The years pass and the circumstances change but the fundamentals remain the same. Age after age, generations without number, pass and the appearance of things is different but a underneath there is nothing new. And the fundamentals- like virtue- are the same whether you are a general in the Roman army, or a washerwoman in the village of Beachburg.
Detachment is not indifference. One can and must work hard. It is part of the duty of the moment to utilize fully one's capabilities and energy. And once everything that can be done has been done, that is where is detachment begins. Detachment treats of the outcome, not the process.
Within my tiny sphere of influence at the moment, is the GlenMary retreat house. I love preparing it for each new guest. Hanging the soft cotton sheets on the clothes line to be bleached even whiter by the sun and dried by the breeze. Scrubbing the old farmhouse wood floors with murphy's oil, as the lemony clean smell hangs in the air. Tying back the white linen curtains to they bunch and cluster just right to be caught by the gentle night draft. Cutting fresh dahlias and solomon's seal and making arrangements in mason jars for each bedside stand. Scrubbing, vacuuming, changes garbage's, etc. this is all the process, and I do my best.
The online reviews of the guests experience have been a great opportunity to practice detachment. Can I - in the words of Kipling- meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same. It is an exercise in developing virtue. Not being dejected or offended when criticism or insult is given and not being elated when positive feedback is received is the goal. And it's not about being indifferent. It's about not allowing one's heart to be attached to the outcome one way or the other. I hope and pray that each guests that stays at GlenMary has a peaceful, comfortable and happy stay, and I will do all I can to contribute to that, but at the end of the day the outcome is not mine. May the strings of my heart be knit only to His.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
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