Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 114

Celebrate Pentecost and the Feast of St. Brendan (Free Preview Call) ~ A love note from your online abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

Today is Pentecost and tomorrow is the Feast of St. Brendan, one of my favorite of the Irish saints. Here is another excerpt from my newest book Illuminating the Way:

Help me to journey beyond the familiar

and into the unknown.

Give me the faith to leave old ways

and break fresh ground with You.

Christ of the mysteries, I trust You

to be stronger than each storm within me.

I will trust in the darkness and know

that my times, even now, are in Your hand.

Tune my spirit to the music of heaven,

and somehow, make my obedience count for You.

—The Prayer of St. Brendan (attributed to Brendan)

I was not that familiar with Brendan the Navigator until I moved to Ireland. Officially, he would be known as Brendan of Clonfert, and there is a Cathedral in Clonfert, Ireland bearing his name and a site said to be his grave where I have visited.

The “Navigator” or “Voyager” is his more commonly known title because his life was defined by his seven year long journey across the sea to find the Island Promised to the Saints. He would have visited the island of Inismor off the coast of County Galway to receive a blessing from St. Enda before embarking on his journey, so I relish knowing I have walked and sailed on some of the same landscape as he.

He hears the call to search for this mythical island and it is revealed in a dream, an angel says he will be with him and guide him there. He brings along a group of fellow monks for community, and searches for seven years sailing in circles, visiting many of the islands again and again. Each year he celebrates Easter Mass on the back of a whale. Each year he visits the island of the birds, where white-feathered creatures sing the Psalms with his monks. Only when his eyes are opened, does he see that this paradise he seeks is right with him.

There is, of course, the actual narrative of a physical voyage. Tim Severin, a modern sailor in the 1970’s, re-created the voyage Brendan took, rebuilding the same boat, and landed in places like Iceland and Greenland. There have been suggestions that Brendan was perhaps the first to land in North America. This is the outward geography of the journey.

There is also a deeper, archetypal layer to this journey, which resonates with our own inner pilgrim – the part of ourselves drawn to make long voyages in search of something for which we long. This is the inward geography of the journey, and one where we may physically only travel a few feet or miles but the soul moves in astronomical measure.

The Navigatio, as the text of Brendan’s voyage is known in Latin, is a story of a soul rooted deeply in a monastic tradition and culture, as well as the liturgical cycles and rhythms, in early medieval Ireland. Each of the various parts of their journey take place in 40 and 50 day increments to reflect the liturgical seasons and the rhythms of fasting. They arrive to landfall to celebrate the major feasts and always accompanied by the singing of the Divine Office and chanting of the psalms. Time is not linear on this journey. Brendan and his monks move in circles, spiraling again and again to familiar places from new perspectives.

This journey is an allegory of spiritual transformation and the soul’s seeking to live and respond to the world from an experience of inner transfiguration with themes of Brendan’s waiting, anticipation, striving, searching, and seeing from a deeper perspective. The heart of the voyage asks us, what needs to change for the Land Promised to the Saints to be recognized? What is the way required through both illuminated and shadowy interior landscapes? Are we able to stay present through moments of solace, ease, and joy, as well as the anxiety, fear, and sometimes terror that comes when we let go of all that is familiar to follow our heart’s calling? Can we see the difficult journey as a passage of initiation?

There is a great deal of waiting in this journey, so much unknowing. There are whole seasons when they feel impatient and confused about why they can’t find the place they are seeking so diligently. Yet it is the very journey through the shadows that is required to make the desired discovery. Brendan doesn’t arrive to the promised land he seeks until he has made the arduous journey within.

I also have a reflection for Pentecost on the Call to Holy Surprise at Patheos, the last in my 8-part series on practicing resurrection. Click here to read >>

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © St Brendan dancing monk icon by Marcy Hall at Rabbit Room Arts

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Monk in the World guest post: Adam Brooks Webber

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Adam Brooks Webber's reflection on dancing with the sunrise.

