Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 108

Dreaming of the Sea: A Women’s Discernment Journey through the Story of the Selkie

January 9-April 11, 2017 (with group spiritual direction on Thursdays)

with Christine Valters Paintner, PhD (limited to 12 participants)

Stories offer us a map of transformation. We step inside their dream space. We are invited to release our thinking and striving minds, to surrender to a wisdom that is far deeper and more expansive. They call forth new archetypal energies within us that have been hidden and forgotten.

In the ancient Celtic stories Selkies are shapeshifters, they move between worlds. They are women who take the form of a seal when in the sea and human form on land. These stories appear across Ireland, Scotland, and the Faroes. When the Selkie comes ashore, she takes off her skin, and if this skin is captured by a human, she is forced to stay on land. We will be exploring the story of the Selkie as an archetype of our own journey of transformation.

This is an online journey with small group spiritual direction facilitated by Christine.

For details and session dates/times click here>>

Monk in the World Guest Post: June Mears Driedger

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for June Mears Driedger's reflection titled Going Silent.

The road sign into The Hermitage property in Three Rivers, Michigan (USA), says, “Begin to drive slowly.”  It is a safety request but it is also a sign of what is to come while I stay at the contemplative prayer retreat facility. My desire is to slow down, to stop pushing, to cease striving, to go silent.  My desire is to pray, to listen, to quiet my inner noise.

Often, when I first arrive at The Hermitage, I go to the library and check out several books that I foolishly think I am going to read during my retreat. It is a frenetic reading, quickly trying to grab information to enable me to find the inner peace and quiet I need and want.  Rather than simply getting quiet, I skim the books and continue to feel restless and fidgety.

After a few hours of my arrival, I begin to relax. It is like I have an inner coil that has been overly wound and the coil begins to ease the tension. I allow my shoulders to drop and become conscious of my breathing, inhaling deeper then slowly exhaling.

The silence of The Hermitage begins to seep into me as I am only distracted by the wind and the birds. At last, I grow quiet and enter into a deep silence.

Prayer undergirds life at The Hermitage—silent prayers, meal prayers, communal prayers.  The mission statement for The Hermitage is, “Creating an environment of attentiveness to God” and this is my primary purpose as well. I want to be attentive to God. I want to see God in the beauty of the landscape and to see God’s loving face in the faces of the staff.

My favorite activity while on retreat is the daily morning prayers with the staff and other guests. Although we come from different locales and denominations, we join together to pray, confess, affirm, intercede, and bless. The Holy Spirit moves in us and amongst us as pray.

Near the conclusion of the morning prayer, we bless one another with these words: “____, you are the bearer of God’s infinite life.”  Each person around the circle states their name and we repeat: “David, you are the bearer of God’s infinite life.”

Some people look at one another as we bless them while other people look away as if this blessing is too intimate, too wonderful to receive from strangers.

At my turn, I state my name and as everyone else says, “June, …” I say with them, “I, am the bearer of God’s infinite life.” I claim this blessing as a facet even if I am not feeling particularly holy or godly.

As I become more attentive to God, I begin to write prayers in my journal. Or, I begin to pray what is known as “the Jesus Prayer”—“Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me.” Or, if I am trying to discern a decision, I might write about the decision within a spirit of prayer, asking God to reveal to me which way to go. I resist demanding a quick answer to my prayers as I demand when I am anxious and frantic. Instead, I can be with God, waiting quietly, like sitting alongside loved ones, waiting for God to speak.

In deep silence, I become more attentive to God. When I am in deep prayer, I can let God be God and me be me.  When I am deep in prayer, I am my truest self with God.

The sign on the road out of The Hermitage says, “Return Slowly.” Again, it is a safety message as one can’t easily see down the road to turn on to. But it is also a message to create silence whenever possible in order to live intentionally in deep prayer, as a monk in the world longs to do.

June Mears Driedger is a writer, editor, spiritual director, retreat leader, and a monk in the world in Lansing, Michigan. You can contact her via email. For further information about the Hermitage go to www.hermitagecommunity.org.

