Reflections

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World Guest Post series from the community. Read on for Michelle Lisenbee’s reflection on caring for chickens as spiritual practice. I live in the Mid-Atlantic. Our summers tend to be very warm and very humid. Not like, jungle humid, but sometimes it feels pretty darn close. One Sunday morning, in late July of 2017, I opened the door to feel blessed coolness. It had been in the high nineties all week. This morning, it was only in the seventies and the usual humidity was absent. I knew it

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Elaine Breckenridge’s reflection on artistic wounds. I like the idea of the expressive arts, as long as it doesn’t mean using my hands to create in conventional ways. Give me a pencil to draw, or a brush to paint, even a magazine and a glue stick and I freeze. Over the years at conferences when I see the arts and crafts table set up for the “right brain activity,” something inside of me dies again. I have been

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Mary Davis’ reflection, Creating a Tech Sabbath: Uninterrupted Being. In unscheduled moments, my soul speaks and my heart listens. Sundays are heavenly in my little “monastery” by the sea. This is my day to linger longer in morning meditation. A day when I can stretch, breathe and align without a phone chirping on the corner of my yoga mat. This is the day when my gratitude practice is not confined to a specific time of morning, but

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Michelle Kobriger’s reflection, “A Reluctant Pilgrim.” On Sunday mornings, I look forward to the Abbey of the Arts weekly email and its serendipitous bits of wisdom. Last October’s post describing the spiritual practice of peregrinatio was exceptionally timely— days earlier I’d been diagnosed with endometrial cancer. Peregrinatio is a pilgrimage made for the love of God with no set destination. Celtic monks set out alone in small boats called coracles. Without rudder or oar, the monks trusted