I gather my weapons. No one else in the house is awake yet, save only the cat, and he’s too concerned now with the contents of his dish to pay any further attention to me. I ease the back door open and slip outside. The dew on the back steps chills my bare feet. The neighboring cottages are quiet, and there’s no one in sight. Good. I’d just as soon not be seen. With silent steps I make my way down the path, past the parking lot, past the old hotel, and onto the empty beach. I place my weapons carefully on the sand. I kneel, preparing myself.

Preparing myself, but not for violence. I have never used a weapon in earnest against another creature. I am a student of a traditional martial art—Karatedo Doshinkan—and my weapons this morning are simple wooden ones: the bo (a six-foot staff) and the tonfa (a pair of short sticks with handles). Each morning, when I can, I come to this beach on Lake Michigan to train, sometimes with weapons and sometimes without them. Each morning I begin with an opening ceremony of kiotsuke (gathering ki, life-energy) and rei (showing respect), preparing for my daily training in the way I first began to study more than twenty years ago. And each morning, as part of this ceremony, I kneel and pray.

Hanshi Isao Ichikawa, the founder of my style of Karatedo, opened each training with this traditional ceremony, which includes a time of kneeling silence. I never heard him give any instruction on what to do with this silence; it wasn’t his way to tell when he could show. I don’t think he thought of it as a time of prayer, but that’s what it is for me. In fact, my whole morning training is often a time of prayer—a time of heightened awareness of God’s presence.

The training itself involves the practice of many kata, traditional training dances. To learn a kata, a student watches a teacher carefully and attempts to imitate the movements.  Kata are ancient teachings, kinetic traditions passed on through generations.  They bear wisdom from out of the past, and they reward close study.  Hanshi taught these movements carefully, but also used to emphasize that technique isn’t everything. In one rare moment of explanation he suggested that we try to perform kata as a mother sings lullabies to her child. When singing a lullaby it doesn’t hurt to have the vocal technique of a professional singer, but that isn’t the most important thing. What really makes a lullaby beautiful, with or without perfect technique, is the mother’s feeling for her child. And I find that when I am properly mindful a kata can be an intensely prayerful dance with God.

This morning, I start with my time of kneeling silence. The lake, which was noisy with waves all night, is at rest now, and the sun is not yet up. I kneel in the cold damp sand, eyes closed. I reflect with gratitude on my shivering body: I am a 53-year-old man, no great athlete, no paragon of strength or beauty, yet all my limbs seem to be working this morning, and we are all, as scripture says, fearfully and wonderfully made. I think about my teachers—the late Hanshi, Shihan Dean, Shihan June, Shihan Leone, Hanshi Nobuo Ichikawa. I picture them in my mind and pray my thanks for them. I offer my training to God, and ask that God watch and receive my practice. I wait and listen in the silence. And when it’s time, I open my eyes, and rise, and begin.

I begin, of course, with physical warm-ups. Some of them look pretty silly. I must confess, this is the part I’d rather not have anyone see. I’m vain enough to hope that, if anyone does pass by this early in the morning, they’ll at least wait until I’m doing something more impressive than swiveling my hips and swinging my arms. And now I do hear an approaching noise. It’s a rushing, murmuring sound. I look around, but no, it’s overhead: swans! In a V-formation they pass above me, heading up the shoreline. Up where they’re flying, the rising sun already touches them, and they shine a brilliant white in the grey dawn. They don’t seem to have taken any notice of me and my ridiculous wind-milling.

Warm-ups completed, I move into a time of practicing kata. I begin with the seven Kyoku kata—the sunrise kata—and I pray them repeatedly to God with my body, wordlessly. In this time of prayer I do not communicate verbal concepts to God: no praise, no request, no thanks, no complaint. We show more than tell, and dance more than show. This is an essentially kinetic prayer, a dance to God and with God, an expression of what it means to be alive and incarnate, performed with full feeling.

