"One does not act like a Mormonk. One becomes one." ~The Mormonk

I'm officially starting to feel weird.

I'm over halfway done now. AUSTERITY marked the halfway point between the two full-moon festivals, and the second full-moon festival is when I'm going to let my hair start growing out again. Ten days later, I shave the goatee off and go back to being normal.

Well, OK, "normal" is a relative term.

Anyway, this morning as I shaved, I thought about what it would be like to finally shave off the goatee, and I actually started to panic. Apparently, I've become attached to it. I don't really like it, I prefer to be clean shaven; but actually shaving it off kind of spooks me.

The second thing was that I went to dinner without time to change out of my work clothes. It might be the first time I appeared in public without my robes since INITIATION, and it felt weird. I felt kind-of naked. Of course, I looked relatively normal to everyone else (again, "normal" is relative), but I felt like I wasn't dressed. Maybe sort of the same way you'd feel if you wore jeans to a formal dinner.

I'm going to miss being a Monk, when the time comes. Today is probably the first day I could really say that.

I really want to get the 'smile' experiment done before I finish. Wish me luck. No, I've never explained the 'smile' experiment, but I'll let you know more about it some other time. I'm tired, I'm up past my Monk curfew, and I'm going to bed.

Focus

Howdy, Y'all!

So, I promised to tell you what the meaning behind AUSTERITY is, but... well, I don't really feel like it. In fact, I haven't been feeling very Mormonky at all lately, which I find kind of interesting.

But first, I have a couple more pictures for you. These were taken when I first began this gig, and HOPEFULLY I've grown into the robes a little since then.



Somebody asked if I was supposed to be a druid. Nope. Somebody also asked if I wore the yellow and maroon robes, and I said no, because those were Tibetan monks. Then I realized that didn't really make any sense, because technically, Mormons don't have monks, so I could as easily copy the Tibetans as the Catholics as the anybody else I care to. So, I guess it wasn't that silly to ask.

Incidentally, if you want to read an EXCELLENT non-fiction, read "Autobiography of a Tibetan Monk." Amazing book. I read it during AUSTERITY, and I think it's going to become Mormonk required reading.



And this shot is just to give an overview of the robe. Yup, hurr et be.

So like I said, I haven't been feeling very monkish lately. I'm kind of torn, now that my new appearance is beginning to set in. One part of me enjoys it all, but another part of me... resists. I'm a little less than half through with this experiment, and I haven't yet gotten everything out of it that I wanted to. You can only be something you're not for so long before it starts to wear on your nerves.

A big part of it is that I guess I had imagined a lot of interesting conversations, witty dialogue, and just general socialization being involved. I should have known better; most people aren't very likely to approach a stranger ANYWAY, and the chances decrease drastically when that stranger is bald and wearing black robes. Instead, I just see a lot of people look away quickly when they notice me noticing them.

At least now, the playing field is level; I make people as nervous as they make me. But that wasn't really the point of the experiment. I guess I had imagined that putting on black robes would somehow make me quick-witted and carefree; but while the robes definitely make a good conversation piece, they haven't given me the ability to think on my feet any better than I did before, and they haven't made me any bolder (except in that I have to explain myself regularly).

When push comes to shove, the robes are just like anything else; I'll get out of them what I put into them, and nothing more.

Alright, then; TOMORROW, I will explain the meaning of AUSTERITY.

Have a great Fourth of July, everyone.

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.

History and Background: What a Mormonk Is

"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.

First Exposure

Right now, I'm not really doing anything crazy. I'm just trying to get as much public exposure in as possible.

Reactions have been pretty tame. Possibly people are afraid to look at me; I wear all black, and I have a shaved head, so I'm a little on the intimidating side. Today in the car, I pretended to cast a curse on a police officer who pulled up next to us. It involved a lot of finger wiggling. He mostly just stared at me. He was probably not sure how to react to a bald guy muttering in sign language. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep a straight face.

One of my jobs doesn't involve any face-to-face customer interaction, so I decided to wear my robes (next time you order something online, realize that the nice-sounding guy on the other end could be wearing just about anything... or nothing.) Again, almost no reaction. My boss continues to pretend that there's nothing strange about my clothing choice, although he does look a little nervous, as though he's unsure of how to broach the subject. My favorite reaction came from my co-worker, though. He came in and sat down in the cubicle next to mine, and we talked over the wall a little. After a moment I stood and came around. He looked me up and down, then gave me a nonplussed look. "Battleguard?" he asked.




Nope. Well... not yet, anyways.