Today I drove to Trellech and Ty Mawr Convent, to take part in the annual Associates' Day. It's the first time in since years that I've been there, and in that time, more than half the sisters I knew over the past thirty years have died. Of the four sisters there at the meeting, two were old friends and the other two were new to the community since my last visit.
Ty Mawr was always an important place of spiritual refuge for me. I could have visited during the past six years, but made a conscious choice not to do so. It was hard enough committing myself totally to being present and part of the somewhat confined world of the city centre, during its period of redevelopment. Many people who live, work or hang around in the city centre don't have the option to take refuge in a distant place of great beauty. If the city is a kind of desert, what must it be like not to have the option of leaving it? So I persuaded myself to try and put down even deeper roots, and learn what it might mean to adapt and grow a spirituality in such a secular environment, where the witness to faith may only have secular meanings for people.
Well, I survived. But I missed Ty Mawr greatly. Today, the countryside was as beautiful as ever. The convent grounds look well cared for and the wind quietly sings through the trees its calming song, ready to transport its hearers to a place of inner contentment and peace. It took me a little time to get used to the place. It has endured many changes in six years, whilst appearing largely unchanged. Time needed just to tune in, to re-connect. But all in all, the day was a grace, gratefully received.
I still have to work out what the past six years of absence has taught me. Or, if it was just an idealistic experiment that failed.
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