The sun rises to touch me. The hour wears away. There is no room for fear or self-consciousness. My fearfully-and-wonderfully-made body becomes hot and tired and stuck all over with sand. And as I train, I become more aware of God, and I feel God’s eyes on me. And a slow elation rises."

Rev. Adam Brooks Webber Ph.D. holds a fifth degree black belt.  He is the pastor of the Clare Congregational UCC in Clare, Michigan.  He is also a husband and father, computer scientist, writer, composer, and entertainer.  He blogs at adambrookswebber.com.

 

 

 

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Writing as a Spiritual Practice ~ A love note from your online abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

I am away on the wild edges of Ireland this week and John and I are leading a writing retreat with a wonderful group of writers and pilgrims. So I leave you with this reflection I wrote last year on “Writing as a Spiritual Practice.”

I am deeply inspired by monastic tradition, one of the great contemplative and mystical strands of Christian heritage, and also present in other religions. Monks were the keepers of wisdom through their commitment to spiritual practice and to the art of writing. Manuscripts were illuminated, bringing word and image together, to shine a light on the poetry, stories, and other wise words that shape our western cultural imagination. I have been a writer for as long as I can remember. At age 8 I penned short stories about 008, the woman spy who had to step in where James Bond failed, marking my simultaneous early journey into feminism as well.

As an adult, I write mostly non-fiction and poetry. My journal is an intimate companion to my days. Writing is often a doorway of discovery to what I didn’t know before. When I write with openness to the unfolding journey, surprises await me on the page. When I fell in love with monasticism in graduate school fifteen years ago, I discovered a set of practices that resonated with the part of me that loves spaciousness and slowness. I slowly came to realize that the contemplative way can also be a gift for our creativity as well, nurturing it in powerful ways.

Silence and Slowness

In our busy lives we miss so much of the texture, nuance, and depth of the world around us. At heart, the contemplative life is about being willing to slow down enough to really see the wonders of life at work all around us. We embrace times of silence to allow a different voice to speak, a wiser and more centered voice than the anxious narrative many of us have running continually through our minds.  What might happen if we allowed a few minutes each day to descend into the well of stillness?

Sacred Tools and Rituals

The Benedictine tradition encourages us to consider all things, people, and time as sacred. Benedict’s Rule states that the tools of the kitchen are to be treated with as much reverence as the sacred vessels of the altar. What if we treated the tools of our writing practice as sacred tools as well?

Blessing is an act of gratitude that honors the capacity for something to offer more than we expect in return. What if we began our writing time with a blessing for our creative work, blessing our hands as vessels, blessing the pen and paper (or laptop) as the implements of our expression?

Sacred Encounters and Hospitality

Benedict also wrote that every stranger who comes to the door is to be treated as the face of the divine. Creativity has a way of stirring up a multitude of inner voices, whether the perfectionist, the critic, or the judge. When we resist those voices we often end up feeling stuck or blocked. Writing as a contemplative practice calls us to make room for whatever shows up in a given moment and to treat it with respect, even as it may cause us some fear and trembling.

When the strangers that arrive into our lives, whether circumstances that make us uncomfortable, or parts of ourselves longing for integration, what would happen if we treated these guests as doorways to the divine presence? All of life has the potential to become a meeting place for the sacred. This can become the foundation for our writing.

Sacred Rhythms and Time

In the monastery, the unfolding of time is honored as sacred. The monks would pause about every three hours to gather together for prayer. This was a way of remembering throughout the day their source and mission. In addition, these Hours of the day were considered each unique in their invitation. Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast writes in his book Music of Silence that each Hour has its own quality and question for us. The dawn calls us to awaken to a new day and new possibilities. Noon reminds us of the fullness of time and our own fruitfulness. Dusk invites us to remember our limits and that everything comes to an end. Midnight reminds us of the grace of incubation and offers us space for reflection and renewal. When we honor the rhythms integral to nature, we allow our own creativity to flourish. Nature can’t sustain a perpetual spring and summer, so why do we expect the same from our creative life? What if blocks were simply times the soul was lying fallow in preparation for a future harvest? What if stepping away from our work and allowing some time for silence was necessary to keep the inspiration flowing? Sometimes we try to fit our creativity into a pre-designed mold rather than listening to our own creative rhythms and how they want to unfold.

