I drove to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert today. It was a fairly short trip from the Albuquerque area and a lovely relaxing drive, except for the last thirteen miles. That’s the length of the winding, sometimes gravel, sometimes clay, often rutted “road” that provides the only access to the highway. It is something of an adventure simply reaching the place, and no small amount of work on a motorcycle.
The riding was striking in its beauty, however, and at times the aroma of the sagebrush was almost overwhelming. The area is rugged, high desert with a strip of lushness surrounding the Chama River flowing just left of the road. As I neared the monastery, stark cliffs jutted up to my left, and multicolored mountains were in the distance. It is just the sort of landscape that drew Georgia O’Keefe to the area.
As beautiful as it was, it was also very hot, and the relatively low speed allowed by the road meant that my motorcycle’s air conditioning (the wind) was not functioning terribly well. I was very excited see mile marker 12 appear, meaning I was almost there. But then a bighorn sheep crossed my path.
I’ve never seen one in the wild before. I’ve been places they inhabit, but they’ve not showed themselves. As I reached the place he had crossed the road, I saw that she was standing not too far away. (I’m unsure of whether it was a ewe or an immature male.) So I found a place where I could stop and park the bike. By the time I got off and removed my helmet, she had moved but then re-emerged onto the road just ahead and stopped.
I got out my camera phone and slowly moved toward her. She looked at me intently be didn’t move. I had always thought of these as furtive, reclusive creatures, but there she was, just watching me as I approached.
When I got close enough for a good picture, I decided to take a shot lest she decided she’d had enough of me. Just as I was taking the pictures, I noticed the car coming toward me from the direction of the monastery. She noticed, too, and proceeded to dart off with a rather flashy display of white rump rear hooves thrown into the air.
The moment gone, I got back on my bike, crested the hill and arrived at the monastery’s guest house where I unloaded my gear. After resting up a bit and reading some of the information and reflections in “A Guest Compendium” that I found in the room, I ventured out for a quick look around. I walked just a short distance back up that road, taking a few pictures of the grandeur all around, from the staggering vistas to the blooming cacti. And I wondered about my short stay here. Would I find any of the peace or spiritual renewal some of the writers in the compendium spoke so eloquently of experiencing on their visits.
I’ve been feeling more than a little burned out of late, and that has had a significant impact on my spiritual life. God has seemed more and more elusive of late. As I walked back toward the guest house, I found myself thinking of that bighorn as a metaphor for God’s elusiveness. On previous trips out west, I’ve wanted very badly to see one, but never had. And now, when it was the furthest thing from my mind, one walked out and stood in the road in front of me.
I’m not entirely sure what to do with this metaphor. It only struck me a few moments ago. But perhaps it will be a helpful one as I enter into the Benedictine rhythms for the next two days.
No comments:
Post a Comment