The first time I went on a silent retreat was probably in 2004, near Magog, QC. 

That was my first real-life encounter with monasticism or a radical simple life. That experience changed me existentially. So much so, that ever since then, I made several trips alone back to that beautiful place, surrounded by trees and quiet and joyful monks and nuns. Not to mention the amazing food prepared by the monks using their own harvest. 

I know in my particular life, this is a beautiful charism, a gift, one that keeps giving. It’s been my wellspring. 

I’ve often gravitated towards the idea of seeing the world as my cloister and my home as my cell. My new place has become just that. My cell. 

Post script: I’m not talking about a prison cell;) 

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