tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-277695982012-01-16T12:13:41.544-06:00Wandering monks, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gyrovagues"> gyrovagues</a>, were vilified in the Rule of Benedict. I wanted to be the good kind of monk - a stable cenobite in a monastery under a Prioress. As I am an interfaith, Unitarian Universalist, it was amazing when a Benedictine monastery accepted me into their community. But then the sisters kicked me out again, saying I was "too different." Still called to monasticism, I am left searching.R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.comBlogger1051100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-53992812273398753222012-01-12T13:59:00.002-06:002012-01-16T12:13:41.553-06:00

I left full-time academics in 1999. It took a year of exploring the idea before I handed in my resignation, and another year and a half before I finally left. Academic institutions have a year-long hiring cycle and so it was professional to hand in a year's notice. Yet also, when it came down to it, I didn't want to go. My dean would ask me to stay for another term and I'd say yes. I might still

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-2192748668166757362012-01-09T11:48:00.000-06:002012-01-09T11:50:35.377-06:00

"The voice of the perpetrator says it is all your fault and you should give up in despair because what you did was so awful," my spiritual counselor said, "Believing you are hopeless and stuck is trauma thinking." "What would happen if you dismissed the voice listing all the things you've done wrong and just let yourself feel the feelings?" she asked. "Describe the feelings. Where in your

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-10052283729225452902012-01-08T13:27:00.002-06:002012-01-09T10:48:11.311-06:00

I don't like buying & owning & taking care of excess property, but go where things are sold & I get the twitchy desire to buy something. Anything. Even in the monastery, avarice constantly whispered in my ear, just like it does with everyone everywhere else. It really helped to have a tiny, monastic allowance to cover all my personal care products, clothes, etc (I entered seriously lacking

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-89706081595493491942011-09-21T12:00:00.000-05:002011-09-21T13:50:45.486-05:00

After a year or so of driving to work in Chicago, my mild-mannered, Wisconsin driver persona dissolved into road rage. I raced to lights, swerved in and out of traffic, and cursed any driver who slowed me down. Once as I was pulling out of a gas station, another driver careened in, swopping in front of me so I had to slam on the breaks. It wasn't much of a slam as I was hardly moving, but I

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-45055187548826530012011-08-15T19:08:00.001-05:002011-12-22T14:55:39.437-06:00

I don't relish the pain of dying, but I don't fear being dead. Because I remember being dead. Well, only that first, exhilarating, upward rush of release - that feels like all the graduations, birthdays and weddings rolled into a single, microsecond burst of joy. After that, I get nothing - as if an impenetrable lead curtain lies between me and further knowledge.It is enough.The deaths I remember

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-33351110861734117372011-08-11T17:17:00.002-05:002011-08-11T17:19:08.560-05:00

One of these days the people in the U.S. will rise up and toss down our presently growing corporate tyranny. It has happened before & will happen again. Just won't be so easy as a few rounds of voting. For one thing, the prevalence and ease of manipulating electronic voting machines (including visual scanners) makes it unlikely that votes for a sane state are counted Yet, even if the vote

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-83519654441935409512011-08-03T22:10:00.002-05:002011-08-03T22:21:41.437-05:00

"The number one reason to fast is that food tastes better when you are hungry." Augustine said that (more or less - I paraphrase 'cause I can't seem to locate the source). Augustine's not a guy I quote often given that he invented the doctrine of original sin, and blamed male lust on the women men lusted after. But I like this.And I find it comforting. Especially as a strange coterie of

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-58432381911638346172011-07-27T15:06:00.001-05:002011-08-03T22:23:42.371-05:00

My left hip is the most painful, and my right knee has hurt for the longest time. Yet in a recent Reiki session, those two places were completely open. Sometimes Reiki energy is sucked up by an off-kilter part of the body like dry earth thirsting for water. This was different. Energy flowed freely into my hip and knee - no obstruction at all - as if it was poured through empty space.What if

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-59959462690015206032011-07-20T14:45:00.000-05:002011-07-20T14:45:46.496-05:00

I'm falling down a deep chasm, grabbing desperately at branches, only to have my hand slide down, stripping the leaves off, and go on falling. There's the constant niggling of home repair when I have little energy and no money, the anxiety of poorly-paid, part-time employment, the suffering of chronic pain with no access to health care, and the struggle to give good care to my uncle."Why not

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-44447014947139328102011-07-18T12:58:00.008-05:002011-09-15T13:30:52.754-05:00

Every North American I've met on the spiritual path (including myself) was forced onto it by chronic pain - physical, emotional, or relational. For me it was all three.For 30-odd decades, I suffered from depression and terrible insomnia. During the worst of it, I slept less than four hours a night and often not at all. Suicidally depressed, I dragged myself through an unending land of sodden

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-22967093606829112062011-07-12T16:05:00.002-05:002011-07-27T15:17:02.875-05:00

I'm in a play on the recent, Wisconsin political uproar. It has witty, fast-paced, fake-Shakespearean language. Duels. A song & dance number. A cast of thousands (Okay, 14 actors play 47 characters, but it feels like thousands).I have a minor part. Occasionally I'm jealous of the rest of the cast with larger roles. Most of the time I'm grateful. I watch the other actors dance about the stage.

