One Month Ago
I woke from sleep and found myself in the middle of a panic attack. This is the third day in a row. I know why. I've found myself in a series of decisions and discernments that are really tricky, and my biology is not that happy with me. The most important decision on my plate is one I've been thinking about since high school: whether or not to be a monk.
I believed what Dostoyevsky’s character Fyodor Pavlovich said to his son Ivan, "When you've lived with the monks you'll sing a different tune...but go and get at the truth there, and then come and tell me". There is a quality of truth in the lifestyle of the monk that is next-to-impossible to achieve anywhere else. And so I did what Fyodor advised. I spent the last week exploring a monastery in New York.
My panic this morning is a result of that trip. I feel an immense amount of pressure around the call of God to a monastic life. Is He calling me to live in a monastery, or just live a more monk-like existence here in the world? Is there still a place for the monk post-Vatican II, when the church's relationship is more about loving the world than rejecting it? Am I missing out on potential impact? What about falling in love and starting a family? Erik Torenberg reminds us that "rationality acts less like a CEO and more like a PR person, justifying decisions you've already made to yourself and others". Recently, I've found myself justifying everything. Falling in love, joining a monastery, starting a company, shutting down a company, I could go on and on.
The biggest justification I have is my own experience of myth - specifically, the myth that "safeguards and enforces morality" as Malinowski tells us. I believe, truly, that the whole of God's creation is created and re-created in the innermost part of the soul.
But the problem with myths is that you believe them. And right now, I believe several conflicting myths about myself and the world. The panic is a justified biological reaction to an impossibility. I am bearing the myths of several people at once, and each of them contradicts the other.
In this moment of abnormality, I find myself experiencing surprising emotions. I am yelling and screaming at God in my prayer room. Five minutes later, I am laughing on business calls, or getting philosophical with my romantic partner. I am experiencing the whiplash of several people battling for my future.
And in this moment, I'm reminded of the importance of patience. Settle. Let it boil. Let it marinade. This period of my life is contradictory, but those pieces will synthesize. I'm not sure how yet. Monk or millionaire, the only thing I can do is wait.
This Month
Read how serious that writing was last month. That was a painful time.
This beautiful universe — and it is beautiful — welcomed me back after exploring monkhood. I didn’t always return the favor.
When I got back I treasured, as if seeing them for the first time, my dog, my friends, my family, the mountains. I also realized that something had changed. After my breakup with monkhood, I found it hard to trust myself.
I watched as a new world of craft unveiled itself before me. I got weirdly determined and serious about making meaningful things at work. The narrative was simple: “if I can’t be the best monk, I’ll be the best at whatever-this-is”. I got serious about work - I hired two coaches. I developed a system of “superlearning” that kicked my knowledge retention into high gear. I sunk my teeth into my business in the same way I was savoring monkhood just moments before. It was like a lightswitch - I shifted from one obsession to the next. There was not sense of play, only determination.
But obsession wasn’t enough to quench the hollowness. Julia Mossbridge said it best — “It seems unsolvable, this conundrum. Until you realize — it’s completely simple. We just have to learn to access unconditional love.” I knew this in my head, but I couldn’t accept it in my heart.
My ability to access unconditional love was severely hampered by my taking things SO DAMN SERIOUSLY. I lost joy, play, silliness, fun. I traded taking myself too seriously in monkhood for taking myself too seriously in work. Yes it made me satisfied. But I wasn’t releasing the full version of myself.
Julian of Norwich tells us that “everything is good except sin”. Everything? Really? Goodness is fun. I wasn’t having fun.
One of my coaches gave me the hardest homework I’ve ever had — he asked me to stop reading and learning for a month. He correctly identified that I was using my knowledge as a mask. I was avoiding trusting my instincts and relying on McKinsey frameworks instead. Taking things so damn seriously.
He was right, I didn’t trust my gut. After all, it betrayed me. My instincts (God?) led me to monkhood, and then led me so far away from it. How can I trust something that set me up for failure?
Yes, I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been. But that’s because I took “being happy” as a mission. If I worked super-hard at being super-happy, well, I would be. And you know what? I am. It worked.
But now that I’m happy, it’s time to figure out how to be silly again. What happens if I don’t over-achieve quite as hard? If I trust my instinct and not my knowledge. Will I able to trust my heart again?
Twice recently (divorce and monkhood), it’s like I’ve burned my hand pulling something out of the oven. I still love cooking — but can I keep baking without flinching? What’s more — will I remember why I started cooking in the first place? I have found satisfaction. Can I now allow myself to feel joy?