Out Of Touch

-


Down to the edge
Of the island

We will go
Once more

Beyond the reach
Of electric power

Out of touch 
With everything

Where Elements
Alone remain

Salt sea water
Washing my face

My sinners soul
Transformed by grace

Mother of Mercy
Is present here

Speaking of surrender
To the Spirit

Here is the wind
The waves
The crashing

And the upward surge
Of everything


Comments

Post a Comment

30 Days

Love Was His Meaning

-
Image
‘Love was his meaning’: a conversation about Julian of Norwich between Dr Claire Gilbert and Fr Eamonn Monson. Click on the link below to listen to the conversation https://drive.google.com/file/d/16euftBoLdrM3X1YvEAhK3RznhdAI1LFj/view?usp=drivesdk Claire Gilbert wrote her doctoral thesis on Julian in relation to the ecological crisis, but when she was diagnosed with myeloma, a cancer of the blood, Julian stopped being the subject of her academic study and became her spiritual companion and guide through two and a half years of gruelling treatment.  Claire wrote about this in letters to friends, published as  Miles to Go Before I Sleep .  At the end of the treatment she heard a call to tell Julian’s story and wrote  I, Julian , a fictional autobiography which seeks to do justice to this extraordinary woman’s life. Dr Claire Gilbert is an author.  She is the founding director of the Westminster Abbey Institute, and has worked for the Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England as poli
Read more

WEAKNESSES (My Special Boast)

-
Image
  "I shall make my weaknesses my special boast” (2 Corinthians 12:9) There's a struggle going on in me, the tiredness that comes with the end of the year, the tiredness I see in teachers and pupils as they come to the conclusion of their academic year. A tiredness and an excited anticipation of endings and freedom. I'm a bit unsteady in myself when I enter the church for the first Sunday morning Mass. I have the pleasure of my sister's company this weekend, but in normal times the first word I speak in the day is spoken when I come for Mass which is preceded by three hours of silence. Silent breakfast, silent prayer, silent preparation. I love that silence and I love the first word that is spoken in the day. The connection with the people of the parish. This particular Sunday morning a young Mum places her new-born baby in my arms. The effect on me is instant. Holding this child close to my chest, all unsteadiness is steadied, all turbulence calmed by a peace that ta
Read more

SIMPLICITY: Kissing The Hand of Jesus 2017 - Eamonn Monson sac

-
Image
I came across a painting by Fray Juan Bautista Maino called The Adoration of the Shepherds and a detail shows one of the shepherds (though it might be St. Joseph) lifting the right hand of the baby Jesus and kissing it. It strikes me that this is the purpose of our Advent and Christmas - to arrive at a point where Jesus is born for us again, born within us and we are called to come to Jesus and express our love for him in such a gesture. John the Baptist goes into the desert for clarity and focus. The desert is a place of simplicity where we have nothing but the essentials to deal with and focus on. With this focus on the essentials John is able to recognise Jesus when he appears. Last Christmas I celebrated Mass with a group of special needs adults from St. John Of God Carmona services, an experience which brought me face to face with the essential meaning of life in all its simplicity. When I arrived in the hall I went to greet each person - 30 or 40 in all -  an
Read more

Back to Her First Love

-
Image
April 29, 2024. Forty-five years ago today I made my Final Profession as a Pallottine on the Feast day of St. Catherine of Siena who expresses well what goes on in me when she speaks these words to God, “ You are a mystery as deep as the sea; the more I search, the more I find, and the more I find the more I search for you. But I can never be satisfied; what I receive will ever leave me desiring more. When you fill my soul I have an even greater hunger, and I grow more famished for your light. I desire above all to see you, the true light, as you really are. ” But I can never be satisfied; what I receive will ever leave me desiring more. Desire! For a long time, I have thought that every desire of my humanity is at its heart a desire for God but maybe that’s not the case. Maybe I glamourize my desires when, in fact, they are actually mundane, and even base, having nothing to do with God at all. Vocation Sunday leaves me questioning the sincerity of my own vocation. Not the vocation
Read more

St. Teresa of Avila: Let Nothing Disturb you

-
Image
“My soul at once becomes recollected and I enter the state of quiet. Everything is stilled and the soul is left in a state of great quiet and deep satisfaction.” (St. Teresa of Avila) St. Teresa of Avila has been one of the most significant guides of my spiritual life since I was 17 years old. I began reading her very early in my life as a Pallottine and there are two moments – a dream and a time in prayer - that have connected me to her. In the dream I walked into an old unfamiliar church where I met my father who was already dead at the time. He pointed me to a side altar at the top left-hand side. When I went there I saw St. Teresa’s tomb in front of the altar. It was like the Italian ones with the shape of the body carved in marble; she was sleeping covered with a blanket. Then she stirred and woke up, telling me to stand between her and the altar. “Stay here” she said “and I will take care of you.” The second happened during a charismatic retreat when I was resting in the Spirit,
Read more

Scallop Shell and Camper Van (CORPUS CHRISTI 2024)

-
Image
From my earliest years as a young child, there has been a close connection between the Divine and the ordinary things of life. I understood and accepted that God was everywhere, so I prayed to him anywhere, told him my simplest desires. Many of these have been answered, some taking years – like the yacht that I’ve written about before - and others almost instantly. An instant answer happened the other day as I was out on my walk. Something in me said it would be good to have a real scallop shell for Baptisms and I wondered if I should use my Camino shell which is at home in Mervue, but I felt that it has its place and memory. And as I approached the Goat Ledge outdoor café, I noticed William decorating one of the walls with hundreds of scallop shells. Stopping to chat with him, I mentioned my desire for one. He promptly produced a box full of them and offered me two to take away. Another experience has to do with the blue and white Volkswagen toy Minibus I had when I was about three or
Read more

MOTHER & DAUGHTER: Hands Enfolded

-
Image
The Grotto in Castlegar - a lovely place to be on a dry, cool August morning. Feast of St. Clare and Autumn seems to have arrived. We prayed here for a miracle on May 25th - an incredibly beautiful evening - but there was none given. We came here in our youth across the fields when faith was strong and swift. Now I'm here preparing for the funeral of our neighbour who was 103 years old, whose daughter has been part of our family for over 60 years and I have the honour of being the brother she never had. No matter what's going on, this place delivers a peace that is to be found in no other grotto, except perhaps Lourdes. I'm thinking of the days in the hospital. There was a short period of quiet one evening when conversation ceased and I was alone with Mother and Daughter. In the silence I observed both their hands so effortlessly and tenderly enfolded in each other. They didn’t grasp or hold on tightly; they didn't cling but there was reverenc
Read more

I KNOW THAT, LOVE: In Honour of Mary Moore

-
Image
  Dawn broke beautifully over a white-frosted Mervue, the sun shivering through naked trees. Fog rising further out in the fields, diffusing a soft light. Evelyn drove me to Shannon for my return trip to Hastings. After two weeks away I know it’s time to get back and, however much I fantasize about retirement, I know it wouldn’t suit me at all. Not yet! Mary Moore’s funeral kept me home a few days longer – five days! It was an honour to be the priest celebrating her requiem. Her death has startled us her contemporaries. And it brought us together. It made us think. Especially since she is the second of our generation in Mervue to die within the space a of week. It has, of course, also awakened the feeling of loss in relation to our Maura. Her death almost twenty-five years ago. Mary was seventy-one years old, as Maura would be if she were here now. They were school mates; friends and I was part of that friendship especially in our teens when I spent many happy times in Coynes hou
Read more