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-9322534854701853872011-07-10T14:45:00.006-05:002011-08-04T17:03:40.984-05:00

"Choose poverty in order to be present to the world." The sentence rose into my dreamy, mental drift during a guided meditation. Choose poverty to gain the freedom to be fully present.On a Friday in early March, 2005, I turned my credit cards over to the monastery's Formation Mistress and closed my bank accounts - on Sunday I was entering the novitiate. As I left the bank, I felt an

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-39787224279357569572011-05-12T13:40:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:44:33.152-05:00

Hear my cry, oh GodTurn your ear to me.Enfold me in love.Bring me relief.For you are faithful goodness,And know I am already yours.Do not judge me for my human weakness.While on earth, none of us can live the pure goodness that is you.Addictions pursue me.They have crushed me to the ground.They have turned my life dark.I am like the dead, long forgotten.Your spirit is faint within me.My heart

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-54659954872672480592011-05-02T21:08:00.000-05:002011-05-02T21:08:12.976-05:00

"Read to me on evolution," my uncle said as I came in Saturday. "Give her the book so she can read to me," he told the caregiver, shaking a slim volume on evolution that came with our subscription to Scientific American. "Your Ph.D. was on evolution. You should like this," he continued.After dinner I read to him from the book. Then he asked me to look him up on the computer. I did and found a

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-81000120608189491962011-04-25T20:16:00.003-05:002011-05-02T21:11:46.840-05:00

"Tell the Demon Should to can it," I exclaimed.My friend wanted to spend a nice Sunday afternoon lounging on the deck, but didn't think she should - never mind that she had just come through an emotional & physical wringer. Anyway, why does anyone need justification to lounge?"A voice that speaks in shoulds always takes you away from the divine," I continued. "Shoot, it takes years of practice

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-88849111439744243542011-04-15T10:13:00.002-05:002011-04-15T10:17:57.823-05:00

"Why not embrace the decay, relax into it," a spiritual friend of mine asked as I winged on about the toll of home ownership. Suddenly I remembered, I like weathering: crumbling brick, rusting metal, rotted wood. Not just like, love. I take pictures, collect pieces, sit for hours contemplating sun/wind/rain/snow working their weathering wonders across exposed surfaces... And gaze when I can into

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-3026908800055279032011-04-12T20:32:00.003-05:002011-04-13T23:46:27.339-05:00

With my first caregiver, every day brought a new, urgent crisis. Most required shopping to fix - and I loath shopping. Though for the $150 home visit from a lock smith only my fingers had to shop... And wasn't I lucky to discover that the elusive gas smell in the garage was the caretaker running her car with the garage door closed before this amazing habit led to disaster. "It cold," she said

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-56475591208398214242011-04-03T22:00:00.000-05:002011-04-03T22:01:08.521-05:00

Most of my life, I agreed with the proverb writer who said, "give me neither poverty nor riches, but just enough to satisfy my needs" (30:8). Too poor and one is overwhelmed by the body's needs, but too rich and one is obsessed with watching over possessions. Neither allow access to a sense of the divine.Objects have one, very intense desire: to disintegrate and come to rest in complete

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-49080568230884477432010-10-07T10:44:00.007-05:002010-10-07T11:11:51.179-05:00

Sparkling October, repeatedly drowning (and coming to shore again) after the triggering of old traumatic wounds, and two gospel quotes keep me company:1) "No one is good* but God alone." How comforting. We are not here to strive after perfection, because perfection is simply not available to us clay folk as long as we remain earth and spirit intertwined. (*The word translated as "good" in English

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-29626898454969221022010-01-07T11:49:00.003-06:002010-08-23T15:09:28.212-05:00

I don't normally post daily life stuff, but want to let my few loyal fans know why I've posted even less lately.I AM WRITING. Yes, I have stumbled free of the lifeless writing desert in which I wandered for the last few years - with a vengeance! Alleluia.My life took a delightful 180 last fall when I was cast in a local production by a new theatre company. (Preview and pics of rehearsal). Two

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-13458777321911996932009-12-10T13:36:00.005-06:002012-01-09T22:47:58.694-06:00

O God, You search me and You know me. You know my sitting down and my rising up. You attend my thoughts from afar. Your breath fans my road and my resting place. My whole journey is known to You. Before a word is on my tongue You know it through and through. From all sides You surround and fill me. You lay Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful - Too great for me to understand. Oh,

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-50648108893606825432009-09-18T19:27:00.003-05:002012-01-12T23:39:46.153-06:00

Happy is one who is compassionate toward those who lack. God will heal her in the day of her suffering. She will be upheld and brought to life. She will live happily on earth. Do not let us be consumed by the greed of addiction. Support us in our sickness. Catalyze our lethargy; turn us around. As for me, I cry, “Show Your care. Heal me for I have wandered away from You.” Fear speaks malice

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-38417186736752909572009-05-10T19:56:00.002-05:002009-05-11T16:27:24.670-05:00

Today I got my first tick of the season… and I’m engulfed by sadness, longing for monastic life.It's a sparkling, clouds sky chasing spring day. Well worth the odd tick to walk in slanting sun and deep shade woods or baby green grass, prairie fields. (‘Though imagining a tick in every little skin itch is an annoying side-effect.)Intellectually, I know that particular monastery with those sisters

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-18059048778524906992009-04-05T13:42:00.001-05:002009-04-05T13:45:06.559-05:00

