Vickie MacArthur

Mantra as Prayer

Wed, 15 Apr 2026 20:38:47 GMT

Spinning the Prayer Wheel of our Heart

The constant repetition of mantra is like the power of the wind, slowly blowing away the

thoughts and beliefs that armour our hearts and entomb our minds. It is in this way that

mantras become the hand that spins the prayer wheels of our hearts, flinging our prayers

for peace and oneness out into the world.

What image comes to mind when you hear the word “prayer”? A pious person with head

bowed? Or perhaps a young child kneeling with hands clasped beside their bed?

What about the word “mantra”? Maybe a more exotic image or sound from eastern

traditions comes to mind. Perhaps a mala with 108 beads joined together with a tassel on

the end?

Our binary mind always wants to differentiate and divide, to put things into categories that

keeps things separate and simpler to understand so we can retrieve them when we need to.

Yet this also creates artificial boundaries and misunderstandings.

So it is with mantra and prayer. When we look beyond surface definitions and rote

repetitions, we find that together, mantra and prayer are spiritual practices that can be

fused together, to reveal the “oneness” beyond our limited thoughts and ideas.

Sadly, for a lot of people, prayer becomes just an extension of their “to do” list, things they

want to accomplish or want a distant God to do for them. Or perhaps their prayer is a

cleverly disguised version of their “just want” list, a never-ending list of things they think

they need in order to be happy.

Just like prayer, mantra can also be repeated or used in an unconscious way. What mantra are you

repeating in your mind and your life without realizing it? Is it a mantra of “not enough!” or a

constant littany of “Why me?”

Like mantra, prayers can be spoken, prayers can be whispered, prayers can be silent.

Prayer is both simple and subtle. Prayer is words spoken and unspoken poured out from

your heart’s deepest longing. Prayer is the silence that opens a place of quiet receptive

listening in the depths of your soul. Prayer is a yearning for that which hasn’t arrived yet or

been recognized. Prayer is a deep breath of letting go of all that is in the way of connecting

to the Ultimate, by whatever name you call the Divine: God, Goddess, Source, Great

Mystery, Universal Spirit, or no name at all.

Prayer is that which connects us to something greater, a mystery, a knowing, to a kind of

love that knows no bounds. Prayer connects us to each other. Prayer connects us to the

Earth. Prayer connects us to the sky. Prayer is a sense of oneness, of inter-being with all.

Prayer is not about asking for something. It is trusting in the unfolding of life as it is. It is a

felt sense of presence in every cell of our body. It is a felt experience of holding all our

experience exactly as it is: gratitude and joy, sorrow and lamentation, love and loneliness.

Everything we think, say, and do can be a prayer. We are always creating ripples of energy

all around us. So be mindful of your thoughts. “Body, mind, and speech in perfect

harmony” says Buddhist Master Thich Nhat Hanh. That is the nature of prayer. When we are

tuned into the energy of loving kindness and compassion, we are in prayer.

Prayer is a state of being that can become part of our daily life. “Pray unceasingly” says Paul

the Apostle. How do we do that in the midst of our busy lives? Through repeating a mantra.

Mantra becomes the vessel that can carry prayer into our daily life so that even the simplest

moments become a prayer.

Mantra as Words of Spiritual Power

Mantras are said to be “words of spiritual power” invoked from the heart. Mantras can be a

single sound or collection of sounds that come together to form a kind of prayer. Repeating

a mantra out loud or silently can bring you home to your deepest self, to that quiet, still

point within, that is beyond ego.

Many mantras associated with specific religions or traditions date back thousands of years.

Aboriginal or shamanic cultures believe the spirit of oneness is revealed through primordial

sounds that act as a portal of transformation and renewal. In modern times we are

witnessing an emerging interest in sounding and chanting mantras that have a more

universal appeal. Whether mantra is ancient or modern, the intention is always to inspire a

state of oneness and connection with all. Anandamayi Ma said “A mantra is a combination

of sounds that has the power to free you from the notion of separateness by which your mind has

been held captive all along.”

Mantras are usually sung in their ancient and original languages: Latin, Sanskrit, Pali,

Aramaic, etc. depending on which tradition they have come from. Sanskrit is a language of

vibration. Each sound is said to have a specific effect on the chakras or energy centers in

the body. Author and teacher, Neil Douglas-Klotz who has translated many of the words of

Jesus (Yeshua) back to their original Aramaic says “approaching Jesus’ words in the original

Aramaic with a sense of devotion and heartfelt enquiry will tune a person to the meaning

and atmosphere behind his words” So chanting mantras in their original language seems

to have a more potent effect than trying to replicate it in another language.

Many ancient mantras were said to be handed down or transmitted orally from master to

disciple or student. Something beyond words was being transmitted. Sound is energy and

energy vibrates. Mantras are said to be vibrations of light and energy. When we chant a

mantra, the vibration is aEecting and transforming us not just emotionally and spiritually,

but at a biological and cellular level. This is how we awaken and embody the energy of Love

encoded in a mantra.

The sound of a mantra usually revolves around a single note, along with one tone above

and one tone below. This single note is a point of dynamic balance and harmony. Chloe

Goodchild calls this “the zero point of consciousness, a liberating emptiness, pure

presence.” Mantra is the sound that empties us. It frees us from the idea that we are

separate and reminds us that there is “only one song, only one singing.”

Mantras are portable. They can be chanted anytime, anywhere, spoken or sung out loud,

whispered on the breath, or repeated silently in the depths of our hearts. Mantras can be

repeated when sitting still, walking outside, driving our car, or doing the dishes. The

constant repetition is like the power of the wind, slowly blowing away the thoughts and

beliefs that armour our hearts and entomb our minds. It is in this way that mantras become

the hand that spins the prayer wheel of our hearts, flinging our prayers for peace and

oneness out into the world.

