Make new friends without keeping the old

When friends drop us, even the pragmatic realization that all things have a season—even love—is cold company. But new friends will arrive, green leaves growing in our hearts.

By Jean P. Kelly

I WALKED FOR the first time into a multi-day ecumenical faith festival on my own, not knowing a soul and unsure what to expect as a newcomer. Within 15 minutes of arriving, I met a fellow podcaster, then her son, then her brother and by the end of the day I was part of their friends & family group enjoying a musician on stage. Throughout the next three days all were reliable companions, bearing out what I had heard about the authentic hospitality offered annually at the Wild Goose Festival. As one veteran attendee told me “I always make friends I don’t even know I need.”

Just a few days before I drove six hours to North Carolina, a friend of more than 30 years ghosted my invitation to dinner. A voicemail left for another long-time buddy during my return drive likewise went unanswered. That neither was an anomaly, yet I persisted in my attempts to connect, was all the proof needed to affirm how much easier it is to preach detachment than to practice it. My talk at the festival about the importance of establishing boundaries with loved ones, based on my book, Less Helping Them, More Healing You, concluded with a quote from a favorite spiritual teacher, Fr. Anthony DeMello: “When I die to the need for people, then I am right in the desert…. It is solitude, it is aloneness, and the desert begins to flower.”

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The Transformative Power of Spiritual Reading for Healing and Self-Reflection

Excerpt from Less Helping Them, More Healing You: The Transcendent Gifts of an Ancient Spiritual Practice, by Jean P. Kelly

AT ONE TIME, I pictured myself in a nursing home of the future where family and friends would complain about my pockets full of notes—shreds of paper with handwritten quotes—stashed there and everywhere in case I forgot good advice. I also imagined an avalanche of books, anthologies, and memoirs bristling with post-its, on a bedside stand, never shelved just in case I needed to find, in doubt-filled moments, an inspirational passage, paragraph, or prayer.

Words of others—especially in books—have always offered solace to me: comfort, companionship, escape, insight, and challenge. So when some ten years ago I learned that reading can be prayer, I was hooked. Ever since discovering the ancient spiritual discipline Lectio Divina, “Spiritual Reading,” I’ve been on an intentional path back to myself, one page at a time.

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