I love April blizzards.Everything is in a rush toward summer: the grass greening, bulbs shooting up, the air softening. Then suddenly: a pause. Just for a moment. As soon as the snow stops falling, it melts and the rush to summer is back on.Yet, a pause…Like the pause at the top and bottom of each breath. Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out. Pause. (If you’ve never paid enough attention to your

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-57662505174786387202009-03-10T14:42:00.003-05:002009-03-10T18:39:49.795-05:00

In winter everything sleeps under cover – so quiet and clean, so empty. I love the sharp, black calligraphy of plant stems rearing above the snow: asters, milkweed, or regal prairie dock. But with March, the sordid dead come out. Cold rain runs uncaring through rotted leaves, sodden sticks and matted grass. Any lingering snow turns gritty dark from the decay heaved to its surface. It might as

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-82900216578075735442009-02-23T15:12:00.003-06:002009-04-05T14:01:47.380-05:00

"It is like a war zone in here," said a friend who is struggling to live authentically, centered in her sense of direct connection to God."Yes. And that is why it is a war zone out there," I instantly responded. Then I had to stop and think what I meant.To live authentically from one's center means being present to every pain that arises without trying to fix, suppress or anesthetize the hurt.

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-33877686069271279792009-02-21T19:42:00.001-06:002009-02-23T14:29:59.028-06:00

When the eight “demons” of the early desert monks mutated into medieval Europe’s seven deadly sins, acedia (the “noonday demon") was folded into sloth. A mistake. This demon deserves special recognition - it is so-o-o very active in it’s own unique way, especially in the lives of writers. And it can hardly be called "sloth" since, more often than not, it demands a deal of activity.Here is

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-91847241925629751102009-02-18T22:20:00.002-06:002009-02-18T22:24:53.934-06:00

19770 days an addict and 5 in recovery... more or less... today I used for 45 minutes... But I am committed. I will be clean.O.K, so maybe it's not fair to count addiction back to my baby years. But the seed behaviors (and feelings) that became addictions were already comfortably well worn before my earliest memories (at three). So how early does addiction start?All my addictions happen to be

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-69296899217963656392008-08-05T16:34:00.007-05:002008-12-09T12:21:41.639-06:00

“I’ve been play it safe, hiding behind words, but the truth is I love God,” a woman of my acquaintance recently declared.Another friend looked thoughtful then said, “Since God is in you, you can only love God as much as you love yourself.”Hmmmm.I struggle to love my “self” – this little, challenged, earthy, personality called “Elena” - yet still experience an all-encompassing sense of love with…

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-20571367432605072008-06-06T15:51:00.004-05:002011-04-13T23:20:54.675-05:00

All my adult life I’ve been terrified of something Rilke said in Letters to a Young Poet. Rilke tells the young man to discover if he must write or die. If yes, stop whining about the difficulties and “build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.” If not, great.

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-71681129636259549692008-05-14T14:29:00.005-05:002009-03-21T15:25:13.363-05:00

Last night, a group of UUs exploring Christianity got onto resurrection. One said she liked the idea (common in liberal Christian circles) that the resurrection is all of us. When we live as Jesus lived, when we work for social justice, when we try to respond with love to everyone, even our enemies, then we are the resurrected presence of Jesus on earth.Which reminded me of the Gospel verse, John

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-8397814591759006602008-05-06T15:39:00.009-05:002009-12-10T13:47:08.468-06:00

Psalm 97 has the line: “Fire marches out in front and burns up all resistance.” Another sister said this was like spiritual conversion. God’s fire burned our resistance. It felt awful, but opened us so God could move in.Each of the monastery’s prairies had a burn cycle, from every year to every five years. By some fluke, they were all burned when I was in the novitiate. That line from psalm 97

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-71155172222117616322008-05-05T11:28:00.003-05:002008-05-05T11:41:06.482-05:00

Despite the mini blizzard we had last week, it really is spring in south-central Wisconsin. After a long hiatus - about as long as since the last time I posted - I went to Liturgy of the Hours at the monastery, then took my dog for a ramble in the prairies. I pretty much stick to the paths, but...Last week, no ticks. This week, after no more than five minutes in ankle-high grass: five

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-70045861445392509672008-03-18T14:38:00.006-05:002008-12-09T12:21:44.985-06:00

Winter is my favorite season, but as I chipped at the ice of the last freezing rain/ice storm/blizzard of February, even I thought, “Enough is enough.” So for once I sympathized with those burdened by snow and cold. Recently, I heard such a person say she really disliked the loss of familiar markers and paths.It had never before crossed my mind that this might be painful, because I’m delighted

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-25588584664073531402008-03-05T12:02:00.000-06:002008-12-09T12:21:45.318-06:00

In “Prophetic nonviolence: Toward a Unitarian Universalist theology of war and peace," Paul Rasor notes that belief in nonviolence is theologically grounded. Proponents are convinced intuitively in the heart, not through rational argument.This world view often results from direct, spiritual experience. I had just such a religious conversion. That's why I know I must learn to replace violence with

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-64352335373390320502008-03-04T11:35:00.002-06:002008-12-09T12:21:45.537-06:00

My attention was caught by a line near the beginning of Paul Rasor’s interesting article, “Prophetic nonviolence: Toward a Unitarian Universalist theology of war and peace” (UUWorld Spring Issue).“The just war tradition… originated in the Catholic Church during the fourth century CE.”“Ah ha!” I thought, demonic, amateur-historian’s gleam in my eye. “What major, MAJOR event happened in fourth