Listening from the Heart

Tue, 09 Dec 2025 19:33:24 GMT

Do You Know How to Listen Deeply? To others? To yourself? Your soul?

So many of us have forgotten how to truly listen. We’ve been seduced by cell phones and apple watches, sound bytes and bits that create a constant background noise that distracts us and prevents us from truly listening and responding.

Yet, true listening is at the heart of all relationships , especially in spiritual direction, or companioning. Listening is the gift of pure presence. It is what we experience when the one listening to us becomes a quiet, safe container where we feel safe to take off our mask and share the truth of who we are; our struggles, our disappointments, our hopes, and our dreams. It is a connection of souls that goes beyond the words spoken. It is this quality of spiritual listening that has a healing effect, not only allowing us to trust and listen to our own knowing and intuition, but helping us improve the quality of listening in all our relationships. We can become a listening presence for others.

How do we become a listening presence?

To listen with depth, we must begin to cultivate an inner quiet and stillness that creates a calm and reassuring space where those we accompany feel free to speak from their heart, and know that they are being welcomed and received exactly as they are. Yet, in order to listen to someone else’s heart, we must be in touch with our own vulnerable heart. How do we do that?

Listening with the heart is an embodied practice of dropping out of the judgmental comparing mind, so we can listen and receive another from a place of love and acceptance. The heart centre is an important source of intuition and wisdom in many spiritual traditions. In yoga, the heart chakra is known as Anahata, the unstruck or unhurt space within, associated with compassion and unconditional love. Episcopal priest, Cynthia Bourgeault describes the heart as an “organ of spiritual perception.” The heart sees from a place of wholeness and connection, instead of separation.

Listening from the heart takes practice . For me it begins in the quietness of my meditation practice, placing my awareness in the center of my chest, and noticing my breath there. As I breathe in, the breath creates a feeling of space and lightness. As I breathe out, I soften and begin to dissolve feelings of constriction, of busyness, of protection, of attachment, of comparison, of “me” versus “them”. I create space to listen to my own feelings and inner knowing, so I can become an accepting space that can listen and receive others, however they show up, and with whatever they may have to say.

This kind of listening in spiritual direction , allows us to listen across diverse backgrounds, different cultures, religions, and belief systems. It is about listening to understand, rather than listening to reply or convince or cajole. It is about listening without thinking about what we’re going to say next. It is about listening with an open mind and a loving heart, curious, and attentive not only to the words themselves, but to the tone and timbre of voice, and the nuances of body language. It is this kind of listening where we discover a deeper, sacred connection, not only with each other, but with the all-pervasive Divine Source of Love that flows in and through all things. Perhaps listening deeply is another word for love.

When we know how to listen from the heart centre, it not only allows us to access a deeper knowing, it invites the one being listened to, to listen at a deeper level, so they can begin to trust in their own intuition and knowing. Listening with the heart leads to new understandings both individually, and collectively in conversations and groups. Through this kind of deep listening, we discover both common ground and diversity, that creates infinite new possibilities. We all can become a listening presence for each other for whatever wants to emerge into the world.

Holy Conversation: Listening to the Soul

Wed, 02 Apr 2025 20:00:01 GMT

The Art of True Listening in Spiritual Direction

" She leans in, eyes alive, body alert

Already she has extended her heart, holds it open,

Holds it towards you, holds your words with tender care.

Do you know how rare that is?"

--- "Held" by Antoinette Voute Roeder, in The Space Between

I started receiving spiritual direction (companioning) almost ten years ago and am so grateful for having someone to accompany me through the inevitable ups and downs of life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without Teresa’s listening and loving presence. Spiritual direction has helped me discern the movements of Spirit in my life, whether struggling with difficult feelings and situations, or learning to trust and follow my soul’s purpose. Teresa has been a source of healing and inspiration for me, as I’ve unburdened and unpacked the many layers of my personality to reveal the essence of my soul.

Spiritual Direction feels like a pilgrimage, slowing me down, and reminding me what’s truly important in my life. Teresa lives out in the country on the outskirts of Lethbridge, the small prairie city where I live. Riding my bike to her house has become a kind of sacred cleansing ritual. The circular movement of my legs meets the circuitous rhythm of my own breath, and my mind slowly begins to clear. As I leave the noise of the city behind, the fresh breeze on my face is like the touch of spirit on my skin, and the birdsong becomes a holy choir. The mountains to the west beckon like mecca, and it feels like I am riding towards a placeless place where the prairies meet the sky. This physical journey symbolizes the journey from the surface of my everyday life with all its uncertainty and messiness, to the depth and wisdom of the Divine presence that lives and breathes through all. A sign on a decorative stone in front of one of the sprawling acreages I pass points the way and invites me to “Imagine!”

Arriving at Teresa’s house set on the edge of these rugged coulees, I always take my time to admire her beautiful yard and view. A statue of St. Francis with hand extended, is a reminder of a simpler way of being that loves and honors life in all its myriad forms. A stone pathway winds gently amongst welcoming trees holding up an odd assortment of birdhouses from the graceful arc of their leafy green arms. Sparrows and flickers and robins are flitting from branch to branch, already in holy conversation amongst themselves. Beneath this hymn of birdsong is a waiting silence that invites me to slow down and listen more deeply.

I ring the doorbell, and Teresa is there, eyes shining, a blush of color in her cheeks, arms open and welcoming. She leads me into the cozy room where she offers spiritual direction, with windows on two sides, offering a view of the birds and the trees that have already welcomed me, and an occasional deer that stops to gaze with innocent doe eyes. Teresa lights a candle, and as the flame grows brighter, she often begins with a few words of meditation or prayer before we sit in companiable silence, waiting until I feel ready to share what’s on my heart and mind today.

