A small metallic door creaks as it opens and a man, bent by the passage of time, receives me. The white hood covering his head darkens not his shining face.

—This is a place of solitude and silence, respect it. — He warns me in a low voice before letting me in.

Spirituality and silence go hand in hand. Mother Theresa used to say that we need to find God away from noise and restlessness. She also said that we need silence for the souls to be touched. I suppose she meant both exterior silence and the silence that comes from within.

To have the privilege of being welcomed in a Carthusian monastery is diving into a wormhole in which time and space acquire a new dimension. A veritable time leap. Inside the Montalegre Abbey the air is filled with quiet, beauty and ancientness. The style of the Friary, although Gothic, is simple and extremely austere, as was taught by the Patron of the order, Saint Bruno. In between so much simplicity, the least wanted weed, the dandelion, blooms coloring the cloister in an explosion of yellow, which enhances the ogival arcade and the exposed brick.

Walking alongside the vicar, Father Josep Maria, I see most of the monastery spaces are bare. I think to myself the Friars are few and too old to have this machine working at full speed. I probably think too much. He is a curious and kind man, conveying with every gesture the humanity and the spiritual generosity of someone who has dedicated his life to it. I remember a song about the return to innocence: in every one of the visits I pay to the Monastery, the vicar shows me that exterior and interior simplicity are great accomplices of wisdom.

The janitor, a layperson, walks across the cloister carrying a handful of long copper tubes, tinkling amongst the silence. Here and now. Heating is being installed in the Friars’ chambers.

-- Oriol Casanovas