The Monastery of Christ in the desert sits at the end of a bumpy half-hour drive down a ruined red-clay road that wends into the azure sky of northwestern New Mexico like a curl of Christmas ribbon reaching toward heaven. The main sanctuary, fashioned from brown adobe and perched on a small hill, is warmed by burning pinon and scented by freshly baked bread. In the late afternoon the surrounding canyon glows with a purple twilight. At night the waters of the Chama River gossip with the birds, and the stars weave a gossamer blanket overhead. No matter what your faith,...
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