HOW I ENDED UP AS AN URBAN HERMIT

1ST PLACE

SENIOR DIVISION

ALBUQUERQUE APARTMENT ASSOCIATION

CITY-WIDE POSTER CONTEST

2024

MONETARY AWARD - $250.00 

I did not plan to spend my life as a religious hermit in an urban environment. I had no plan at all when I left my abusive home at 17, with nothing but the clothes on my back and hippie sandals on my feet.

Despite my family being hostile to all religion, especially Catholicism, I had always been interested in God, and even though homeless, I was determined to somehow continue to pursue Him as best I could.

I crawled out of homelessness by taking advantage of my typing skills (a skill I had learned in High School.)  I was a beautiful young woman, and the only kind of help that anyone wanted to give me was not the type of help I wanted to take. Things were looking grim when the Scientologists scooped me up and gave me a place to stay, "employing" me as a communications secretary, which was mostly typing letters to people we hoped would join us. I worked 11 hours a day, 7 days a week. They gave me room and board and $10 a week as an "allowance."

In the religious sphere, I went from Scientology to Buddhism to Hinduism (Vedanta.) I was searching for the mystical heart of religion.

Photo by Jake Blucker

via "UNSPLASH"

In my working life, I had to support myself as best I could, usually as a legal secretary. I type 120 words a minute, and I usually understood the legalese and legal rationales. In my mid to late 20's, I spent a short time working at a TV studio during the day and writing stories for an episodic television show at night.  But when I was exposed to some horrifically tawdry and immoral aspects of "Hollywood", I became demoralized and just could not remain there. (The worst part of it was that it was my own father who was bragging loudly about having relations with starlets in his office, with the door unlocked, despite having his third wife living with him. I was horrified and felt defiled by having to hear this filth coming from a parent. It destabilized me.)

What followed was a series of very distressing and life-altering events that nearly killed me. My search for God, and peace and blessedness was kicked into overdrive. Fast on the heels of this pivotal moment in my life story, I searched through the Yellow Pages and found an organization that sounded very much as if they would teach meditation: the Vedanta Society.

Some time after that, my stint with the Vedantists ended up with me living in the Hindu-based convent that had been designed in imitation of the Carmelite convents of the Catholics. Unfortunately, the women were terribly mean. The swami trusted me, but they were jealous of that, on the one hand, (later admitting that they were afraid I would "run the convent from the bottom" on the other.)  I did everything I could to show my love to them, and they were not having any of it. Between the stress of their constant perturbation, and all of the physical work, my body took a real "hit" and I was in a wheelchair for some weeks. 

Divine Mother

by

Sonika Agarwal

via Unsplash

While living as a nun, I started reading the beautiful works of and stories about the Catholic and Orthodox saints and "doctors" of the church, and I just fell in love with the whole thing. I came to realize that every spot of emptiness and incompleteness that was lacking in the Vedanta faith, was answered and filled with the Catholic. I intended to leave the Hindu convent and try to enter a Catholic one. In any case I knew that I could not, indeed did not believe in the Hindu deities. The formless God of the Vedanta did not answer the yearnings of my heart.

Photo by Nick Castelli

on Unsplash

As told in more detail elsewhere, I did try to become a Catholic nun, but I could not even get them to BAPTIZE me because of ignorant prejudice. The nun in charge of the class had this weird idea that because I had been divorced after my stint with the Scientologists, I would have to endure several years of a Catholic annulment before baptism. She was completely wrong and completely adamant (as wrong people usually are!) 

At that time, however, I did not know how to process it. I didn't know any Catholics or other Christians and had no clue who to approach to fix this ridiculous impasse. I had left the convent to become a Catholic nun, and was distraught. I decided to get baptized by the Episcopalians and put aside my strong feelings for a monastic life. I wondered if God was telling me that He did not WANT me in that life, that He wanted something else. Was I supposed to be married? I wanted to do what He wanted for me.

