A contemplative day morning to dusk, I return to the window. Heavenly light casting shadows, I center my heart’s attention on the one thing Tree in eternal standstill. Earth spinning on its axis, in and out of daylight Subtle changes, shifting shadows. The one thing is still the one thing. Cloaked with leaves from green to golden yellow or in winter, naked The tree is still the tree. Light and dark, a blanket of snow and shadow branches. Insights shifting with the shadow. Perspective is everything. Shadow deepens, lengthens, lightens, disappears. For shadow, for me, the Source of Light is essential. The only lasting truth is change.
“Wonders are the signpost to the Wonderful. Wonders will not cease while time keeps unfolding. Time left ahead assures us of wonder’s returning.” –excerpt from Ceaseless Wonders, Ana Lisa de Jong, Living Tree Poetry, February 2025
Wonder captured me the other day as I was working in the kitchen. Our first measurable snowfall didn’t happen until February this year in southeast Nebraska. The sunlight on a backyard birch tree elicited the most intricate artwork on the fresh snow. I returned a time or two to see how the shadow shifted, deciding to make it contemplative prayer throughout the day.
It was truly a dream to visit the sacred sites of Iona on a Celtic spirituality pilgrimage to Ireland and Scotland. Getting to Iona is a pilgrimage in itself, yet the journey has been made countless times since the 7th century. Most tourists visit for only a day, like we did, traveling from the coastal town of Oban, Scotland to Craignure on the Isle of Mull, then taking an hour-long bus ride on winding, narrow roads to the other side of the island arriving at the village of Fionnphort. From there, a foot ferry delivers you to the island of Iona. The day’s last ferry departs around 4:30 in the afternoon for the two-and-a-half-hour trip back to Oban. If the ferry is missed at the end of the day, staying overnight on the island is your only option.
Both the ferry and bus ride provided tremendous views. Our bus needed to occasionally pull over to the side of the narrow roads when meeting other vehicles.
Iona is the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland where St. Columba established an Abbey in 563. It might seem like a lot to get to this holy isle, only three miles long and one and a half miles wide, but walking the ground where St. Columba did 1500 years ago, where Benedictines established a monastery in 1204, the place where artists, sculptors, and writers have been inspired for centuries, is a holy, singular experience.
While I longed for more time to wander the beaches and secret coves, the time allowed for visits only to the most well-known sites closest to the ferry landing. Still, our pilgrimage group was able to participate in a meaningful community prayer for peace and reconciliation at the Abbey and visit the Nunnery ruins, St. Oran’s chapel, museums, gardens, and quaint shops including a bookstore, a “must-see” destination on my mini-pilgrimage to Iona.
Months earlier, when I was planning the sites to visit in Ireland, a Benedictine Oblate friend, poet and photographer, Pat Leyko Connelly, reached out about some of her favorite experiences from her trips to Ireland. Pat and I connected through our shared love of Benedictine and Celtic spirituality, and she was generous in sharing tips about places to see in Ireland. When she learned I would also visit Oban and Iona in Scotland, she exclaimed that I must meet with her poet friend Kenneth Steven. Pat could not say enough wonderful things about his poetry. She also hoped I could bring back his newest book “Atoms of Delight” from the bookstore on Iona for her. Kenneth and I exchanged several messages and hoped to connect when I was there (unfortunately, our schedules didn’t allow it, but hopefully there is a next time!)
Visiting a bookstore is one of my favorite things to do, and I was just as excited about browsing book titles on this holy ground as praying in the abbey. The little bookstore was at the end of the walking trail, Sràid nam Marbh (‘Street of the Dead’,) where pilgrims have been walking for centuries. I quickly found THE book, took a photo of it to send to Pat, found another book by John Philip Newell for my friend Ellen, packed both of them away for my journey back to Oban, and later loaded them with all the souvenirs and other books I had purchased for the journey back home.
Being Benedictine 