I've never stayed in a monastery, but I've visited some, both East and West, and I've certainly bumped into a few monks. I've also known a few nuns, but not intimately. I was once offered a job as a missionary, but I didn't like the position.
But as for the painter, I like a monastic life. Mine's not as rigid as the pros'. I rise early, paint before breakfast, correspond, paint, break briefly for a simple lunch, perhaps a brisk walk in the forest, maybe a snooze, then back to the studio. Dinner is at home with friends or family. I work each day until tired, read a bit, sleep well, and do it again the next day. Several days can pass without moving the car. It's productive--the monastic life gets results. As Picasso said, "I like to live like a poor man with lots of money."
It's all about the renewal and rebirth of life through creativity. Similar to the nuns who tend the fields, or the monks who labour in the hothouses, there's satisfaction in growth, change, green shoots, raking up old leaves. Art reaffirms life and is in harmony with many universal principles. Perhaps the studio is even greater than the nunnery or the monastery. In the humble studio one hears the constant plop, plop, plop of product. Product that honours our land, our people, our earth.
To be in touch with creativity on a daily, even hourly, basis may just happen to edge yourself closer to divinity. If our universe is indeed a creation, (an idea that competes with the idea that our universe is an idea) then perhaps we need to be on that wavelength. Pushing paint is a high calling. To do it well you need humility. You need to walk the walk. You need a well-regulated, simple life so that you might become both servant and student.
And there's another thing. It's the fellowship of the Brotherhood and Sisterhood. They are all with us--the good and bad artists in the dusty books of history, in the galleries, in the promise of tomorrow's children, or right here now as you meet them on this remarkable medium that befriends us all--even though we don't really know each other. Art can take flight in an odd but active monastery.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin." (Matthew 6:28)
Esoterica: Like Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline of the ancient Roman Catholic liturgy, or the five daily pauses of Islamic prayer, an artist can create defined spaces for reflection and contemplation. The creative monk recharges and begins again. Each pause may be heralded with a new squeeze of paint or a sharpening of tools. Thankfulness infuses every breath. Every new passage is a fresh test of studenthood, patience, applied joy and creative love.