I place on the altar of dawn:
The quiet loyalty of breath,
The tent of thought where I shelter,
Waves of desire I am shore to
And all beauty drawn to the eye.
May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography
That invites me to new frontiers,
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
To risk being disturbed and changed.
May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more. Continue reading “Dawn’s Altar (New Year’s Meditation) …”
This book was written by two people I met while on a pilgrimage to Paris-Chartres in 2015.
Places of Light: The Gift of Cathedrals to the World
Embark on a pilgrimage through the great cathedrals of the world.
Gernot Candolini and Jennifer Brandon invite readers to experience some of the exemplary cathedrals of Europe and North America, with beautiful images and poetic, descriptive texts that inspire and inform. They offer glimpses into the spiritual, visionary, and artistic beauty and mastery of these spaces, inspired by God and built by human hands.
Read the powerful stories connected to these sacred spaces: like the reconciliation crusade of Vezelay, the destruction of Cluny, and the origins of Sagrada Familia. Explore the architectural and artistic elements that make these churches what they are: the power of light, the “smiling stones,” the crypt, the music, and more.
Christmas is amazing — and radical. It challenges wanderers to let their imaginations run wild. Christmas is an irrational, impossible, paradoxical season the infinite in the finite, God’s light in the gloom of our world, the whole of the universe concentrated in a little baby, the God of The Big Bang and the galaxies appearing in a homeless, working class, and soon-to-be refugee family.
… may you be sensitive to the awe and wonder of the Incarnation. As you experience the many births of Christ in your life and in our world, I pray that you will embody, in the gloom of our time, the wisdom of J.R.R. Tolkien , who wrote that “not all who wander are lost”. Continue reading “Advent Day 02: Not All Who Wander Are Lost …”
Autumn in my part of the world is a season of bounty and beauty. It’s also a season of steady decline—and, for some of us, a slow slide into melancholy. The days become shorter and colder, the trees shed their glory, and summer’s abundance starts to decay toward winter’s death.
I’m a professional melancholic, and for years my delight in the autumn color show quickly morphed into sadness as I watched the beauty die. Focused on the browning of summer’s green growth, I allowed the prospect of death to eclipse all that’s life-giving about fall and its sensuous delights.
Then I began to understand a simple fact: All the “falling” that’s going on out there is full of promise. Seeds are being planted and leaves are being composted as Earth prepares for yet another uprising of green. Continue reading “Autumn Sunset …”
Hoping against hope, he believed.
Hope where we had ceased to hope.
Hope amid what threatens hope.
Hope with those who feed our hope.
Hope beyond what we had hoped.
Hope that draws us past our limits.
Hope that defies expectations.
Hope that questions what we have known.
Hope that makes a way where there is none.
Hope that takes us past our fear.
Hope that calls us into life.
Hope that holds us beyond death.
Hope that blesses those to come. Continue reading “Hope Nonetheless …”
How far I have to go to find you in whom I have already arrived!
— Thomas Merton
The difference between a labyrinth and a maze is that a labyrinth has no dead ends.
The famed eleven-circuit labyrinth inlaid in the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France has just one path, which takes the pilgrim in and out of four quadrants in a spiraling motion through dozens of left and right turns, before reaching its rosette center. Such a pattern invites meditation, and reminds the pilgrim the journey of faith is rarely a straightforward one. Continue reading “Labyrinths: No Step Taken In Faith Is Wasted …”
What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.
— Virginia Woolf from To the Lighthouse
The Patience Of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be. Continue reading “Little Daily Miracles …”