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Join me on a three-week journey toward real change, transformation that happens from the inside out and has real staying power. I’m not saying you’ll be transformed in three weeks. That’s not possible. What I AM saying is that I can give you the tools, the practices, and the motivation to set yourself on a course for finding what your soul is craving. ReVolution, not resolution is our rallying cry!

Resolve to Evolve is a three-week series that will focus on meditation, mindfulness and discovering the miracle of the mundane right here in the midst of our busy lives. I will be offering this series in-person or online through Jai Yoga School on Sundays, January 2, 9, and 16, from 12:30 to 1:30 p.m. We won’t just talk about these topics; we will get down to the hands-on practice of each. I can’t wait to join you on this journey and see where it takes us!

The three-week series costs $60. You can register by clicking HERE. Additional option: If you have the time and inclination, you can sign up for the Gentle Yoga class I teach at Jai each Sunday from 11:15 a.m. to 12:15 p.m., also available in-person or online. While it’s certainly not required, it’s a great way to prepare for meditation. Class sign-up is available HERE.

If you plan to join me, bring a yoga mat, a blanket or cushion (although Jai has blankets if you want to use one of those), and something to write with. I will provide small journals. Other than that, just bring an open heart and mind and a willingness to be still and silent for a little bit. That’s where the magic happens!

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This reality became uncomfortably clear to me recently when my eye doctor recommended that I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose for five minutes after using my prescription eye drops each morning. I groaned internally at the prospect of spending five whole minutes on this process. A technician in the same doctor’s office then asked if I was putting hot compresses on my eyes and advised that I spend five minutes doing this while in the shower each day. Cue groan. It’s somewhat comical and more than a little pathetic that I could possibly feel burdened by having to spend 10 minutes a day on practices that will only improve my life and my health. In an age of multi-tasking and mindless media scrolling, we’ve created personal narratives that say we are far busier than we truly are and, in telling ourselves that lie, we rob ourselves of the chance to make the time for practices that can improve our physical health and promise to sooth our souls and calm our minds as well.

I’m enrolled in two training programs, one to become a spiritual director and another to become a meditation teacher. Because you cannot do either of those things without keeping up your own spiritual practice, we are required to spend a minimum of 20 minutes in silent meditation every day, preferably twice a day. There are evenings when I’m scrolling through Facebook, slouched in an easy chair, complaining that I don’t know how I’ll fit in my meditation. I manage to miss the irony, on an almost-daily basis. As the old Nike ad said: Just do it! That slogan became a tag line for everything from sneakers to diets to prayer because it spoke to an age-old problem: acedia, as it was known during the Middle Ages, or what we would call listlessness, boredom, distraction to the point of not being able to get yourself to do what you want or need to do.

One of the reasons I sign up for training upon training — aside from my desire to teach — is because I know I need something to hold me accountable, something that will prompt me to set an alarm, wake up an hour earlier, sit in meditation before the sun comes up or close my eyes on a busy train and just be. When we get out of our own way, the 20 minutes that seemed impossible to manage one day becomes impossible to live without just a few weeks later.

We can look to the monastics for guidance when it comes to the threat of acedia. In her book Acedia & Me, Kathleen Norris writes: “Monastic wisdom insists that when we are most tempted to feel bored, apathetic, and despondent over the meaningless of life when we are on the verge of discovering our true self in relation to God.” That might seem unlikely when we’re unable to get up the gusto to go for a walk or settle down to prayer, but the monks know of what they speak, with daily lives set to the rhythm of prayer and guided by a rule.

Too often our lives are ruled by bad habits and the path of least resistance. It’s time to stop letting life live us and become active participants. To do that we have to make the time — even if it’s only for five minutes at first — to pause, pray, and be present in our own lives. Just do it.

This column first appeared in the Nov. 4, 2021, issue of Catholic New York.

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I figured this year I’d be ahead of the game. It was early in the season. How bad could it be? Bad. I spent three hours sitting in the dirt one Saturday morning with a spade and a bucket making very slow progress. Inch by inch, hour by hour, I cleared small patches by hand to make sure I didn’t pull out the rare native trillium or the glistening green leaves of vinca ground cover along with the invasive weeds.

