Modern Monasticism

The Secular Modern Monastic

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Well, I had planned on presenting this topic in my own words, but as it turns out, Google did a much better job:

A secular modern monastic is a person who lives a life of discipline, prayer, and service within the secular world, without adhering to traditional religious rules like celibacy or cloistered living. These individuals find spiritual fulfillment through practices like meditation, mindfulness, and a commitment to self-improvement or community work, often within the context of their existing family and career lives. This approach emphasizes spiritual practices over religious dogma and is sometimes seen as an alternative to traditional religion for those who still seek a disciplined and purpose-driven life. 

Key characteristics

  • Integration into modern life: 

Rather than leaving society, secular monastics practice their spirituality within it, engaging in daily activities with a monastic mindset. 

  • Focus on self-improvement: 

A common theme is working on oneself, which can include practices like meditation and personal development. 

  • Service-oriented: 

Like traditional monks, secular monastics often engage in acts of service, though their methods are adapted to a modern context. 

  • Community-based: 

Some groups form communities that support each other in their practices and daily lives. 

  • Flexibility: 

These movements are often diverse and flexible, creating their own “rules of life” that are adaptable to a secular framework. 

  • Spiritual practice over dogma: 

The focus is on the practice of prayer, meditation, and contemplation, rather than on religious doctrine or supernatural beliefs. 

With a couple of my own edits, this pretty much sums it up.

The Secular Modern Monastic isn’t an entirely new creation as there have always been individuals outside of traditional monasticism who have felt called to a more gentle, contemplative way of life. The Desert Mothers and Fathers, and the Beguines are two such examples of contemplative people forging their own path – the former in solitude away from society, the latter a community of individuals living their monastic calling in the midst of their everyday lives – connected through their common call.

Monastics have always been with us, and their purpose has always been the same. While sometimes emerging out of a specific religious tradition, their true purpose transcends belief or doctrine. Instead, they – WE are here to show humanity another way. We are here to show humanity a way out of the imprisonment of the human condition – one that is most often ruled by fear and producing non-loving behaviors that arise out of that fear. Fear is ultimately what compels humans to be gluttonous, selfish, greedy, envious, slothful, vengeful, and vain. Out of their spiritual practice and journey of self-discovery and improvement, secular monastics have learned to transform their fear, coming more and more fully to understand their original nature as Love. Love then, rather than fear, becomes the guiding force of their life which allows them to escape the mechanisms of fear used by the overriding culture.

Modern secular monastics defy the status quo. We are immune to the ministrations of the ruling system of power and control. Not only do we not fit into the system, it is nearly impossible for us to dwell within it. It is for this reason that many find themselves outside the system.

In those newly discovering their monastic calling, the question of community will often surface. As one client has frequently asked, “where do we go?” The answer is simple – we go within. In my experience, there are no formal communities that can hold the secular modern monastic. Instead, we are invited to let community redefine itself. For me, the answer to the question of community is simple: Community has found me. This community is made up of a random and unrelated group of individuals who have all gathered around a specific intention – to be a force of Love in the world. I count among this community my biological family, friends, former and existing clients and students. Some live near me, but the vast majority are scattered around the world doing their own thing and shining their own light. What is common among them is that they are somehow connected to me (I know, weird).

Ultimately, there is no one specific form of secular modern monasticism.  When we allow it, it takes on the exact form that we need – a form that we may never have expected.

“Monastic” is a Temperament

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

As I allow myself to ease more deeply into the monastic life that has presented itself to me, I am increasingly convinced that “monastic” isn’t made. Neither is it chosen. Instead, it seems, like the Enneagram that suggests we are born our Type (perfectionist, helper, performer, etc.), if we are meant to be monastic, we are born that way. From this perspective, we could say that monastic is a temperament (the more accurate term used in the Enneagram system to describe our type).

