75. Outbound

Ala Medusa

I was worried about Terd as we sat across from each other in his kitchen.

"Once I came to accept I could no longer stay at Our Lady's," Terd continued, "I wondered if I was receiving what we always pray for ... guidance.  And the more I thought of it, the more I realized that circumstances in my life were obviously pointing toward change."

"Unfortunately, I think,"  I said.

“I know it seems odd,” Terd continued, “that I would leave the contemplative life now, but I’m 51 years old and it’s time for more direct service.”

“How do you mean?” I queried.

“I want to work with people and be helpful,” he said. “I feel this is the time of life to give back to those I share the planet with.”

“Doing what?” I asked. He had my interest. I’d had similar thoughts about whether spending a life with only ten other men really opened myself to what God wanted me to do. And in the words of The Teacher, Ecclesiastes, all things have their season.

“I don’t know specifically what I want to do at this point,” Terd said, “but I feel I’ve been called.”

“And you can just throw away your Athanasian work?”

“It’s done, really,” he said.  “The next phase would be a gigantic piece of work.  The next scholar can have it.  After so many years I’m tired of it.”

I knew what he meant, because I had worked with scholars who had reached that point.  Unfortunately, their egos and need for a salary kept them at their tasks longer than  their ability to generate enthusiasm and useful ideas.

“You say you believe you’re called,” I said.  “Called to what?”

 “Not what,” he said, “where. I’ve been called out.”

“You’ve been called 'out,'” I repeated his phrase. “Out of our community?”

“Yes,” he said.

“To where?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I just know I should leave and … well, cast my fate upon the waters.”

“Terd, my heart is with you, but my head says there are better ways to make a change. And you have a much better head on your shoulders than I. Why don't you stay at Our Lady’s and figure out your next move? Do some research or talk to …”

“I’m through talking and truthfully I’ve come to hold thinking in less esteem these days,” he said.

I felt frustrated. This had the flavor of trying to talk sense to teenager.

“Terd, come back to West Saugerties for now,” I said. “You admit you don’t know what you want and …..”

“What do YOU want, Jesse?,” asked Terd. “You can’t stay at Our Lady’s, it’s being sold!”
                
“I think what I want is obvious,” I said, heat beginning to rise in me. “But it’s not clear what you want and you don’t have a plan, damn it!”

“Tell me, Jesse,” said Terd as he leaned toward me, “other than jumping off the roof, what’s YOUR plan?”

Gericault's Raft of the Medusa

Did I Mention I Like To Dance? -Flynt Flossy