I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Susan Johnson’s reflection and poem “Liturgy of the Hours.” During one of Christine’s online retreats, we were invited to create our own Liturgy of the Hours. I believe that retreat was in 2020, and since that time, the following prayers have become a centerpiece of my every day. Upon awakening, I pray Lauds, and every three hours my phone alarm reminds me to continue the prayers, leading me finally to Compline. Then Matins soothes me in the

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Cassidhe Hart is one our newest Wisdom Council members. Read on for her reflection Walk Barefoot. walk barefoot wherever you go you are standing on holy ground there’s a burning bush on every block the sound of sheer silence in every person who passes the hem of your neighbor’s garment an accomplice to miracles During the times I lived abroad, outside my native US, I carried a notebook with me everywhere, recording the tiniest details to help me depict my

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series. Jo-ed Tome is new member of our Wisdom Council. Read on for his reflection A space where contemplative living can flourish. I had to sit quietly for several minutes after my conversation with Alex (not her real name). She brought up difficult questions about life and living. She had a lot of worries and fears. She was afraid her life could possibly be meaningless. She could not bear the thought that she might only be making up her purpose in life and that

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Adam Brooks Webber’s reflection and poem on kinship with creation and adventures with God. The fourth point of the Monk Manifesto emphasizes our kinship with creation. That speaks to me strongly, because the earliest religious experiences of my childhood began with that sense of kinship. In the first such experience I can remember, I was about ten years old. I was sitting alone in a willow tree, when suddenly, unaccountably, I knew I was not alone. I