Meanwhile, I hadn't a cent to my name, no one to help me get my secular life re-established, and a lot of work ahead of me, so I got on with the task of finding employment, working and saving. I was 40 by this time, and it was too late to think about college or career. I worked as a litigation secretary and office manager and did the best I could, taking the bus from Hollywood to Beverly Hills and back again, every day, until I saved enough money to buy a car.

BUS INTERIOR 

BY ASH GERLACHE 

ON UNSPLASH

One of the Vedanta devotees had offered to share her apartment with me, and it wasn't until after I moved out, a year later, that I learned she had charged me for the entire cost of the rent, while she tormented me with her bossiness. At one point, she moved her bed into the living room so she could use the master bedroom as her private "meditation" room, even though we lived half a block from the Temple. I was stuck, meanwhile, in a tiny, closet-sized room with no air conditioning and a super tiny window at the top of the wall, restricted from entering or leaving the apartment every time that woman took a nap. It was frustrating experience that saddened me. I had thought we were friends. ( I did not know, at that time, that I suffer from Asperger's Syndrome, which is an antique term for a high-functioning version of autism. Other folks can often sense our vulnerability and gullible, loving natures. They know we can be conned into all sorts of things just by befriending us.)

Every time I think about this particular disappointment with a person who pretended to be "helping" me with one hand while she picked my pocket with the other, I just had to remind myself that this type of selfishness is common in the world. Even though this woman did not have to work to pay her rent, for some reason, she had taken advantage of me when I was in a very vulnerable position. She had worked a little in the past, apparently, and she had wealthy parents who supported her in some fashion. She did not need to take advantage of a destitute woman with no such support.

Reading about the love of Christ while enduring the selfish cruelty of the Vedantists was a real learning experience.

I was seeking God, peace and blessedness, while my contemporaries were pursuing professional careers, money and real estate. The practical difficulties that I have at age 70 would have been much easier to accommodate if I'd taken another route and gone after money instead.

Some years after leaving the Vedantists, my physical problems that had first become visible while I was in the convent, worsened and multiplied, and within the next 10 years, I was fully disabled and had to stop working outside the home when I was 49.

Photo by Zachary Kyra-Derksen

on Unsplash

So, shortly after moving to the high desert of New Mexico from California, I found myself too disabled to work before I was even 50. I had not had time to even properly accustom myself to the town before I became home-bound. The monastic inclinations I had put aside a decade earlier began knocking on the door of my consciousness in full force. I decided to make lemonade out of lemons by dedicating the remainder of my life to God, as an independent hermit. Within three years, I was able to enter the Catholic Church, after decades of wanting to do it.

So - this is how I find myself rather poor, unmarried, without family to support me, and without any religious assistance either!  My pursuit of the Divine has left me financially bankrupt but spiritually rich, and I wouldn't exchange my wisdom and experience for all the money in the world, despite the great difficulties I endure on a daily basis. Nobody ever said that sickness and poverty were going to be easy.

Many women who enter religious life have financial support of family or institution. Some families are happy to support them in it, and I have known quite a few who, while professing the life of poverty, are actually quite wealthy. I don't begrudge it of them because they need that support, as the men are in charge of all the purse strings in this world. I'm glad these women have the support. I am just not one of them. I need to be clear about that.

I was supposed to have been one of those ladies supported by family money, except that, after my father got Alzheimer's, I was written out of my father's will by a woman he had cheated on during their entire relationship. Then he died under suspicious circumstances, and other people are now spending my inheritance.  It is a "morality play," but in real life. The moral is: Don't cheat on the woman in your life because, if you get dementia or another illness that makes you vulnerable, you do not know how your inamorata may retaliate.

My entire life, he had consistently told me, "when I die, kid, yer gonna be rich!"  The doctor that signed his death certificate never saw him, in life or in death, according to my sister. His body was quickly cremated, before I even knew he had passed on, and what could I do about it? No one saw the body before the evidence was cremated.

I had planned to get myself through my difficult, pain-wracked disability and ultimate death with the inheritance that my father had promised me for decades and, at first, the scam perpetrated on me and my poor father was a terrible blow.  But I keep telling myself that the humiliation of being forced to beg for survival is good for the soul. 

