Rebecca Megson-SmithDispatches from the contemplative frontlineMy contemplative practices 1: Centering PrayerMay 9, 2023May 9, 2023
Rebecca Megson-SmithHow the blunt edge of burnout births the contemplative lifeThe sky is blue this morning, with a lilt of haziness, a gauze of near imperceptible moisture bathing itself in the citrus sunshine. Spring…Mar 27, 2023Mar 27, 2023
Rebecca Megson-SmithMy problem with the C wordIt’s Wednesday evening and I’ve just spent the last 90 minutes in the company of my two friends and theatre-making colleagues. All three of…Mar 20, 2023Mar 20, 2023
Rebecca Megson-SmithWhat is this contemplative life I’m yearning for, anyhow?We have a new ritual in our house. On Friday night, before I go up to bed, I set up breakfast snacks for the kids. Drinks in the fridge…Mar 13, 20231Mar 13, 20231
Rebecca Megson-SmithHi Joanna, thanks so much for your message - yes I started reading your series on no-striving a few…Mar 6, 2023Mar 6, 2023
Rebecca Megson-SmithHow we do anything is how we do everythingIt’s one of those early March days when the cold drains the colour out of the landscape. The Saturday afternoon playground in the park is…Mar 6, 2023Mar 6, 2023
Rebecca Megson-SmithRestingOn my office wall, above some hooks holding an array of puffy jackets, is a cross-stitch sampler I made in the early nineties.Feb 28, 20231Feb 28, 20231
Rebecca Megson-SmithWhat the silence saidThe children are asleep. Or close enough for me to slip out of their room and go downstairs. The wood burner is hot but black. I open it up…Feb 25, 20231Feb 25, 20231
Rebecca Megson-SmithStoppingDespite my early-ish night, I wake unwillingly when my alarm hisses the Today Programme into my world at 6:03am. I don’t fight the sleep…Feb 24, 2023Feb 24, 2023
Rebecca Megson-SmithBeing cracked openWhen I was thirty years old my (ultimately ex-)husband left me. One cold, dark, wet night at the beginning of March, having packed the few…Feb 23, 2023Feb 23, 2023
