Hazy but not lazy days of summer on the blue Mediterranean

Monday, August 1, 2011

Hazy but not lazy days of summer on the blue Mediterranean

I just came across a short video on the Legionaries of Christ website. It depicts pretty accurately a passage in "Driving Straight on Crooked Lines: How an Irishman found his heart and nearly lost his mind," in which I describe our vacations in a small town south of Naples in Italy. You can read the passage below. Judging by the video, not a lot has changed - except in my time we didn't have backpacks and we certainly didn't have access to sail-boards. It's a nice little trip down memory lane (thanks to David Murray) and it certainly helps answer the question: what do Legionary seminarians (in Rome) do on their summer vacations?

Summer in Monticchio included two weeks of ‘vacation,’ which we dedicated to intense physical activity. Most days, we would set out in groups of three or four, hiking to a nearby bay that wasn’t accessible by road. Getting there involved about an hour’s trek. We would climb down a steep path, which took us through some small olive groves and, eventually, to the water’s edge. Climbing back up again after a long day of swimming in the sun was a daunting task.
The bay was practically inaccessible by land, so we had the entire place to ourselves. The shoreline was steep and rocky and there was no beach. A large concrete platform, the remains of some former structure, served as our base for swimming and diving. The blue waters of the Mediterranean were always beautiful. Motor yachts and speedboats sometimes came in from the nearby marinas, giving us a fleeting glimpse of a lifestyle far removed from our seminary existence.
Other days, we would hike to surrounding towns, enjoying the magnificent scenery and Mediterranean locale. One of the more adventurous destinations for a hike was to the town of Positano, a beautiful place protected from the Northern winds by the Lattari Mountains. The return trip was about 20 km, which meant we had to run for most of the way, and would have little or no time to eat our sandwiches and visit the town.
The structure of Positano is old and beautiful. The buildings cling in tiers to the rock face. The small houses huddled on top of each other, so characteristic of the area, form the subject of endless photos. The colors are vibrant, and the white buildings create a perfect backdrop for the bright geraniums and other flowers adorning the walls and courtyards. Smells included; leather used for making sandals, the aroma from the restaurants, and the bustle of every day life.
But we didn’t have any time for sightseeing, because no matter how far we hiked or ran, we had to be back to our residence at the appointed hour. Because of the long distance, completing a hike to Positano, and getting back on time, came with bragging rights.

2 comments:

Unknown said...: Hi Jack
I loved that isolated stretch of water, I still go there in my mind when I'm looking for a quiet place.
Another memory is sitting in front of the huge window which looked out on the Bay of Naples, having my hair cut by a future bishop!
Un fuerte abrazo
Seamus; August 2, 2011 at 3:19 PM
The Monk said...: I share those memories! Hope the Bishop is better at his new job than he was at barbering!; August 2, 2011 at 4:13 PM

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The story that inspired "Driving Straight on Crooked Lines"

“A long time ago, a Monk set out on his travels accompanied by his assistant, a Brother. Night was falling when the Monk told the Brother to go on ahead to find lodging. The Brother searched the deserted landscape until he found a humble shack, in the middle of nowhere. A poor family lived in the hovel. The mother, father and children were dressed in rags. The Brother asked if he and the Monk could spend the night in their dwelling. “You are most welcome to spend the night,” said the father of the family. They prepared a simple meal consisting of fresh milk, cheese and cream for the Brother and the Monk. The Brother felt moved by their poverty and even more by their simple generosity.

When they finished eating, the Monk asked them how they managed to survive in such a poor place, so far away from the nearest neighbors and town. The wife looked to her husband to answer. In a resigned tone of voice he told them how they managed to survive. ‘We have one cow. We sell her milk to our neighbors who do not live too far away. We hold back enough for our needs and to make some cheese and cream-that is what we eat.”

The next morning, the Brother and the Monk said their good-byes and set out to continue their journey. After the Monk and the Brother had walked a few miles, the Monk turned to the Brother and said, “Go back and push the cow off the cliff!” “Father,” the Brother replied, “they live off the cow. Without her, they will have nothing.” The Monk repeated his order “go back and kill the cow.”

With a heavy heart, the Brother returned to the hovel. He worried about the future of the family because he knew they depended on the cow to survive. His vow of obedience bound him to follow the orders of the wise Monk. He pushed the cow off the cliff.

Years later, the young Brother became a Monk. One day he found himself on the same road where he found lodging so many years ago. Driven by a sense of remorse he decided to visit the family. He rounded the curve in the road and to his surprise, he saw a splendid mansion, surrounded by landscaped gardens, in the place where the hovel used to be. The new house exuded a sense of prosperity and happiness. The Monk knocked on the door.

A well-dressed man answered. The Monk asked, “what ever became of the family who used to live here? Did they sell the property to you?” The man looked surprised and said he and his family had always lived on the property. The Monk told him how he had stayed in a hovel on the same spot, with his master the old Monk. ‘What happened to the family that lived here?” he asked.

The man invited the Monk to stay with him as his guest. While they ate, the host explained how the family’s fortune changed. “You know Father, we used to have a cow. She kept us alive. We didn't own anything else. One day she fell down the cliff and died. To survive, we had to start doing other things, develop skills we did not even know we had. We were forced to come up with new ways of doing things. It was the best thing that ever happened to us! We are now much better off than before.”

This is a blog of the memoirs of an Irishman - from Dublin - who is a former member of the Legion of Christ.

"Driving Straight on Crooked Lines: How an Irishman found his heart and nearly lost his mind" is available on Amazon.com and other outlets.

I look back at the events in the Legion that made me who I am today. It's a fun read with a serious message: positive change can come from adversity.

When I first heard the story of the Monk and the cow, my job - a job I truly loved - was eliminated at the multinational corporation which employed me. My cow was taken away from me, through no fault of my own. The person who told me the story was suggesting I could find new peace, happiness and financial well-being in my adversity, just as the family did when the Monk stole the cow.

A few years later, revelations about the double life of Fr. Marcial Maciel the Founder of the Legionaries of Christ, killed another cow in my life and in the lives of tens of thousands of people.

There is a Spanish saying: "God writes straight on crooked lines". "My Legionary Life" is about trying to not get lost in the crooked lines of our own - or others - making. It is about discovering the straight lines that reveal the true purpose for which we exist.

It is the the story of the first Irish Legionary of Christ to set foot in Mexico. It begins in Dublin, Ireland, passes through Spain, then Mexico, Italy, the U.S.A and Gabon, in Central West Africa.

When I am not writing, I make a living as an international managment consultant.

The Monk who Stole the Cow

Monday, August 1, 2011