Writing as Pilgrimage

In the Celtic monastic tradition, one of the unique and key features was peregrinatio, a practice of stepping into a coracle without an oar or a rudder and letting the winds and the currents carry them to the “place of their resurrection.”  At heart this was a practice of pilgrimage which signaled a profound surrender to the heart of mystery and where it might lead them. Our writing practice might garner some wisdom from this ancient way of wandering. What if we tried to direct things less and yield more to the flow of the current of creativity at work in our lives? What if we became less concerned with product and more so with process?

You are the Veil

One of the best-known Irish monks, Brendan, is described as embarking on a great voyage to find the island promised to the Saints.  His journey can be seen as a metaphor for the creative process. He sets his sights on a goal and gathers a community with him for support. They end up sailing in circles for seven years, while Brendan hopes to finally “arrive” at his desired goal. Along the way he encounters many magical places like the island of the birds, where the avian chorus joins him and his monks in their singing of the psalms, and the whale upon which they land and celebrate Easter mass. His journey is a reminder of the grace and wonder available to us along the way and the fruits of our practice.

As he travels onward though, he becomes impatient with the circles he seems to be making and wants to know how much longer it will be. How many times do we hold off on our own creative expression, waiting for the perfect moment when our schedules suddenly clear away (a moment which sadly never arrives)? Finally Brendan has a profound realization. He discovers that he is the veil that hides the paradise he seeks. He is getting in his own way through all of his reaching and striving. As soon as he lets go, the island he has been seeking is revealed to him. Much like Dorothy in the story of the Wizard of Oz, home and paradise are right there with him all along, he just needs to see differently.

How might we release the goal we hold too tightly to and become aware of how we get in our own way? What are the ways we can weave time for our creative practice into daily life rather than waiting for some distant perfection of circumstances?

Sacredness of Work

In the yogic tradition is the concept of tapas, which is the fire or heat we need to bring to our practice to stay committed. Benedict also writes about the good zeal a monk needs to have. Even with this invitation to yield, to allow the process to unfold, to make room for all that is ripening in our creative hearts, there is also an invitation to do the hard work necessary of showing up each day to our practice. The root of the word discipline is disciple. What would it mean to become a disciple of our creativity? This is the paradox at the heart of all creative expression. We need the limits of the riverbank and the discipline of showing up to the page. And we also need the free flowing river, removing all that impedes its direction.

Always a Beginner

Buddhism counsels “beginner’s mind” and Benedict advises that always we begin again. Essential to the creative process is the humility to recognize our own humanness. When we fall away from our practice, instead of endlessly berating ourselves, the invitation is to ever so gently return. When writing becomes a spiritual practice, it opens us up to the possibility of discovery, of gentleness with ourselves, and of following rhythms which are renewing rather than exhausting. Our writing then can help us to break open the ordinary wonders of daily life.

Please consider joining us for Writing on the Wild Edges in 2017.

Stop by Patheos for my next reflection in the 8-week series on Practicing Resurrection.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

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Monk in the World guest post: Anne Knorr

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Anne Knorr's reflection on reconnecting with the cycles of the Earth.

The other night my husband and I hiked up to one of our favorite spots in the foothills of Boulder, Colorado we affectionately call the Moon Rock.  Our neighbors joined us on the 45-minute trek up the hill with picnic dinners and headlamps in tow.  Hiking to watch the moonrise is a ritual we happened onto several years ago when the full moon coincided with my birthday and my husband thought it would be a delightfully fun and unique way to celebrate.  It just so happened that this evening was a blue moon, the rare occurrence of a second full moon in the same month.  As we sat peering across the horizon, a soft glow appeared just above the horizon, the precursor to the arrival of the moon.  We were completely mesmerized as the first sliver of light crept into view and the golden globe began to rise into the evening sky.  The sight of the full moon took me back to a time on our boat near the Northwest coast of British Columbia where our every move was tightly linked to the cycles of the earth.  I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I missed the profound calm that accompanies being so in sync with nature.

