Amy Sander Montanez is a writer, teacher, therapist, retreat leader, and spiritual director who attends Trinity Cathedral, Columbia. She is the winner of two 2008 Polly Bond Awards for Devotional / Inspirational Writing from Episcopal Communicators You can access an archive with her award-winning reflections on the diocesan Web site at www.edusc.org/ArchiveElectronic/.
In the Moment—One Pilgrim's Attempt to Be Present
By Amy Sander Montanez, D. Min.
The National Cathedral
“I don’t want to leave this place.”
This was the mantra I heard repeatedly as we were piling our luggage
in the foyer, awaiting various taxis and shuttles to the local
airports. It had been quite a week for those of us at the writer’s
conference.
 |
|
Cathedral College |
For
a week I lived on the grounds of the National Cathedral in
Washington, DC, in the Cathedral College. The building that is the
College is just plain fun. It has the appearance of a small castle,
complete with a dining room that, on a smaller scale, resembles the
one in the Harry Potter movies: long tables, high back chairs, dark
wood, a large stained-glass window at the front, wrought-iron
chandeliers. There are hallways and staircases that meander, chapels
that are tucked away at the end of corridors, an ancient and creaky
elevator, a large and dark library, and a beautiful center
meditation garden that someone’s grandchild referred to as her
“secret garden.”
The grounds of the National Cathedral are noteworthy. Fifty-nine
acres house not only a cathedral that rivals in size and beauty most
I’ve visited in Europe, but also the college, two schools, many
gardens, beautiful walking paths, several tennis courts, a few
cottages, and an underground parking garage. Just stepping out every
morning gave me pause, caused me to take a deep breath and
appreciate the majesty of this place and the amount of resources it
must take to support it.
But that alone was not why I was feeling hesitant about leaving. I
had a week of having lots of time to delve into something I love to
do. I had few distractions. No phone or Internet in my room. No
television. No meals to prepare, no laundry to do, no bills to pay
or work to attend to. I had lots of silent time because beginning
immediately after breakfast, the entire morning was allotted to
writing. The college was quiet during this time, almost silent.
Writers were holed up in their rooms or in quiet corners of the
library, in the meditation garden or at tables in the dining room.
When I needed a break, I walked around the building, got a bottle of
water, and started over again. Having a contained space for the
purpose of attending to this art was such a blessing.
In the afternoons I spent two hours in a small, pre-assigned group
with a phenomenal leader and best-selling author, Nora Gallagher. In
this group we received a mini-lecture and then we read and critiqued
each others’ manuscripts. My group was a lovely mish-mash of people.
Although all Caucasian, we differed in many other ways: two men,
eight women, one Canadian, the rest Americans, East Coasters, West
Coasters, a few Mid-Westerners, two laypeople, eight clergy, four
Episcopalians, one Anglican, two Lutherans, three UCCs, two gay,
seven straight, some in their forties, a few in their fifties, a few
more in their sixties, a couple I couldn’t place in time!
Because the kind of writing I do is so personal, when I share a
piece of writing I am sharing a piece of myself. I felt cared for
even in the midst of difficult conversation and critique, I think
because people were honest and authentic. We were all there for the
same reason: to improve our writing. My group members were bright,
intuitive, perceptive, and articulate. They helped me ask myself
some very important questions and they helped me sink deeper into my
truths. I hope I did the same for them. Some precious and vulnerable
times were shared. For me, it was intellectually stimulating as well
as spiritually and psychologically challenging.
The morning I was preparing to leave I walked over to the cathedral
to spend some time in prayer. Where the night before I had walked
the labyrinth and sat in meditation, the next day there was a
rehearsal in progress for the consecration of the new bishop of
Maryland: full orchestra, 200-voice children’s choir, and scripture
put to music. Sitting there soaking up the music, I had time to
marvel at the stained-glass windows, the architecture, the
sculpture, and the art.
Although I worked hard and I wouldn’t consider this a vacation or a
leisure activity, I did come home feeling invigorated and refreshed.
I was reminded of the prayer said at the end of the service of
baptism. “Sustain her, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give her an
inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to
persevere, a spirit to know and to love You, and the gift of joy and
wonder in all your works.” Allowing myself the time to develop a
skill or a gift, I am in essence saying “yes” to God. Yes, I believe
you will sustain me. Yes, I can trust my heart to know the truth.
Yes, with your help I can persevere. Yes, your works bring me joy
and wonder.
©Amy Sander Montanez, D.Min