Falling Out of the World

(Photo by D.L. Carson)


So last weekend was the end-of-term retreat, and my first return in a long time, longer than I like, to Holy Cross Monastery, a place that has always had a touch of the numinous for me. The brothers are warm, gracious hosts, the food is excellent, the grounds beautiful, the services--

ah, there's something about the regular services, in the beautifully simple chapel, with the voices chanting in unison, moments of silence to allow you to simply,

well, fall out of the world.

I don't mean run away from the world, I mean fall out of the world--disengage from the everyday, the routine, get a little perspective, and plunge back in, refreshed, rejuvenated, and possible renewed.

I first ran across that phrase on Philip Sandifer's blog, and if borrowing a theme from a highly intellectual discussion of Doctor Who seems a weird inspiration under which to gather some thoughts about a retreat, well, take it up with this guy. But "falling out of the world" appeals to me as a metaphor for a retreat, and there's even a Doctor Who metaphor for it--in the Russell T. Davies era, that lovely moment in the opening credits when the TARDIS, hurtling through the Time Vortex, suddenly takes an elegant, nice little pause so we can see her, and then, after getting her bearings and sauntering through our field of vision, why, hurtles back in.

Here it is (at 0:11-0:14):



Which explains why I haven't been posting much, right? After all, it takes a little, after falling out of and then back into the world to resume all of the routines of daily living.

Oh, and if you haven't already, get a chance to see The Way. It's a beautiful, touching and funny movie, well worth the time.