Tides and currents are deeply connected to the cycles of the moon and its gravitational pull.  Water ebbs and flows depending on whether the moon is moving towards fullness or fading away.  Spring tides (the greatest flow of water) happen on a full moon with water levels changing by as much as twelve feet.  Navigating to our chosen destination was closely timed with the ebb and flow of the tides, always striving to have the currents run with us and not against us. Slack tides also played into our decisions when going through narrow passages requiring us to adapt to the ocean’s timing.   Falling into this rhythm felt natural, almost like coming home to a place I’ve always known but had forgotten.  The earth’s cycles remind me that life is constantly expanding and contracting, growing into fullness then releasing into something new. Indigenous people carry this wisdom, as do farmers, and fishermen, and anyone whose livelihood is linked to the earth.  Black Elk, a Native American, described it this way, You have noticed everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the power of the world always works in circles…even the seasons form a great circle in their changing and always come back again to where they were…

About a month after the blue moon experience, a lunar eclipse occurred while I was staying at the Jesuit retreat center near Sedalia, Colorado.  Grassy hills surround the property in this rural setting and I was able to walk to a ridge nearby that allowed me to watch the sun set in the west then turn 180 degrees and watch the moon rise in the east.  The actual eclipse took hours to come into fullness so I walked back to the retreat house where a hammock offered the perfect place to sit and wait.  In the dusk of the evening I could make out the silhouettes of other retreatants scattered across the lawn, each of us silently and reverently watching the moon, as if it held some magical power that captivated us all – we knew it was unlikely we would see this event again in our lifetime.  To wait, to watch, and to notice as the cosmic dance unfolded felt like a prayer. Nothing else was required other than to acknowledge the wonder.

It also felt like an invitation to wait, to watch, and to notice the subtle daily, monthly, and yearly cycles that surround me.  Being a monk it the world can be as simple as reconnecting with the cycles of the earth and honoring them with my attention – gazing out my window as the sun rises in the morning, savoring the rich colors of fall leaves as I drive across town, listening to the hoot of the owl as I take my morning walk.  Right now I am particularly drawn to the lunar cycle and the subtle yet powerful way it influences the dynamics of the ocean, the fish, the magnetic field, and even childbirth. I am reminded that my life is cyclical as well and follows a larger and universal pattern that is constantly moving and changing.  It calms me down as I navigate the new seasons of my life and helps me to trust that letting go is a natural part of the circle and energy of life as it comes into fullness, then fades away, then returns once again full circle.

Anne Knorr is an architect, spiritual director and author of the book, Sacred Space at Home, Architecture with Soul. She has written and lectured about the connection between architecture and spirituality, and continues her practice as a residential architect and spiritual director. Anne lives in Boulder, Colorado.

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Walk the Ancient Paths in Ireland – Join us May 16th for a free call and gifts for early registration by June 30th

Pilgrimage Preview Call

On Monday, May 16th – the feast of Brendan the Navigator – Christine & John Valters Paintner are hosting a free call about their pilgrimages to Ireland. Even if you aren’t planning to join us on a live journey, you might enjoy listening to Christine read some of her poems, lead you on a guided meditation, see some of their images from Ireland, and hear John and Christine both talk about what they love so much about the place they live. Everyone is welcome to join. You can even ask questions, either ahead of time or at the end of the call.

To join the call register here and then log in on May 16th at 8:00 a.m. Pacific / 11 a.m. Eastern / 4:00 p.m. Ireland and UK / 5:00 p.m. Continental Europe (click here to calculate your own time zone) or you can listen to the recording after.

