From Thanksgiving to New Year’s Old Monk breaks into an inner dance. I love the Advent readings, especially Isaiah, all the Christmas carols, the food in grocery stores, the lit porches and trees. I even love the crowds in stores and the Salvation Army kettles. This year the dance is a bit tempered because a dear friend is dying and I am still weighted with heavy shoes because of the presidential election. But I look forward to entering the monastery chapel for Saturday Advent vigils, and praying in semi-darkness. We pray without printed psalters, chanting by memory.