Monastic life is like a tale, an adventure; at times, it resembles paradise, yet it can easily evoke the likeness of hell. Each day unfolds with intensity, full of movement, never monotonous.
We rise at four in the morning, though as monks, we are often up even earlier to pray. At four-thirty, the bell tolls, calling us to the church. There, we begin our morning prayer, lighting candles, kissing icons, bowing low, listening to hymns and singing along. In prayer, we feel even the most distant souls as if they were beside us, sharing in our gratitude to God and conversing with Him with all our hearts.
Our morning prayer lasts two hours. Immediately afterward, we have a small bite to eat and start our day’s tasks. Each monk has his own responsibilities—caring for visitors, painting icons, preparing meals, tending the garden’s fruits and vegetables, making soap. The monastery farm is alive with vibrant colors, hosting plants of every kind. With the natural and organic products we yield, we offer aid to some local families.
Monastic life provides endless options; every day we learn something new. At one in the afternoon, we gather in the church for a brief prayer time, followed by our communal lunch. Our saints advise silence during meals, so one of the brothers reads a sacred text, filling our hearts with tranquility as we listen. These readings are never monotonous; they provide a profound peace.
After lunch, we say a one-minute prayer together, and the brother responsible for that day’s dishes cleans up. Following lunch, we may rest or return to our assigned tasks. Shortly after, we come together again for evening prayer, lasting an hour to an hour and a half. Here, we thank God and chant the hymns of the saint of the day. These hymns inspire us deeply, as each one tells of the lives of the saints, reminding us of the limitless strength within each human being.
Through the saints’ lives, we learn that every person is an extraordinary being, created for goodness. Their struggles teach us how spiritual life can be woven into our existence. To “transform” every evil into beauty—seeing even challenges as opportunities—shows us that the greatest battles and the highest victories are found in beauty.
After evening prayers, we may have a night service or a meeting. On quieter nights, we retreat to our cells to reflect on the day’s journey: tidying, reading religious books, praying. Giving thanks to God for each day’s miracles, taking account of the day, and examining our conscience—these practices nourish our spirit profoundly. Among His fresh wonders, I offer my heartfelt thanks for my brothers, praying that He always watches over them.
During the services, it’s not always too easy to keep your mind on the prayer. If you’re chanting or reading, it’s very easy to think other things and your mind will travel to other places. Also if you’re helping at the altar, you’re busy with candles, incense or oils. Even if you’re not doing anything else but just staying up with your prayer rope, it’s difficult to keep your mind on the words which you hear. So it’s a perpetual spiritual war with our minds, our thoughts. Because everything – even sins – starts in our mind at first; and only afterwards do we see the result on our bodies.
And at night, when I went to my cell after a long day, I’m all alone, just God and me. Maybe this is one of the most difficult parts of our life. Because whatever you did, whoever you saw during the day, at the end you’re all alone. Not any family member, not any friends or any beloved person. If you’re competent enough to deal with it, and if you’re worthy to call God to your cell, your cell can be heaven, otherwise you can handily turn to a cinch of the Satan.
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