I am fortunate to find myself surrounded by those of monastic temperament. Whether it be family, friends, or acquaintances, I have come to identify common traits and preferences that seem to be present among those likely born of monastic temperament who over time have come to choose a monastic lifestyle. The traits that I have been able to identify include (but are not limited to) the following:

  • A tendency toward introversion.
  • Preferring solitude to crowds.
  • Comfortable (even thriving) in silence.
  • Choosing one-on-one interactions over group interactions.
  • Become easily overwhelmed in crowds.
  • Feel vulnerable in the presence of loud sounds, bright lights, frantic movement, high-stress or high-activity environments.
  • Sensitive to other people’s feelings, may even feel them as their own.
  • Sensitive to the plight of humanity.
  • Challenged by a capitalistic culture that places value on and promises to reward people for activity, achievement, etc.
  • Tend not to be competitive.
  • Prefer athletic interests that are solo or singular over team sports.
  • Interested in personal growth and development.
  • Focused on healing the wounds of their past so they can feel better about themselves and better serve the world.
  • Feel a deep call to service.
  • Quiet. Introspective.
  • Often invisible (or feel invisible) to the world.
  • Feel as if they don’t fit in to “regular” society.
  • If in society, they often feel a deep need to escape.
  • Whether by choice or circumstance, finding themselves living simply.
  • Not motivated by money, status, or power.
  • Struggle with imposter syndrome.
  • May suffer from chronic illness including perceived mental health issues. (are they illnesses or mental health issues or simply the consequences of living in a world not made for us?)
  • Find enjoyment in simple activities such as reading, meditating, listening to music, cooking, gardening, being in nature.

By no means is this list exhaustive, but these are some of the common traits I have seen in those finding themselves living a monastic life. As much as we are unable to choose our temperament, it seems also that living a monastic life is not a choice. In the way I have experienced it and observed this in others, it seems that if we are called to be monastic, life will take us there no matter what. For the vast majority of those I know currently living monastically, (including myself) they arrived here kicking and screaming.  This is the force of a culture that demands we be productive members of society and defines productivity by how hard we work and how much our work supports the gross national product (the wealth of the elite). The monastic temperament defies that culture for our purpose here is not to be part of the status quo, but to show humanity another way.

Support for the Monastic Temperament:

Seeking Refuge in Hell

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Letters from Hell #5

Increasingly, people I know and with whom I am close are retreating from the everyday world. Me included. This retreat is partly an act of self-preservation, but even more so, it is a result of their awakening.

The self-preservation piece is obvious. People no longer want to be part of a world that is built on fear, power, and control. They no longer want to participate in the violent division that currently defines our world. They no longer want to fight or even be witness to the ignorance and hatred that fuels the fires of the hell humanity has created for itself. Instead, they are choosing peace and a sense of safety over ongoing conflict. They are choosing to separate from the noise so they may enjoy quiet. They are retreating into a sanctuary of their own making, based on what they have come to learn about themselves and their truest needs, wants, and desires.

This brings me to the awakening part. A dear spiritual brother recently shared with me a lecture given on the “disappearing” that was once predicted by Carl Jung. In short, Jung theorized that as human beings become individuated (Abraham Maslow called this self-actualization), they would come to realize that the system in which they were conditioned to participate no longer works for them. They see the system for what it is – false, abusive, and harmful and begin to find ways to detach themselves from the system. As they do so, they discover what their soul really wants and needs to feel whole, and they begin to choose that. For many, this choice leads them away from the outside world and into a space that is more quiet, peaceful, content, and gentle. This quiet place becomes their refuge from a world in which they no longer belong (if they ever really did).

This choice for refuge is available to all of us, when we so-choose it. Whether actively individuating, or simply wanting to find peace in a world at war with itself, finding refuge is simple:

