Reflections

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Florence Heyhoe’s reflection on contemplation and trauma. contemplation the silence fell into me as the sun went down and held me in expectant quiet in your presence and in your absence. tripping and tumbling and bumping into YOU and finding me deeper and deeper. long lost shadows remembered to be forgotten. looking and seeing as never before tearing and restoring and making new colour and stitch and torrents of tears in the sunshine and the dark. looking and seeing anew.

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Jean Wise’s reflection Living in the Shade of Mystery. I don’t understand fishing. I don’t fish. I didn’t grow up in a family who fishes. All those hooks, worms, and slimy flip-floppy critters baffle me. Perhaps the biggest hindrance for fishing for me is the idea of “wasting” a full day, with a pole dipped in the water, waiting. Lingering in the muddy space of not knowing if and when the bait will work and supper caught. In my second half

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Bridgette Goldstein’s reflection “Stillpoint & My Sacred Story.” As a spiritual director, it is my gift to spend time with fellow souls on their journey of life.  Sometimes, it will be a moving forward with the next step on their path.  Other times, it will be sitting with them in the pain and questions of a struggle or trauma.  Still other times, it will be exploring the patterns and finding the Divine (or higher self, or whatever word works for

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Gina Marie Mammano‘s reflection “Mount Shasta Monk.” I was in the Mount Shasta area, at the tip top of California at a place called McCloud Falls. I have sailed by Mount Shasta many times as I venture from my current home here on Whidbey Island to my longtime childhood home in California. Through thick panes of tempered glass, I always acknowledge the towering sacred site, called “Acu Tek” by one of the native populations there. I always, as someone once