All tagged contemplation
Today we invite you to take a walk, and be gently and graciously aware of the gifts you carry. Cradle what you find in your heart as it would be a baby child.
Let’s visit the desert father Abba Moses and see what we can learn from him.
Instead of simply saying good riddance to this Annus Horribilis, we invite you for a time of gracious recollection and redemption. You can do this by walking in silence, by looking back on the reflections of this 12 day journey so far, or by taking some time to look with kindness on your life using the practice we provide.
Watching Spring unfold is a beautiful metaphor for the Easter season. May new hope unfold in you just as Spring does after a long winter.
A warm welcome to you into the new year! On such a day, we do not recommend any heavy spiritual lifting or deep meditation. We propose instead a New Year’s walk to clear the mind and to welcome your body into the new year. Follow this by imbibing Hildegard von Bingen’s spiced wine to warm your hands and heart. There is a recipe at the very end of this reflection.
Instead of simply saying good riddance to this Annus Horribilis, we invite you for a time of gracious recollection and redemption. You can do this by walking in silence, by looking back on the reflections of this 12 day journey so far, or by taking some time to look with kindness on your life using the practice we provide.
Have you ever been in the eye of a storm? A storm of your own making? I have.
Many times. In fact, I think I am a storm maker. I guess, every parent has some things one does not want the child to learn. Mine would be storm making. Though there are good storms. Needed storms. Snow storms. Rain storms. Storms which clean the air and, just as a snow storm in Minnesota, cover the old grey with a new layer of snow white, dampening the noise and leaving freshness and calm behind.
Are you tired of bucket lists and New Year's resolutions? We would like to invite you for a time of recollection instead. You can do this by walking in silence, by looking back on the reflections of this journey so far, or by taking some time to look with kindness on your life using the practice we provide.
What if you, like the shepherds, kings, and other visitors long ago, were able to be there at the manger in Bethlehem? Today we invite you to walk into the story with child like curiosity…
Today, at the day of the turn of the year, when the old is not yet gone and the new is not yet visible, we approach another important night marking the middle of the 12 Days of Christmas. Just as the holy night reminds us of the sacred moment, when light breaks into the dark, the turn of the year invites us into another in-between space of waiting and new beginnings.
When we pray regularly, we create an architecture in time that allows the transcendent to break through, slowly, imperceptibly – in the way flowing water shapes stone.
Yesterday, in arctic temperatures, we went on our New Years' walk over the lake towards Stella Maris Chapel. Our footprints in the snow, and the icy stairs reminded us of a poem by the German poet Hermann Hesse. Hesse knows we often prefer to live with our comfortable selves, and not step out into the challenging new. Here he calls us to health and wholeness, to taking courage, to walking through our farewells, to stepping forward by leaving behind, one step at a time. We share this, our own translation of the poem, with you as a blessing for this day.
A brother came to Scetis in the Egyptian desert to visit Abba Moses and asked him
"Father, give me a word." The old man said to him
"Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything."
"Oh God, our provider and sustainer! Your end has no end, but we find ourselves ending and beginning a new year. We ask that your compassion protect us this year from evil, that you call us sweetly to follow you, that you give us a longing to leave our old self behind, and that you guide us to walk in your love. May your grace bless the universe and shower us with favor."
-a prayer for the New Year, adapted from Rumi