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-90834362397363081602008-03-01T20:20:00.005-06:002008-12-09T12:21:45.701-06:00

In the Gospel of Thomas, the disciples ask Jesus, “Do you want us to fast? How shall we pray? Shall we give alms? What diet shall we observe?”He answers, “Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate.”Wow! That's all it takes?“Do not do what you hate” has been interpreted as another wording for “Don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want done to yourself.” But I imagine it means don't do anything

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-130488962174083642008-02-28T13:34:00.001-06:002009-12-10T13:45:57.931-06:00

Most cursing psalms are laments or cries for social justice (or both). As such, the sentiments they express are quite familiar to modern ears. “I’m deeply wounded. The pain is killing me. I did nothing to deserve this. Those who hurt me are arrogant and greedy. Vicious, wicked people, they take advantage of the weak and poor, wantonly destroying anyone they can. Stop them. Make them nothing.

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-40953919647253400392008-02-27T14:50:00.002-06:002009-12-10T13:45:57.931-06:00

Recently, I’ve been writing about the cursing psalms. Then I read this quote on the portal page of MYTH*ING LINKS:“Almost all of us are gasping for more time. We are starving. And all of the devices and techniques that our inventive culture offers only increase the yearning for time - like the food of Hell that makes the eater hungrier. Our cell phones, computers and fax machines and the

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-33691616757008089482008-02-22T14:24:00.009-06:002008-12-09T12:21:46.093-06:00

Lent was not on my radar this year. Not that it’s ever been big in my life. In fact, I had my first Lent in 2003 just months before entering the monastery. That year I gave up children’s books - my most persistent addiction. I wanted a clean wind to blow through the space left by giving them up. Which actually happened.A good (Catholic) friend said that Lent was a chance to identify one thing

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-89431847781534969162008-02-12T13:28:00.003-06:002008-12-09T12:21:46.310-06:00

In The Demons’ HouseTo experience a "demon house," you don't need some just-bought, never-gonna-fix-‘er-upper, much less one inhabited by spooky, little girls. Nah. For demon encounters of the spiritual kind, the most ordinary and uneventful of houses will do.Most of my life, I had the romantic notion that desert hermits ran to stark, marginal environments for the quiet. Only it turns out peace

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-18687598242347636152008-02-11T13:00:00.000-06:002008-02-11T13:13:04.990-06:00

I have already posted twice about my favorite desert mystic, Amma Syncletica. She offers an amazing, no-nonsense voice for spiritual practice - with heart. So here are few more of her sayings. For background go to Amma Syncletica, Part I. The Story, and I posted others of her sayings in the context of my experience at Amma Syncletica, Part II. Some Sayings.You’ll notice that Syncletica (like

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-79198539484958274502008-02-09T12:09:00.000-06:002008-12-09T12:21:46.601-06:00

“Keep Death before your eyes.” It's a common enough spiritual injunction. But the point of meditating on death is not to feel solemn or gloomy. It is a prescription for joy.Like many spiritual practices that seem dour – to those who haven’t tried them – this is but one more, deceptively simple and very effective means of achieving what we seek: happiness, freedom, peace, and love of our neighbors

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-56547826459031860052008-02-07T15:47:00.002-06:002009-04-28T22:02:25.792-05:00

Warnings not to take candy from strangers don’t help most victimized children, as anyone who is paying attention knows. Because the vast majority are sexually attacked by people they know: fathers, stepfathers, uncles, older brothers, and family friends. Yet, some children are raped by strangers - even if they constitute a small percentage of the total.Such was I. (If you’d like to read a story

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-56423035472626325272008-02-06T10:37:00.000-06:002008-12-09T12:21:47.102-06:00

This story was based on my recovered memories of childhood rape. Written in a child's voice, it was originally published in 1991 in Calyx, Art and Literature by Women (13:72-74).* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Two years ago when I was five, my family went camping in the fall. It was really sunny out. Everything smelled like fall and leaves were coming down. I had to go to the toilet. The toilets

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-41832312111994276732008-02-05T12:54:00.002-06:002009-04-28T22:24:49.775-05:00

In Christian history there is this long tussle between those who insist that we get to God through good works (and a good life) and those who insist God enters us through grace alone – no works of ours having made a bit of difference. That last was one of Luther’s big deals. It seems he felt so crappy about himself that all the good work, good living and consuming prayer he practiced didn’t help.

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-73414926293055107752008-02-03T15:15:00.013-06:002011-01-09T17:18:27.480-06:00

Neither of my friends, Ana and Jim, survived in the end, although they both lived a long time trying.On Valentine’s Day, 1991, Ana put a plastic bag over her head, lay down on her bed and suffocated. She was 39. In the winter of 1992, Jim put a gun to his temple and blew a hole in his brain. He was 59.Technically, they aren’t “survivors,” but how long does one have to struggle on to qualify as

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-58739926203209063592008-02-02T15:32:00.000-06:002008-02-10T15:17:50.360-06:00

One of the greatest Sufi mystics was Rabi’a al-'Adawiyya who lived in Basra, Iraq in the second half of the 8th century AD. She left no written works. Most of the information about her comes from Farid ud-Din 'Attar who described her as “on fire with love and longing” and “an unquestioned authority to her contemporaries.”The story goes that she was sold into slavery to a hard master. Instead of

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-82002745284205895872008-02-01T18:50:00.000-06:002008-12-09T12:21:47.496-06:00

