Retreat Easter 2015

Last night, the first time for a long while, I ended the day with a timed 15-minute meditation – and felt – finally I had come home, again.
Not in any cosy, put-your-feet-up sense of the word perhaps but in a stopped-in-my-tracks kind of sense.
So where is home?

Parameters of a non-place on the edge of time include

Teilhard’s Sacramental Prayer over the world, in the desert, where he, Catholic Priest and Geologist, finds himself without the paraphernelia of religion,

Jean-Pierre de Caussade’s Sacramant of the Present Moment, in those modern translations at least, that dare to strip the writing of any screw-your-eyes-up-to-heaven kind of language,

Sr Wendy Beckett’s foot note of dedication to prayer without religion and

Zen Meditation if you strip it of Buddhist piety,

St John-of-the-Cross’ poetry already, for Love, stripped of any mention of g-o-d.

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~ by Barbara S on April 4, 2015.

One Response to “Retreat Easter 2015”

  1. Coming home had also included my sense, after some reading – of being a mere normal woman, if one pushed to the limits.

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