How do I stay curious about the people in front of me who act out in ways that are violent and destructive? I don’t want to. I don’t believe I should be forced to. I am supposed to write something inspirational about curiosity this week, but after the news of the shootings in Christchurch, NZ, I can’t seem to publish…
There’s nothing quite like the fluid warmth of candlelight. One small flame illuminates a dark space with a nonjudgmental gentleness — its light welcomes everyone regardless of our crimes and misdemeanours, our successes and glories. It is fully itself. It shines. No other questions asked, no responses needed. There’s so much anger rising up in the world that this gentleness…
The polar vortex is a demanding oppressor. Coldness creates contraction — in cells, in molecules. The same goes for life. It becomes frigidly contracted, small, hunkered down. The plague that is cabin fever sets in quickly and spreads rapidly because it’s too cold to walk or run outside for more than a few minutes. Of course, there are the die-hard…
As you read this, I’m trekking about the ancient lands of northeast Wales. I’ve arrived just in time to celebrate Lammas or Lughnasad on August 01. Lugh is the Celtic Sun god and August is his sacred month often celebrated in lively Fire Festivals. As I come to understand more the connections between Christianity and paganism, the more I…
Mindful walking has become an intergral part of my self-care and practice. Wherever I am, home or away, I look for suitable walking routes that eventually become daily journeys of letting go, miniature pilgrimages of sorts. Music or no music, podcasts or no podcasts, the little camera on my iPod, I’m lightly equipped to sing, dance, move, take photographs,…
I’m sitting out on the screened-in porch listening to the forest prepare for rain. It’s both sensual and removed sharing protected space from most of the elements. I can hear the breeze rise to a wind in the treetops, yet I don’t feel it against my skin. The young spring leaves, newly greening just this week, help turn the entire…
There is an especial quality of healing in the smell of baking bread. For me, it is not just any bread but the warm, yeasty smell of my mom’s homemade bread. It seems no matter what darkness enters into my life, the smell of her bread reminds me that somehow — however remote that how appears — all will be…
I’m sitting in front my screen, tapping absently at the keys trying to formulate a final paper for my Lutheran Confessions course. Nothing. I have plenty of material, but I have zero impetus to engage in medieval theology anymore. You would think a theology of grace would be liberating. But during the actual class, I found myself pulling my hair…
“If we remember that the German word for holy (selig) is the root of our word silly, we may be forced to make some pertinent connections.” — Mary Rose O’Reilly, Radical Presence: Teaching as Contemplative Practice It’s been a long, cold winter. I smile behind my wool scarf as I crunch over the snow and on down the road. It’s…
“…I was a stranger and you invited me in” -Jesus (Matthew 25:35b). To some, this little cabin looks the pristine picture of a perfect retreat. To others, it’s a bit far out of the way of civilization. To a few friends of mine, it’s the perfect horror movie setup, and I’m clearly trying to get myself killed by a) an…