From the very first time we met, it felt like we had known each other forever. The depth of relationship that is cultivated in spiritual companioning, goes beyond the usual boundaries of time and personality. It is an ancient and deep way of connecting in sacred relationship together. Teresa has a way of seeing and listening to me that creates a safe and loving space to explore whatever stories, or feelings, or questions are arising in my life. Together, there is a shared listening presence that is somehow able to discern the deeper essence and meaning beyond the questions and challenges I share from my everyday life. It is a journey from the outer surface of my life to the inner sanctuary of my heart.

Like most spiritual directors, Teresa has many spiritual gifts. She is like a conduit for Spirit to reveal deep wisdom, often through a poem or scripture that seems to speak directly to a question or problem I’m facing. This is divine mystery to me. Whether Mary Oliver, or Thich Nhat Hanh, or scripture, I have received so much guidance for my life, exactly when I need it.

Teresa’s pure voice often rises spontaneously out of silence in a melodic song or humming, becoming a wordless prayer that touches something deep in the essence of my soul. Thich Nhat Hanh often invites us to listen to the sound of the meditation bell with every cell of our body. This is how I listen to Teresa’s voice, and through her the voice of Spirit. It is the voice of Divine Love that enfolds us in sacred moments of mutual encounter. Somehow it is in these moments of presence that I find my own unique voice to offer to the world, both as a yoga teacher, and now as a Spiritual Director/Companion myself.

The spiritual companioning relationship is never a one-way street. Somehow my presence blesses Teresa as much as she blesses me, whether in laughter or tears. It is a sacred circle of giving and receiving through which Spirit flows effortlessly from soul to soul, from spiritual directors to those they serve, from generation to generation.

As I cycle home from Teresa’s, I always feel a sense of synchronicity, of being at exactly the right place at exactly the right time. It permeates my entire being. I feel the presence of God everywhere: in the fields of wheat, in the clear blue sky, in my soft and open heart. I realize the “inter-being” that my Buddhist teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh points to flows effortlessly through him, through Teresa, through Mary Oliver, through scripture, and through me. I realize that’s what a spiritual companion does. She is a vessel for Spirit, pointing us back to the universal love and wisdom that is already woven into our hearts, and that flows through all creation.

Listen Like a Lotus Growing Out of the Mud (Published in SDI's Presence Journal, Dec/24)

Thu, 13 Feb 2025 20:11:43 GMT

In the fall of 2023, I took a return pilgrimage to Plum Village, Thich Nhat Hanh’s monastery in southern France. It had been almost two years since this respected Buddhist teacher had passed away at his root temple in Hue, Vietnam, yet his presence was still felt in the paths that he walked, the sangha and community of practice, and the sound of the bell, inviting us to stop, and breathe, and feel the moment. Slowly and reverently, I sat down in front of the lotus pond my teacher had loved so much. Well past their prime, the lotus leaves still stood proud on long slender stems, though the lotus flower’s brilliant burst of pink glory was a distant memory. The brown seedpods drying in the autumn sun reminded me of the wisdom in the Zen expression, “no birth, no death.”

Some of the leaves were a verdant green, while others were tinged with golden yellows and coppery browns around edges becoming shriveled and black in the hot autumn sun. A few brave leaves turned themselves inside out in a last blaze of light shining through thin and transparent skin, as if to say, “Here I go!” Curling in on themselves, others still disappeared into a faded brown of thin parchment like a paper bag. With the sun reflecting of this green and golden assortment of faded, mottled leaves, it was the perfect setting to listen and be listened to.

I had meditated in front of this same lotus pond many times during a twenty-one day retreat in June of 2014. The theme was “What Happens When We Die?” and our beloved teacher seemed to be pouring out all his Zen wisdom into our waiting hearts before a devastating stroke in November that year left him unable to speak or walk. He reminded us that to answer the question about what happens when we die, we must first ask the question “What happens when we truly live?”

I sat and watched the lotus pond coming to life, slowly changing from a mass of muck and green leaves, to stems stretching into the sky with tightly bound buds, and finally bursting forth in an epiphany of brilliant pink lotus flowers. It seemed the perfect metaphor for what was happening in my heart since meeting Thay, as his students called him, at a retreat in Vancouver, B.C. now almost twelve years ago. My heart was awakened to an ancient stream of Love when I first met Thay’s gaze. I saw that this was an infinite Love that runs beneath and through the mud of everyday life, flows beyond the boundaries of us and them, of culture and religion. It cannot be confined to one tradition, one belief system, one person. Since then, I began writing letters to this revered teacher in my journals, pouring out the questions of my heart, and the secrets of my soul. My journal, and Thay’s teachings and presence, became my constant spiritual companions as I explored the yearning and questions of a heart rooted in a Christian community, while growing and integrating the teachings and practices of my new Buddhist sangha.

Watching the outer transformation from mud to lotus in the pond in front of me, reading my journals about the inner transformation of mud in my own heart, I realized these letters to Thay were like a spiritual memoir of my life, a testament to his teachings and the transformative power of the practices of Zen Buddhism, integrated with the love and passion of the Christian mystic heart. Slowly over the next six years, a larger story began to take shape and form, weaving together personal vignettes from my life with the teachings and experiences with Thay and Plum Village. At the same time, I was forced to confront all the doubts and fears and self judgment that arise when we explore and share the most vulnerable parts of ourselves in a more public way. I knew I couldn’t do this by myself. I needed someone who could create a safe and loving space where I could excavate and face the muddy shadow part of myself, with curiosity, with kindness, and with embodied awareness.

So began a time of deep listening and difcult shadow work with my spiritual director, Teresa. We had only been together a short time when we began this sacred work together. It was to Teresa that I was finally able to reveal the depth of love that had been ignited in my devotional heart from Thay’s gaze. It was to Teresa that I was able to begin to find words for the sensual, mystical quality of that encounter with a love that is boundless and beyond form. As I looked into Teresa’s clear eyes, I knew she also knew this kind of all encompassing love. A shared knowing was communicated, not just through words, but through a felt listening presence in our hearts. It created a trust that allowed me to be myself while at the same time plumb the depths beyond my sense of self merely rooted in identity.

