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.
Lauri Ann Lumby 