The Second Vigil

"People have said that Mormonks are inflexible and unbending. This is untrue. When I exercised this morning, I could almost touch my knees." ~The Mormonk

One of these days, a vigil is going to go how it is supposed to. I've really only got a single vigil left, so I hope I do it right.

I had high hopes for AUSTERITY. However, high hopes alone do not a festival make. I didn't actually even get a chance to wear my robes for the first two days of AUSTERITY. Finally, by the night of the new moon, I decided it was time to get serious and buy that candle I talked about.

So, I rounded up my robes and headed for Wal*Mart. I hadn't really thought there would be much difference between wearing the hood up and wearing the hood down, but with the hood up it was amazing how much more self-conscious I felt. Kind of like I was just pretending about all this, being silly (which I guess I kind of am). Every time I caught somebody looking at me I would break into a large nervous grin, which ruined the effect of everything else.

Wearing the hood up also greatly hinders one's line of vision. I found myself constantly pulling it back, trying to keep it manageable. Between that, the grin, and tightening my rope belt every few minutes, I'm sure I didn't look quite as comfortable as I would have liked.

Once I had gotten into the store, found the candles, and reached the speedy checkout, I had more-or-less gotten the grin under control. Nobody seemed to want to get in line with me for quite some time. Finally a lady circled around from my blind spot, talking a little quickly.

"Hey, are you in line right here?"

"Yes, I am," I said. It was about then that I realized it was the wife of my old scoutleader, Sister H. The wife was sister H., I mean. The scoutleader would have been Brother H.

She looked almost as surprised to realize it was me as I was uncomfortable that it was her, but we started chatting and we got over it quickly. I explained briefly what I was doing, and we talked about monks a little. She told me that there's a monastery north of us, although what city she wasn't quite sure, which peaked my interest for sure.

Apparently, though, there are actually several. I clicked on the top Google result, which brought me to Abbey of Our Lady of the Holy Trinity. Curious as always, I checked to see what a REAL monk's daily schedule would be like. It goes something like this;

3:15 AM ~ Rising
3:30 AM ~ Vigils
6:00 AM ~ Lauds
6:25 AM ~ Eucharist
7:45 AM ~ Terce
8:00 AM ~ Work
12:15 PM ~ Sext
12:30 PM ~ Dinner
1:00 PM ~ Rest
2:15 PM ~ None
2:30 PM ~ Work
5:30 PM ~ Vespers
6:00 PM ~ Supper
7:30 PM ~ Compline
8:00 PM ~ Retire

If you're as clinically irreverent as I am, you might have gotten a case of the giggles when you saw the seventh entry. However, I figured that the monks probably have a much nobler definition of the word "sext" than we do, so I checked on it.

Sext comes from the Latin word sexta, meaning "sixth [hour]," which, in ancient times was our 12 noon. It was approximately the hour when Jesus was crucified.

Just as I suspected. I really want to visit a monastery now.

Man, am I long-winded today! Alright, well, as soon as I had finished that Wal*Mart run, I headed up to my sister's house in Provo, where I'll be spending a good deal of time over the next ten or eleven days. She is headed down to Florida, and I'm house-sitting while she's gone. Also cat-sitting, garden-sitting, rabbit-sitting, and (I kid you not) chicken-sitting. I'll post some pictures. It almost feels like I've got a little monastery of my own now, except that my OTHER sister, her husband, and her little boy will probably be coming to house-sit with me. Also cat-sit, garden-sit, et cetera.

We had to make another trip to Wal*Mart before we could get to bed, and this one was a little more successful. I stopped fighting my hood, and just accepted that I didn't need to see anything above knee level... and you know what? I actually didn't. It becomes a lot easier not to stare at pretty girls when... well, when you can't even see them. It also makes it very easy to avoid movie and album covers that are less than tasteful, and to not grin when you see people looking at you (because, once again, you don't see them.)

On our way out of the store, I saw a bunch of feet moving past and heard the voices of college-age youngsters. "Hey, I really like that guy's robe!" one of them said. "Is he supposed to be like a monk, or a ninja?"

I said nothing. My sister told him that I was supposed to be a monk.

"Where did he get it?"

My sister told them I had made it. They seemed impressed. They attempted, through flattery, to get my to lift my hood, which I did not do. Or speak to them. In fact, I still don't know what they look like. They probably think I'm kind of a jerk, which is true; but for some reason, I felt like I had finally caught on to the appropriate mood of AUSTERITY. Next time I do AUSTERITY, I'm totally doing it this way.

The vigil itself was, like the last vigil, disappointing. I was TIRED. I decided that I would stay awake until the candle burned out. On a generous estimate, I made it about one-fourth of the way through the candle. Finally, I blew it out and went to sleep. AUSTERITY really isn't as important as the full-moon festival, so I'm not TOO disappointed. Still, I wish I could do these vigils in a more impressive manner.

I'll be posting the full meaning of AUSTERITY a little later, so stay tuned. Or not. Whatever.