Wow, it was almost two months ago when I last posted.A few days after that post, I began three weeks of house sitting in a place without Internet access. I could get on at a nearby library, yet somehow just didn’t take advantage, instead falling easily into web-withdrawal. But the house sit ended in early January .Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve chosen disconnection.In the monastery, I

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-87327633478726983892007-12-12T22:16:00.000-06:002007-12-12T22:32:31.907-06:00

All three synoptic gospels have a version of the instruction to take nothing, but go out and heal. But there are some interesting variations in these passages (note: translations from the RSV). For example, is payment justified and should only worthy households be entered? And of course, there is the increased foaming at the mouth in historically successive gospels - as I pointed out in my last

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-12512795179747781782007-12-10T23:00:00.000-06:002007-12-11T12:47:33.569-06:00

My last post was a message I heard as I did lectio on the phrase "shake off the dust that is on your feet" from Mark 6.10-11: “Where you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. And if any place will not receive you and they refuse to hear you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet…”Following is a little analysis of the way various gospels interpreted the saying.All

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-28391785368692772382007-12-10T22:15:00.000-06:002007-12-10T23:10:34.049-06:00

Mark 6.8-11: “He charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not put on two tunics. And he said to them, "Where you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. And if any place will not receive you and they refuse to hear you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet…”In lectio on this

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-50965434074756180562007-12-08T13:46:00.000-06:002008-12-09T12:21:48.070-06:00

In my recent struggles with writer's block, I’ve occasionally thought of blogging about it - while lying in bed unable to get up. So when Shelby Meyerhoff of Looking For Faith pointed me to a post about it on Facilitating Paradox, I thought, “Now’s the time.” … Either that or leave an annoyingly long comment on the other blog.When I was 30 years younger, I smugly (and often) declared, "

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-32900699143990147002007-12-07T20:10:00.000-06:002007-12-08T15:16:46.969-06:00

A 14th century, English mystic, Julian of Norwich faces a Universalist dilemma.Why Doesn’t God Prevent Sin?Julian wrote, “I wondered why, by the great foreseeing wisdom of God, the beginning of sin was not prevented. Therefore, I mourned and sorrowed, without reason and discretion.” Then Jesus spoke with “complete tenderness, showing no manner of blame,” saying, “It is behoovely that there should

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-85082328860659087342007-12-05T17:52:00.000-06:002008-12-09T12:21:48.297-06:00

Julian was a 14th Century, English mystic with an uncompromisingly universalist vision. Hers was a joyful, compassionate God of infinite, mothering love - in direct opposition to the prevailing Catholic doctrine that plagues, wars and other suffering were an angry God's punishment for sin.Julian saw that we cause our own suffering out of ignorance, sin has no ultimate reality, and there is no

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-75980627757634115822007-11-10T15:24:00.001-06:002008-12-09T12:21:48.560-06:00

I said I’d post on spiritual women’s voices to help people who want to undo their bias for citing men’s voices. I put out one post and had two others almost ready to go. Then my blog went silent for over three weeks.What happened?I had a long-running virus left me too exhausted to do anything but what was absolutely necessary. Only something in that explanation doesn’t ring true. I also entered a

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-16295291947375018752007-10-09T12:16:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:48.731-06:00

from a lectio on Luke 10: 39 - 42Martha was overloaded preparing a feast for Jesus and his followers at her home. It was galling when Mary, her sister, sat lazily at the feet of the Rabbi rather than helping as she should. So Martha went out and complained, asking Jesus to send Mary to the kitchen.Jesus answered, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things but one thing is

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-28901559927330660992007-10-08T01:07:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:49.055-06:00

Lal Ded was one of the great Indian mystics. She was born in 14th century Kashmir during a time of social, economic and religious turmoil. Political dominance was shifting among three great religions: Hinduism, Sufism and Buddhism. With direct, ordinary language, Lal Ded wrote teaching songs, or Vakhs, that spoke to adherents of all three religions. She had many names - demonstrating her appeal

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-25990906151502188272007-10-07T13:13:00.000-05:002007-10-08T18:33:43.962-05:00

Hey, are you sexist? No? So how many spiritual women do you regularly cite?If the answer is “not many,” perhaps you’d like a little education.It’s bugged me for years that at my large, liberal, anti-ever-ism, UU church, women’s words are missing from most services. Among the few readings by women, the same people appear over and over (Mary Oliver being #1). This suggests much unconscious

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-45384512938735255662007-10-05T14:00:00.000-05:002007-10-05T13:59:20.126-05:00

All my life I've been inundated by the kinds of experiences no one in my world ever talked about. So when I overheard someone call me a mystic, I easily accepted the label for myself. (Interestingly, that person was the spirited UU minister who agreed to baptize me.)Yet in The Coming of the Cosmic Christ, Mathew Fox insists that all humans have mystical perceptions, and I agree with Fox. Maybe I

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-90135389916411525902007-10-02T14:29:00.001-05:002008-12-09T12:21:49.329-06:00

I used to think a myth was a story that was not true. Myths might be amusing or illuminating, but only children believed them. Three-degreed scientists, such as myself, did not “believe.” We relied on empirical data for our explanations. Yet I now realize all people on earth live by deeply held myths - because “myth” has an older meaning than “fictional story.”Myths are those central concepts

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-19172849864555866932007-09-25T15:13:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:49.968-06:00