Slowly with time and embodied listening practices of breathing, feeling, and sensing, I was able to begin to unearth and look at all the ways I judge and compare myself to others, and at the stories and beliefs of separation these judgements feed. I could bring some care and compassion to the “little girl” in me so eager to please others. I could look at that “little girl” with the same gaze of love that Thay awakened me to, the same loving gaze I receive from Teresa, the same loving lens through which I want to look at the world. It is a lense that sees through the eyes of the heart, where there is no separation, no “you” or “me,” only love.

"True spiritual accompaniment is not bound by time or space. It creates healing both backwards and forwards in time."

Having finally gazed at my little girl self through the eyes of unconditional love, I felt free to share the stories and wisdom, gleaned from my own practice and life experience, with complete honesty and vulnerability. True spiritual accompaniment is not bound by time or space. It creates healing both backwards and forwards in time. It is a portal from the simplicity and mundanity of everyday life to the deeper symbolic and lived meaning of mystical experiences that remind us of the Love we already are. As a spiritual director, these are the kinds of stories I want to help enflesh and midwife from the shallows and shadows of unconscious habits and beliefs, into the all-embracing light of divine Love.

Thich Nhat Hanh always encouraged his students to write to him about their experiences and practice. He often read or shared stories from students in his dharma talks. I always imagined placing my own letters and stories into the hands of my dear teacher, as a gift, both fully received and given back in love. Since Thay’s passing, that was no longer possible. As I thought about making a pilgrimage back to Plum Village, I wondered if I could find a symbolic way of ofering the fruits of my practice back to Thay. Could I ofer my book to one of his monks or nuns? Could I somehow ofer a reading to some of the people gathered at the retreat?

Discussing this quandary with my dear friend, she replied with a twinkle in her eyes, “Why don’t you read it to the lotus pond?” Yes, that seemed like the perfect place. Thay so loved the lotus ponds, and the transformations that occurred there, both in plants and humans.

So there I sat, clasping the book to my heart. The lotus pond listening and companioning me in stillness. With a slight breeze, the lotus stems swayed, as if breathing and fully attentive. Their large broad leaves like big Buddha ears, open, receptive, ready to fully receive the words of my heart. Since then, I have read the book in small gatherings in bookstores, Buddhist temples, Christian churches, Catholic retreat centers, online, and in-person. I usually have had a sense of nervousness, and self-consciousness. (This is a life-long practice!) I wonder, how will my words be received? Will I be misunderstood? Will they think I’m crazy or deluded for the kind of all consuming love I have for my teacher, for the Buddha, for Christ? Will they think I’m too attached? Am I?

"Yet who can fully understand, let alone express in words, the Love that permeates the whole cosmos?"

Yet who can fully understand, let alone express in words, the Love that permeates the whole cosmos? A lotus flower can! From a seed growing out of the mud, stems stretching into the sky with tiny buds still tightly bound, then blossoms beginning to open to the warmth and light of the sun, to an explosion of color open to the radiant sky, then slowly dissolving, dropping petal by petal, seed by seed, returning to the mud, back to the soil, the soul of Mother Earth.

Yes, the lotus pond is the perfect spiritual companion. There is no expectation, no comparing or judgment, no need to impress. No cell phones, no distractions, no background of thoughts. No planning or note taking, no need to remember. No rules, no beliefs, no preconceived notions. No pictures, no media, no technical glitch. There is only the silence and aliveness of the lotus pond. It is a space for deep, receptive, mutual listening. It is a silent receiving of all that I am and have been, who I am becoming, and who we are all becoming together—the lotus and I, my teacher and I, the sangha and I, the earth, and the sky. It is a shared understanding beyond any words, to describe the cycle of life we all fully embody. Each lotus blossom will wilt and dry out and return back to the mud and muck to become soil and energy for the lotus blossoms that follow.

I think about Thay and his great heart of love. I think of how excited he was for the first lotus blossom of the season. And what about the last of the season? Did he love that lotus just as much? No discrimination, he teaches. No birth. No death.

Thay’s familiar face and form are no longer here. He was honored and carried and followed from his root temple in Vietnam, then cremated in a very moving public ceremony. Thay always said “I am not this body.” Indeed, his flame burns on in my heart, in many hearts, in all hearts brave enough to share their own vulnerable stories: in churches and temples, synagogues and mosques, in public and private, in times of despair, conflict, sorrow, and also in times of deep peace.

Can I learn to listen like the lotus pond? As a teacher and spiritual director, can I learn to listen like a silent receiving of all someone is, in their words, gestures, smiles, and in their tears? Can I lean in quietly, and listen with the ears of my heart, in compassion and presence grown out of the mud of my own life? Can I let go of fear, preconceived notions, bias, and judgment—finally letting go of the idea that I am separate from you? Can I listen in a way that is mutual, that includes, not excludes, together, in love?

And what about you, dear reader? I hope you have a spiritual companion or friend who will listen to you with the presence of a lotus pond. But if you don’t, if you are lonely and by yourself, try taking a walk in the forest, or by a river or lake, or somewhere in nature’s companioning presence. Find an inviting place to sit, maybe on a rock or a log, seemingly placed just for you. Sit …Breathe….Listen. Be still. There is no need to “know” right now. Just sit and observe. Attune to the trees and the bees, the lavender, wildflowers, the bright shiny beetle that crosses your path, and the clouds as they shift in the canopy of sky.

Know that as you listen and attune, there is a reciprocal attunement, a listening beyond words, beyond your thoughts, your worries, your questions, and your cares. This is the essence of the deepest kind of prayer, not to a single all knowing God in the sky, but to the silent loving presence permeating every rock, every tree, every fiber of your being. When we slow down to attune and tend to ourselves, the whole universe is listening. A lotus flower blooms in the depths of your heart. Om mani padme hum.