About two hours into the project, when I considered quitting, I remembered that the vision of a peaceful meditation garden was nice, but the greater goal was to allow the journey to become the meditation. Sure, it will be wonderful to one day sit on a meditation bench surrounded by carefully placed stepping stones and intentionally planted flowers, but the real lessons of the meditation garden—as in so many aspects of life—are learned along the way, in the weeds, so to speak.

Weeding, like raking leaves or shoveling snow, is one of those exercises in futility. You do it knowing you’ll need to do it again, probably sooner rather than later. The repetitive motion and beauty of the natural world suspend you in time in a way. You are there, working, but you are also everywhere—talking silently to God, letting your mind wander where it will, mentally working out problems you haven’t been able to solve, breathing deep and listening hard for the still small voice that is rustling nearby.

From my seat right now, I can see my progress on the garden and the work that remains. There is satisfaction in the accomplishment, but, more than that, there is excitement over the possibilities. I’m no longer hung up on the Instagram-worthy final product but joyful over what I might discover along the way, whether that’s the mundane miracle of a small toad hopping away from the shadow of my hand and surprising me for a brief moment, or a deep sense of God’s presence, reassuring me that, as St. Julian of Norwich said, “All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

When we think about Scripture, it is often on the journey that the great spiritual lessons occur—drawing water from a well, on a trek up a mountain, on a boat waiting to pull up a net full of fish, on the road to Emmaus. Our faith story is full of Aha! moments that occurred amid the ordinary tasks of everyday life. When we rush through those tasks to get to a goal, we risk missing the lesson, drowning out the voice of the Spirit, trampling over God right there in our midst.

Back when I wrote my book Everyday Divine, I did so not only to share methods of praying in the busyness of our days but to learn for myself how to pray without ceasing through the seeming “drudgery” of life. But the drudgery is precisely where God lives—in the laundry we fold, in the lawns we mow, in the vegetables we chop, in the weeds we pull.

What task or project has you wishing you could leapfrog over it to get to the end result? Can you take a deep breath and make the journey the goal? Can you create a meditation garden right where you are today, even if you never set foot outside?

This column originally appeared in the June 2, 2021, issue of Catholic New York.

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Now the back story. I first attended the Merton in the Mountains retreat in 2008. It was my first-ever silent retreat and my first time at Pyramid. I was nervous going in, wondering if I could maintain the silence. I left transformed and committed to regular periods of silence and stillness, whether on retreat or on a cushion in my sunporch at home. The retreat was run by Walt Chura back then, a devoted Merton follower and secular Franciscan who guided us, offered us spiritual direction, and made us feel like this retreat was exactly where we needed to be. Walt stopped leading the retreat a few years ago. This year was supposed to be a special treat. Sister Monica Murphy, CSJ, director of Pyramid Life Center and a larger-than-life beloved figure in our diocese, was scheduled to lead it, but she was killed in a tragic auto accident earlier this month. A substitute leader was needed; that’s where I come in, and I am beyond honored. There is no way I can fill Sister Monica’s shoes as leader of this retreat — I wouldn’t dare try — but I will lead from the heart of my own love of Thomas Merton, in the spirit of Walt Chura, and in memory of Sister Monica.

If you have time and want to give this retreat a try, think about it, or email me and I’ll be happy to talk to you about what to expect. Silence is the main thing. We’ll have regular “conferences” related to Merton, prayer in the mornings and evenings, silent meals taken together, Mass on Sunday, and time to just relax and listen for the still small voice. Pyramid Life Center is a beautiful place to spend a weekend — a big open lake, with loons swimming and calling; trails to hike, rocks to sit on, a little meditation cabin, a log chapel. It really is something to experience.

You can find more information about Pyramid Life Center HERE. If you’re ready to sign up, HERE is the direct link to the registration page. (It’s listed under “Thomas Merton Silent Retreat” in the drop down.) I hope I see you Sept. 6-8. If you can’t join us, please pray for those of us who will be making this interior journey. And please pray for the repose of the soul of Sister Monica. Pyramid will not be the same without her.