Embrace the slow rhythms of sacred time ~ A love note from your online abbess

When we make a good marriage with time . . . whatever sanity, patience, generosity, and creative genius we are able to achieve in life is not solely within our own remit. It comes from a real conversation with something other than ourselves . . .The closer we are to the productions of time–that is, to the eternal–the more easily we understand the particular currents we must navigate on any given day . . . If we want to understand the particulars of our reality, we must understand the way we conduct our daily relationship with the hours.

—David Whyte, "Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity"

Dearest monks and artists,

We live in a breathless world.

Everything around us seems to move at faster and faster speeds, summoning us to keep up. We multitask, we organize, we simplify, we do all we can to keep on top of the many demands on our time. We yearn for a day with more hours in it so we can complete all we long to do.

We often talk about wasted time, or time as money, or time fleeting.

This rushed existence is not sacred time.

Sacred time is time governed by the rhythms of creation, rhythms that incorporate times of rest as essential to our own unfolding. Sacred time is being present to the moments of eternity available to us at any time we choose to pause and breathe.

In sacred time, we step out of the madness of our lives and choose to reflect, to linger, to savor. We gain new perspective here. We have all had those moments of time outside of time, when we felt like we were touching eternity, bathed in a different kind of rhythm. Touching eternity brings a cohesion to our lives and reminds us of the goodness and surplus of living.

The clock with its forced march is not the only marker of time. Our calendars with their five and ten year strategic plans rob us of our future. The rising and setting of the sun, the expansion and contraction of the moon, the ripening and releasing of the seasons, these all mark a different quality of time and invite us into a deepened and renewed way of being.

Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has written extensively about our “flow state,” that experience of moving beyond consciousness of time’s ticking and into a place of timelessness. Wisdom traditions tell us that reaching these states of spaciousness and ease takes time, but that is the one thing that feels most scarce, and so we seek quick and easy fixes to our time anxiety. Often this includes rushing more, sleeping less, being distracted by multiple demands on our attention.

Gary Eberle, in his book Sacred Time and the Search for Meaning writes:

Sacred time is what we experience when we step outside the quick flow of life and luxuriate, as it were, in a realm where there is enough of everything, where we are not trying to fill a void in ourselves or the world, where we exist for a moment at both the deepest and the loftiest levels of our existence and participate in the eternal life of all that is. In simpler, or perhaps just slower, times, people seemed to enter this realm more regularly, or perhaps even to live with one foot inside it. Prayer, meditation, religious rituals, and holy days provided gateways into eternity that allowed us to return to the world of daily time refreshed and renewed, with an understanding that beneath the busyness of daily life there was an underpinning of calm, peace, and sufficiency.

He goes on to write that we experience time both horizontally and vertically:

The horizontal takes us along a straight line from past to future. This is what allows us to plan events and schedule meetings. It is the time we measure with clocks. The other way of experiencing time, the vertical, seems to deliver us from the flow of horizontal time. In moments of rapture, deep meditation, dream states, or intense celebration, we feel liberated from time’s passing. The clock does not stop, of course, but we do not hear it ticking. When we connect with vertical time, we step out of horizontal time and touch eternity.

When we look at the world around us, the world of nature and creation, we find exquisite examples of sacred timing: monarch butterflies that migrate, flowers blossoming in spring, salmon returning to the place of their origins to spawn and die.

What if we looked at time as a spiral, through the lens of each breath’s rise and fall, the rhythms of the sun and moon, and the longer cycles of a lifetime and the Universe itself.

Join us for a 6-week exploration of Sacred Time during the holy seasons of Advent and Christmas. Make an intentional pause this year and reframe your relationship to time from one of scarcity to one where you touch the eternal.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

Call for Submissions: Monk in the World Guest Post

We welcome you to submit your reflection for possible publication in our Monk in the World guest post series. It is a gift to read how ordinary people are living lives of depth and meaning in the midst of the challenges of real life.

There are so many talented writers and artists in this Abbey community, so this is a chance to share your perspective. The link to the reflection will be included in our weekly newsletter which goes out to more than 10,000 subscribers.

