"I felt strangely called to the order. Emphasis on strangely." ~The Mormonk
It started with a girl.
OK, no, that's not true. It actually started with a guy. Regardless of the gender, it began when I was trying to think up a clever posting name for a Mormon blog (SaveTheCurelom.com). A friend of mine had invited me in and encouraged me to post there, and I wanted to be all smooth about it. I wanted something clever. So I sat, my hands poised over the keys while the cursor blinked in the "Username" slot.
Then, it came to me; "The MorMonk." Yes, my name is David, and I am a nerd.
That being said, Monkness has always held a certain allure for me. Mostly, it's the robes.
But beyond the sweet apparel, there's a lot to be said for the lifestyle. Simple living sounds awesome; yet beyond that, they also have a rigid code of self-discipline and ethics. It may not be true completely across the board, but it seems also like they have a sense of peace that comes with self-denial, self-mastery, and purpose. Self-control has ever been my weakness, and so it stands to reason that those who seem to be gifted with a junkload of it would garner my envy.
I posted once in the blog (sorry, Bradley,) and then time went on and I forgot about it. The term MorMonk bounced around in my head like a musket ball in a copper kettle, and from time to time I would figure out a way to work the term into a conversation. Yes, I was proud of it. But for the most part, life moved on.
And life sucked. Oh, shoot, I'm not allowed to say that. Life was... interesting. Interesting in the way the Chinese curse you by saying, "may you live in interesting times," interesting. I could not seem to find a job to save my life, so I had no car and no phone. Generally, it felt like the rest of the world was moving on and becoming evermore powerful and attractive while I was gaining weight and submitting applications to burger joints. Even in the midst of all that stress, I still managed to find time to break my heart against some girl (I'm talented that way).
Finally, having reached the end of my rope and received news that was, proverbially, the straw that broke the camel's back, I just said in my frustration, "I should just become a Mormonk!"
Then I giggled. Then I laughed; and even when I finished laughing, the idea brought a huge smile to my face. The crooked, rusty little gears in my head began to turn. What was wrong with my life? Well, for starters, I tend to lose objectivity around girls. Fine; I'd be celibate. No dating, no flirting, no nothing. Just to compound that, I would shave my head... if that didn't keep girls away, nothing would. What else? Well, I waste a lot of time online. Fine; I'd swear off YouTube and facebook. I'm too concerned about the opinions of others. Fine; I'd wear robes in public, as a way of making myself more callous to disapproval. The more I thought about it, the more attractive the idea became.
Perhaps you shouldn't make critical decisions while emotionally compromised.
The euphoria lasted until the day after I bought the fabric for my robes. I woke up the next morning, forty dollars poorer and eight yards of black cloth richer, and lay in bed thinking "what have I done?" But I had spent money; I was committed. Originally, the plan had been six months. I swallowed my pride and shortened it to forty days. It seemed like a nice religious number.
Wednesday, June 15th, I spent the entire night of the full moon sitting in a park near my home in a "vigil;" and the morning of Thursday, I shaved my head and became...
The Mormonk.
Now you know.
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