It has been a long time since I have had anything to say. Sometimes, when things are going well, there just isn't anything to say. Didn't Tolstoy say something about all happy families being the same but all unhappy families being different? As in when you're happy, there is no story to tell, when you are unhappy, THEN there is a story to tell.
Life can be stormy sometimes, but there is something magic about a storm, something powerful. Huge storms hit my island, but that is what shapes it, makes it so rugged, so beautiful. There have been no major storms here recently, however, and I have been walking around my island quite a bit.
Imagine my surprise when I came across an old stone building. It had stone arches, and tiny narrow windows. It was surrounded by a courtyard, which, in turn, was surrounded by a stone wall. In the courtyard were what I presume were once vegetable gardens, and in one corner was an orchard. It has mostly gone to weed now. However many of the trees still bear fruit.
As I walked inside, I noticed religious symbols and images. This place was once a monastery! A cloistered one it seems, from the way it is set up. The roof of the chapel, unfortunately, has fallen in, but it remains a still calm place and one where the presence of God still seems palpable.
Somewhere, deep inside of me, part of me has always dreamed of being a cloistered nun. I know that God is in ordinary life as well, but imagine, to have no distractions! To be continually reminded of his presence, to continually pray in communion with others... it must be a taste of Heaven.