As I continued to read the book out loud to the lotus pond, I smiled at the thought of these lotus leaf ears listening. Perhaps it was just my imagination, or maybe a deeper knowing. I truly felt Thay’s listening presence, in the whisper of the breeze, the birds twittering in trees, and the answering silence in my own heart. The words of the Fourth Mindfulness Training (Plum Village’s version of the Buddhist precepts) came to me, “Aware of the sufering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I am committed to cultivating loving speech and compassionate listening in order to relieve sufering and to promote reconciliation and peace in myself and among other people, ethnic and religious groups, and nations” (plumvillage.org). Yes! I felt this vow in the depths of my being.

Bringing my hands together at my heart center, I bowed deeply to the lotus pond, as my spiritual companion, my teacher, to loving presence in all its forms and disguises. “The one who bows and the one who is bowed to are both, by nature, empty. Therefore, the communication between them is inexpressibly perfect” (Chanting from the Heart, 27). This kind of listening is a mutual listening that dissolves the barriers of separation and misunderstanding, creating a shared listening presence that embraces new possibilities for peace.

While completing my bow, a scrufy black cat slowly walked towards me, rubbing up against my leg and sitting down, as if she wanted to listen, too. I breathed into my heart centre, and realized that there was a bit more space there. Reading my story out loud to the lotus pond, somehow helped to heal the part of me that longed to be fully listened to, seen, and acknowledged. Maybe that’s exactly what we all need to heal each other and to heal the world: to listen like a lotus growing out of the mud.

REFERENCES

HANH, THICH NHAT. Chanting from the Heart: Buddhist Ceremonies and Daily Practices. Berkeley: Parallax Press, 2000.

PLUM VILLAGE. “The Five Mindfulness Trainings.” Accessed October 1, 2024. https://plumvillage.org/mindfulness/the-5-mindfulness-trainings

A Love Letter to My Readers

Tue, 11 Feb 2025 13:53:35 GMT

Initially written as letters to my teacher in the privacy of my own journals, A Lotus on Fire has gone through many different edits and formats since I began the long process of writing my spiritual memoir. The original working title was “Love Letters To My Teacher,” and it began with “A Love Letter to My Readers,” until my first editor wisely suggested I just start with the moment of awakening that sparked the whole book.

Sadly, “A Love Letter to My Readers” ended up on the editing room floor. Still, I have been thinking of you, my reader, with every word, and every stroke of my pen. I have resurrected the letter from my “editing room floor” file, and share it now in the hopes it may entice you to read my book.

My Dear Reader,

Through the years, I have written many love letters to Thay. I have filled pages and pages of journals that have slowly taken shape in this book, revealing a love that cannot be contained in one body, one teacher, or any one relationship. As the words flowed through my pen onto the page, it began to dawn on me that these love letters are really love letters to myself, from the secret space of love in my soul.

Somehow it seems fitting to begin my story by writing a love letter to you, from my heart to yours, yet held in the great heart that holds us all. Perhaps some how this letter will bridge the gap between the words on the page and the feeling of love being awakened in our collective hearts.

Love letters are meant to be read slowly, and savoured, to soak slowly into our minds and hearts so the sweetness can be fully tasted. Love letters should be treasured, perhaps tucked away in a secret place so they can be brought out and reread at those times when we most need to be reminded of the love that we already are.

If you can, I invite you to find a moment of quiet in the midst of your busy life. Perhaps make yourself a cup of tea or coffee. Close the door of your room or office, or find a quiet place outside in your backyard or a park. Turn off your cell phone and any other intrusions. Feel your body sinking gratefully into the surface of the chair or whatever you’re sitting on. Listen to the sounds around you. Feel the aliveness of your breath, in touch with the aliveness of this shared moment between us.

As the words from my journals have slowly been making their way onto the pages of this book, I have been thinking about you, my reader. I have found myself wondering who could possibly be interested in the stories of my life? I am a woman who plays many roles: a wife, a mother, a yoga teacher, a minister, a spiritual companion, a seeker and sharer of love. Who would want to read the intimate love letters I’ve written to the “teacher of my heart”, full of my own struggles and insecurities, but pointing towards a love that somehow connects us all.

My story seems so much larger than just my own story. Thay, my teacher, would say our stories “inter-are.” They cannot exist without each other. So this is a collective story of an awakening to an ever present, yet ancient formless love, that can slowly heal the sense of separation we feel from ourselves, from each other, and from our dear ailing planet. It is a simple yet intimate kind of love, the kind you feel when walking through a forest of trees quietly breathing together. It is also a sensual and passionate love, the kind you feel when your heart skips a beat as you look into the eyes of your lover. It is the love that surrounds and enfolds us in every moment, if we only have eyes to see and ears to listen.

In truth, I feel like I’ve caught glimpses of you, my dear reader, through the many moments and encounters of my own life. I’ve met you on the path meandering by the river as we both walk our dogs, our eyes connecting briefly as we silently acknowledge the love of our four legged friends. I’ve seen you arrive rushed and breathless to one of my yoga classes, gratefully settling onto your mat. I’ve watched as your breath slowed down, your face softened, until finally by the end of class that sparkle had come back to your eyes. I’ve seen the worried face you bravely show to the world, and wondered what lies beneath. I’ve seen the longing in your eyes for something none of us can quite define.

I’ve seen you in the faces of those who have left the church or temple or mosque you grew up in because it does not speak to the knowing felt deep in your bones. You know the power and mystery of a Love that cannot be contained in the brick and mortar of buildings and tradition. Perhaps you’ve had a direct awakening to God or Universal Spirit, or Suchness, or Love, and you no longer need or believe in the hierarchical structure that places churches and priests as intermediaries between you and the Source of Love and Life Itself.

