On March 24th 2020 office life abruptly ceased and along with thousands of others, I became a home-worker – and entered the existence of a hermit. It was a shock to say the least (to those I live with too, who were suddenly exposed to much more of my presence than they had been used to)! In the higher education sector where I work, there was much talk of a pivot to online, but in fact there was a far more significant life pivot occurring….
I set up a home office in my back lounge, aided by a piece of wood which my husband had fortuitously attached to the book shelves and which now provides the resting place for my laptop. This room very soon became referred to as my ‘cave’, and is the place where work, study and – for much of the last year online church – has happened. The back lounge looks onto the back garden, which is a kind of cave-extension and place of spiritual nourishment.
This reorientation has been an opportunity to refocus and there are a few things that have helped. There are daily disciplines that ‘hold’ me. The amount of time in front of a computer screen meant that I was struggling with information overload. Early in lockdown 1.0 I discovered the daily spiritual practice of lectio divina, “divine reading”, brought to me through the Lectio 365 app. It’s something I listen to rather than read. Sometimes I do this sitting in my cave, looking onto the garden, but often I tune in whilst walking, a daily discipline I’ve found essential in maintaining physical, mental and spiritual health. I try to reflect back over the day in the evening, being grateful for everything good, and acknowledging before God anything that’s weighing on my mind – the practice of daily Examen which comes from Ignatian spirituality. Regular conversations with my spiritual director (a grand term for a kindly companion on my journey) have been greatly encouraging too. Music is a source of joy, both listening and playing, though opportunities to play with others have been few. Once a week I go for a run.
Prior to lockdown I would have described myself as an activist and an extrovert. I enjoy organising events and I derive energy from being with other people. Over the last year or so, most of the trappings of everyday life have been stripped away and I’ve been through a process of mourning things and people who are no longer around. I’ve had to get real about who I am, both good and bad – what Richard Rohr refers to as Shadow work. I realise that I’ve changed in some ways, I hope for the better, but it’s work in progress. In the relative isolation of my cave I have been “coming home to myself” and discovering peace in my circumstances. I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationship between prayer and action and how they can’t be separated.
At the same time, I’ve been connecting with the wider world through prayer and through contact with friends and colleagues in different parts of the globe. Observant people in online meetings have picked up on the map stuck to one of the doors in my ‘cave.’ There is no limit to where God’s spirit can go.
What has become more apparent over the last year is the beautiful truth voiced by Julian of Norwich – that underneath and through everything runs God’s unceasing deep love. Our identity is that of deeply-loved children of God. As it says in 1 Corinthians 13 verse 8: “Love never fails.” This is the true message of the Bible, rather than the guilt and shame that people may feel when they think about God and Christianity. Ian Adams describes the solitude involved in cave-dwelling as demanding and challenging. My cave has been a place of loneliness, lament, and weariness, but also of peace, rest and hope. There are no shortcuts, but be encouraged: “we are at the very centre of a relentless love that carries all before it” (Adams, p.19).
References
Adams, Ian (2010) Cave, refectory, road. Norwich: Canterbury Press.
On the journey 