In February of 2023, I celebrated 20 years of living as an independent monastic solitary. I didn't know at that time what form my vocation would take after that. It is very difficult to continue without support, particularly since I am physically suffering. 20 years of unremitting physical pain, due to inherited arthritic conditions, a light version of ehlers danlos,  and other physical damage, have taken their toll, but probably no more so than if my asceticism had been artificially practiced with a hair shirt and continual voluntary fasts.

PRESENT DAY SITUATION

I am writing a novel and producing some paintings. I have sold both types of art in the past, as well as jewelry items I produced. So I hope to have a better financial condition in future, if possible. In the meantime, if you would like to help support a poor hermit's spiritual and creative contributions to the world, the "DONATE" button above, on the right, under my photo, still works. BUT IF YOU YOURSELF ARE LIMITED IN FUNDS: PLEASE DON'T STRAIN YOUR BUDGET.

Otherwise, I am very grateful for any help you can give. I have an Amazon wish list for these things, AS WELL AS art supplies necessary to make paintings, rosaries and jewelry for sale. I will research how to sell them online, but I am beginning talks with the manager of the parish gift store for the production of personalized bookmarkers, bracelets and painting .

My parish church is located in the oldest part of town and was built in the 17th century! We have a bookstore that is open throughout the week and which is very popular with local Catholics, and many visitors to our town. The manager purchases most of her wares from local artists.

Amethyst & Pewter Celtic Rosary

St. Margaret of Scotland Centerpiece

Thistle charm

Paternoster beads: silver tree-of-life

(Made for my use/practice piece)

Amazon has my address and will mail to me directly, once the items have been paid for. Just click on the following link:

AMAZON WISH LIST

As mentioned elsewhere, my landlord (the City of Albuquerque) which is SUPPOSEDLY renting apartments under a "low income program", has suddenly and drastically bumped up the prices of the rent in this complex where I have lived for 20 years, and I am sadly distracted by the need to find the money so I can continue to afford to live here.  I was ALREADY having a difficult time when they gave me this distressing news.

In addition to the financial strain, my landlord has demonstrated ignorance of the Fair Housing laws and a real antipathy toward the idea of accommodating disabilities. I have had to file a HUD complaint and get an attorney to help me to keep the landlord from stranding me in my apartment during upcoming construction which is slated to last a month. Their plan would require me to perform some physical tasks I can't do in order to leave the house. I am finding that most people are insensitive to the issues that disabled folks have to face every day.

A couple months ago, I won a city-wide art contest that relieved me of the anxiety around my ABILITY to produce art, due to my blindness in one eye. I have been reassured that, despite the lack of depth perception, I CAN still produce art, particularly with the help of the magnifying lamps.

In addition to selling my paintings and sketches in the past, I have also made rosaries, and jewelry items. I hope to pick that up again and sell them locally, mostly at the parish book store, mentioned above. THOSE supplies are also on the wish list.

Practice jewelry for local store

As for my primary activities, I have a routine of prayer, meditation, contemplation, and reading. At some point, I may open up this routine to the participation of other solitaries. I know there are many elderly ladies who live alone and are assiduously practicing a prayer-centered life. One day soon, I will open up my YouTube channel for them so we may pray together.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose

July 3, 2024
(C) Copyright 2024

All rights reserved

SAINT DOMNE EAFE, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS SAINT ERMENBURGA - NOVEMBER 19, 2022

 

Minster Abbey in Thanet, Kent, U.K.

It is a delightful surprise to see how much I am learning in my 60s, in comparison to other decades of my life. Part of it has to do with the availability of so many websites, especially YouTube, which is an excellent source of information for the "do it yourselfer" that wants to get all handsy with their household and/or creative ventures. There is no question that the internet has been an incredible boon for my artistic soul, AND a fabulous research tool for my writing, which used to require that I hop down to the nearest library. Likewise with my genealogy. It was much harder to do, as much legwork and location scouting had to be done with one's feet in the old days. 

