The Patterns of Life

“How often in this busy, complicated, overcrowded, difficult world do I make the time to sit and listen to its changing rhythms?”

Of course I had to stop myself when I read this quote in Fenton Johnson’s book, Keeping Faith. And I would be shocked if it didn’t stop most people who consider themselves to be on some sort of journey into the Spirit. The book chronicles Johnson’s journey into Christian and Buddhist monastic life, and although we are not done reading it (My friend and I have been using as a means of staying connected during the pandemic.), I think we’d both give it a high recommendation.

I read that line before last Wednesday’s Silent Peace Walk. Amended, again for the pandemic, we walked spaced apart here at the monastery for our monthly Peace Walk, and it was quite a powerful experience. Even in this slowed down time, I hadn’t taken such a mindful walk around the monastery in the past few months. I was able to notice the greening of the trees, the blossoming of the flowers, the sounds of the birds, and the general rhythms that spring months bring with them. I had noticed that spring was here, of course, but it really did give me an opportunity to pay attention, even if for just thirty minutes.

“How often in this busy, complicated, overcrowded, difficult world do I make the time to sit and listen to its changing rhythms?”

The most startling thing I noticed was a hydrangea bush beginning to flower. I consider myself pretty familiar with this plant, and we have many of them around the monastery, but I had never noticed the pattern of this particular bush in our backyard by the compost bin.

I couldn’t get over how patterned the blossoms were—perfect rows, pair-by-pair. You can even see how each “blossom set” (for lack of knowing the proper term) blossomed in patterns, too, with the outside ring opening first.

I was just blown away. And when I re-read these lines from a particularly good and challenging chapter titled “Being in Doing,” I couldn’t help but think of this hydrangea. I hope you have had space to notice similar beauty in nature these days.

“How often in this busy, complicated, overcrowded, difficult world do I make the time to sit and listen to its changing rhythms?”

Let us walk in the holy presence.

“Baptizing the Ordinary”

I am re-reading Old Monk’s book, Peace is Our Calling. Written about four decades ago, the book explores the question of what contemporary monasticism has to offer to the peace movement. And even though forty years separate us from its initial publication, its relevance remains today. This quote describing monastic life (from Thomas Cullinan, OSB) captured my attention and resonated in my heart:

“‘Monastic life is baptizing the ordinary,’ he explained. ‘When our neighbors heard we were moving in they were all keyed-up for something extraordinary. I think they’re rather surprised, and maybe a little disappointed. Monasticism is very low key. We are just common people who try to show by our lives that holiness is natural and not very difficult.’”

While I might argue about the relative ease or difficulty of holiness (at least for me!), everything else is so on-point. When I initially entered the Erie Benedictine community a lot of people were curious about how my life would be drastically different. Yes, it is, but it’s not really. When we enter deeply into the horarium’s rhythm without too many *extra* things going on (like these still semi-quarantined days), there is a certain quiet and calm and ordinary nature to it all. We have our prayer time and common table time, and now with a bit more free space, you can see many sisters taking walks around the monastery, stopping to wonder at the marvel of the spring season. You see others gathering to play cards a little more often. Ordinary—if you ask me. And lovely. And perhaps inching toward holiness. Baptizing life with presence and attention along the way.

Let us walk in the holy presence.


(Here are some ordinary findings in my meanderings these days.)

A lovely sunset...

A calm creek...

The oriole enjoying some grape jelly for lunch...

Perfectly fragrant lilacs...

Is It Spring?

With signs of springtime everywhere, it's still hard for my body to belief it's really here. We had snow on Saturday, temperatures below 40 degrees as I headed back to the office for the first time since March 16th, and I am beyond eager to wear open-toed shoes outside...comfortably.

But, there have been some lovely days, and the buds and blossoms are definitely showing. One of our most beautiful, "show-off" trees anchors the courtyard. You can see that even Scholastica can't stop staring...

And here are the blossoms closer up...

But, one of my personal favorites is this smaller tree. Not sure the variety, but when she buds, she's gorgeous...

And, then these little delights...the violets in the inner courtyard. I happened to open a Mary Oliver book, Blue Iris, and found this poem...

Spring
Violets have many leaves, each one so earnestly

   heart-shaped that you could not imagine the plants have
thought of anything else to do. But they have: they make
   blossoms, which rise yellow or violet, in multitudes, the
violet ones with violet-colored spurs. They like
   dampness, they like hillsides and are comfortable also
in the shady woods. They like to be alone, or congregated
   together in the grass, looking up as you pass by, saying
Hello. Hello. And what else do you imagine

they might do? Sing? I don't think so, I suspect

   they know when any further ambition would be
unseemly. So all their time is used up in happiness—
   in becoming the best they can be
for the greater glory of _____.
   In fact, they know it's okay to rest for the rest of
your life just saying: Thank you. Oh cast of thousands,
   as are the stars of heaven, Thank you.

Let us walk in the holy presence.