*Special early registration bonus*

Register for a pilgrimage in 2017 by June 30th for special gifts including a signed copy of Christine’s book Soul of a Pilgrim, a set of dancing monk icon cards, and a special gift from the landscape of Ireland mailed to you.

Those who have made a pilgrimage with us before, receive the special gifts AND a €200 discount on future journeys (will reduce to €100 after June 30th).

In 2017 we have several opportunities to join us on the wild west coast of Ireland for a soulful journey in the stunning landscape of this gorgeous place. Join a community of kindred souls for slow wandering in sacred sites and reflecting on your own soul’s deep hunger. Imagine hearing the words of John O’Donohue and other poets each day as you immerse yourself in the Celtic imagination and the power of the elements – wind, sea, stone, and sun.

Please feel free to be in touch with any questions you might have. John and Christine would love to welcome you to the land they call home.

Click here for a calendar of pilgrimage dates>>

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Celebrate the Celtic feast of Beltaine ~ A love note from your online abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

In the Celtic Wheel of the Year, today is the feast of Beltaine and the very start of summer. This is an excerpt from our online self-study retreat Sacred Seasons: A Yearlong Journey through the Celtic Wheel of the Year (click link for details and registration):

Beltaine (which means bright fire) is another of the cross-quarter days, representing the mid-point between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice and it is often experienced at the height of spring. In Ireland it is considered to be the beginning of summer and the beginning of the light half of the year. We can feel the significant shift in light at this latitude and the days are becoming significantly longer. Temperatures are warmer. Flowering has come to its fullness. Birds are singing in full chorus.

In Ireland the cuckoo birds start arriving from their winter in Africa, and there are music and walking festivals named after its return. The power of nature’s life force returning is celebrated. Two fires were lit and the sheep and cattle were brought to the summer pastures. It is a fire festival of fertility and garlands of flowers are made up in honor of the creative abundance beginning to stream forth from the land.

The theme of Beltane is union of male of female energies to increase this fertility. Couples would go off into the woods to gather flowers the night before and return with hair and clothes rumpled. Upon their return at dawn, they would scatter flowers on the doorways and windowsills as blessing.

This time of year celebrates the rising sap, the fruitfulness of the earth and human beings, and all in the process of ripening toward fullness. We honor the life force at work in the world around us and within us.

A well-known tradition is the Maypole with ribbons and streamers and dancing around it which often ended with a great banquet. The dew of May was thought to hold special properties. Women would bathe in it to renew their complexions. Men would wash their hands in it to increase their skills. Many would walk barefoot in it or roll in the wet grass for healing.

People would go to holy wells and walk the rounds, bless themselves with the water from the well, and hang a strip of their clothing or a ribbon on the tree.

As the growth cycle turns toward summer, this feast calls us to engage in our creative power and ignite the sparks of our life force seeking expression in the world

Join our Sacred Seasons online program for a mini-retreat exploring Beltaine including music, dance, creative expression, contemplation, and reflection on the Christian connections with this feast including May as the month of Mary and the celebration of Pentecost.

Stop by Patheos for my next reflection in the series of Practicing Resurrection where I explore love and peace as holy directions.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

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Illuminating the Way: new 12-month journey with FREE monthly teleconference

Starts Monday, May 23rd with Francis of Assisi!

Join us for a FREE 12-month journey through Christine Valters Paintner's newest book Illuminating the Way: Embracing the Wisdom of Monks and Mystics. Each month Christine will host a teleseminar where she will explore some of the themes of the monk and mystic featured, lead a meditation experience, and read one of her poems, as well as offer the opportunity to ask questions. The recording will be available if you can't participate live on the call. This is a wonderful way to move slowly and intentionally through the material. You do need to purchase your own copy of the book to participate but the online journey is free to all of our wonderful email newsletter subscribers.

Click here to subscribe to our weekly love notes and newsletter>>

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Christine is interviewed on The Soul Directed Life

Janet Connor interviewed Christine Valters Paintner about her new book Illuminating the Way. You can listen to the conversation here about embracing your inner monk, visionary, and pilgrim through the inspiration of Thomas Merton, Hildegard of Bingen, and Brendan the Navigator.

