The Monk Who Became the Mayor
On What Makes a (Good) Leader
Over the course of his forty-year career, Rimer walked the perimeter of the monastery every day at noon. He knew everything about the path — how the sun painted light in lines and angles, where forgotten chunks of stone emerged from the garden, and the best place to find some privacy.
Rimer was a normal monk. A good monk, a faithful monk, but a normal monk. In the world of monks, Rimer was nothing to write home about.
At 12pm each day, rain or shine, Rimer left through the stone archway on the south side and began his ritualistic walk. He always took it slow, allowing himself to notice anything that might catch his eye. With the first corner turned, he would continue on — creating a bit of space between the stone wall on his right and his robe. Breathing deeply, he loved and needed these moments. Being a monk — although you might not expect it — brought a certain amount of stress.
He took it slow, readying himself to notice anything that might catch his eye.
As Rimer rounded the next corner, he would turn his attention to the north, walking over to the remnants of the monastery’s earliest stone wall…
