Today marks the 97th birthday of the late Trappist monk and spiritual writer, Thomas Merton.
This is the beginning of the entry in Merton’s journal from January 31, 1968, the last birthday he would celebrate on this earth.
Clear, thin new moon appearing and disappearing between slow slate blue clouds – and the living black skeletons of the trees against the evening sky. More artillery than usual whumping at [Fort] Knox. It is my fifty-third birthday.
He spent the day, admittedly not working, but enjoying the unusual springlike afternoon around the monastery and near the pond. How will you celebrate Merton’s Birthday?