I did not go to Benet Hill Monastery to find myself—we had already met and were getting along just fine. I went because I was ready to listen—to God, to the silence, to the stirrings beneath the surface (and maybe to whatever I scribbled in last year’s journal).
As an Oblate, these retreats are part of the rhythm that helps me re-center, recalibrate, and return to the world a little more rooted in the values I claim to live by. Also, to remind myself why I bother keeping a compost bin and a prayer journal.
I arrived prepared to be reflective. I brought the journal. I brought the quiet shoes. I even packed extra pens, just in case spiritual clarity arrived in bullet points.
What I did not bring—or at least did not mean to—were two very persistent imaginary people.
They followed me everywhere. They sat beside me in chapel. They showed up during Lectio. They had opinions during centering prayer. Loud ones.
Let me explain.
pic credit @raechalfriess Chapel space at Benet Hill Monastery where reflection deepened
The Worldly Heart Brought Company
The retreat focused on “The American Heart vs. the Monastic Heart,” and while we did not vote on a winner, I think my inner life cast its ballot early. The presenter listed the usual suspects in the American Heart: self-sufficiency, success, comfort, and comparison. But the two that made me sit up a little straighter? Competition and Segregation.
Turns out, I spend a lot of time in conversation with people who are not even in the room.
In my head, I am explaining, defending, rehearsing brilliant comebacks, proving (to myself, mostly) that I am right and they are wrong—wiser, holier, or at the very least, just a little less exhausting than they are. It is subtle, but persistent. And most of the time, it is completely invisible to anyone but me.
Except, of course, to God.
While I am staging an internal courtroom drama, I am not open to Greater Love. I am not present to what is. And as the retreat gently reminded me, that kind of inner segregation—that “me vs. you” energy—breeds gossip, murmuring, and spiritual exhaustion.
I may look contemplative. But my thoughts are sprinting laps.
You Spot It, You Got It
There is a saying: “You spot it, you got it.” And nowhere is that more true than when I find myself highly irritated at someone else’s pride… only to realize it is my own wounded ego doing the shouting.
We were reminded of the scripture about the plank in your eye. And just like that, all those self-righteous conversations I had mentally rehearsed stopped feeling like a solid defense strategy… and started looking more like spiritual cataracts.
It is funny — those mental arguments feel like they are protecting me. But really, they are just keeping me stuck.
The Monastic Heart Shows Up
What is the opposite of competition? Companioning.
What counters segregation? Radical hospitality.
The monastic heart does not dominate. It walks alongside. It listens with the ear of the heart. It sees Christ in the person in front of me — even (especially?) when that person is difficult.
And when I do that — when I choose to companion rather than conquer — something shifts. I pause before speaking. I notice what I am about to say. I give space for the second thought.
The first thought might be judgment.
The second thought might be love.
And the second thought is my choice.
Detail from “Sacred Heart” by artist Linda McCray (@lindamccraystudio), used with gratitude. That second thought? It might just be holy ground.
Learning to Risk Love
Here is the part that stayed with me:
“Christ resides in our hearts, so this is holy ground. I will take the risk of connection because I see God in them.”
It is easy to love the people I already love. But can I risk loving the one who makes me bristle? The one who hurt me? The one who does not think, vote, or live like I do?
That is the real monastic heart. Not the robe and the silence — but the risk of choosing love in the mess.
And I realized this weekend: I cannot do this spiritual life alone.
Not just in the “I need God” way — but in the “I need people” way.
Not projects. Not fixes. Not victories.
People. Encounters. Holy ground with skin on.
A Final Thought
So if you have been arguing with someone in your head lately — someone who is not even present — maybe pause and check in with your heart.
Is it competing… or companioning?
Segregating… or welcoming?
Reacting… or risking love?
The imaginary people we bring along may never know we are rehearsing comebacks. But God knows. And so do we.
We do not need to be perfect — just present.
Not always right — just willing.
Not better — just braver with love.
That second thought?
It might just be holy ground.
From my heart to yours,
Until next time,
Raechal
Raechal, I can’t tell you how often I do this! I prepare for all out fights (that thankfully never take place) instead of letting God lead me. Thank you for this insightful article. Well said, using your heart. I will do better.