🌱 Tuesday Dispatch: Formation as Repair
Practicing hospitality as contemplative resistance
Beloveds,
Mondays are my day of attunement — a ritual of awe and wonder, a day to listen for the hum beneath all things. But this week, instead of sending out a Monday Meditation, I was summoned to another kind of wonder: the wonder of welcome.
A guest arrived at the Hull House, our small sanctuary where retreat, ritual, and refuge converge. As a house of hospitality and interspiritual practice, the Hull House teaches me that care is not a concept — it’s a way of being in the world. So I put down the pen and turned toward the stove, letting the scent of garlic and cumin become my prayer.
I made what I call a vegetarian guisado — something between a gravy and the comfort of enfrijoladas. I served it with tostadas and rice, and together we shared a simple meal. The table became our altar; our conversation, a liturgy of arrival.
Hospitality, I’m reminded, is holy work. It’s a monastic practice of attention — the slow art of making space for others to land, breathe, and begin again. This, too, is writing. This, too, is repair.
So instead of a Monday Meditation, consider this a Tuesday Dispatch from the soil of becoming — a gentle turning toward what is forming in the midst of change.
Today, I want to share a companion on the path: my dear Redneck Comrade, The Rev. Ryan Cagle, who has crafted something luminous for these times,
The Soilbound Almanac | A Rule of Life for the End of the World.
It’s a guide for those of us learning to live soilbound, to root our spirituality in the earth and in one another — to remember that formation is not about ascension, but descent. It’s about composting what no longer serves, and tending what still wants to grow.
🌾 Field Guide to Formation as Repair
Practice hospitality this week — invite someone to your table, even if it’s just tea and toast.
Let a shared meal be your meditation.
Listen for what the soil of your life is asking you to tend.
🕯️ Benediction
May your table become sanctuary.
May your hands remember the sacred work of feeding and being fed.
May you dwell in the rhythm of awe,
where repair and relationship are one.
Paz y ternura,
RCE+