Reflections

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Rosemary McMahan’s reflection and poem Today. As a monk and artist, my primary medium is poetry, crafted in response to the wise instructions of our spiritual ancestor, Pelagius, who advised, “Write down with your own hand on paper what God has written with his hand on the human heart.”  Perhaps there is no more appropriate time for the creation of poetry, or any of the arts, than right now while our world trembles and smolders.  Poetry becomes the microcosm

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Callie J. Smith’s reflection On Birch Branches and Everyday Reminders. A birch tree reaches out over the White River at a point very near my favorite bike trail. A clear view of it opens up from the hilltop north of an interstate bridge. From there I see many branches of many trees, but the birch’s vivid white bark often catches my attention. I first noticed the birch during the pandemic. Though an introvert who enjoys solitude, even

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to our Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Kellie Brown’s reflection on walking with care in a body that is chronically ill, and her poem Circumambulate. The wise philosopher-teacher of Ecclesiastes wrote: “A generation goes, and a generation comes,/but the earth remains forever.” This passage goes on to describe the circular life of nature— the sun that rises and sets, the water that flows in then out, the wind that goes “round and round.” Ancient and modern monastics have been keenly attuned to the lessons

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Wisdom Council member Dena Jennings’ reflection on making and sharing music as a spiritual practice. I was 12 years old in 1976. It was an election year and the bicentennial celebration of the United States. My parents were community leaders in Akron, Ohio, the Rubber Capital of the World. There were more events and parades that year than I had known. My oldest sister was a beautiful majorette in an award-winning high school band. And my middle