What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love and Total Silence?

And what would a convent be without plants: radiant African violets that only church ladies can grow, and of course, That Philodendron. You know the one I mean: 100 years old, with leaves like yellow dinosaur teeth; no doubt a direct descendant of one Elijah grew on Mount Carmel.

***** Day Two: interestingly, the silence seems to be affecting our inner ears. I've never careened into so many people--bumps and jostles and muffled, verboten "sorry"s are an embarrassing hallway commonplace. I came here to forget myself, but am becoming more self-conscious rather than less so. That night I hear a couple of short sharp animal roars, peek out my door to investigate, and spot the source: another bathrobed retreatant shuffles back to her room, two Kleenex in hand, freshly (and o-so-loudly) plucked from the pink box on the table across the way.

***** Sunday morning, and a second helping of the best oatmeal I've ever eaten. And yet: normally, right about now, I'd be eating P's oatmeal. His oatmeal isn't as good as this oatmeal, but then we don't date for culinary reasons. Only a few hours to go, and I've had a wonderful time here, but... While stealth is patently unnecessary, I still feel obliged to "sneak" into the convent's narrow indoor telephone booth to call in for a week-ends' worth of messages. A friend wonders where I've been. A magazine editor wants two of my poems. The third caller doesn't say hello, or even leave his name. He doesn't have to. At first all I hear are dry, discordant whistles, but seconds later they settle into a recognizable tune: "The Sound of Silence." Seems P didn't want to somehow break my vow of silence by speaking into my answering machine. I decide not to stay for dinner that night, hurriedly pack, express my thanks to the sisters, and stagger through the unshovelled suburban snow to the subway, and home. Familiar sounds, like a bus splashing slush, clang in my empty ears. My mind feels just as empty, searches for, and finally finds, the expression I want: "the bends." Like a diver rising to the surface, I ache to return to the earth.

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