St. Augustine’s Abbey
Chilworth, Surrey, England
It took me ninety minutes, 2 trains and a half a mile walk, (on ice mind you…32 degrees) from the train station to arrive at St. Augustine’s Abbey in Chilworth, Surrey midday Wednesday. It wasn’t very far but everything is much different here.
The only sound I hear here, is the ticking of a clock in the sitting room where I sit with my laptop. Unlike the Jesuit Center where I heard the screeching of exotic cars down Park Ave, drunks and an occasional accordion player (I never did see him) and the constant rumble of the boiler.
There are no other retreatants in this house. Just me. I entered at the end of a long corridor while two brothers were cleaning, preparing for my visit. They gave me the tour. First a very spartan kitchen with kettle, tea, and cereal that expired in December 2021. Next a dining room with a table and 6 chairs. There is a sideboard against the wall with quite nice china inside, which I might use for my tea to make it fancy, along with some chafing dishes. Next is the sitting room I mentioned, with six identical high backed chairs, two end tables and a coffee table. There is far too much furniture for this small room. It is littered with books. Mostly Catholic books but a few thrillers, no doubt left behind from a prior guest and oddly, a book by Charles Swindoll, an evangelical protestant preacher I remember from the 80’s. Tucked down the hallway is the coldest lavatory, known to mankind. Sink and toilet only but surprisingly good lighting. And then my room.
There are 3 more guest rooms upstairs but they gave me the ground floor bedroom and I think it is quite nice. I have a bed, nightstand, desk, two chairs and a standup closet. The monks left me four blankets which is fantastic because I am unsure the heater is actually working.
The shower is upstairs, in what looks like a closet. I will attempt it before bed tonight and then thank God I brought a hairdryer (I normally don’t) in which I will dry, not only my hair but warm my entire body with.
All this said, this is a happy place. I can feel it. Two other monks came to say hello. One brought me my lunch on a tray with so much sweetness, I cried when he left, because he was so loving and beautiful. There was melon soaked in some sort of liquor with a maraschino cherry a top. The main plate had breaded chicken (?), French fries, carrots and green beans. The later three were fanned out to make the presentation extravagant.
I immediately jumped into afternoon prayers. Unlike other monasteries I have stayed at, here the monks (and I estimate there are perhaps ten of them) are hidden in the quire during prayers. I can only hear their chants, not see them. I must guess if we are sitting or standing but I suppose it truly does not matter.
After prayers another monk came out to greet me. He told me I was very very welcome there. I told him I was so grateful for the kindness, for although I had a splendid stay with the Jesuits, no one had talked to me. He replied, Well, this is a monastery so no one will talk to you here either. You just have such a joyful countenance, I had to come over and say hello.
There is no internet and cell service here. I hope to do much work. Pray I find a rhythm and words here. I have not written as much as I expected or planned so far this trip but I have gathered seeds. And seeds will grow.
(Dear readers, I found internet in a village a 40 min walk away! It’s a good story but will have to wait. I only have 32 more minutes on the meter)
This is a wonderful reflection. Thanks for sharing it.
I’m really enjoying your posts. I don’t think I could be in a monastery, all alone (mostly.)
And I’m not a writer, just a reader. Enjoy your stay. I wish you well.
Sharon