I’ve seen you in the faces of those who have chosen to stay, yet still feel a sense of longing for something more. You’ve chosen to stay faithful despite the mass exodus of a whole generation no longer interested in the social programs or politics of church, and the seemingly empty words and rituals that do not speak to the reality of your modern life. I’ve felt the restlessness in you that intuits where Spirit is leading, yet feels that your voice is not heard by those in authority who fear and resist change. I’ve watched in sadness with you as your aging palliative congregation dwindled until it was time to turn off the lights and lock the doors one last time. Yet something in your grieving heart knows that this is not the end, that the death of these man made structures is simply a transition to a new way of seeing and being. I’ve felt the loneliness of those who no longer have a church or spiritual community and have resigned themselves to their own solitary spiritual journey. I’ve felt your heart’s longing for the company of others on the path, for sangha, for spiritual friends, and community.

I’ve seen the wounded look in your eyes because you’ve been hurt, abused or exiled by the rigid belief and structure of a church or spiritual community you entrusted with your heart. I’ve felt the weight of a patriarchal system that imposed its rules and beliefs without love or compassion. I feel the ache of your tender young heart betrayed by love, yet still longing for healing and belonging, and the innocent faith of your childhood. I’ve seen the “hungry ghost” look in your eyes as you continue to search endlessly for the perfect “spiritual community”, partaking of the endless buffet of spirituality now available online, yet always feeling some spiritual indigestion from consuming too much, and not really tasting the truth. I’ve seen the faces of those who have given up on religion or God (whatever your concept of God), or feel like God or Love has given up on them.

I’ve seen you in the faces of those who feel like they live on the fringe of their church community. You don’t quite fit in like the others who seem to fit like an old worn out glove. You cannot be labeled or stereotyped. Your soul cannot be contained in old forms and belief structures. I’ve felt your deep longing for silence amidst the noisy distraction of long sermons and classes, and endless discussions about nitpicky things that don’t really matter. I’ve seen your face gazing longingly out the windows of your church, as the trees gently wave their branches at you, inviting you to a deeper wordless prayer. It is for you who claim the forest as sanctuary, the mountains as your cathedral, the earth as your home, that I share my story.

I’ve seen your face in those who have never attended church or been part of a spiritual community. Maybe you identify as “spiritual but not religious”. Maybe you don’t. I have seen you in the face of those with an “inter-spiritual” heart who cannot be confined to just one tradition. You sense the deeper truth that flows beneath the surface of all religions. Perhaps all of us are yearning for a simpler and more peaceful way of living, that doesn’t make you wrong and me right.

I have seen your face in my yoga students, looking for an embodied spirituality that acknowledges and honors the wisdom of the body along with the inspiration of the mind. You long to feel the aliveness of each and every conscious breath as it invites you into a fuller participation in life. You want to feel the sacredness of the earth beneath your feet, the touch of spirit on your skin, the ancient knowing in every cell of your body. You sense the oneness with all creation, and at the same time you feel the cries and the last gasps of our precious planet deep in your soul.

I’ve seen you looking for a teacher or spiritual guide, someone who will take you by the hand and show you the way in our complex chaotic world. Are you ready for a spiritual companion who sees and accepts you exactly as you are with all your doubts and fears, yet lovingly challenges you to become who you were born to be? Perhaps this teacher will simply point you back to the love and wisdom in your own heart. Perhaps our teachers and spiritual companions come in many forms beyond the human form. Maybe if you simply slow down and take time to watch a cloud in the sky, or enjoy the fragrance of a flower, or really look into the eyes of a stranger, your true teacher might be revealed in the presence and gaze that perfectly mirrors the Love you already are.

Some how we’ve forgotten that magical mystical Love of our childhood. We’ve lost our innocent eyes that help us see beyond the everyday. Maybe when you were a young child you felt a secret nameless longing that you never told anyone about. Maybe you still feel that longing. Maybe you don’t. Maybe that secret longing has been repressed, or rationalized, medicated or even meditated away. Maybe the prayers and practices that used to have meaning have lost their shine. Maybe you’ve quit praying. Maybe you’re not sure who or what you’re praying to. Maybe you’ve never prayed. Maybe you’re bored with a restlessness you can’t explain. Maybe you’re going through a “blah” night of the soul, or a dark night of the soul. Maybe you just don’t care.

But maybe, just maybe, that longing is quietly bubbling away beneath the surface of your busy distracted life. It’s still bubbling for a reason. Maybe you get occasional glimpses of it as you catch the colors of the evening sky, or come across a deer standing silently in the forest. It’s a quiet intimate feeling, as if the colors of the sky were caressing your skin, the silence of the deer and the silence of the trees intermingling as one silence holding us all.

I’ve seen your longing reflected in so many faces including my own. I’ve seen you try to hide it and pretend it isn’t there. I used to hide it too, distracted by all the things on my “to do” list, and never really giving myself time to explore this deep primal longing in my soul for something I couldn’t even name. Then I met Thich Nhat Hanh. In one timeless moment, this peaceful Buddhist monk looked at me with eyes that seemed to see into the depths of my soul, sparking a fire of holy longing for the source of this love. This fire of longing has been both the energy for my practice and the practice itself. It’s like a koan that can never be understood by my rational mind, but simply lived in a life surrendered to love.

I believe it’s time to reclaim the power of longing and spiritual desire as a path to God, as a path to enlightenment, as a path of Love. It’s time to honor the deep impulse woven into the depths of creation that reveals itself as the desire for union in the depths of the human heart. Perhaps as we share our stories and follow this longing, it will open the door to a deeper intimacy with everything and deeper understanding with everyone. Perhaps divine love is a wild and sensuous love that is way beyond our rational mind, and can only be felt when we let go of our ideas about each other, or who or what God is, and simply follow our longing back to its Source.