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Monk in the World guest post: Theresa Walker

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Theresa Walker's reflection on waiting, letting go, and opening to creative gifts.

Years ago, I waited anxiously to see if I would get the job I had interviewed for. I wanted the job very much. At last my interviewer called and said, "I'm sorry, but I still can't give you an answer." My spirits plummeted. Disappointment, anxiety, and a worrisome desire to achieve my goal gripped me.

That night I dreamed a woman stood in front of me holding a baby. I reached out my arms and took a step toward the baby I wanted to hold. Baby held up her head, looked at me, and said, "I don't like you." What a crushing remark! I stepped back, and immediately the baby leaped into my arms. I held her.

I took the message to heart. Wait. Wait. And wait. And besides waiting, relax, You can't force the giving of gifts. Truly, I felt at peace. I did not take the dream as a sign I would get the job although I did get the job a few months later and worked for my employer, with ups and downs, for the next twenty years. That dream helped me to move away from clinging to one self-centered desire and offered excellent advice for my life: to practice attentiveness, openness, and vulnerability. These were spiritual practices that would lead to peace of mind and bear fruit no matter what job I had or didn't have.

I used to think of myself as a "private person," but in time this label seemed not quite accurate. Through kind conversations with friends on the spiritual path and in my church community, and practices such as centering prayer, I became aware of how self-protective my privacy could be.

For example, coming down with a severe flu turned out to be an enlightening experience. Although friends and a neighbor offered help, I could not bring myself to accept it. After a few days I dragged myself out of bed and crossed a heavily trafficked city street to a nearby supermarket to buy a few items. I almost passed out in the store. Once safely back in my apartment, the foolishness of trying to hide my need for assistance became apparent, and this led me to a clear, conscious decision to open up more to others, to receive help gratefully, and to strive to give help with no agenda.

The spiritual practice that now challenges me the most is the practice of creativity, especially through the tools of writing and painting. Endless creativity is a grace, a gift from birth, but it has taken me a long time to believe the treasure is meant for me. Why wouldn't it be? Being human is.the only requirement for tapping into creativity. Painting, which I started doing in midlife, and writing, which I've enjoyed since childhood, take me far away from protecting myself and deeply into communion. In writing and painting I learn from many teachers, share with fellow creators, and uncover much that is hidden and needs to be revealed. In the practice of creativity, gifts abound, and with abundance comes gratitude, generosity, and service. "

Theresa Walker writes, paints, and works in university press publishing in Washington, DC. She is a registered SoulCollage® facilitator and holds a certificate as an expressive arts facilitator. She has led groups in adult education settings and has shown her paintings in several group and solo exhibits. She completed the leading contemplative prayer groups program at the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation.

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Illuminating the Way: Embracing the Wisdom of Monks and Mystics is now available!

 

Illuminating the Way takes you on a journey through your inner life accompanied by twelve great monks and mystics from the Christian tradition. Each figure invites you to discover the energy and potential of a particular archetype–the inner sage in Benedict; the inner visionary in Hildegard of Bingen; and the inner orphan in Dorothy Day. From the prophet Miriam of the Hebrew Scriptures to twentieth century monk Thomas Merton, Paintner offers an array of challenging and enlivening models to explore.

Christine is beloved by readers for her creative practices, guided meditations, and beautiful prayers and poems, and she has included all of these elements in her new book to further explore the image associated with each mystic. Her insightful reflections on key selections of each mystic's writings will help you gain greater self-knowledge and experience a deeper encounter with God.

"In this creative work Christine Valters Paintner offers us a pilgrimage through the lives of sages, healers, mystics, visionaries, and more—inviting us to feast on their wisdom and explore how their gift of life can illuminate the way for us. This is a wonderful resource and I joyfully recommend it." —Macrina Wiederkehr, O.S.B., Author of Seven Sacred Pauses 

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