Abbaye de Maubuisson, Flowered Porcelain, And Strawberries

I could hear the church bells loud and clear yesterday, thanks to the quietness all over the city on this Assumption monday.  Sitting out in the warm sun on my widely flowered balcony, I knew that the  quietness would soon aside once August ended and the majority of Parisians returned.

The Marian celebration of Mary being taken or “assumed” into Heaven has special significance for me every year.  It is a national holiday in France, where families, Christians or not, congregate  to enjoy huge feasts or a picnic.

Generally if in Paris, I take part in the procession of Mother Mary through Ile Saint Louis.   This year I wanted to get away from the city for a more reflective celebration in the countryside.

In part because I did not think I would be comfortable during the procession due to being overly vigilant and fearful because of recent terrorist attacks.

At least it was reassuring to find two armed policemen guarding the entrance at 9:30 mass at my parish church. In times such as these their presence is very welcome and I said thank you as I passed by them.

There were abbeys and monasteries all over France and though many are now in ruins, they offer a peaceful visit that resonates with the past.

Abbaye de Maubuisson was a powerful one from 1236 to 1787.     Now days, there isn’t too much left except some splendid gothic vaulted ceiling rooms, the latrines and the silence of nature.

Now minimalist and simple with many buildings destroyed and few ruins to give it much character or any grandeur, it is now used mostly to house contemporary art exhibits, one of which I was drawn to see yesterday.

About 46 kilometers northwest of Paris, it was commissioned by Queen Blanche de Castile to be a convent for women from aristocratic families, who wanted to adhere to the very strict Cistercian order of Saint Benedict, started at Cîteaux.

She was the mother of Louis IX, who was the only king of France to be canonised a saint.  Her other Abbey of Royaumont, in the same region has survived much more intact and is considered the most marvelous and grandest monastery to visit in the Ile de France.

During its heyday, Maubuisson housed around 120 Cistercians nuns and was often visited by French kings and royalty.

The art exhibit was an original arrangement of  thousands of porcelain plates  by Régis Perray that completely covered the floor of one room.

For over a year this artist went around to multiple second hand stores, and yard sales to find various porcelain plates all in flower motifs.

He was able to collect over 7,000 plates , during which he found himself doing a daily ritual of  hand washing and storing each one prior to the exhibit, a monumental task indeed.

He insisted on the flower motif because of the sweet and innocent femininity of the nuns that use to walk these grounds in silence and continuous prayers.

He wanted to pay homage to the sweetness of these souls by constructing a flowered floor a la Francaise.

I loved the canvas of colours woven along the floor , and found many that I thought I would love to have to grace my table.  I also found myself wanting to turn some over to see who made them out of curiosity.

Some designs were recognisable belonging to Gien, the famous porcelain maker from the Loire.  Some of the plates were arranged alone and others had smaller ones adorning them.

I felt a little uneasy walking so close to all of these pretty fragile plates and contemplated what a mess it would be if someone fell on top of them.

I likewise wondered if they would all be put up for sale after the exhibit is closed, as a sort of  monetary compensation for the artist.

In the parloir, which was the only room where the nuns were permitted to converse amongst themselves, there was a polished wooden ring, where one could “skate” around in socks only.

The artist explained it was to symbolise the nuns constantly walking around either in prayer and contemplation or even to past the time away in their silence.

In the Chapter room, which served as a burial room for 30 nuns, mostly  Abbesses, he designed stencils of flowers to decorate the wooden tombs, where  the nuns are buried underneath.

The construction of the latrines demonstrated Medieval hygienic and plumbing ingenuity that was probably ahead of its times.  The room housed 38 wooden seats back to back that were all arranged 14 meters over a moving stream that served to carry the sewage away from the estate.

The stream now contained in a canal still could be seen  briskly flowing past underneath.  Before the waters reached the latrines they first powered the water wheel of the flour mill,  and then provided a washing station for clothes; therefore serving three purposes at once.

Another stream provided water to a  pond where the nuns raised fish, now populated with large families of ducks.   They were of course  self sufficient raising all their fruit and vegetables and kept livestock for diary.

By the time of the French revolution, the number of nuns had diminished and the revolutionaries turned it into a military hospital and eventually the church and other buildings were destroyed.

Such was the fate of many of the ancient monasteries in France, whose old stones were carried off to be used in other construction.

Maubuisson is a stark reminder of the abuse these magnificent edifices suffered at the hands of the revolutionaries who destroyed vast amounts of religious art and buildings.

Sadly, there weren’t any real flower gardens, nor fruit orchards to be seen, but care had been taken to ensure a diversity of wild plants and flowers that populated the surrounding forested park.

I saw a lot of chestnut, walnut trees and a few hazelnut trees.

I found the silence that I was looking for still there, as if a shrouded hush from the past enveloped the grounds.  Even the visitors that milled around looked reverent and subdued.

The energy emanated a very quiet resolve that felt somewhat sad and I wondered if all those nuns who lived their entire lives in silence, isolation and self denial here looked back on their vocation with reluctant regret.

Although I am contemplative and spiritual by nature, I think that it would be a difficult existence to live that way everyday of your life, yet many today are still drawn to monastic lives.

Silence and contemplation are wonderful venues for mystical and spiritual discovery for those of us living outside monastic walls, and I certainly value both of them is my own life.

Coming home to my own miniscule balcony garden, I was able to harvest some more of my marvelous mara de bois strawberries that garnished homemade babas imbibed with my own  limoncello.

I like the liberty to seek out the simple pleasures like above and exotic pursuits that life can offer, though the stresses and worries that often come with living a “normal” life can be overwhelming.

It is during those difficult times, when retreating back in the silence of nature is restorative and healing and soaking up the energies of monastic ruins reminds us that life is short and now is the time to make imprints on the lives of others and planet earth for the peace and goodwill of all.