As you read my story intertwined with my intimate love letters to Thay, my heartfelt wish is that it will somehow ignite the spark of longing in your own heart for a more embodied kind of love that will transcend boundaries of culture, race , religion and politics. Perhaps this sensual spiritual kind of love is exactly what we need right now in our evolution. Maybe it’s the only kind of love that can save our planet and humanity from its current path of fear and greed and nationalism.

I hope that you will feel the pure essence of love that Thay transmitted to me in one timeless gaze, trickling down through generations of both Buddhist masters and Christian saints and mystics. Although this book tells the story of a moment of spiritual awakening, it was really part of many moments of awakening and my secret sensuous love affair with Spirit. It began through a mystical relationship with Thay (Thich Nhat Hanh), but ultimately points us back to the vast web of loving relationships we all are. This secret love lives underneath the surface of life for most of us, until something or someone touches the spark within us that ignites the flame that awakens our heart. May this book be that spark for you!

Love & Light to all,

Vickie MacArthur

The Miracle of Snow Angels

Fri, 01 Jan 2021 19:00:00 GMT

The Miracle of Snow Angels

“It is enough to breathe and let go of thinking or planning. Just come back to yourself, concentrate on your breath and smile. You are here, body and mind together. You are here. You are completely alive. That is a miracle.” Thich Nhat Hanh from “You Are Here”.

“Happy New Year” we say, with a slight tremor in our voice that reveals both the fragile hope in our hearts, and the uncertainty and worry about what may still lie ahead, as we continue to navigate our way through these unprecedented times. We’ve slowly been adjusting to the reality of a microscopic virus that touches our lives at every single level, while preventing us from reaching out and touching and being with the ones we love.

We long to get back to normal, whatever normal is. For many, Covid-19 has brought about unspeakable suffering, whether from the virus itself, or the economic fall-out, or the stress and exhaustion of being on the front lines. For others, 2020 was a year of stepping back, slowing down, reprioritizing and re-visioning what our life and society is about beyond ‘normal’.

As I ponder the blank page of this upcoming year, I realize that what I really want is to leave the page blank for now. I don’t want to give into the worry and fear that sometimes threatens to overwhelm me, yet at the same time I know that my underlying sense of unease and fear needs to be acknowledged, felt and listened to. I need to give myself some space for this, instead of numbing out on Netflix, or whatever else will distract me from thinking about the future.

This year, I don’t want to over commit, over schedule, over teach, over plan and especially over zoom! I want to leave some space for spontaneous walks with my dog (and my husband!), for music and song, for laughter and tears, for meditation and prayers. I want to make space to be truly present to all the “guests in my guesthouse” as Rumi calls our feelings.

Nature has always been my medicine. During this pandemic I found myself going for long walks, just to breathe and deal with my fears around Covid-19, climate change, and everything else that seems to threaten our sense of well-being and hope for the future. At the beginning of my walks my mind was usually filled with thoughts and worries and plans. Yet with every step and every breath, I could begin to let go. I smiled at signs in the windows of homes with big hearts saying thank you to our health care workers, or the sidewalk art with it’s brightly colored rainbows and happy faces.

Just before Christmas, I took our black lab Emma for a long walk in the coulees here in Lethbridge. It was a sunny and crisp day, with a blanket of snow still on the ground from the day before. I could feel the crunch of fresh snow under my feet as Emma scampered ahead following her own invisible path of scents left by other four footed friends. As I glanced beside me on the path, I saw the unmistakable imprint of a snow angel in the freshly fallen snow. A slow smile began to grow from the depths of my heart to the corners of my mouth. A long forgotten urge welled up inside me and I lay down on my back and completely surrendered to the cold feeling of the snow and the freshness of this moment.

As I slowly began to flap my arms and legs, I could feel the pure joy of the little girl I used to be, with her white fuzzy parka, and her pink striped mittens. It was a moment of pure awareness, of pure playfulness and sheer delight, those priceless gifts of grace that we often don’t notice amidst the busy schedules of our life. The sky above me seemed especially blue, as Emma came back and licked my face looking in my eyes as if to ask “Are you okay?” My whole body tingled with joy, as the sun danced off the surface of the snow.

Following the ancient art of “Snow Angel Makers” down through the ages, I carefully stood up and gingerly stepped away from the imprint, so as not to disturb the image of the angel and her wings. Now there were two snow angels lying side by side, a testament to spontaneous and playful joy.
As I looked back at this image that I knew was momentary and fleeting, I could feel my own impermanence, like just one tiny snowflake in this field of virgin snow. Yet somehow, my being here had made an impression, both physically in the snow, and perhaps for the next person that happens along this path. I imagined a smile slowly growing on that persons’ face, a childlike sense of playfulness growing in his or her heart, and then following an impulse, lying down on the snow, making another angel imprint just for the sheer delight of the moment! This is the miracle of mindfulness, of being fully present in our life. These moments are contagious. They are meant to be shared, in an unending line of angels touching the earth, delicate wings brushing against each other, fragile but resilient hearts coming together in new creative ways to save ourselves, and save our planet.

If I have any resolutions for this year, it’s to do less and take time just to walk, to breathe, to play, to sing, to make snow angels and leave the “angel imprint” for the next person that comes along. And if you’re one of those people on the front lines, know that I am flapping my wings and making an angel for you, because you’re already an angel.

The Zen of Hand Washing

Mon, 09 Mar 2020 19:50:00 GMT

“The bells of mindfulness are calling out to us, trying to wake us up, reminding us to look deeply at our impact on the planet.” Thich Nhat Hanh

One of the many lessons we are learning from the spread of the Covid-19 virus is how inter-connected we truly are. This virus knows no borders. It is no respecter of persons, countries, status, religion, culture, etc.. We are all in this together. The mindful breathing and awareness of yoga and meditation teaches us the same thing, but in a kinder way.

