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Reflections

Category: Abbess love notes

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Join Us for an Advent Online Retreat ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, This is my favorite time of year, these months of autumn’s arrival, then this time of remembrance in the church of those who have passed away, and finally the season of Advent which asks us to quiet ourselves and listen to the holy birthing happening within each one of us. It can be a rich contemplative time if we give ourselves the gift of space. Each year we create an online retreat offering for Advent to support you in creating a space dedicated to retreat in daily life so that you might be even more

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Orchard and Forest ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest Monks, artists, and pilgrims, I have been going back through the Abbey archives and found this sweet post written almost six years ago when John and I were living in Vienna and making plans to move to Ireland. It was a very sweet and vulnerable time of our lives. So I am offering these words to you once again, several years on, from a different place in my life: John and I have made the discernment to move to the west coast of Ireland at the end of December and so this threshold time left here in Vienna has

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Join us for Honoring Saints and Ancestors (an online retreat) ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Inheritance I take down the generic white jug from the shelf, the one made with ten thousand others in a factory in Taiwan. I wish it were the Meissen porcelain one with the blue onion pattern that survived two world wars, but not my need for funds to finish graduate school. I long, too, for the cut crystal bowl, etched with delicate flowers in which you served ripe, sweet berries but was later sold to pay for books. Or the silver set with your initials engraved on the handles, I imagine a stranger now running her fingers along the grooves

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Remembering Those Who Walked Before Us ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, We are approaching the Celtic feast of Samhain, the great doorway into the dark half of the year in the northern hemisphere and a time when the veil is considered especially thin. This is my favorite time of year, when I feel the most energized and my heart comes alive to the wisdom of those who have walked before me. I share with you a short excerpt from our upcoming Honoring Saints and Ancestors online retreat: Psychologist Carl Jung wrote extensively about the collective unconscious which is this vast pool of ancestral memory within each

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Harvesting the Gifts ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, It is a very full season of life for me right now, having facilitated our Writing on the Wild Edges retreat at the end of August with John here in Ireland, then traveled to Germany to lead our pilgrimage in the footsteps of St. Hildegard of Bingen with Betsey Beckman (we are looking at fall 2021 for the next offering of that program).  In a couple of days John and I have a new group arrive to Galway where we will journey to local sacred ruins and explore the gift that Celtic monasticism has for

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Following a Holy Direction ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Fin and feather, flesh, blood and bone: the earth calls its creatures to leave the familiar, turn again into the unknown; to move steadily and continuously and at great risk toward an invisible goal, expending great energy with the possibility of failure… ~ Marianne Worcester Dearest Monks, artists, and pilgrims, Several years ago I had the privilege of leading a retreat on the shores of Cape May, NJ. Cape May is a resting place for weary souls seeking renewal and refreshment. It is also the resting place for Monarch butterflies as they make their long migratory journey to Mexico. In the

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Feast of Saint Francis ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

St. Francis at the Corner Pub Approaching the door, you can already hear his generous laughter. He stands on the bar upside down for a moment to get a new perspective on things, a flash of polka-dotted boxers as his brown robe cascades over his head, sandaled toes wiggling in the air in time with a fiddle playing in the corner. Rain falls heavily in the deepening darkness and he orders a round of drinks despite his vow of poverty and the single silver coin in his pocket, multiplied by the last Guinness poured. Nothing like a good glass of

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