I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Melanie-Préjean Sullivan’s reflection on her morning prayer practice.
I have always been a student of spirituality. From the time I could read, my life was filled with books on the lives of saints and anything I could find on religious sisters. Over the years, a few happy situations helped me to discern a different call― to research and teaching, to counseling, and eventually to campus ministry. But there was always a lingering desire to lead a more “religious” life.
When I retired from nearly twenty years as a university minister, I planned to enter the new phase of my life with a renewed commitment to seeking the Divine more intentionally, to increase my attention to the Sacred. I met more often with my Spiritual Director and naturally returned to reading and to setting aside more time for reflection. My desire to pursue monastic practices and creative endeavors was grounded in the Rule of St. Benedict and two very thought-provoking commentaries on that Rule. One of them was The Artist’s Rule that I decided to re-read, to embark on its twelve-week journey, and to reconnect with the Abbey of the Arts. I soon discovered several other of Christine’s books, all of which increased my dedication to more deliberate monastic practices.
During the pandemic I spent hours writing reflections and eventually published a type of memoir on discernment and interreligious encounters, with each short essay prompting questions for my readers to answer. It became clear to me early in my writing that I needed to establish a prayerful daily routine before any of my fingers touched the keys. The following is a summary of the simple routine I have maintained over the last six years:
My first prayer of the day begins by making small circles with my ankles, before my feet touch the floor. I thank God for bringing me safely through the night and for my ability to walk, to move, and to function with only a few of the aches and pains of aging. When I approach my living room bay window, I carefully open each of the three blinds and remember with gratitude all the lives that brought them to be.
I thank God for the foresters and the trees for the wooden slats; I thank the cotton farmers and spinners for the cord that opens them. And even though some say the dinosaurs aren’t the source of the petroleum that made the plastic possible for the tips, I thank God for the dinosaurs, too, while not forgetting the painters and those who installed the blinds for us.
In the kitchen, I prepare a cup of tea and recall the women I saw from afar in Kotagiri bending gently over the bushes. Their dedication and those like them all over the world who harvest only the finest leaves, who dry, and process them make it easy for me to prepare such a delicious beginning to my day. The flavored tea I prefer also has bergamot and vanilla essence, so there are other trees, plants, and workers to remember.
At the table, the cup made by a skillful, talented potter has been filled with tea and infused with honey from local hives. I give God thanks for beekeepers and those working for the safety of future crops. I open my prayer book. Psalms wash over me as the fragrance of the tea settles my thoughts and helps to prepare me for the day. I often open another book or two to gather additional short thoughts that I will ponder (or invite to “shimmer” a bit, as Christine often advises). I might jot down a brief reflection, but I usually simply carry the thoughts out of doors.
My walk adds several thousand steps to satisfy my health goals, but mostly it is a time of quiet percolation as the mourning doves, cardinals, and squirrels greet me. An occasional deer on alert freezes in the meadow near my home; I make brief eye contact to acknowledge her land and turn gently away to bring her some calm.
My monastic practice means that each of the ordinary parts of my ordinary mornings are touched by remembrance, thanksgiving, and openness to the Spirit. My morning prayer begins before my first steps and ends after a long walk. It sets the day into motion with gratitude for all I have been given, for all those who have made my life what it is.
At the end of each week, I read the posts from Christine and give thanks for Abbey of the Arts. They encourage me to remember that I can be a monk in the world and grow in my love for God and all Her creation.
Melanie-Préjean Sullivan, DMin is an interspiritual chaplain in Louisville, Kentucky. She also teaches and leads retreats on spirituality, religious history, and discernment (the subject of her doctoral research). In 2022, she published her spiritual memoir, An Apartment Next to the Angels, found through her website MysticPeregrine.com.
