“We create our ecstasy and we create our peace. And when we choose anesthetizing addictions we dull the light as well as the darkness.”
“So now I bake bread at home. I have time to mix and wait and kneed and wait and kneed and wait and bake. And I eat the hot bread with wine at night but in the morning – especially Sunday mornings, I eat the hot bread with salted butter made by Irish people and cows with raspberry jam which reminds me more of blood than the wine ever did. Or my sins.”
“These days in which we all live, right now, are like that kiln. A crucible of sorts. The pressure is on. The invisible stress-cracks inside each one of us are – because of the intense heat of life’s insecurities – becoming wider, more visible cracks after the firings.”
“This shelter-in-place time has been just such a disruption, but on a planetary scale. It has stopped our normal routines. It has startled a planet of humans and caused us to sit up and look around us. It has pushed us out of our complacency and our busy accumulation into a season of taking-stock.”
“In ‘Sartori’ the monk of this painting reminds us that we are all monks and nuns – we all have an inner life we are shepherding and a creative expression waiting ready inside us like a Border Collie waiting to move sheep – trembling, ready. And of course, in Buddhism, nuns and monks both shave their heads – so we do not know the sex of this monk. Like so many icons, he or she is ‘we’ – all of us.”
“We have been using the word “corona” to define a virus. Etymologically, its ancient root as a noun came from the mid-1600s when the Latin “corona” meant “crown.” The virus we now know as coronavirus was so named three centuries later in the mid-1960s for the spikes protruding from the cell’s membranes like the tines of a crown or like the round corona of the sun.”
“As we fast on religious assemblies, we are thinking for ourselves. We are living in the air between trapezes. It can be terrifying, but it can also be exhilarating. We can stop seeking the answer to the thriller of our lives and instead, live in the questions a quiet horizon offers. It is humbling to be without certainty, however when the ego experiences a loss, the soul always receives a gain.”
“…depending on how a monk feels on any particular day or hour or moment, one was either protected by the cloister gate or imprisoned by it. One was either shut down by the vows or enlivened by them.”
What if we could all do this on Easter Day? What if we could all place a daffodil on the grass, lots of them, six feet apart? What if, on the grass of the the parks of our little village, we could spread daffodils marking six-foot-squares? And what if, in the parks by our seas, we could all gather on Easter Day in a Creed-free Zone? Silently? Socially-distanced but together. Do I mean to annoy liturgists? No. It’s just a side-benefit.
Ours is the only species that will create, watch, and calculate, its own demise on this planet.