  1. STOP engaging with the divisive tactics of the hell in which we are living. Don’t participate in the arguments, the projections, or the blame.
  2. Embrace the position of objective witness. Observe the dying world without reaction. See it. Observe it. Make note of it. But don’t get sucked into it.
  3. WHEN the dying world triggers your fears and unhealed wounds, instead of reacting out of those fears, STOP and engage in the many spiritual tools you have for easing and transmuting those fears.
  4. Start, or double-down on your daily spiritual practice. Make this your number one priority.  
  5. Be mindful of how and with whom you want to spend your time. Say NO to those people and activities that drain you or compel you to engage in division.
  6. Make your home a sanctuary. Gather around you the things that give you comfort and make you feel safe.
  7. Cultivate a routine of self-care. Choose at least ONE activity per day that feeds your soul – read, write, take a walk in nature, visit an art gallery, have coffee with a dear friend, watch a movie or documentary that informs or inspires. Cook a wholesome and delicious meal.
  8. Nap. The violence and discord of the dying world makes us tired. Get extra sleep and nap when you need to.
  9. Tell the “should” voice in your head to SHUT T.F. UP. “Should” is one of the strongest weapons of conditioning and is one of the ways we remain tied to the system. Cut the cord. Let it go. DO what you love and let the non-loving conditioning go.

Whether we acknowledge that the world we are living in is a kind of hell, or are simply outgrowing the conditioning that has kept us imprisoned by the system, refuge is necessary in our journey of finding peace and contentment in our lives. That refuge is available to you right now, if you so-choose.

Simple Tools for Finding Refuge

Open to Possibility

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

Surrendering to this time of recovery has given me ample opportunity to examine my life and what I believe to be my mission and purpose. At sixty years old, the expression of that mission has changed (somewhat), but the mission remains the same: being a force of transformation in a changing world.

Transformation to me is about:

  • Bearing witness
  • Holding space
  • Being love
  • Sharing tools for healing and growth
  • Speaking truth
  • Providing counsel and hope
  • Sharing what I see and hear

As it relates to the world today: guiding humanity through the death of the world as we have known it while preparing them for the world yet to be. (Cue Livin’ it Up from Hadestown) The ancients gave the title psychopomp to those charged with this important task.

In being psychopomp, I have found the following to be helpful:

  • Commitment to my daily spiritual practices
  • Praying without ceasing
  • Steel-clad boundaries
  • Honoring the fragile nature of my physical body and the even more fragile nature of my energy.

I’m done giving more than I can give.

This commitment to self so that I might better serve my mission, has led me more and more deeply into a monastic, contemplative lifestyle. I am becoming the hermit I have always longed to be.

With one little hiccup: a capitalistic world that doesn’t recognize hermit as a valid profession, and therefore, does not provide for those called to a monastic kind of life. For me, this hiccup has been like a nagging sliver that I just can’t get rid of. I think the perceived conflict between the Soul’s calling and the material world is one that plagues those currently called to a gentler (and perhaps new world) life.  I know I’m not alone in this struggle. This has left me at conflict with myself and the world as I stress about money, making money, working a “real” job, etc. etc. It has felt like an unanswerable question and a conflict I’m doomed to endure until the end of my life.

But then, yesterday, after I came out of the heavy waters of the Capricorn full moon, I heard some new words:

Be Open to the Possibility

Immediate shift in perception!  Instead of feeling stuck in the one scenario that has been playing through my mind, I suddenly remembered: God/the Soul has a plan. How that plan is brought into being is none of our business. Our only job is to be clear about what we want, and let God figure out the rest. The outcome may not be exactly as we had wished for, but in my life experience, when we let go and let God, the outcome is ALWAYS far better than we could have ever imagined for ourselves.

Does this mean that one day soon the Universe may provide the means by which I can fully embrace the hermit life and tend to that which I deeply feel called to do? I don’t know. But at least now, I am open to the possibility.

Moving Gently

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Often, when I reflect on what I want out of my life, the phrase moving gently surfaces. The idea of moving gently is so contrary to the way I have formerly moved and to the way in which we are often conditioned in this society that it has taken me time and much practice to realize this gentle movement in my life. Now, when I am able to sink into this gentle movement it feels natural, nourishing, and life-giving. In the times when life throws me back into situations where gentle is either not possible or difficult to attain, I feel violated and as if my life force is being sucked out of my being. This contrast encourages me to choose gentle movement wherever I am able and to free myself of those things that don’t allow for gentle.