Something close to my heart is the research I am able to do about the Saints, especially the grandmothers from whom I descended, but also the many royal and sainted cousins that, thanks to the history books for the various royal houses of Europe, I am able to trace through time. Today's saint, Feast Day November 19, is one of these. In the modern era, she is called Ermenburga, but based on the wide-ranging reading I have done about her, it appears that Ermenburga was actually the saints SISTER, and that the Saint under discussion bore the name "Domne Eafe." This name has been spelled variously down through the ages because spelling was more of a suggestion in the early days, rather than a hard-and-fast rule.

"Domne" was probably more of a title than a name, in fact.  Eafe, or some version of that, was likely her moniker. She is my 4th cousin, removed by many generations - I think something like 36, since she was born sometime in the 7th century.

She was the daughter of a king and queen, was married for a limited time to some kind of "sub king" named Merewalh, and gave birth to 4 daughters, all saints, and one boy child who died young. After her husband died, she devoted herself entirely to religion, as many women did in that era. 

Merewalh, her husband, has an interesting history. He may have had Welsh origins (Which forms a large part of my background.) The Welsh are an ancient and wildly interesting and intellectual Celtic people that fascinate me. I have considered learning the language at some point, but there is only so much a person can learn!

HERE is Merewalh's page in the Wikipedia website.

From her cousin, King Ecgbert of Kent, (to apologize for killing her young nephews to protect his throne) Saint "Ermenburga" obtained the land in Thanet, Kent for the building of a church and Abbey. The method used had an element of magic to it. She had a pet deer and was granted the amount of land that the deer would run across, and she ended up with quite a lot. (King Ecgbert was my 35th great grandfather, by the way.)

The inside of St. Mary's Church

Minster-in-Thanet

Kent, U.K.

Domne Eafe vowed never to marry again, and thus retired to the monastery she founded. One of her daughters was also Abbess there for some time.

I was DELIGHTED to learn that there is an order of nuns living in the Abbey at "Minster-in-Thanet." The place has changed hands a time or two but it is now under the care of an order of Benedictines.

In 1538 it was seized by The Crown. It was a private residence for about 400 years. In 1937 it was put on the market and an order of German nuns purchased it, and by some miracle they succeeded, in Hitler-era Germany, to relocate there, where they dedicated the place to Saint Mildred.

 This institution has a wonderful history of nuns producing various works of art. Can you imagine? This place has had holy women living in it since the 7th Century! 1300 years of prayers, work, and art.

An interesting newsy blogpost about the history of the nuns at Minster-in-Thanet can be found HERE.

One of the first things that occurred to me, of course, is how terribly cold that place must be. I wondered at the sturdy constitutions of the nuns that live there. I would make a lousy ascetic. I can barely stand to turn the thermostat below 68 in my apartment, otherwise my bones scream at me!

Speaking of screaming bones - I went to my parish today for the first time in several years, San Felipe de Neri, the oldest church in Albuquerque, and located very close to me. Once again, I bemoaned the lack of consideration for disable people that most public buildings demonstrate.

When I arrived I parked behind the building and displayed the placard that the lovely office worker had given me the day before. As previously instructed, I walked through the back gate and tried to get to the church through the gate that is just beside the front entrance, and I found that it was LOCKED. In vain, I rattled it a bit. No luck. So CLOSE to my goal, yet so far! Why does no one think about the disabled? 

The locked gate meant I would have to go back to the courtyard and enter the church through an interior door near the altar. But where was it?

There were about 10 doors leading off of the large brick courtyard, with nary a sign in sight. I tried a couple of the doors and they were locked. No one was around. I suppose this was because it was Saturday afternoon.

The interior of San Felipe de Neri

Fortunately for me, a nice older couple came tottering in and they pointed out one of the plain white doors and when I went in, I saw that it lead immediately into the church, just off the altar.

I was too late for confession - something I would normally do on a more regular basis, but I have been in too much pain to attend the last several years, and I was wary of Covid, since I have asthma.

By the time mass started 20 minutes later, the church was packed with people, and it seemed that every sick child in Albuquerque, who had a productive croupy cough, was sitting behind me. Only 4 people were wearing masks, including me. 

