How do I replenish myself so that I can do what God has called me to do?
"The word ‘contemplative’ at this moment is a word that says ‘privilege.’ It means that you have time, and most people don’t have time.”
I tried it—and I began to experience God in places other than my head.
“Every time I look in the eyes of the young people out there on the streets standing up, speaking up, I see mystics. I do.”
“Breath is how I bring myself back to God. My breath is my sacred word.”
"I hope that we will abandon this idea that mysticism only happens to special people."
"Understanding how racism really, really works, and seeing it as not just a social justice issue but a theological imperative, means that we have to talk about it and work on it all the time.”
“Practicing to be a contemplative," says Zen priest Sensei Zenju, "you’re learning to be embodied and to be boundless at the same time.”
In the private journals of contemplative thinker Thomas Merton, Sophronia Scott found guidance for how to live in these fraught times.
A contemplative Catholic nun touches the world through prayer.
Merton has been my spiritual companion, but as a Black woman, I have questions for him.
We have a responsiblity to agitate for justice, but we can't lose our love for the human soul and its dignity in the midst of that work.
The founder of the Spiritual Directors of Color Network talks about the importance of contemplative spirituality to social change.
Centering prayer persists when I am believing or disbelieving, when I feel “close” to God or far away.
God is flying to tell me something. On a recent Saturday I worked beyond the point of exhaustion. Not to. Beyond. Never mind exactly on what. I like to think it was for a good cause, though that is debatable and not the point here. The point is: I so believed outcome x needed to happen that I was willing to do violence to myself to make it happen.