From my notebook this morning… 20 February, 2017 Leaning on the counter, waiting for the coffee to gasp and gurgle into wakeful splendor. Fell asleep listening to the most wonderful obit/tribute to Stuart McLean, 20 year host of Vinyl Café, who’d worked at CBC for over forty years. They played different clips from his career.  It…

From my notebook this morning… Wow…you’d think those who put together the Give Us this Day (nb: monthly publication of readings and reflections for the liturgical year) had been having premonitions when they put together the volume for February… Today, the call in Isaiah to ~share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and…

There is something to be said for the effect of the company we keep—clearly.  One of the things that brought me great joy as a teacher was when the right students found each other and became friends—when those who could bring out the best in each other got a hint or a taste of that…

The strange resonant word, ‘instar’, describes the state between two successive molts, for as it grows, a caterpillar, like a snake…splits its skin again and again, each stage an instar.  It remains a caterpillar as it goes through these molts, but no longer one in the same skin.  There are rituals marking such splits, graduations,…

I recently began a book that has quickly become a warm smooth stone in my pocket, a book I am pleased to have with me whether I have a chance to read it or not.  When I do have the concentrated time to savor it, usually in the morning, I do so with a pencil…

Advent IV, 2016 Come, fire-child, to the cracks and fractures of our humanity. Make plain the one hearthstone, the common foundation, for what burns, consumes, creates anew, Heaven; anew, Earth. Come, fire-child, comet of Love, to the galaxy of our hearts! Kimberly M. King, RSCJ

Barred Spiral Galaxy NGC-1073, taken by NASA Hubble Space Telescope Advent III 2016 I dreamed of touching darkness with the fire of Word. Cradling fear in my hands— each finger a ripple of light woven into an embrace, a space, where silence is balm, where hope can breathe, where wounds are tended; Where joy flares…

Advent II, 2016 (for JTB and other unkempt prophets) A match is enough to distinguish nighttime from hopelessness; so I listen for the strike against stone, the orienting  words of the seemingly unkempt prophet, when the woods close round and the sun is eclipsed by purveyors of maps going nowhere. Let there be light. Let…

Advent 1 2016 Now that the world has broken open and sparks can reach the bedrock, now Love arcs across the Earth; The fire of hope, caught up in galaxies and mystery, is loosed, is born; the fire of hope has come. What hearth do I give, what tinder do I offer, that this fire…