If you would understand that “God’s Word is in all creation” (Hildegard of Bingen) “study nature not books;” (Louise Agassiz) “entreat the trees and rocks to preach the Dharma... ask rice fields and gardens for the truth.” (Eithei Dogen)When you “steep yourself in the sea of matter, bathe in its fiery waters,” (Teilhard de Chardin) you will discover that “the earth shall be full of the knowledge

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-32312523362679656922007-09-21T18:03:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:50.388-06:00

Last Friday in the dog park it suddenly struck me: I don't have to work so hard finding people who want to form an interfaith, monastic community. My only job is to clear myself, coming to live more and more out of the joy-love-light that is my true, inner self. Anything else that is needed - including community - will follow. Naturally.Whew! What a relief.(Ok, so maybe to you that conclusion

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-18288686787102879172007-09-16T20:44:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:50.563-06:00

I thought people might like to see the vows I wrote for my baptism. I would still affirm them today, but I might use fewer capital letters and less orthodox sounding language. smile. Only the Eucharist one seems a bit odd now - although it made sense at the time. But I carefully said nothing about how often. For about a year, Christian members of my UU congregation created a lovely Eucharist once

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-43124538747734089362007-09-14T12:42:00.000-05:002008-02-06T12:26:05.763-06:00

This story is excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey. As it is long, I’ve broken it into serial posts.Meeting Jesus for the Very First TimeThe girl was just ten, sitting on an overturned boat half buried in sand, kicking bare heels and sucking a stick of barley sugar. It was a worn, old boat with great gaps in its timbers. The girl called it her playhouse. It made a good perch

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-88661875154243519622007-09-02T15:53:00.001-05:002009-04-08T19:32:48.806-05:00

This story is excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey. As it is long, I’ve broken it into serial posts.In the Throes of Divine IndifferenceThis would never have happened if I hadn’t been “called” into a Benedictine monastery. Which in itself was odd. A call to religious life had never been high on my list of priorities.It occurred on a cool, clear May

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-19241282107275641902007-08-30T16:59:00.000-05:002008-02-06T12:26:05.765-06:00

This story is excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey. As it is long, I’ve broken it into serial posts.Stumbling On Into ChristianitySince childhood I’d often seen a tantalizing light that radiated from every ordinary thing: tree branches, trash on sidewalks, weathered fence posts, people’s faces. It wasn’t exactly visible, but was like a sheath of radiance that I “saw” with “

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-51527972088490012492007-08-23T13:03:00.000-05:002008-02-06T12:26:05.766-06:00

Excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey.So That's BaptismMy UU minister had been raised as some kind of Christian, although she had long since left that identity. But she suggested books that might help me find a Universalist and Unitarian Christianity. The first was Stephen Mitchell’s The Gospel According to Jesus.Like our Unitarian-leaning third president, Thomas Jefferson,

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-71011690970543327502007-08-20T13:51:00.000-05:002008-02-06T12:26:05.767-06:00

Excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey.Help! Those Psalms Are Yucky!The sisters needed a second year of talk about my call before they agreed to the last step: a “discernment” retreat at the monastery. After that they’d have to make a decision to take me or say no. Of course, it was supposed to be a mutual exploration, but my heart had never wavered. Neither had my doubts. I’d

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-51128261726222816012007-08-16T20:32:00.000-05:002008-02-06T12:26:05.769-06:00

Excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey.SurrenderAt 3:00 on the afternoon of the retreat, I joined several sisters in a conference room for a guided meditation. Afternoon sun poured through large, west-facing windows. We all shifted to get comfortable and closed our eyes as the oldest sister told us to relax and take deep breaths. Then she asked us to imagine meeting Jesus.At

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-20016829867136689072007-08-15T11:42:00.001-05:002009-04-08T19:57:37.753-05:00

Excerpted from a forthcoming book on my monastic journey. Leaving All My PlayhousesI decided not to tell anyone that I’d seen Jesus, afraid of what talking would do. Cynical voices were already murmuring in the background of my mind, scornfully deriding my “vision” as “grandiose nonsense,” “self-centered delusion,” and “just imagination.” If I opened my mouth, they might take over.But that Friday

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-4345441501369449522007-08-14T13:37:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:50.903-06:00

“Remember, people are essentially good beings looking for safety to be who they are,” a friend sent in her 2006 Christmas message.An important question for spiritual communities, and spiritual seekers, is this: where is the balance between group needs and individual inspiration? Can a healthy monastic community grow individual gifts - even though some will go against the plans of superiors,

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-47500153597979548502007-08-12T15:32:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:51.092-06:00

One of the books I took into the monastery was Radical Spirit. My first blog - now folded into this one - was inspired by a quote in that book, in an essay by Georg Buehler. He bemoaned the lack of monasteries for open-minded spiritual seekers of no particular tradition.I fit the no particular tradition bill - despite a nascent and eccentric Christianity. I did not doubt my call to community - it

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-84221164992316267182007-07-31T21:36:00.001-05:002008-02-06T19:50:12.252-06:00

Most of these quotes are taken from the translation of Syncletica's Life by Elizabeth Bryson Bongie. An icon of Syncletica is here.There is a familiar refrain about the difficulty of the spiritual road, especially at the beginning. Syncletica said it in a way that appeals to me as a life-long camper: “For those who are making their way toward God there is at first great struggle and effort, but

