It’s Holy Week but it doesn’t feel that way. Lent hasn’t felt like Lent, either. I’ve made and eaten a lot of cake. I’ve had wine in the middle of the week. I’ve slept late almost every day, and went for days at a time without meditating.
I keep thinking how if I were a hermit-monk I wouldn’t know a thing had changed not unless an angel … More
god bless the man in platform boots god bless the woman in a tux what does man or woman mean … More
I stand beside my window waiting for the call to prayer, waiting like a lover for a glimpse of the … More
The couch in the Jordan River took me by surprise. No, it was worse than that; I felt insulted. From … More
Sometimes I bump into some cool people and interesting stuff, which might not happen if I could see where I were going.
Dark nights happen to some and not others, and only God knows why. St. John of the Cross called it a holy experience. Tell that to my priest, I wanted to say. Tell it to my husband, who still mourns the “nice Christian girl” he thought he married.
Meditation is one of those things that has always been for other people. Patchouli-toothpaste white people with rustic-but-pricey cedar furniture and mandala wall hangings. People who “study” Japanese cooking. People with gurus and lots of time on their hands.
It’s natural—perhaps even biologically sound—to shun the afflicted. In this way, we’re no different than other animals who practice this … More