Another lesson we’re learning is the need to slow down and be mindful…of our interactions with other people, of how many times we touch our face, of the importance of frequent, thorough hand-washing. Perhaps hand-washing can be come a mini-meditation for us many times during the day…..to come back to ourselves, to let go of our worries and fear. Hand-washing can become an opportunity to slow down and pay attention…to the cries of each other, and the cries of our planet.

When you attend a Plum Village retreat, one of the first practices you learn is the practice of “Listening to the Bell”. Every time a bell is sounded during the retreat, the invitation is to stop whatever you are doing, come back to your body, come back to your breath, come back to the present moment. It is a powerful practice of stopping and learning to pay attention to what’s happening all around us, instead of getting lost and distracted in thoughts and worries about the past or future. Since learning this practice almost ten years ago, I find it has slowly been seeping into my life. I find little moments of stopping during the day, whether the sound of my cell phone ringing or beeping, or stopping at a red light. Now that we are dealing with the reality of the Covid-19 virus, I have begun using that 20 seconds by the sink as an opportunity to be mindful, instead of mindless! I share my practice with you here. Feel free to add your own creative ideas.

Hand Washing Meditation

Standing by the sink (or using sanitizer if you have it).

“In (as you breathe in), Out (as you breathe out)…..Deep. Slow….Calm, Ease….Smile, Release…

We have no idea how widespread the Covid-19 virus will become in the coming weeks and months. We do know that we are all in this together. We need each other. We can learn from each other. None of us our immune to both the virus itself and the economic fall out.

This Covid-19 pandemic is another mindfulness bell (just like the climate pandemic) that is calling out to us to wake up, and look deeply at the impact we are having on our planet and the way that we interact with each other. As we face this invisible and unknown virus together, may we remember to be kind and look out for each other. My prayers are with those people and countries already devastated by the Covid-19 virus, and especially the old and vulnerable. May we somehow find ways of slowing the virus down, while slowing ourselves down at the same time so we can bring more thoughtful and creative solutions to world wide problems. Perhaps it all starts by simply learning to wash our hands slowly and mindfully, so the virus of kindness can spread across borders and around the world.

The Womb of Creation

Sun, 01 Jul 2018 18:00:00 GMT

“In the beginning, there is darkness. It is the womb out of which we are born. Darkness may be a blessed dimming of our ego-driven striving, a destination, and condition of safety and repose. In this state of trusting refuge, the light of divine revelation, which pierces but does not castigate darkness, may finally be seen. This is a mothering darkness, that nurses its offspring.”
Barbara Holmes.

I sit here in the wild garden at Chateaux Malerargue in southern France, miles away from my home and life in Canada, yet so intimately connected to the world in a deeper, more expansive way. This wild permaculture garden sits in front of the old chateaux, on a gentle slope towards the valley and hills beyond. I have offered to help water and care for this garden while I am staying here, and it feels like it is really a way of tending to my own inner garden, the rich soil holding both seeds of potential and weeds that need to be removed.

The dream catchers suspended from some of the trees gently swing in the breeze, ready to catch whatever images and thoughts arise in my mind so I can take my time to explore more deeply. There is a hammock, suspended in the top of one tree and open to the sky above. It is an invitation to relax and take it slowly, and simply watch the clouds as they form and dissolve in an endless array of shapes. I smile as I think how much Coley would have loved this garden and these trees, and how they would love her right back. Coley was the daughter of my dear friend Lanette. She died of cancer the same year my own mother did. I send off a prayer for Lanette, as it floats off and dissolves like the clouds in the sky. I trust somehow it will reach its destination.

In one corner of the garden is a small meditation hut, a collection of thick bamboo stalks that arch together to form a dome shaped top. Sunlight and shadow dance together in perfect harmony to reveal the sacred space within. Two large rocks sit at the entranceway, like silent sentinels guarding this invisible threshold between the seen and the unseen. Perfectly suspended from the center beam formed from a sturdy tree at the back, is a hammock chair, gently swaying in the breeze. I hear it whisper “Come and sit awhile with me.” I sense that a vibrant inner world awaits. ”

And so with a long slow breath, I sit down, allowing the weight of my body to settle into the canvas swing. At first I keep my feet on the ground, wondering if this bamboo structure can truly support the full weight of my body. I sit still for a moment, feeling both the support of the earth under my feet and the tree the swing hangs from. Then slowly, I lift my feet up off the ground, and fold my legs into the traditional cross-legged meditation position. The canvas sides of the hammock swing instantly hugs in tightly to shoulders and hips, and the swing begins to spin in a spiraling motion. The image of being held securely in the womb of creation comes to me, ripe and full of endless possibilities. Here in this moment I am suspended effortlessly between heaven and earth, visible and invisible, form and formless, this moment and all moments.

This image of the womb of creation is a powerful symbol of where I feel I am in my life right now. All the experiences of my life, all my relationships, all my longing, all my practice, are like seeds of wisdom slowly ripening and sprouting, full of endless possibility, ready to be birthed in me. It is a fertile time of watching and waiting in the darkness of “not knowing” as my mind and heart slowly opens.

It feels like I am in a time of simplifying and shedding, letting go of that which I no longer need. Like a woman who is almost ready to give birth, there is that natural feeling of slowing down, of nesting and going inwards in preparation for the actual birth. I feel resistance to reading and consuming any more information whether books or online courses or live workshops. I’ve begun to avoid large social gatherings. There is simply a longing for silence and solitude. The message seems to be to let go of outer maps and teachers, and find and trust my own way, my own wisdom, my own knowing.

“There is a sacred opening in the soul that cannot be filled by anything external. The time comes when you know you can no longer wallpaper this void. If you are outside yourself, always reaching beyond yourself, you avoid the call of your own Mystery.”
John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

Vickie MacArthur, July 2018
Chateaux Malerargues, Southern France