small dose of happiness. 3 times a day zoom with my wife and eating meals together and other daily zoom calls have become precious connection to the outside world.
A series of probing questions Stafford raises provokes me to start right here, right in this room, and right in this moment. I can only live my life in the present moment, neither in the past nor in the future. Only now. . . I also remind myself to be aware of “sunlight, scent, and sound” wherever I may be at that moment in this cell and beyond.