Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Kathryn is watching her way through Advent, noticing the signs of the times and signs of the Kingdom, and though I will nowise claim to be as watchful or as organized - herewith are a few "noticings" from the stillness of last week's flight into silence (to call it a retreat at this time of year sound far too restrained).
Sitting outside in the eastern cloister watching the moon rise - and the clouds swirl around it. It seemed to fill the sky - and herald the yet more radiant dawn to come.
Hearing the radiators clanking in the chapel, I imagined the skeleton of the building coming to life and dancing within the walls.
In the morning, with my cup of tea in the cloister again (when it's 31 degrees out, you can be fairly sure you will not be interrupted at prayer there), listening to the birds in the garden behind me and realizing it was quiet enough that I could hear their wings flap. Just at that moment, a hawk came stooping down from the roof three floors above me. I could hear her wings creak as she beat hard to avoid the ground, then the strong whoofs as she wheeled 'round.
Speaking to no one. Seeing no one. Hearing only God.
Breaking my fast before I went home with a chocolate chip cookie from Patient Spiritual Director's stash.