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-22040878182810571982007-07-31T18:19:00.001-05:002008-06-06T18:56:34.383-05:00

In fourth and fifth century Egypt, the desert was peppered with folks renouncing regular life in order to empty out and find God. Although the best-known hermits were men, there may have actually been more women practitioners. (see Laura Swan’s The Forgotten Desert Mothers)My favorite desert mother was Syncletica. The written record of her life was, of course, obscured - although a few of her

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-88570796293700794082007-07-30T14:02:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:51.411-06:00

I want to better distinguish between the voice(s) of my personality self (or ego or whatever you call it) and those from my core Self (that I call my soul). Then I'll be able to note, observe and unhook personality desires when they arise, rather than letting them rule me. By living more out of my soul - which is a lovely, dancing-joy light - I can use my personality traits to do my work in the

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-64673081082843487682007-07-25T14:44:00.001-05:002009-04-08T20:02:42.430-05:00

(I'm feeling a little rant-ish as I write this post. I guess that means I have lots more work to do healing the hurts from my monastic sojourn. Or maybe July humidity is getting me down.)When I first went to retreats at the monastery, I was an eccentric pantheist and universalist. I'd explored many religions and was a member of a UU congregation. I heard the sisters speak glowingly of their

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-25714202624052942662007-07-24T16:19:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:52.086-06:00

The monastery I was in demanded novices’ complete, instantaneous and wordless obedience to the old sisters. Our existing self-knowledge and the promptings of our individual spirits were dismissed as ego.It really sent the formation mistress into a rage if you tried to explain yourself when she berated you for one thing or another. Eyes steely, she’d snap, “When I speak to you, you just say ‘Thank

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-81662959208896462212007-07-21T15:39:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:52.376-06:00

In my recent posts on addiction to overwork, I've expressed the POV of a childless professional. American professionals generally have two choices: work 60-80 hour weeks or don't stay in the profession. Although college professors make much, much less than similarly overworked professionals like lawyers, doctors or corporate managers, they are paid well enough.Low and minimum wage earners who

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-15927071247878204442007-07-21T13:00:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:52.655-06:00

CNN.com has a nice little article on the ravages of workaholism. All my years in college and graduate school, that was me. I could insist that I liked my work, even loved it, but that didn't make my 24/7 work attitude healthy.I was at my most workaholic as a college professor. By then, I no longer enjoyed excessive work. I'd begun to realize there was more to life, but didn't know how to break

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-10701823015331339172007-07-19T13:45:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:52.935-06:00

Much like AA's "serenity" or Buddhist "vulnerable heart," Christian "humility" is a gentle, open-heartedness that accepts oneself, and others, as we really are. This naturally leads to experiencing God as unconditional love, and an outpouring of love and compassion towards others.In monasteries like the one I was in, a lot of lip service was paid to humility. Yet my experience was that

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-22957924216562748572007-07-18T10:01:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:53.094-06:00

I loved living by the monastery's schedule, although it meant a constant struggle to get enough sleep (and to get up) as I am an insomniac night person. When things were going badly and my resistance was high, I'd grumble that I ought to leave just to get some sleep. But most of the time I found the schedule energizing.Not only did it ensure time for daily meditation and prayer, it was vital to

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-74168951430490293882007-07-15T21:13:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:53.240-06:00

There is an old retreat joke that often comes up when people struggle with contemplative issues. “We should be called human doings not human beings,” someone says.Monastics are as susceptible as anyone else to social pressures, as well as the inner drive toward distracting activity. So like any other people, monastics can find one excuse after another to stay occupied. Good works make especially

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-76340589185059936272007-07-13T15:57:00.000-05:002007-07-25T14:44:11.326-05:00

A few weeks ago, I listened to a speech by Abbot Primate Notker Wolf "the highest representative of Benedictine men and women worldwide." He had been asked to speak on "ecumenism in the 21st century." Being as I am almost entirely deaf to the nuances of Catholic culture, I may have misunderstood him, but what I thought I heard was very interesting.Most of his speech argued that calls for

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-67727516217361427072007-07-12T15:17:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:53.409-06:00

In his Rule of monastic life, Benedict required the Prioress to be a dictator, but with radical balances. She was to be a living example of humility. Above any worldly concern, she was to place helping all the community members grow in love. She was to respond to each member as an individual, understanding that the response that helped one might damage another. She was to consider every member’s

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-28291934811276206642007-07-11T16:12:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:53.704-06:00

I mentioned in a previous post that last May I went to four dharma talks by the Dalai Lama. Before saying that all faiths had useful things to offer the world (though only understanding of emptiness and no-self led to liberation form suffering), he said it was dangerous to switch from your birth tradition. The big danger was confusion. Since every religion’s concepts grew out of cultural

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-77919974997100623052007-07-06T17:21:00.001-05:002009-12-10T13:45:57.932-06:00

When I first entered the monastery, my biggest struggle was with the liturgy: a thrice daily chanting of the psalms - with scripture readings from the Catholic lectionary.Although the monastery's early-morning start was a physical challenge for an insomniac night person, I found that a day punctuated by three chant liturgies and two meditations was incredibly invigorating. And I loved the

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-90777461746927770322007-07-03T11:46:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:54.217-06:00