Moving gently brings up images for me of the Bronte sisters and Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women – Victorian women (albeit privileged) who lived in a time when quiet reading, long walks in the moors, the needle arts, and writing were honored as time well-spent. Moving gently also brings up thoughts of medieval nuns like Hildegard of Bingen whose lives were defined by prayer, tending their gardens, providing counsel, caring for the sick, and completing the daily tasks of running a monastery.

These images provide but a glimpse of all the aforementioned lives required, but it is the energy-sense of these images, much more than the literal truth of them that provides food for thought and seeds for discernment.

Moving gently is about having a felt-sense of gentle and choosing this wherever possible in ones life. It is about measuring each experience and encounter and comparing it to what gentle feels like. Then it is about choosing what measures up and discarding the rest. As it turns out, choosing to move gently has application in all areas of my life. Here are some real-life examples:

Exercise: I used to be a gym rat, spending hours a week forcing my body into a size six form through vigorous exercise and weight lifting. Now, I relish in the gentle movements of yoga and Chi Qong. I’m no longer a size six (thank you menopause), but I feel good in my body.

The Drive to Succeed: I spent the vast majority of my life driving, striving, and forcing myself into the western world’s definition of success. I drove myself to be number one in my class. I sought positions that dangled the money carrot. I followed all the rules of SEO marketing and professional networking to try to be a success in my own business. Now, I do none of these. Instead, I listen deeply to my soul and when I feel called to work, I do.  When things come to me that feel life-giving, I receive them. I create what I want to create and leave the rest to God. Somehow it always works out – often by the skin of my teeth, but it works out.

Popularity and People-Pleasing: (puke emoji). I used to believe it was my job to make other people happy. Formerly, I worked hard at being friendly, outgoing, welcoming, and approachable. I wanted people to like me, and I would change and adapt in the hopes of getting other people’s approval. No more. Now, I am me. If people don’t like me, that’s more a reflection of them than it is of me. Instead of wanting to be popular, I now prefer to be unknown and unseen. In my mind, I like to think of my invisibility as the Diana Prince to the Wonder Woman hidden underneath. I no longer need to wave the banner of my magic to get people’s attention. If my gifts are meant for them, they will find me.

The Use of My Time: Formerly, my time was put toward efforts that I hoped would produce popularity, money, fame, even power. Now, my time is spent gently. If I have nothing “to do,” I spend my time in prayer and contemplation. I seek out opportunities for learning. I read and study. I read for enjoyment. I move my body gently. I feed my body simply. I enjoy quietude. I listen to music. I spend time with friends. I work with clients when the opportunities present themselves. I moderate student discussion in my online classes. I facilitate a weekly meditation circle. I tend to the responsibilities of my “chop wood and carry water” job. I pay my bills. I carry my love out into the world. I no longer engage in debate. I have freed myself from trying to convince anyone of anything. I have released resentment. I have let go of my need to fix, change, or save the world and the people within it.

I’m not saying it’s perfect. But identifying my soul’s need to move gently and going about the process of making this choice, I feel more peaceful and content than I have ever felt in my life. Oh yes, I sometimes stray from this and my battle armor is always close at hand, but at least I know what my soul prefers and that the freedom to choose gentle is almost always there.

Living Against the Grain

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

Monastic Living in the Modern World is ultimately about living against the grain. In every way, shape, and form, choosing to live monastically requires us to step away, disconnect, and decondition ourselves from all that society has set out as its values and goals.

Living monastically has nothing to do with capitalistic definitions of success including the search for fame, wealth, and power. Living monastically is not about driving, striving, or achieving. Monastic living is not about working hard, and it has nothing to do with society’s constant pressure to do. Living monastically is not about being seen, heard, or known. Choosing to live monastically is not the path if we wish to be considered valuable or appreciated by those outside of us.

By society’s standards, choosing to live monastically is a thankless choice, but for those called to this way of life, it is our soul that gives us thanks.