Please follow these instructions carefully:

Please click this link to read a selection of the posts and get a feel for the tone and quality.
Submit your own post of 700-900 wordson the general theme of "How do I live as a monk in the world? How do I bring contemplative presence to my work and/or family?" It works best if you focus your reflection on one aspect of your life or a practice you have, or you might reflect on how someone from the monastic tradition has inspired you. We invite reflections on the  practice  of living contemplatively.
Please include a head shot and brief bio(50 words max). You are welcome to include 1-2 additional images if they help to illustrate your reflection in meaningful ways.  All images should be your own.  Please make sure the file size of each the images is smaller than 1MB. You can resize your image for free here.
We will be accepting submissions between now and December 19th for publication sometime in the winter/spring of 2017.  We reserve the right to make edits to the content as needed (or to request you to make edits) and submitting your reflection does not guarantee publication on the Abbey blog, but we will do our best to include as many of you as possible.
Email Christine by December 19th with your submission and include the reflection pasted into the body of your email and attach your photo(s).

We will be back in touch with you at the latest by the beginning of January to let you know if your post is accepted, if edits are needed, and/or when we have scheduled your post to appear.

Monk in the World Guest Post: Kieran Hayes

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Kieran Hayes's reflection titled My Spiritual Life in Six Pieces.

I sit on a cushion on the floor, legs folded, and bring awareness to the gentle tide of the breath rising and falling on the shore of my body. I am aware of sounds, of thoughts, of feelings. I get distracted, lost in thought, and then I return again to the breath which anchors me in the present moment. I come home to myself and the now, again and again.

This practice has been a still point in my life and spiritual practice for some twenty years. I hope that it bleeds into my ordinary days and makes a positive difference to the people I meet in some way.

I find a refuge in mindfulness practice and in the awareness that perceives change but is itself changeless. But I need more and that more is Christ. As the psalmist sings, God’s love is faithful from age to age. I can learn to have faith in God’s faithfulness to me, his loving presence as I walk the twisting, muddy path of my life. In my relationship with Jesus of Nazareth and his Abba I find another still point in a fleeting world.

The world around me moves with relentless speed and is riven with conflict. I am restless and hungry and have changed so much over the years. Here I give an archaeology of my spiritual search in six pieces. These pieces are important because they help me to be still, to connect with and offer myself to God. Each is a marker on my way and symbol of a spiritual practice. If I am to live with a mind of peace, a heart of compassion, I need time to breathe, to be and to pray. I need stillness. I am on the way, I will always be on the way, but I am learning to be still on the way.

—–

Zafu is the Japanese word for a meditation cushion and is associated particularly with Zen Buddhism. The essential practice of Zen is Zazen or sitting meditation, simply sitting with the breath and observing thoughts arise and pass away. Posture is important too. I find sitting on a cushion on the floor very grounding; the feet, knees and pelvis form a triangle that gives a solid base for the trunk and head. The American Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield writes that we must learn to ‘take the one seat’, to choose a practice and commit to it through thick and thin. Mindfulness meditation is a way for me to cultivate stillness, physically, emotionally and mentally.

—–

The Zen Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh has a wonderful saying: ‘Listen, listen, the wonderful sound of the bell brings me home to my true self.’ I savour this phrase when I hear the bells of the local church ringing at noon every day. I try to remember to pause, take a breath and be still for a moment. It is a call to mindfulness and also to prayer, to the presence of Christ with me. In the psalms a bell signifies celebration: ‘Come, ring out our joy to God, the living God.’ The bell is a call to awakening and to the realisation of the kingdom of God within.

—–

Japanese incense has a light fragrance and I like to see those fine threads of smoke rising before the Icon on my coffee-table altar, or to see them illumined in sunlight. Incense creates a calm atmosphere for meditation and invites me to return to my senses, to the now. I begin morning prayer by circling a stick of incense before the Icon of Jesus and one of the Mother and child; it is a gesture of love, gratitude and reverence. Incense teaches me that life is fleeting as smoke, as cherry blossoms. In stillness I am alive to its beauty, accept its transience, cultivate gratitude, and kiss the joy as it flies.

