THE TRIQUETRA OF LIFE: Wisdom, Wealth, and Wellness

An Excerpt from Chapter Twenty-Eight

Path Perilous: My Search for God and the Miraculous

Mid-Summer 1968

During my recovery in 1963, I sat in the back seat of our family car on Sunday drives with my parents. The vinyl seat warmed beneath my hands. My father drove steadily. My mother turned slightly from time to time and looked at me in the rearview mirror.

I said nothing.

The engine hummed. The tires thrummed along familiar roads. My parents chatted about neighbors, groceries, and family matters. Their voices filled the car, but went quiet. If I spoke, even briefly, they leaned in and listened. My words had become a rarity. My silence unsettled them.

During the worst stretches of my illness, speech exhausted me. Conversation drained me as though I had been running hard. When I withheld words, something in me steadied. My breathing slowed. The pressure behind my eyes eased. They saw withdrawal. I felt relief.

Silence can intimidate. Constant chatter marks boundaries, the way cave bats send out sound to avoid collision or identify kinship. When I spoke, my thoughts tightened into restless word strings, tethering my mind to petty concerns. When I withdrew into quietness, that tension slackened. In stillness, my mind lifted. I also sensed intimations from the Holy Spirit concerning the mysteries of life and the world to come.

*

Years later, in 1968 at the abbey, I felt that same steadiness return. The absence of small talk and news media stilled my thoughts. In the dining hall, a Brother read aloud while the rest listened. Outdoors, hand signals were passed between Brothers working the hay fields. Speech was measured.

Then I understood why Saint Benedict had warned in his rules, “Death and life lie in the power of the tongue.”

Near the end of my month-long stay, the Abbot asked me to climb a nearby hill with him. We reached the summit and sat overlooking the Abbey spread across the green valley, its fields squared and ordered far below us. He swept his hand across that pastoral scene.

“Behold the kingdom of heaven. We have found our blessed community to be the closest thing on Earth to the City of God.”

His voice carried invitation without pressure.

“Whatever you decide to do,” he said, “wherever you go, let the Advocate be your comforter and guide.” He pointed back toward the monastery. “Let me know if you wish to stay.”

He turned and walked down the hill, leaving me alone at the summit. I watched him grow smaller against the mown fields. I felt the tug to follow him—but did not move. His offer settled heavily in my chest, and I wept.

I had not told him about my nervous breakdown. Within the Order, health had to be unquestioned. If I wanted to remain, I would have to disclose everything. The Brotherhood would vote. I was not strong enough to tell the whole truth. By withholding it, I believed I had already closed the door. Whether that belief was accurate or not, it felt easier to face hunger and cold on a dark road than to risk being marked in a lifelong relationship.

I was not ready for that.

Before me lay a choice: the cloistered life among Brothers, or the solitary path alone in the world. The community offered order and shelter. Solitude offered uncertainty and exposure. Neither could promise salvation.

The valley lay still. Cut grass and pine scented the air. The Abbey bell tolled—deliberate and mournful—bidding farewell.

I stood and shouldered my pack.

At the foot of the hill, a dirt road cut through the hayfields and narrowed toward the horizon. I stood where it opened before me. The Abbey was behind me—stable and secure.

I had known hunger, exposure, sleeping where night found me, being judged by my appearance, and living alone.

None of that would surprise me.

What unsettled me was the unknown.

Ahead, the road stretched on and on.

I stepped onto it without knowing where it would lead.

Dust lifted around my sandals. I walked, humming under my breath, the melody becoming a prayerful lament and chant.

I placed myself in God’s hands and began.

From the memoir-in-progress, nearing publication:
Path Perilous: My Search for God and the Miraculous
—a spiritual epic for truth-seekers, contemplative mystics, and all who long for God.

Visit www.RMDellOrfanoAuthor.com and pass it forward.