The monastic calling is one that honors a certain type of soul with a unique kind of temperament. Those called to this way of life often have a deep connection with Mystery – otherwise known as: God/Transcendence/Spirit/Presence/The Source of All that Is. They are often people of learning – driven to explore the knowledge of others so as to find their own truth. Those called to a monastic kind of life are sometimes extroverts but are more likely to be inclined toward introversion. They are deep thinkers and even deeper feelers. They are often creatives with a penchant toward self-expression through writing, drawing, painting, sculpting, etc. They see wonder in all things, especially nature and art. They may be single or coupled while treasuring their solitude. They seek after quiet and long to move gently upon this human plane. They thrive equally in the company of beauty and simplicity.

Ultimately, those called to live monastically seek to live simply in a world that on most days looks absolutely mad.

There is a reason why those called to monastic living have historically separated themselves from society. Whether a hermit in the desert, a witch in the woods, or a nun in a monastery, monastics have never fit in with the status quo. They have never fit in with the surrounding or presiding culture. They have always been called to live their lives against the grain. Moreover, their sensitive nature made it near impossible for them to live among the chaos of the everyday world. As such, they sought or created their abodes elsewhere. Even if the monastery was in the midst of a bustling city, their homes were sequestered with ample time and space for prayer, quietude, silence, and a gentle way of living. Unless cloistered, direct service to others arose out of the service they were doing first to “God,” and secondly to themselves.

In our modern and increasingly pluralistic world where many monastics are no longer called to live out their calling within the confines of a religious institution, the expression of that calling requires ingenuity. How do we carve out a place for our calling in a world that expects us to be everything but what our soul wants? The answer is both simple and complicated. We first have to acknowledge the calling. Then, we must free ourselves from every single shred of societal, cultural, and familial conditioning that would hinder us from living out that calling. We have to learn to say yes to our soul’s longings and NO to what culture expects of us – including our culture’s expectations around work and provision. Yes, we still have to “chop wood and carry water,” but maybe a 40-hour, 9-5 work week doesn’t work for us. Perhaps we don’t have to make a six-figure salary. Maybe we can find creative ways to provide for ourselves while creating ample space in which our soul might thrive. Who knows, we just might find peace living below the mean. Finally, we have to exorcise ourselves from our attachment to other people’s approval and get comfortable with the questioning looks, raised eyebrows, and blank stares from those who just cannot comprehend our decision to live against the grain. Believe me, your soul will thank you!

No Longer Human Functioning

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I came to the full realization this weekend that I can no longer function as a human being. I’m not sure if this is a function of age and wisdom – coming to know myself more fully and wanting to honor what resonates with and reflects who I am, or if I am finally willing to accept the fact that I am not, in fact, human. Likely it’s a both/and.

With what I know about myself and what I see in the actions of most humans, I don’t know how I could possibly be one of them. Instead, I feel more like an alien species that was dropped on this planet and forced to live among strangers. Never, in my entire life have I wanted what human beings seem to want, and if I did, I wasn’t being honest with myself, or I didn’t know myself well enough to understand that what many humans want would kill me.

And yet, I have spent most of my “human” incarnation, agreeing to the rules human beings seem to have set out for themselves and instead of receiving what has been promised for living by these rules, I have only ever gotten sick – physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Humanity’s rules, it seems, are toxic to me, and I’ve had several recent reminders of how sick I become when trying to live by what is expected of other human beings. So, instead of continuing to force myself to comply with humanity’s rules and standards, I’m accepting the fact that what would be called “normal human functioning” is no longer available to me – if it ever was.

For the sake of my own wellbeing, and in acknowledgement of my true alien nature, I no longer consent to the rules of humanity that are toxic to me and will only live my life in the way that feels natural to me.

What comes naturally to me is a quiet, gentle life where I am free to do what feels life-giving to me. What feels life giving to me is meditation and prayer, supporting others with my gifts in a way that empowers and for which my gifts are received and for which I am appropriately compensated, time for learning and study, peaceful enjoyment, one-on-one time with close friends, and rest. In other words – a simple life. If this desire for a simple life makes me an alien, then I guess that’s what I am.

