From the door sill of a dream they called my name…
It was the good voice, the voice I loved so much.
“-Listen,” said the voice. “Will you go with me to visit the soul?…”
And a soft stroke reached up and touched my heart.
“With you always” … And in my dream I walked
Down a long and solitary corridor,
Aware of the touching of the pure robe,
And the soft beating of blood in the hand that loved me.
-Antonio Machado, from Times Alone: Selected Poetry of Antonio Machado (edited by Robert Bly)
I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Tom Delmore’s poems Sparse hay does not a savior make and Ascension Thursday ~ Heal Thyself. These two poems come on the
Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims, We live in times when it often feels like everything is coming undone. The Celtic hinge points of Autumn Equinox, Samhain, the Winter Solstice, and Imbolc offer the wisdom of living into a rhythm that honors the importance of times
I’m delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Liuan Huska’s reflection A Holy Shitshow: Being Present to Sickness and Dying. This article is adapted from a post from Liuan’s Substack newsletter: Becoming
2 Responses
you’re welcome sharon!
thank you christine for sharing this . i so love this :)