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Mindfulness. Ahhhh…just saying the word makes my shoulders relax and my breathing expand. I love it because I know it works, BUT, that doesn’t mean I always make the time and space for it. I am the queen of multitasking, something I used to think was a good thing. Not so. Multitasking distracts us and makes us feel like we’re doing so much but, really, we are usually half doing a couple of things. I can’t listen to my daughter and scroll through Facebook. I might think I can do that, but she’s going to notice I’m not really there, even if I don’t. I can’t eat dinner and answer emails. Well, I can, but chances are I’ll finish the meal without ever really tasting it.

Multitasking is one of the biggest enemies of inner peace. It robs us of our balance and tricks us into thinking it’s the way to get more done or be more productive and prove we’re working hard enough to whomever it is we think we need to prove something — bosses, coworkers, friends, partner, parents, children, maybe even complete strangers. If we let our worth hang on other people’s opinions, we’re going to make ourselves crazy trying to be everything to everyone. So the challenge is to stop worrying about other people’s opinions and start paying attention to the still, small voice trying to be heard in the silence of your heart. To do that, you have to be mindful and prayerful and quiet. That’s the starting point. And the end point. And every point in between. Mindfulness always, or as often as possible. Just keep coming back to where you are right now without worrying about what’s coming next. It’s not easy to do, especially when many of us have jobs and home lives that keep us in full-time stress mode. Just keep starting over. Eventually it will become comfortable, maybe even “normal.”

If you can’t figure out how to make this mindfulness thing work in daily life, start small. With a cup of tea or a piece of chocolate or a quiet lunch eaten alone without distractions. We’re seven weeks in, so I know you know the drill, but in case you want a reminder, I’ll re-post the mealtime meditation bookmarks. Click HERE for the set of two bookmarks. And, if you missed this the first time around, here’s one of my previous blog posts on the topic: Mindfulness: It’s not just for Buddhists.

Keep in mind that mindfulness isn’t limited to mealtime, to be sure. Try it out when you’re driving to work, when you’re waiting in the car line outside school, when you’re on hold with customer service. Breathe, be present in that moment, and just do that one thing you need to do, not the 12 things everyone else wants you do to. Breathe. Exhale…

Here’s some musical inspiration to go with our theme of the week: “Exhale” by Plumb.

Oh God We breathe in your grace
We breathe in your grace
And exhale
Oh God we do not exist for us
But to share Your grace and love
And exhale

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Which brings us to this past weekend, when severe pressure in my chest and shoulder and neck had me checking into the ER at St. Peter’s Hospital — the first time I have ever gone to an ER for myself for anything other than childbirth check-in. Between the pressure and my family history, I felt like I couldn’t take a chance. I ended up spending the night in the cardio unit for observation, and, although the cardiologist doesn’t think it’s my heart (I’ll be going for more testing this week to be sure), it certainly served as a wake-up call to me, because whether it’s a heart issue, a gastro issue (suspected at this point), a stress issue, or all of the above, the fact is that I did this to myself. An expensive way to learn this lesson, but I guess if it causes me to rethink my habits, it’s worth it. I was NOT being so philosophical about this when I was going through it, I’d like to add. Just ask my husband, Dennis, who was holding his head in his hands (literally) as I threatened to remove my own IV and check myself out after nine hours in ER and the prospect of an overnight stay looming. (Gee, I wonder why I have chest pain?)

But, on this morning after, when I’m still not feeling 100 percent and I realize this was not just some passing anxiety attack and is probably going to require medicine, treatment of some sort, and lifestyle changes, I am grateful that my miserable hospital experience has caused me to pull out my juicer and my favorite health book (Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr), check out a few more clean eating cookbooks from the library, and start looking for a way back into exercise and yoga. For the record, I did sign up for a five-week meditation class three weeks ago, in part because I knew I needed a way to balance my life and calm myself down, so on some level I recognized the fact that I was speeding toward a health crisis on multiple levels: physical, mental, and spiritual.

So, I’m here now as a way to not only return to blogging, which is something I have always loved, but as a way to hold myself accountable. Last December, I formed the Cravings Tribe for those who wanted to journey through my own book with me toward a saner relationship with food and a more peaceful life in general. And while that lasted a few weeks, I’ll admit that I did not practice what I preached. I hope some of you did. It’s time I join you.