How Are We to Pray?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Once upon a time there was a kind and gentle Middle Eastern man who came to know the breadth and depth of love and the peace that reigned there. He then sought to help his friends know love and peace in the same way. His method was simple:

“Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret … When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. (MT 6: 6-8)”

His philosophy was true:

“The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is within and among you. (LK 17: 20-21)”

Prayer, as he understood it, was simply a path to inner peace through which one might remember their original nature as One within themselves, with each other, with God and with all of creation. Prayer, in this way, was sufficient unto itself and all that one needed to access the kingdom so many others had said had to be earned through the fulfillment of the law. This kingdom is already within us and part of our original nature. This man simply sought to help us remember.

This remembering, however, threatened the institutions that ruled over his lands – both the religious and political. Those who gained power through threats and intimidation and who favored a God whose love had to be earned and which could be taken away. These institutions had set themselves up as the intermediaries between human beings and God/Love, growing wealthy over the sacrifices they required of the people so they might earn their way into the kingdom of Love. The idea that the kingdom was already within people, meant no intermediary was necessary, no sacrifice expected and there was no infringement of the law that could separate the people from God’s Love. The institutions killed the man for teaching the way of Love.

The Love could not be destroyed, but where one institution was destroyed, another rose up in its place.  Soon the world was filled with outside perceived authorities who claimed to know the way of this gentle Middle Eastern man.  These institutions set forth doctrine and dogma, rooted not in Love, but in Fear. Then they created rituals, rules, and formulas for what they called prayer – all required to earn God’s Love and to find their way into God’s kingdom. Further, they set prayer as a bargaining tool, suggesting that if one prayed hard enough, and in the required way, using the proper formulas set forth by the institution, then God might be convinced to interceded on their behalf – bringing them riches, fame, wealth, power, and might even be convinced to interfere with the freewill or fate of another. If they prayed in the right way, God might heal them of sickness, raise them from the dead, or rescue them from the brink that they had chosen for themselves.

You see, it served these institutions to paint God in this light. Defying their own scripture which clearly proclaims:

 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice. (MT 9:13, Hos 6:6)”

these institutions created their own god, one who was made in man’s image: fickle, jealous, wrathful, vengeful, punitive, judgmental, one whose love had to be earned and whose love could be taken away. In their desire for power and wealth, they forgot what the kind and gentle man taught of the unconditional Love that is God. They forgot the words of the teacher who taught people how to remember the peace of that Love and that there was nothing they need do to earn that Love, that it could never be taken away and that there was never anything to ask of that Love for Love is the very nature of who we are, and when we become anxious and afraid, we need only turn within, close the door, and remember that Love in prayer.  

Illness and the Monastic Call

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

In Shamanic traditions, a sudden, dramatic, or enduring illness is often recognized as a sign of an individual having a shamanic calling.

“In indigenous cultures a shaman was a person who had some kind of deep initiation experience, whether it was a life-threatening illness, a near-death experience, a psychotic break . . . (R. Inge-Heinze)”

The same seems to be true of those in our modern world called to monastic living. This, at least, has been true for me and for many of those I know who find themselves living a monastic kind of life.

Notice I didn’t say we chose a monastic life. Instead, it seems to be forced upon us – often kicking and screaming. Upon reflection, this isn’t surprising considering that our culture wants and expects us to be anything BUT monastic.

Western culture is completely lacking in examples, models, or paradigms of non-vowed individuals living monasticism as a lifestyle. There are no educational or formative paths for individuals choosing monastic living except for those entering into religious life. Instead, our culture presents us only with examples of how to be a productive, contributing member of society – typically “work” that makes other people money. Nowhere does our culture invite us to explore the possibility of an inward, solitary, meditative life defined by being. Instead, our life choices are all directed outwardly, defined by what we do, how much and how hard we do it, our value defined by this doing.

