News — Musings
There is a Trappist monastery outside of Aspen, Colorado that we used to visit for Lauds (morning prayer) and Sunday Mass a couple of times a summer during my childhood
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The service was at 7:30 A.M. and the monastery was a good thirty minute drive away, which meant that my four siblings and I filed out of our condo with unkempt hair and bleary eyes in terse silence, begrudging my parents the early-hour excursion. I remember gazing out the window at the sharp peaks of the Rockies, heavy-lidded and surly in my preadolescence, aware — even at that horrifically self-involved, bad-tempered age — that I was in the presence of majesty. There was a dirt-and-gravel road leading up to the monastery, and fields that the monks worked themselves lining it,...