One of the sick children was coughing onto my cheek and my neck. I kept trying to move away from him, and he kept inching toward me, the phlegm in his chest noisily moving up into his throat. Several happy babies were gurgling and burbling and shrieking directly behind me, through the whole thing. I caught 2 or 3 sentences of the priest's homily. Between the noise of the congregation, the coughing and sneezing, the terrible sound system, and the Father's thick accent, I could not get much out of it - but that's the advantage of the Catholic mass. It is basically the same, no matter what day you go or which church you attend. Even if we can't really hear it, we KNOW what is going on. The priest is conducting the sacrifice and we are there with him.

As time went on, my arthritis pain increased more and more so that, by the time the good Father was finished with his homily, I thought I was going to die from pain. I had forgotten to bring a cushion, but I doubt it would have helped much. My bones throughout my body have disintegrated to a point that a measly cushion is pointless.

Soon, I realized that I was going to have to leave, otherwise I was not going to be able to make it to the car. After a lifetime of taking care of myself, and mostly living alone, I felt the real need for someone to help me - and the bleak reminder of my solitary state.

At an opportune moment, I got up and made it to the front of the church. I could not exit the way I had come, otherwise I would disturb the congregation. Because of that damn locked gate, I had to walk 3 blocks AROUND the entire church just to get to my car. 

Our society is FULL of locked gates that prevent disabled people from having access to most of what everyone else takes for granted.

Realizing that this was probably the last time I would try going to mass by myself, I kept reminding myself that soon the incredible pain of walking would be over and I would probably never have to do this again. One foot in front of the other, limping along with my cane. 

There were a lot of people on the streets, walking around, coming in and out of the shops, on their way to restaurants, enjoying a brisk autumn evening in Old Town. The sun was low in the sky. The chill intensified. I struggled to my car across the uneven sidewalk and then back through the dirt parking lot.  With great relief I managed to get inside my car and collapse, saying "thanks be to God!" many times.

On the way home, I gave thought to my spiritual life. I was disappointed not to have been physically able to stay longer and enjoy the Eucharist. It is a very special thing, but I was also keenly aware that Jesus had followed me into the church, sat with me in the pew, and accompanied me on my walk back to my car. He was with me on the drive, and later at home, and I felt His companionship, as I usually do. Sometimes, in fact, it is much easier to experience His Presence when the noise and activity of others around me is not asserting the distraction of random outside influences.

Jesus does not usually step in and fix all pains for any person. He saves his miracles for specific reasons known only to Him. I trust His decision on when to do this. I am not one of those people that whines, "why me, Lord?"  Rather, I have always felt, "why NOT me?" and felt lucky that my life circumstances are not worse than they are.

The important thing, for me, is that He accompanies me on my journey through life. He is in the pains and the pleasures, holding me in His love. He saw how I struggled, trying to attend mass for the first time in a long while. He was right there - encouraging me and loving me.

Jesus knows that if I could go to mass every day, I would certainly love to do that, but I have always felt, on the other hand, that the power of the Eucharist is so all-encompassing that if I have taken the Lord within me in such a way just once in my life, I have Him within me completely in an equal manner as if I had taken advantage of this Blessed Sacrament every day. The key is what is in one's heart.

I sometimes plan my days as if I am still that independent young woman who went all sorts of places by herself and took care of her own business just fine. Some aspects of this have changed - probably forever - and I think this may be what The Lord was demonstrating to me today. By the time I reached home, I had decided how I would pivot on this newly accepted reality. Until something changes, I will make the best of things and try to get someone to bring the Eucharist to me, when there is someone available to do that.

We do not know our limits until we test them, and that is one of the new things I learned in a concrete way today.

God bless us all

Silver Rose

Web sites:

My parish: https://sanfelipedeneri.org/

The Orthodox "take" on "Ermenburga: https://orthochristian.com/80901.html

Benedictine Nuns of Minster Abbey - https://minsterabbeynuns.org/1937-monastic-life-returns-to-minster-abbey/

Wikipedia article:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domne_Eafe

Early British Kingdoms:   https://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/adversaries/bios/aebbeminster.html