In a world where we are valued and defined by our doing, and our personal goals are built around this doing, it is no surprise that a true monastic calling has to force its way past all of this in order to get our attention. We have to be awakened out of the fog of everything we’ve been told and all the expectations we have set for ourselves in order to hear this calling. Most often, it seems, we have to be brought to our knees or to the very edge of death before we hear the true calling of our soul – one that has absolutely nothing to do with doing, and everything to do with being.

As it relates to illness specifically, my calling to monastic living began in my childhood where I was plagued by illness, but no one would have recognized it as such. It wasn’t until midlife when this calling caught up with me, specifically through first an anxiety disorder, and then through a debilitating virus that caused permanent damage to my vestibular (inner ear) nerve leaving me with intermittent symptoms that impede my mobility – especially as it relates to driving, and that makes me sensitive to crowds, noise, and movement, and which on some days can cause me acute physical pain. In close proximity to this virus, I also became acutely aware of my empathic abilities (I’d always had them, I just now became aware of them). These abilities make it difficult, if not painful, for me to be “out in the world.” With all of this, I’ve been forced out of the constant activity that was familiar to me. Instead, I have turned inward and been made to embrace a quieter, more gentle, reflective existence.

My experience with illness related to making a choice for monastic living is not unique to me. Every single person I know who has found their way into this kind of existence has suffered a similar kind of fate. Whether it be a debilitating accident, a physical medical condition, chronic illness or what might be diagnosed as a mental health issue, there always seems to be something that forces us out of the “regular” world and into a world of our own.

Arriving at this new way of being is one thing – accepting it as a new way of life is something else entirely. In order to do so, we have to 1) decide we’re not crazy or that there’s something wrong with us. 2) grieve the loss of the former life with which we had become familiar. 3) detach from other people’s judgement of us and our new life. 4) unravel from all the conditioning that tells us we can’t spend our lives just being. 5) let go of our own compulsive need to be filling up all our time with doing when all we really need to do is be. And 6) find pleasure and grace with simplicity and peace.

A Day in the Life

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Yesterday, while working with a client, the topic of monastic living came up. One question that emerged in the conversation was “What does living monastically look like?”  It’s a practical question – and the answer is “it depends.” I can only speak for myself, but in conversations with other friends who have embraced a similar calling/lifestyle, I imagine the answers are somewhat similar. But first, we have to define the question.

The question “what does monastic living look like,” is really a question that means “what do you do all day?”  As we live in an action-oriented world where our perceived value is defined by what we do, this is the most frequent inquiry about monastic living. Again, the answer is “it depends.” On some days there is a lot of doing. On other days, there is little to no doing. Let me give you an example from this very week.

Monday of this week was a day defined by doing. My day looked somewhat like this:

6am wake up.

6-7 am meditation practice

7-8 am check emails, finish some work tasks.

8- 8:20am get ready for yoga class

8:20 leave for yoga.

8:45 – 9:45 yoga class

10 am – shower, etc.

11am lunch

1130 am – 7pm work. Strapped to my computer doing office manager tasks for the ballet studio I work for with a dinner break squeezed in.

7-9 pm – enjoyment.  Reading. Sitting in quiet. Watching TV.

9pm. Bed

Monday was a day of a lot of doing. Tuesday, in contrast, what an entire day of NOTHING. I did my normal morning routine (minus the yoga). I put in a couple hours of admin work. I had brunch with my son. I took a nap. I read a little.  I sat in silence. I may have watched a bit of TV.  But, essentially nothing. After all the energy output on Monday, I didn’t have anything to put into Tuesday, so I didn’t.

Then Wednesday came and it was a busy day with clients, admin work, and then more nothing.

In my experience, monastic living is less about what we do and how we be. For me, the center of it all is my daily practice, and the rest unfolds from there. On some days I have things planned/scheduled, but beyond that, I take each day as it shows up with the energy that I have available to me in that moment. As a recovering compulsive planner and over-doer, my life is now more about allowing what needs to present itself to present, and then stepping into what is asked of me. When nothing is presenting, I remain with the no-thing, not pushing or forcing some sort of doing (aka productivity) out of the no-thing. Much of monastic living is about learning to live in this now moment and allowing ease. The rest seems to take care of itself.