Dearest monks and artists, I am delighted to share an article of mine published in the most recent issue of Network Ireland Magazine on Writing as a Spiritual Practice. Read on for more insight into how I approach this work: I am deeply inspired by monastic tradition, one of the great contemplative and mystical strands of Christian heritage, and also present in other religions. Monks were the keepers of wisdom through their commitment to spiritual practice and to the art of writing. Manuscripts were illuminated, bringing word and image together, to shine a light on the poetry, stories, and other wise

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, Another reflection from the Abbey archives for you on expanding our understanding of the divine: Let mystery have its place in you; do not be always turning up your whole soil with the plowshare of self-examination, but leave a little fallow corner in your heart ready for any seed the winds may bring, and reserve a nook of shadow for the passing bird; keep a place in your heart for the unexpected guests, an altar for an unknown God. — from Amiel’s Journal, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward John Cassian, one of the ancient desert

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, Thank you for the very moving notes so many of you sent me from my reflection last week on chronic illness as pilgrimage experience. I am continuing to break my heart open to you here and offer another difficult journey, that of the grief of losing a loved one. I am grateful to Tara Owens at Anam Cara for sharing my guest post at her blog as part of the Soul of a Pilgrim summer blog book tour. Here is an excerpt: My heart sank when I stepped tentatively into my mother’s room. She lay

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, I continue my blog book tour this summer and am delighted that Judy Smoot of Always We Begin Again is hosting a guest post from me as well as an interview (see interview details below). Here is an excerpt of my reflection on living with chronic illness as an experience of pilgrimage: I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis when I was 21 years old. The only other person I knew at the time with this disease was my mother and her body had been ravaged by the effects of deterioration, with multiple joint replacements

Now it is time to sit quiet alone with You and to Sing a re-dedication of my life in this Silent and overflowing joy. —Rabindranath Tagore, “A Moment’s Indulgence” Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, I offer you this excerpt from my new book The Soul of a Pilgrim: Eight Practices for the Inner Journey. These are words which have been coming back to me as I begin my summer sabbatical and offering me consolation and refreshment. May they offer the same to you: I received the poem above when I attended a silent retreat a couple of years ago at