To receive this love note straight to your in-box, subscribe here (and also receive a free gift!) For the next few weeks I will be offering you some gems from the Abbey archives as I create the space I need to finish several writing projects and prepare for spring’s teaching: It was said of Abba Agathon that for three years he lived with a stone in his mouth, until he had learnt to keep silence. (Agathon 15) The silence of the desert elders is called hesychia, which means stillness, silence, inner quiet. However, it is much deeper than just an external quiet.

For the next few weeks I will be offering you some gems from the Abbey archives as I create the space I need to finish several writing projects and prepare for spring’s teaching. Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, The road of cleansing goes through that desert. It shall be named the way of holiness. —Isaiah 35:8 If the desert is holy, it is because it is a forgotten place that allows us to remember the sacred. Perhaps that is why every pilgrimage to the desert is a pilgrimage to the self. There is no place to hide and so we

To receive this love note straight to your in-box, subscribe here (and also receive a free gift!) This is my latest Sacred Seasons column on Patheos, click here to read it there and please share! Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims, Today we enter the long desert of the Lenten season. If you participate in a liturgical service, most likely you will be marked with the sign of ashes and the words “from dust you came and to dust you shall return” will echo through the sanctuary space again and again. St. Benedict writes in his Rule to “keep death daily before

Several years ago, before moving to Ireland, I completed a training to teach yoga. I began the program because I had practiced yoga for many years and longed to dive more deeply into it. I expected to fall in love with my own body even more in the process; what I didn’t expect was how much I would fall in love with other people’s bodies as well. As I walked around the studio and students are in their various poses I see the incredible variety in body types, shapes, sizes, flexibility, and bone structure. My training involves hands-on adjustments, which are less about

Dearest dancing monks, A few days ago I received an email from a woman who is writing her dissertation and asked me to respond to the question: “If you had to choose one spiritual practice that is a non-negotiable for spiritual growth in the 21st century, what would it be and why?” My answer was supposed to be short and succinct. Here was my reply: “I would choose hospitality, both inner and outer, because I believe the welcoming in all of the exiled pieces of ourselves to be essential for the healing of the world.” Of course, it is one

Dearest dancing monks, John and I had the great pleasure of attending the Brigid’s Eve festival procession last Saturday night in Kildare. Over a hundred and fifty people processed with candlelight and lanterns under the waxing moon and a scattering of stars, while singing in chants in both English and Irish. It was quite awe-inspiring. Then we spent three days in Glendalough (photo above), preparing for a pilgrimage we are leading in March. Such a thin place, full of the beauty of forests, lakes, waterfalls, rivers, holy wells, and ancient stones holding the prayers of thousands.We walked miles and miles tending to

“Whose silence are you?” After Thomas Merton The single eye of the sun long shut, world deep asleep like a sunken ship loaded with treasures, full moon’s fierce shadows illumine the way for miles, stars glint like coins dropped to the well’s black bottom, last apple fallen from the tree in a slush of honey and crimson.   I walk barefoot across wet grass, night’s questions relentlessly wrestling in my mind’s knotted weave. I look for answers written by salmon in the stream, or a snail’s slither of streaming silver. I prostrate myself at the gnarled foot of the ash