You may not be able to guess from reading my posts, but I belong to a Unitarian Universalist congregation. I joined a Unitarian congregation because I like inclusive, interfaith worship, but I was born a Universalist. (a brief summary of these beliefs in Christianity history)I simply know there can be no such thing as “hell.” I can see every living being shining with radiant, inner light. Every

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-40973552584496478032007-07-02T11:38:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:54.423-06:00

I was sure I must have been the only UU to have entered a Benedictine monastery while remaining a UU, but I recently learned at least one other UU woman has done the same.I had an oddly mixed reaction to this news. My first response was "Waaaa! I wanted to be the only one." But almost immediately that was replaced by excitement. If there are others, my call to Christian monastic community was not

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-84926991285607963832007-05-15T14:32:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:54.558-06:00

About a week ago, I attended four dharma talks by the Dalai Lama. Immediately afterwards I went to a weekend retreat with a well-known Benedictine teacher.Before I get into the topic of this post, let me say that both were illuminating. The combination applied directly to my personal journey and was very healing. No one will be surprised if I say that the Dalai Lama blew me away - in the very

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-34451409180255558812007-04-12T14:59:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:54.716-06:00

I met a lot of Benedictines, from my community and others. Outside the cloister, guests tended to receive a show of preternatural serenity from the monastics. Inside the cloister, this behavior evaporated as if everyone took their monastics habit off when away from public scrutiny.It slowly dawned that Benedictine life had not brought these folks anywhere in particular. They weren’t good or bad,

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-22635100533161137842007-04-12T13:00:00.000-05:002008-12-09T12:21:54.885-06:00

It's been two and a half years since I was closed out of the monastery I loved.I entered because a thick cord of living light tied my heart to the place. This cord sang through my being with dancing joy. I could only follow where it led. Besides, this call was an answer to my prayer to be emptied so I could shine the divine light more clearly.Be careful what you pray for. You might get it.This

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-25329480325008271802007-04-10T15:04:00.000-05:002007-07-05T13:22:28.951-05:00

Another woman rejected by a Benedictine monastery suggested we need a "post-modern" community. That sounded good, or at least interesting, but what does it mean?Wikipedia first notes that the term “post-modern” defies easy definition, then says post-modern expression: Is a reaction against grand, absolute values, & establishments. Accepts that all communication contains myth, metaphor,

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-35447307621034657342007-04-09T10:52:00.000-05:002007-07-05T13:13:04.707-05:00

A class had a cocoon in an aquarium. They watched the butterfly emerge. The butterfly struggled and struggled. It hurt to watch. The butterfly rested in exhaustion after getting partway out. When the teacher left the room, some boys decided to help the butterfly. One carefully cut the edge of the cocoon. The butterfly flopped onto the floor of the aquarium. Only it looked wrong. The body was a

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-48752179629223832912006-11-18T13:42:00.000-06:002007-07-05T13:21:32.280-05:00

One monastic aspiration is transparency – behaving the same everywhere, alone or with others, not hiding “shameful” parts or preferentially displaying “good” parts. As one old desert Abba, Poemen, said, “Teach your mouth to say that which you have in your heart.”A strict divide between lay people and “professional religious” grew up in Christianity after it became a state religion in the 300s.

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-34801323729661647312006-11-18T13:40:00.000-06:002007-07-05T13:21:32.281-05:00

In monastic community does there have to be a strict divide between “members” and “guests?” What would be the advantages and difficulties of more permeable membership – if people came and went, moved from core to peripheral or vice versa? What about partnerships? Could a community hold through the tensions of forming or dissolving pairs?

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-66319256709491015932006-11-05T12:10:00.001-06:002009-12-10T13:45:57.933-06:00

My soul thirsts for God, the living God... Why do you despair, my soul?... Deep calls to deep / In the roar of your waters.In biblical cosmology, the land is a crust floating on the waters of earth and the sky is a membrane holding the waters of heaven. During lectio on psalm 42, I heard "the deeps of earth call to the deeps of heaven." Or the core substance and being of earth resonates in

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-65208561601790727422006-11-02T10:00:00.000-06:002008-02-06T12:27:00.561-06:00

Written in contrition after derailing a group conversation with an angry explosion.Pride has consumed me.A great lion tosses his royal mane.I open my mouthAll that comes out is a roar.Shy people cower.Kind people shake their heads.Other proud lions intensify the brawl.Agreeing, we stand side by side.Our declaration blasts the raftersScatters paper and dialogue to the floor.Disagreeing, we stand

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-91815053436682579552006-10-30T10:28:00.000-06:002008-02-06T12:27:00.562-06:00

Coming out of a time of grief, on a Sunday, after meditating at 6 a.m. then walking in October sunshine with a friend.How great is my longing for You:A desert thirstA consuming fireA single raindrop trailing down the window.I plead and nothing happens.I rant and nothing happens.I light candles, burn incense, sit still:Nothing happens.Discouraged, my heart contracts.Mundane specks of earthly

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27769598.post-25509100382769684442006-10-02T13:19:00.000-05:002008-02-06T12:27:00.564-06:00

Written after nine months of daily psalm chanting had shattered biblical literalism while the novitiate undermined monastic conviction.In pain I cry out to You.Who else would listen to me?Enemies surround me.Beasts prowl my street.They dig up my garden andrun through my houseas if they owned the whole place.Pride, that ravening lion, eats my heart andanger like wild dogs tears my flesh.My stomach

R. Elena Tabachnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878565161601629949noreply@blogger.com0