I have a confession to make: I belong to a quasi-exclusive, hardly secretive organization on campus, one that is shrouded in mystery and misunderstanding.

Like other quasi-exclusive, hardly secretive organizations, we members have books and sayings by which we recognize our brothers and sisters, and incoming members are subjected to rigors and challenges that no ordinary person would dare to complete. No, I am not a part a fraternity or a sports team; rather, something much nerdier… Curriculum II.

For those of you who don’t know what Curriculum II is, it’s an alternative way of satisfying the general course credits, but instead of picking and choosing a religion course here and a history course there, all the classes are predetermined and are taken by the same group of people.

One perk of Curriculum II is the many field trips we take as a class. In the fall of the first year, students are bused up to Minneapolis to see the Institute of Arts and an opera. As juniors, we recently had the opportunity to travel to an even more scintillating destination: a monastery in the middle of nowhere, South Dakota.

Initially, I had my doubts about traveling four hours just to hang out with a bunch of old boring monks when I could be spending the weekend catching up on boatloads of homework. However, the moment I stepped into the van, the stress began to dissipate. Perhaps it was the miles of farmland whizzing by or the large white windmills that dotted the South Dakota landscape. Although our journey was uneventful, a couple of the other vans took a side trip down a dirt road that turned into a field of mud. I’ll spare the details, but they did show up fashionably later than the rest of us. After arriving at Blue Cloud Abbey, we were greeted by Father Michael, a soft-spoken man in his mid-thirties who wore the archetypical plain black robes. At first, I felt like I stepped into a reenactment of Monty Python’s Holy Grail, or a medieval historical society.

The abbey itself is a giant stone complex, complete with both stained glass windows and modern furnishings. Constructed by monks in the 1950s, it gives the impression of a small European cathedral spliced together with the Anderson Social Science Center. The monastery is divided into three sections: the cloister where the monks sleep, the hotel-like retreat center where visitors stay and the spacious cross-shaped sanctuary. With its high ceiling and soft rumbling organ, the sanctuary echoed with homage to the Middle Ages. A large statue of the crucifixion levitated above the altar at the church’s center.

On Friday evening, we joined the monks in their evening prayers. The vigil consisted of the monks singing hymns in Latin and chanting psalms (in English). Although it sounds excruciatingly boring, there was something very soothing about the call-and-response nature of the chants. The monks seemed to be in their element reciting millennium-old liturgies. Throughout the service, I could literally feel my breathing deepen and my pulse slow down.

In between vigils and meals, my friends and I spent the weekend exploring the expansive grounds surrounding the abbey. We wandered around a sparkling lake over to a babbling brook and wound up near a herd of grazing cows. At night the sky teemed with stars and, aided by an iPhone, we were able to identify the major planets and constellations (yep, there’s an app for that).

Over the course of my stay at Blue Cloud, I realized how important meditation and reflection are in life. Compared to the frenetic, overwhelming pace of school, the unhurried rhythm of the monastery was very relieving. In daily life, we all incorporate certain rituals into our routine as means to an end — to wake us up in the morning, or to boost our self-image. At the abbey, however, it felt great to perform the monastic rituals for their own sake.

On Saturday night, the Abbot (the head of the monastery) spoke with us about his position and why he joined Blue Cloud. Contrary to my preconceptions, he has lived an active life writing books, doing mission work and traveling around the country. It occurred to me that the monastic lifestyle isn’t as much about solitude as it is about community and serving others. Far from putting on a show for us, the monks were the ones benefiting and learning from our presence.

Our retreat concluded with Sunday morning mass. The stained glass windows were ablaze with sunlight and the normally hushed sanctuary was bustling with congregants. It was hard to leave the monastery and the serenity it induced, but the real challenge is trying to relive that tranquility in each hour of each day.