Please join me in Nakusp for the launch of Hands Like Roots: Notes on an Entangled Contemplative Path. We will meet at the Nakusp Public Library on Wednesday, April 30, at 4 p.m. There will be readings from the book, a time of question and answer, and yes, there will be books for sale!
I have been thinking that we may have reached the chronic, as opposed to acute, stage of our forest fire saga. For many of us, evacuation orders and alerts are rescinded, at least for now. For others, there’s at least a system to check on livestock and land. People are making plans to sustain a …
“Our fingers imbibe like roots,” begins a prayer by Francis of Assisi, “So I place them on what is beautiful in this world.” Beauty may feel like a shaky reed these days, nothing much to hang our hat on. Most of us are more inclined to attend to what’s ugly: environmental degradation, wars, famines, loss …
Welcome the Light of Love into our life together on Christmas Eve. Join the hybrid service (in person and online) on Sunday, December 24th, at 10 a.m. at Knox Hall in New Denver. Join us however you can, as we sing, read the story, and wonder together at how the Mystery lives in our own …
Therese will be leading the November Mini-Retreat at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Portland, Oregon, on Saturday, November 18, 2023. This in-person gathering will focus on the inseparability of grief and joy. The event begins at 9 am and ends at noon. More information to come.
Some of my friends are just fine. They are doing exactly what they love, making music or mentoring younger people or hiking all over the mountains. They are joyful and creative and it’s fun to be with them. I don’t know about the dark corners in the middle of their nights, but clearly, they are …
In the kitchen of love, only the beautiful are killed. Death does not frighten a true lover for those not dying for love are already corpses. –Rumi Translation by Maryam Mafi and Azima Melita Kolin I knew it was her as soon as I pulled the bag out of the freezer. I knew because she looked …
I recently went up Red Mountain Road to drop off some jam for friends. Their driveway being an impassable pile of snow, I parked below and followed a trail up the side of the mountain through a tract of mature forest. I felt those woods before I really saw them. Something made me stop, take …
A teacher of mine once defined attention as the most genuine form of love. He taught me this using a rock, which I was to observe for 15 minutes without composing metaphors, rehearsing geological history, or discerning the face of Jesus in the markings on its side. I was simply to see it, stripped of …
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