When I told a work colleague that I had landed in the cardio unit of the hospital, he said, “You’re too young to end up in that ward.” Not true. At 55 years old, I am exactly the right age to end up in that ward, but I don’t intend to go back any time soon. I’m hoping the doctor is right and my heart is still healthy and this is just some diet and stress issue I can handle with minimally invasive help, but, I have no intention of sitting by passively and waiting for others to figure things out. I’m going to reclaim the pieces of my life I gave away in a misguided attempt at being an above-and-beyond type of worker. The email can wait. The phone call can wait. My health cannot. (I only checked work email twice during the writing of this blog post on my sick day. That’s progress!)

If you’re dealing with similar stress and health issues, chime in. We can work through this together.

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Here are some highlights:

• Silence in the early morning through breakfast.
• Mindfulness practice with your morning meals
• Several spiritual talks…on the cravings that get in the way of our relationship with God, on weaving prayer into everyday life, on spiritual friendship, on embracing our own brokenness and learning to love ourselves as God loves us.
• Collage as prayer
• Opportunities to pray together and apart in different formats
• Poetry, music, journaling, nature, creativity
• Disconnecting from email, texting, social media
• Opportunities to hike, kayak, nap, or do whatever it is you need most

The cost is $150 for the entire weekend, including the program, accommodations, meals and activities. Pyramid is a rustic retreat center, with a lovely lodge with two big screened porches, a big dining hall, a log cabin chapel, a small meditation house on the lake, a “tree house” looking out over the lake and lots of nooks and crannies for stealing some quiet time.

The weekend begins at 5 p.m. Friday, Sept. 8, with dinner at 6 p.m. and our first introductory session at 7:30 p.m. The retreat concludes with lunch on Sunday, Sept. 10, although you are welcome to stay on the premises until 2 p.m. As of this writing, it looks like we’ll have our own priest on hand to celebrate Mass for us on Saturday evening or Sunday morning, which is a wonderful bonus.

To register, click HERE and sign up through Pyramid’s online form. Once we have our final group, I’ll send out an email with some additional info, but just to give you some ideas… Plan to bring a journal, scissors, a glue stick, some old magazines (3 should be plenty). If you’re a photographer, bring your camera (or your phone in airplane mode) and use it as a way to pray visually. If you draw, bring a sketch pad. Whatever gives you peace and helps you connect with God. We’ll talk more about it in the days ahead. I can’t wait to see you there.

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One of our three children marveled at this strange contraption, wondering how it “worked.” Another saw me with my hands in sudsy water and asked if she might try since it looked so “fun.” I flashed back to my own young childhood, when our home had no dishwasher at all, and I was the nightly dryer of dishes, standing beside my mother begrudgingly with towel in hand.

But, as I soaked the dishes, up to my elbows in warmth and bubbles, looking out the kitchen window at the lush green of our slightly-out-of-control backyard plants, I felt…what was it? Peace. Maybe even joy. Definitely satisfaction. This long-lost simple pleasure, this chore, was, in reality, a welcome break from the chaos of life, giving me reason to pause, to stand in one place with nowhere to go and to meditatively move my hands in circles as I scrubbed the plates and pots.

Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh says, in Peace Is Every Step: “The dishes themselves and the fact that I am here washing them are miracles! If I am incapable of washing dishes joyfully, if I want to finish them quickly so I can go and have dessert, I will be equally incapable of enjoying my dessert.”

In my own book, Everyday Divine, I recommend turning everyday chores into prayers: “It doesn’t matter if you’re a stay-at-home mom, CEO, teacher, plumber, student, or retiree, certain things simply have to be done: washing dishes, making beds, mowing lawns, wiping counters. This is the most logical place to begin adding everyday prayer into your life. Why not make the most of all that time spent doing necessary tasks?”

It took the inconvenience of a broken dishwasher to remind me of my own instructions. As it turns out, St. Teresa of Avila was right: “God moves among the pots and pans.” Especially when warm, soapy water is involved.

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