It is Monday morning, time for my sequester, one of the most meaningful of all the spiritual ideas I have found. I look out the window, through the prism of Florence Walrath’s blue glass. It is time for my sequester. The sequester is precious to me. It is the foundation of my spiritual work. It means this: to remove or withdrawn into solitude, a retirement from the disappointments, resentments, pressures, fears and distractions of the world.

On Monday mornings, my sequester is especially important, even though it is a part of my daily life. I sit in a comfortable chair, close the curtains, gather the dogs, light a candle. Sometimes I listen to music. I consider the week, another opportunity given me to live a meaningful life, to do creative work, learn the proper way to love myself, my partner, my life. To set goals for my work and life.

For some years, I have cherished the sequester. I first heard of the term reading Thomas Merton, who often retreated to his hermitage and sequestered himself, as he put it, to find faith and purpose for his life. When I went to my cabin on the mountain and wrote “Running To The Mountain,” and spent a year there, it was the first sequester of my life. I learned that the sequester can be short and powerful, a matter of minutes, or hours, days or months, and so it is part of my daily now now. It is a beautiful thing, this idea of withdrawing and considering, it can change a life.  The sequester helps me set the tone for the week, for the day. Helps me look for the strength in myself, the calm, the light and sweetness of life. My sequester helps me take photographs, gathers my head for writing, weeds out confusion and dissonance from my mind.

After my sequester this morning, I will write and work, as I do everyday and nothing has helped me do my work more than this idea. Monday morning. The sequester.