NunStory: Inordinate Love

It was very easy to love my Novice Mistress, Mother Therese.

Mother Therese actually had a blood sister there, Sister Bridget, the holy looking nun I described earlier in the video where I visited the monastery.

The sisters were of mixed Portuguese blood.

They looked more Portuguese than native, with deep seated eyes and beautiful features.

Both of them possessed that look of sanctity.

Both were deeply spiritual and contemplative.

I considered Mother Therese a saint, she was older and had the markings of a saint.

Deeply humble, she possessed a peace unfazed by anything.

Mother Therese was a mother I did not have.

She had that nurturing kind of love which my mother, not experiencing it herself, was not able to give it to us.

Mother Therese encouraged me to achieve, prevail and proved myself,

with the words, "Never say I can't, my boy."

I knew my love for her to be somewhat sexual in nature when I developed rashes on my back.

I had to bare it for her to put ointment on it.

I liked it so much, I did not want the rashes to heal and scratched them hard so they would not heal.

Alas, my skin was so good, it healed in no time.

With that love came jealousy.

I have almost always been fairly happy with what I have,

As a result, I was seldom subjected to jealousy.

And jealousy is one feeling I never care to experience.

It is pure suffering, a most unpleasant suffering which eats into a person and distorts everything.

The other issue was my attachment to the parlor.

That was a bad one since we were supposed to not want to see or be seen.

Not having love of the community, I found myself looking outside for love,

and nothing can be worse for an enclosed nun, than to look outside for love.

Being the youngest and newcomer, my place was right in front of the parlour.

Even when it was not, I could not resist moving right in front, as though a magnet pulled me there.

Young and pleasant to look at, I invariably catch the attention of visitors.

And I loved and reveled in it.

That did earn me no end of displeasure from the young nuns.

It grew into a veritable vice.

The other thing that bothered me was being a nobody.

Before entering, I had worked myself into being a visible entity outside.

At any group or gatherings, in class or field trips, I only had to say one line,

and all the attention was mine.

I excelled at being at the center of attention.

At the monastery, until I was solemnly professed, I had no voice and no standing.

I actually found it humiliating to be at the lowest rung,

and could not wait to become a fully professed nun.