The couch in the Jordan River took me by surprise. No, it was worse than that; I felt insulted. From … More
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.
Before I even learned what had happened in Orlando, I learned about the candlelight vigil that would be held on … More
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
I’ve always wanted to be a mystic. Not of the crystal ball variety, but like Teresa of Ávila, or even … More
Last Friday, I went back to the Orthodox Church I’d all but stopped attending. I’m sort of obsessed with the … More