—–

On one of my earliest visits to  the Benedictine monastery of Glenstal Abbey I spoke to one of the monks about The Cloud of Unknowing, the mystical text by an anonymous 13th century monk who urges us to send up a ‘sharp dart of longing love’ towards God. Beneath the monastery church in Glenstal there is an icon chapel, a hushed and holy place. Here hangs the icon of the ‘healing Christ’, the compassionate Christ who suffers because I suffer, God’s self-portrait. In his left arm he cradles the gospels, open at Matthew 11:28-30: ‘Come to me, you who are burdened, and I will give you rest.’  His eyes are dark, starless ovals.

—–

For centuries morning and evening have been times of prayer and special closeness to God. In the monastic tradition, Lauds (meaning ‘praises’) celebrates the gift of life and the new day; Compline (meaning ‘complete’) is an entrusting of ourselves to God’s loving embrace, to night and to death. The psalms are the songs of God’s people; they are great religious poetry which gives voice to deep human emotions of joy, gratitude, fear, despair and anger. They give me permission to be fully human. A beautiful prayer at Compline from Glenstal:

As shadows overwhelm the skies

Shine in our hearts eternal light;

Stay with us, Lord, as daylight dies,

Let angels guard us through the night.

—–

This shawl was a gift from two close friends who are a couple, Tina and Danny. I associate it with their loving friendship and use it to keep warm when I am meditating, covering my knees and legs or wrapping it over my shoulders. The fringes make me think of the tasselled Jewish Tallit or prayer shawl which is worn at morning prayer as the Shema Israel, ‘Hear, O Israel’, is recited. The holiest prayer of Judaism is a reminder that God is One and a call to love the Lord with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my strength.

Kieran Hayes (b.1973) is a writer and Spiritual Director (Milltown Institute). His areas of study include desert and Benedictine spirituality, Ignatian spirituality, and contemplative prayer. He works with individuals and groups in the areas of spirituality and personal growth. In 2013 he became an Oblate of Glenstal Benedictine Abbey in County Limerick, Ireland. He lives in Furbo, County Galway, in the West of Ireland.

Join me for the Veriditas Pilgrimage in Chartres, France

Soul of a Pilgrim with Christine Valters Paintner
May 22-26, 2017

Pilgrimage is as much an inner journey as it is an outer one. You are invited to travel to the frontier of your soul to discover the hidden presence of the divine in every step you take. Christine Valters Paintner will be sharing eight stages of the pilgrim's way–from hearing the call to packing lightly to being uncomfortable to coming home—in support of making an intentional, transformative journey to your own inner "wild edges." Through stories from the Celtic spiritual tradition, contemplative practices. teaching, sharing, creative exploration, music, and movement we will uncover the ways your own journey is breaking open something new.

Together we will cultivate attentiveness to the divine in daily life through deep listening and opening ourselves to the profound gifts that arise in the midst of discomfort and mystery. Often it is at times of life transition that we are called to approach a new threshold. Pilgrimage can be a way of navigating these crossings with grace and awareness. You will come away from the retreat with powerful practices to ground and guide you, a new appreciation for the spiritual gifts of being uncomfortable, and the invitation to continue the pilgrimage of discovery in the midst of your own life.

More details and registration here>>
Your Guide for the Journey

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE is the online Abbess of AbbeyoftheArts.com, a global online monastery integrating contemplative practice and creative expression. She is a retreat leader, spiritual director, and the author of ten books on monastic spirituality and the arts including The Soul of a Pilgrim: Eight Practices for the Journey Within. Four years ago she embarked on her own life pilgrimage which brought her eventually to Ireland where she lives with her husband and together they lead pilgrimages and writing retreats to the sacred and wild edges.

Suggestions for Reading:

The Soul of a Pilgrim: Eight Practices for the Journey Within by Christine Valters Paintner

The Art of Pilgrimage: A Seeker's Guide to Making Travel Sacred by Phil Cousineau

The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality by Belden Lane

Lectio Divina–The Sacred Art: Transforming Words and Images into Heart-Centered Prayer by Christine Valters Paintner

On Chartres:

Malcolm Miller’s Chartres

Philip Ball’s Universe of Stone

Jane Welch Williams’ Bread, Wine and Money

On the Labyrinth:

Lauren Artress’ Walking a Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Practice and The Sacred Path Companion: Using the Labyrinth to Heal and Transform

Jill Geoffrion’s Praying the Labyrinth

On Medieval Times:

William Manchester’s When the World was Lit Only by Fire

Samhain: Entering the Dark Half of the Year (online retreat tomorrow!) ~ A love note from your online abbess

Dearest monks and artists,

Samhain marks one of the two great doorways of the Celtic year. The Celts divided the year into two seasons: the season of light and the season of dark. Some believe that Samhain was the more important festival, marking the beginning of a whole new cycle, just as the Celtic day began at night. In the silence of darkness comes the whisperings of new beginnings.

