It was early summer in 1965. I was on vacation. A classmate and I ventured south to Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Bardstown, Kentucky. We joined Thomas Merton, whose book Seeds of Contemplation I had read in my seminary days. We were there to participate in the liturgical celebration of Corpus Christi, the body of Christ. We joined the monks in a procession lead by the abbot, who was holding the monstrance and consecrated host. Today I look for its meaning as my attention focuses on food and I think of all those who went to bed hungry last night. And others who perished from starvation. We are called to respond to hunger today. May our continuing journey on Corpus Christi Day remind us of the beauty and brokenness of our world and what we can do about it.
I pray and give great thanks on this Pentecost day.
We celebrate the presence of the spirit,
a time when divisions are healed,
we are no longer scattered or stuck.
We honor the spirit and ask that we may be made one again,
that we may restore the face of our Earth.
We gather today only to find
ourselves at in-between times.
You said you were ascending to the Father,
yet you left an absence in my heart.
Today I welcome companions on the journey:
the indigenous ones who see the divine in all creation,
the feminine mystics who celebrate the inclusiveness of life.
the people of science who perceive your presence in all that is.
Easter complete, we are ready to welcome Pentecost,
to become one people, one family, one planet, one Earth.
We are companions, no longer separate,
here in these in-between times.
You gave us love.
You gave us life.
You gave us family and friends.
Today we celebrate
how you bring beauty to each of us
through the flowering forth
of hibiscus, rose, gardenia, and daisy.
Happy Mother’s day to all mothers..
I want to encourage you
and give thanks for your hungry heart,
for the longing you feel,
for the beauty you are,
for the soul you hope to become,
for the broken heart that is always open
to the beauty and pain of the world.
Is this not the time to burst into song
for all who dare to listen?
Give holy mystery a voice
as you embrace a silent thanks
and welcome what is still unknown.
As you awaken from a silent slumber,
know that the trees welcome you.
Tell me about yourself,
I heard someone say.
Tell me about the early days
when you were a child,
about your joys and sorrows.
Tell me about the land
where you were born,
about your hopes and dreams
and about the gift of song
that echoes in your heart.
Tell me about the soul work
that awaits as your song
heals all who hear you sing.
Our Springbank experience
summons us to a fresh new life.
Through stories, we share what is important,
recall and create important moments.
Stories activate our imagination,
remind us of our origins
and that we are all cousins and kin,
children of the universe, each of us here—
at the new beginnings to our stories.
You only possess what you give away—
your imagination, your heart,
your dreams, your beauty
and all for which you hope.
Now is the time to reinvent yourself,
to wonder about your soul,
about who you are and who you can be.
Listen to the promptings of Earth
and discover what you can give away.
This is how to become who you are meant to be!
I live at the interface of beauty and brokenness,
celebrate the wisdom and wild risk of falling in love.
It is time to cast aside all boundaries,
to feel the upstart energy of falling apart,
in this amazing moment of healing and of letting go,
here at the paradox of new beginnings.
In our tradition, we celebrate the beginning of Lent as
Ash Wednesday. Another word for Lent is spring. The poet
Rilke writes, “It’s spring again. The earth is like a child that
knows poems by heart.”
One metaphor for Lent is spring cleaning. It is a time
when your home sparkles with radiance and a fresh sense of
newness. We prepare ourselves with acts of love shown to all
living beings. It’s a spring cleaning of our souls.
While we celebrate these sacred moments of Easter, we
are also reminded of the reality of death on this Ash
Wednesday. As we give and receive ashes and are blessed, we
pray that we may see the transformation of ashes across
Ukraine. We pray for these brave people, that they and all the
peoples of the world may find the blessings of peace.
Poets are voices from another world.
They speak the language
of sound, smell, taste and silence.
Their words ripple across
the landscape of my soul.
I dive deeply into other modes
of understanding, then listen,
let my heart speak poetry,
my imagination sing.
