prev I missed my calling next
2002-06-16 | 10:47 p.m.

While not a member of the Carmelite order, Sister Wendy continues to live in seclusion in a trailer on the grounds of the Carmelite monastery at Quindenham. She speaks only to the monastery prioress and the nun who brings her provisions each morning and spends the rest of each day in prayer and complete silence and solitude.

I wish I could be a nun. I want to be Sister Wendy, with a life of complete solitude AND a television series. I also want Carmelite nuns to bring me provisions, even though I am not a member of their order.

And no, I don't mind living in a trailer. Not a bit.

I should have been a nun. If only I had been a believer. Being a nun is like being in a mental hospital, except you don't have to go to group therapy. Well, maybe you do. I'm not sure exactly. But in both cases, everything is paid for. And you get about two hours a day to work on your personal projects.

All I can do is try to replicate the life for myself, minus God. I can still be introspective. Walk softly, and carry a big ... habit. (Actually, I've always sort of liked the idea of having a uniform. Wool for winter and cotton for summer.) Worship nature, for which God is metaphor. But no candles. I'm not a candle person.

How do you get to have a name like Sister Wendy? I thought everybody had to take a different name when they became a nun. Do you suppose her name was something else before, like, Mary Celestina? What next, Sister Desiree? Sister Tammy-Jo? Sister Tabitha? How about Sister Christian?

prev archive next
0 comments