Two significant features of this feast is the beginning of the season of darkness and the honoring of ancestors. Crossing the threshold means welcoming in the dark as a time of becoming more closely woven with the spiritual dimension of life. Winter invites us to gather inside, grow still with the landscape, and listen for the voices we may not hear during other times of year. These may be the sounds of our own inner wisdom or the voices of those who came before us.

The Celtic feast coincides with the Christian celebration of All Saint’s Day on November 1st and All Soul’s Day on November 2nd which begin a whole month in honor of those who have died. We tend to neglect our ancestral heritage in our culture, but in other cultures remembering the ancestors is an intuitive and essential way of beginning anything new. We don’t recognize the tremendous wisdom we can draw upon from those who have traveled the journey before us and whose DNA we carry in every fiber of our bodies.

This is one of my favorite times of year with the darkening days of autumn and the spreading color across the trees.  I have long loved the wisdom of the Celtic Wheel of the Year, but living here in Ireland I experience the turning points more keenly.

In the ancient Celtic imagination, this was considered to be a "thin time" when the veil between heaven and earth grew more transparent and the wisdom of our ancestors was closer to us. We are reassured that we are not alone, that we share the world with a great "cloud of witnesses" and "communion of saints" just across the veil. These next several days are a threshold space and in thresholds we are closer to the other world which is always here. The communal honoring of the dead continues for the whole month of November.

Join us for our online retreat and honor your ancestors in community>>

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

Join Christine in Chartres, France next spring for the Veriditas pilgrimage!

May 22-26, 2017


 


Description:


 


Pilgrimage is as much an inner journey as it is an outer one. You are invited to travel to the frontier of your soul to discover the hidden presence of the divine in every step you take. Christine Valters Paintner will be sharing eight stages of the pilgrim's way–from hearing the call to packing lightly to being uncomfortable to coming home—in support of making an intentional, transformative journey to your own inner "wild edges." Through stories from the Celtic spiritual tradition, contemplative practices. teaching, sharing, creative exploration, music, and movement we will uncover the ways your own journey is breaking open something new.


 


Together we will cultivate attentiveness to the divine in daily life through deep listening and opening ourselves to the profound gifts that arise in the midst of discomfort and mystery. Often it is at times of life transition that we are called to approach a new threshold. Pilgrimage can be a way of navigating these crossings with grace and awareness. You will come away from the retreat with powerful practices to ground and guide you, a new appreciation for the spiritual gifts of being uncomfortable, and the invitation to continue the pilgrimage of discovery in the midst of your own life.


Registration and details at this link>>

Monk in the World Guest Post: Lori Kochanski

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Lori Kochanski's reflection on the practice of loving the one in front of me.

The woman lay dying, waiting for a blessing.

The family is waiting to learn what it would take for their little girl to be baptized.

The seeker needs to know if we have $400 to complete his asylum paper work.

The secretary is waiting for the weekly announcements to be proofread.

My husband is waiting for dinner.

The teacher is waiting to teach the moves of the East Coast swing.

I wake knowing this is the agenda of a typical day in my life.  Maybe I should just stay here, in my bed, with only the words of the stack of books on the side table as a companion for this life.  It would be lovely, I think, to just dwell in the books of fiction or contemplate the life of someone else as laid out in the memoirs.  The poetry books hold a deeper truth that could occupy me for days.  Instead, I go to the bathroom and begin the morning ritual of preparation.

Before I realize it, I am on my way out the door.  It is amazing how that happens, how I can be awake and yet not notice how I got to the moment of turning the key in the ignition of my car.  Wasn't I just in bed contemplating staying there? Oh well, I am here now.

