By Thomas Merton
A 365 day-by-day with inspirational and provocative choices from the journals of Thomas Merton mixed with drawings and images by way of Merton.
This quantity of day-by-day thought from Thomas Merton attracts from Merton's journals and papers to provide, on a daily basis, a seasonally applicable and thought-provoking perception or observation.
Each month will commence with one in every of Merton's pleasant pen-and-ink drawings or one in all his dependent black-and-white photographs.
Read Online or Download A Year with Thomas Merton: Daily Meditations from His Journals PDF
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Extra resources for A Year with Thomas Merton: Daily Meditations from His Journals
What matters most is secret, not said. This begins to be the most real and the most certain dimension. I had been secretly worried about my writing, especially on peace, getting condemned. Nothing to worry about. Whenever I am really wrong, it will be easy enough to change. But it is strange that such things should be regarded with suspicion. I know this is wrong. Weary of blindness, of this blindness that afﬂicts all men, but most of all of the blindness afﬂicting those who ought to see. 194–95 17 j a n ua r y 1 8 An Ecology of Silence The new bells sound wonderful from the woods.
There is always a chance to step over the line and enter into simple and contemplative union with God. I get plenty of time alone before the Blessed Sacrament. I have gotten into the habit of walking up and down under the trees, or along the way of the cemetery, in the presence of God. And yet I am such a fool that I can consent to imagine that in some other situation I would quickly advance to a high degree of prayer. If I went anywhere else, I would almost certainly be much worse off than here.
It is really illogical that I should get temptations to run off to another monastery and to another Order of monks. There is always a chance to step over the line and enter into simple and contemplative union with God. I get plenty of time alone before the Blessed Sacrament. I have gotten into the habit of walking up and down under the trees, or along the way of the cemetery, in the presence of God. And yet I am such a fool that I can consent to imagine that in some other situation I would quickly advance to a high degree of prayer.