Contents

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. ix-x

read more

Acknowledgments

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. xi-xii

"I would like to give very special thanks to Brian Henderson, Director of Wilfrid Laurier University Press, for having such faith in me. I thank him for his guidance and encouragement, without which I would never have been able to write this book. Thank you to my editor,..."

read more

Liturgy of the Hours

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. xiii-xiv

"Ancient instructions from Saint Benedict, a wealthy Italian who abandoned everything in the fourteenth century, lived as a hermit, and then moved into a monastery with a book of instruction he’d written,..."

read more

Introduction

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 1-4

"The blood I am walking through is splattered over a black wooden floor, which makes it impossible to detect until I’m almost stepping in it. I have to stare and see where the light is bouncing. The light guides me as it spills from giant bulbs mounted on high poles. The incline of the slick wooden floor makes everything difficult. It forces me to slow..."

read more

Chapter 1 Friday, Midnight

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 5-12

"I arrive in a friend’s car. Almost everything is pitch-black except for porch lights. Things are lit by stars and a moon. Except there is no moon. Only the dark of the moon, somewhere between July 8th and 9th. The dew-covered ground is slippery under foot. We walk to a large wooden house, ring an ancient doorbell, wake someone I can hear getting..."

read more

Chapter 2 Saturday Morning

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 13-24

"I shower, dress, find the dining room, make a cup of tea, help myself to a few of the tiny muffins laid out on a sideboard, and wander upstairs to a sun-drenched room overlooking trees and an unpainted barn I hadn’t seen last night. Trees are golden and lit by a sky of the same colour. Sunlight rests in branches like pieces from a broken mosaic."

read more

Chapter 3 Sunday, 7 A.M.

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 25-44

"I wash, dress, and say a quick prayer at my make-shift altar. I didn’t sleep under the blankets, so I don’t have to make my bed. This is a bonus time-wise. We meet in the upper meadow and meditate as we face each of the four directions. Then hold hands as we face the centre and one another. These women are all ages, all kinds, and all kind. A woman..."

read more

Chapter 4 Monday, 6 A.M.

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 45-64

"I’m awake and not tired. There is almost no sound, only stillness and light. After meditation in the meadow I have toast with butter and jam, and cantaloupe. There’s meat but I don’t eat it. My friend arrives in her car. We’ve agreed over the phone that she will support my decision, whatever it might be."

read more

Chapter 5 Tuesday, Dawn

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 65-80

"The light wakes me, or maybe it’s the stillness. Everything is at a junction. Night sounds are making room for day sounds and there’s a space in between. Maybe the space woke me. The wide spacious maple outside the Queen of Peace window is silent. One leaf flutters a tiny wave of green. A bird gives one whistle—as if it’s a signal. The new day can begin."

read more

Chapter 6 Wednesday, Pre-dawn

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 81-90

"The tree outside the window is at peace after last night’s battle with the wind. Only a few leaves have been lost in the storm. I don’t feel tired even though I’ve gotten only a few hours sleep. If anything, just the opposite. There is a subtle shift in the light in the sky, a subtle shift to gold blue. The sun is rising. A long-winged bird flies swiftly, like a..."

read more

Chapter 7 Thursday, 9 A.M.

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 91-94

"After finishing breakfast with the women on the retreat, I realize that the overwhelming power of love is more healing than any medication, any inoculation, any amount of money, any vacation to any resort. Love in its truest form can move mountains. In its most honest form..."

read more

Chapter 8 Friday. Rain.

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 95-98

"In the very early morning I walk alone under my black umbrella, which actually belongs to a Canadian poet. He left it at my apartment, so I’m thinking of him in the heavy rain, in these woods, in this gentle silence, and I have another revelation."

read more

Epilogue

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 99-100

"Stillness allows us to think whatever we dare to think. It waits as we sort through all the circumstances that make up what yesterday was. It rests in containers piled high like canned pears on a shelf. There is no electricity, wind is the only music. The moon and stars, a source of light."

Works Cited

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 101-102

Afterword: Reading The Queen of Peace Room As Witness: An Ethics of Encounter

pdf iconDownload PDF

pp. 103-113

Selected Texts of Related Interest (Canadian emphasis)

pdf iconDownload PDF

p. 114