Outside the hospital I reach for my bags.  The first contains the real stuff I always carry-wallet, phone, electronic tablet, prayer beads, lip balm, and business cards that remind others who I am.  The other bag is invisible, but just as important.  Because I made the choice to swing my legs over the side of the bed and get up I also made the choice to be present to the waiting ones on the list.  And to be a creative, contemplative professional requires an heavy, imaginary bag of practices.

Today I choose a favorite practice, one that quickly shifts my heart.  It requires loving the one in front of you.   It looks like this:  when I walk into the hospital room with the dying woman I will really be with that woman, not other distractions, seeing only her.  When I leave and travel to the home of the young family with the child who wants to know how baptism works I will be right there, looking that child in the eye.  When I look into the face of the man who needs help I will look only there.  I will even love the one in front of me when I cannot give him what he says he needs.  I will help the secretary and not think about dinner with my husband.  Then I will hug my husband and be completely with him as we eat and then dance.

The act of loving the one in front of me is called a contemplative "practice" because there is no winning or losing or attainment of greatness in this way of being.  There is only the constant call to the present breath meeting another's life breath with an intention of love.   Perpetual practice is expansive and has no culmination.  We just return to it over and over again.   It brings to life the fullness of each moment.  It reminds me that this moment is all I have and the act of love is a choice.

Lori Kochanski lives in Easton, PA, with her husband Scott.  She is a Lutheran pastor and a spiritual director who is always seeking ways forward in community through hospitality and freedom.  Lori enjoys spending time with her husband, friends and family.  She also loves cycling and being in beautiful places.

St. Brigid and the Archetype of the Healer ~ A love note from your online abbess

St. Brigid and the Fruit Tree

There was the moment

you could bear it no more.

Your eyes brimming with

great glistening drops

summoned by the hunger of

the world, the callous and

terrible things men and

women do to one another.

Your tears splashed onto

cold stony earth, ringing out

like bells calling monks to prayer,

like the river breaking open to

the wide expanse of sea.

From that salt-soaked ground

a fruit tree sprouts and rises.

I imagine pendulous pears,

tears transmuted to sweetness.

There will always be more grief

than we can bear.

There will always be ripe fruitflesh

making your fingers sticky from the juice.

Life is tidal, rising and receding,

its long loneliness, its lush loveliness,

no need to wish for low tide when

the banks are breaking.

The woman in labor straddles the doorway

screaming out your name.

You stand there on the threshold, weeping,

and pear trees still burst into blossom,

their branches hang so heavy, low,

you don’t even have to reach.

–Christine Valters Paintner

Dearest monks and artists,

In Ireland, Brigid is one of the three patron Saints of the land alongside Patrick and Columba. We don’t know many details of her life, and there is great evidence that she is part of a much older lineage extending back to the Irish triple goddess Brigid of pre-Christian times who was the goddess of poets, smithwork, and healing.

Most of what we know about St. Brigid comes from the Life of Brigid written by the monk Cogitosis in the second half of the 7th century. The Life emphasizes her healing, her kinship with animals, her profound sense of hospitality and generosity, and concern for those oppressed. These stories of the Saints are not meant to be literal or historical, but spiritual, mythical, archetypal, and psychological, resonating with the deepest parts of our souls.

In our free live video seminar Monday, October 31 I explore Brigid as the archetype of the Healer. The Healer is the one who helps us to overcome inner divisions of body, mind, soul, heart, and spirit. Healing is very different than curing. We might have an illness which does not alleviate, but the Healer within allows us to find some wisdom and grace in the experience, allows us to have some peace and ease in the midst of unknowing and pain.

Similarly, with emotional wounds, the Healer is the one who helps us to welcome in the stranger and find reconciliation and perhaps even gratitude for these parts of self that have for so long vexed us.

Healing is not so much about “doing” but about a way of “being” that lies beyond all the false divisions we make in our lives. Healing often inspires radical life changes, and brings about ways of being more in alignment with our True Self and nature.

How might your inner Healer invite you into a space of being where all your scattered parts can come together and rest in radical welcome?

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Dancing Monk Icon © Marcy Hall at Rabbit Room Arts