In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few.
Shunryu Suzuki - Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind
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To behold a tree To behold a tree Is prayer, and more so than Mass Poorly attended, Mind distracted, not present To the presence of the One. |
In Memoriam Mutti Elisabeth Weber Steiner
(1839-1910)
Lilacs are budding
Honoring a mother’s grave
Ringed by six children
She bore and tendered in life
And watches over in death.
Your grave bears three stands:
A tall monument with your name,
Absent its crucifix;
A large round iron planter,
A granite block inscribed MOTHER.
You were spared anguish
Of knowing your land of birth
Was ravaged in war--
The Great War to end all wars--
And its subsequent, worse war.
The old gnarled lilac
Breathes hope in a place where death
Appears triumphant:
Death renders death impotent,
Its temporal power spent.
The rugged, aged bark
Reaching twisted from the earth
Into the boundless sky
Protecting an inner life
Budding forth undefeated.
Last year’s dried sheaths clutch
The lilac branches, pointing
Skyward silently;
Pale green buds longing to bloom--
Death and new life together.
In a resting place,
Sheridan’s cemetery,
Death comes to one’s mind--
Lifeless bodies were interred.
Here life swallows death unseen.
You were not buried,
Mutti, but your body was;
Here you’re remembered,
Honored for your mother’s love:
Into love you surrendered.
You’re awaiting me
In a realm unseen, unknown
Yet felt to be near--
Not beneath my grounded feet
Nor floating above my head.
Silently you call
And in stillness I sense you
Stirring up my thoughts
Clothed in peace, drawing nearer,
Outstretched and bidding me, “Komm!”
How do I know you
Whom my eyes have never seen
Nor ears heard your voice?
I know your motherly love,
And honor your outpouring.
To die is to come
To enter into deathless life
Mind rising on wings of love
Into what is always here
Ever presenting itself.
Lilacs will soon bloom
Lavender or pink, fragrance
Of glorious life on earth
Honoring those who blossomed
Into beauty beyond speech.
—Wm. P. McKane
17-19 April 2020
(1839-1910)
Lilacs are budding
Honoring a mother’s grave
Ringed by six children
She bore and tendered in life
And watches over in death.
Your grave bears three stands:
A tall monument with your name,
Absent its crucifix;
A large round iron planter,
A granite block inscribed MOTHER.
You were spared anguish
Of knowing your land of birth
Was ravaged in war--
The Great War to end all wars--
And its subsequent, worse war.
The old gnarled lilac
Breathes hope in a place where death
Appears triumphant:
Death renders death impotent,
Its temporal power spent.
The rugged, aged bark
Reaching twisted from the earth
Into the boundless sky
Protecting an inner life
Budding forth undefeated.
Last year’s dried sheaths clutch
The lilac branches, pointing
Skyward silently;
Pale green buds longing to bloom--
Death and new life together.
In a resting place,
Sheridan’s cemetery,
Death comes to one’s mind--
Lifeless bodies were interred.
Here life swallows death unseen.
You were not buried,
Mutti, but your body was;
Here you’re remembered,
Honored for your mother’s love:
Into love you surrendered.
You’re awaiting me
In a realm unseen, unknown
Yet felt to be near--
Not beneath my grounded feet
Nor floating above my head.
Silently you call
And in stillness I sense you
Stirring up my thoughts
Clothed in peace, drawing nearer,
Outstretched and bidding me, “Komm!”
How do I know you
Whom my eyes have never seen
Nor ears heard your voice?
I know your motherly love,
And honor your outpouring.
To die is to come
To enter into deathless life
Mind rising on wings of love
Into what is always here
Ever presenting itself.
Lilacs will soon bloom
Lavender or pink, fragrance
Of glorious life on earth
Honoring those who blossomed
Into beauty beyond speech.
—Wm. P. McKane
17-19 April 2020
MTMonk. Welcome to the website of Fr. William Paul McKane, OSB, a Benedictine monk residing alone in the Ruby Valley in Montana. We shall post brief essays, poems, prayers, photographs, and links on this website. My main interests are in our spiritual life, in philosophy, in seeking the truth about God and man. With a doctorate in political science / political philosophy, I am also interested in the well-being of our citizens, of our political system and society, and of our world.
MTMonk. Empty Monk. A real monk seeks to be empty of self, or self-centered existence, in order to allow God to reign in and through him. MTMonk just happens to be suitable for a monk living in Montana, MT.
A monk’s purpose and way of living is simple: to seek God. One seeks God in faith, truth, goodness, beauty, and in silence. Monk comes from the Greek word, monachos, in turn based on the Greek word monos, meaning alone. A monk must be essentially alone to be all one in God. Alone with the Alone is the familiar phrase by the Greek-speaking philosopher, Plotinus (204-270 A.D.) To be alone with the Alone is the way of the monk. Meditation is the lifeblood of a monk, and it is conducted in silence and in the darkness of unknowing.
A monk’s purpose and way of living is simple: to seek God. One seeks God in faith, truth, goodness, beauty, and in silence. Monk comes from the Greek word, monachos, in turn based on the Greek word monos, meaning alone. A monk must be essentially alone to be all one in God. Alone with the Alone is the familiar phrase by the Greek-speaking philosopher, Plotinus (204-270 A.D.) To be alone with the Alone is the way of the monk. Meditation is the lifeblood of a monk, and it is conducted in silence and in the darkness of unknowing.