Merry Christmas, dear friend!
Meister Eckhart reminds us
that we must not only
celebrate and remember
the birth of Christ 2000 years ago
but we must also recall,
in this incarnational moment,
that now is the time
when Christ is born today among us.
Yes! This is the time to welcome
the birth of Christ in 2022,
as we celebrate
the Cosmic Christ’s presence
in the midst of our prayers,
beauty and hope.
On this Christmas day,
may this cosmic wisdom
dispel all darkness and fragments of war.
May this Christmas day be a time
when the mystic and prophet in each of us
flourishes and becomes fully alive.
On this Christmas day,
we pray that the radiant true self in each of us
becomes a vibrant presence
alive throughout this sacred Earth
and all creation.
May each of us
on this Christmas 2022,
recognize and give great thanks
for the precious gifts we have received,
as gratefulness flows
across the world.
The Santa Claus parade
and Black Friday shopping
threaten us with promises
of a more-is-better life.
All around us,
the dominant culture
plunges us into a world
of money, power and greed.
O dear friends,
for a happy Thanksgiving,
may a simple and heartfelt
“thank you” suffice.
Does America contradict herself
here at the ballot box today?
Don’t corrupt money and abuses of power
threaten a future that is already
uncertain, fragile, failing?
Are we poised to witness
a betrayal of our democratic roots?
Today I exercise my franchise.
Vote for who is best to serve.
Yet I wonder,
will authentic participation and
informed choice carry the day?
Will democracy survive?
We gather and pray:
May a fresh vision of government
be restored to its original purpose.
May everyone have a voice.
May whatever needs to be done
be our clarion call.
Let us bind the sores of discontent,
participate in the future
as a united voice of collective wisdom
calling for equity, inclusion, justice,
as each new moment unfurls
out of the womb of abiding peace.
If you read the founding stories of many sisters in the Church, their guidance came initially from either a bishop or a priest. That continues to be a valuable treasure in our tradition. However, at Springbank, we have learned that spiritual guidance can be accessed in a non-anthropocentric ways. For example, our dogs Max, Jake, Shelly, and Bennie provide wisdom and guidance in ways that we are perhaps still trying to understand.
Years ago, I spent holy week at Madonna House in Combermere, Ontario. Fr. Émile-Marie Brière at Madonna House wrote a piece I still value. The title of his small book is Priests Need Priests. I would like to expand on his thesis to say that “sisters need sisters.” We can also say “people need the planet.” And “all of us here at Springbank need each other.”
I wish to live in a world where
being alive matters,
where resolve and purpose rule each day.
I wish to live in a world, a hope-filled world,
where every tree and branch
shivers with ecstasy and beauty.
I wish to live in a world
where the elderly are cherished
and the little ones reverenced.
I wish to live in a world
where stories are told,
where tomorrow matters and
yesterdays become a treasure of the past.
I wish to live in a world
where the future holds possibility.
This is the world in which I want to live.
Today I ricochet between peace
and every new moment.
Now is the time to start over,
reinvent myself,
begin again.
To once again believe,
as if for the first time,
to pick up where I left off
and start over.
Now is the time to hope,
pray and reimagine
what could be,
to once again
enter the house of the unexpected,
here between chaos and new beginnings,
to engage the unknown future.
I hope to dance,
I hope to flow,
like the rhythms flow
with dawn and dusk each day.
I would like to dance
with darkness and light,
celebrate each day,
each defining moment.
Age is subtle and serene.
Yet sometimes I feel
a calamity has happened.
I feel I’m on the edge
of nothingness,
lost in endless time.
Today I ask,
what is still
possible for me to do?
Here I am, Lord,
waiting in the night,
waiting for I know not what.
I give my ardent thanks
for all the days gone by,
and for—if I may be so bold—
what is next to be.
Is not gratitude
our most honest prayer?
One breath of gratitude
carries me through
the long night.