"I am going to start living like a monk..."

These photos and poems were inspired by two books I am praying with these days.  One suggested taking photos of the texture of your day and what you surround yourself with. Since I am recovering from foot surgery and it's been cold, I sit near the fire and hear these clocks ticking which, when I am aware of it, helps me to be in the moment and still myself.  The other recommended starting with, "I am going to start living like a monk," and just write your thoughts on that and then compose a poem from those thoughts.

Daily hours, daily rhythms,

gardens and cloisters, robes and tonsures 

these I associate with being a monk.

What, then, does it mean for me live like a monk?

Prayer.

My life saturated, punctuated with prayer.

Choosing God’s way, even when I don’t like it.

Compassion, service, obedience to Your will.

Ora et labora.

Rhythmical...peaceful—hah!

What monastery is always peaceful?—

Disagreements, appointments, crises;

different people with different ways of doing things.

Finances, storms, illness, death.

Peace is a goal, a gift—gained and lost

—and regained over a lifetime.

But eventually, deep down, in spite of troubles and trials,

a peaceful river flows,

streams of God.

And, increasingly, peace and prayer are woven

into the fabric of mind and heart.

The light of Christ brightens and underlays

even the dark night.

And growth happens.

Compassion, wisdom, 

fostered by obedience to the rhythmical flow, 

worn paths creating openings for Christ 

in the soul of a monk.

Trust grows,

trust in God’s guidance;

not always doubting my choices, His love;

peace about that even.

A sense of vocation,

living God’s call—or many callings.

Being in the moment, 

sensing the peaceful, eternal quality of each moment.

Seeing beneath the surface,

in touch with the Divine.

Order, simplicity—

even in this complex, chaotic life!

Letting go, receiving;

more rhythms to embrace.

Greeting others with a smile.

Offering the encouraging word, the helping hand;

sharing silence with grief.

Listening, always listening

to God, to the wind, to others

to my own heart

to what is beneath, unspoken

An ideal?  A goal—

"the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus.”

This, for me, is living like a monk.