Reflections

Every breath is a resurrection. —Gregory Orr (excerpt from poem “Concerning the Book that is the Body of the Beloved”) Dearest monks and artists, In the monastic tradition there is a practice called statio, which is the commitment to stop one thing before beginning another.  Imagine, instead of rushing from one appointment to the next, that between each one you pause, you breathe just five long slow breaths. Imagine how this might transform your movement from one activity to another. Or even when you move from one room to another, allow a brief pause on the threshold between spaces. God lives

Dreaming of Stones In the world before waking I meet a winged one, feathered, untethered, who presses in my palm three precious stones, like St. Ita in her dream, but similarities end there, her with saintliness and certainty, me asking questions in the dark. All I know is I am not crafted from patience of rock or gravity of earth, nor flow of river, I am not otter with her hours devoted to play. I am none of these. At least not yet. The stones will still be singing centuries from now, made smooth by all kinds of weather. If

Dearest monks and artists, Tuesday night and Wednesday in the Celtic seasonal calendar is the feast of Samhain and in the Christian liturgical cycle the Feast of All Saints (followed by All Souls). It is a very special time of year when the northern hemisphere is moving toward growing darkness and is time of preparation for stillness and rest. In the Irish imagination, this is a threshold time, when the veil between worlds feels especially thin. Darkness invites us to rest into the mystery of things. This is one of my favorite moments of the year’s unfolding. Three years ago