
I’ve gone to the fields to run barefoot through grass and pick daisies, to sing and be silent.
Where will you run off to this summer day?
-Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts

I’ve gone to the fields to run barefoot through grass and pick daisies, to sing and be silent.
Where will you run off to this summer day?
-Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts

Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims, We are entering what the ancient Celtic tradition calls the dark half of the year. The feasts of Samhain, All Saints’, and All Souls’ Day coincide as we make a journey of descent into the gifts of darkness. Tomorrow, November
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