Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 130

May 8: Monk – Pilgrimage of ResurrectionA Creative Journey through the Easter Season

Word for Today: Monk

The root of the word “monk” is monos, which means one or single. It isn’t so much about marital status as it is about the condition of one’s heart. When I try to live as a monk, I commit to living my life with as much integrity as possible.

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

Reflective Question: How might you answer the monk’s call to live from a commitment to singleness of heart?

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

Monk in the World guest post: Hilary Lohrman

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Hilary Lohrman's reflection on finding the sacred in the ordinary:

I am writing on behalf of the ordinary.

Nothing special, nothing especially interesting.  Just the simple, daily, ordinary content of life and the discovery that God resides in exactly that.

When I was a younger woman, I had spiritual ambitions (though I wouldn’t have described it that way, of course}.  Perhaps to become a priest, or possibly a spiritual director with a large, successful practice.  At the very least, I would be a model Benedictine Oblate, guiding and teaching others how to follow the monastic way of life.  I rather divided my life into the spiritual—i.e. important–and everything else, which was less so. I fulfilled some of my ambitions, working full-time as a pastoral assistant in a busy parish and completing a training program as a spiritual director.  I became an Oblate group leader.  Respected as a teacher and a retreat leader, I accomplished a great deal for God.

Fast forward a decade and a half, and how things changed.  Following our move from Kansas City to a small farming community, I felt completely lost. My husband had grown up here and his family was well known. On the other hand, I knew no one, and certainly no one knew me.  Life moved at a much slower pace and my gifts—or what I thought were my gifts—had no audience.  I was angry and bereft.  I really hated where I found myself and longed to return to what seemed like glory days.  (Oh, to be back in Egypt!)

A wise Benedictine sister once told me, “When you feel like running away, it is usually because you are sick of yourself.”  I certainly felt like running away, but that, of course, was impossible.  I loved my husband and I loved our beautiful home in the country, with its woods and fields.  I was responsible for the three beautiful horses in the pasture, along with an assortment of dogs and cats. No escape.  I was stuck here, in what felt like a spiritual desert.

And we all know what happens in the desert.  Burning bushes and exile and wandering and God speaking on a mountain and dry bones piling up.  The desert is a place of prophets and demons, promises and doubts.  The desert is a place where the food is provided directly from the hand of God, and is NOT what you want.

In the city, I had been introduced to the monastic Rule of St. Benedict and had pledged to live according to those values as a Benedictine oblate.  I loved Mount St. Scholastica, my home monastery.  I loved the Sisters, the Liturgy of the Hours, and the sense of timelessness I found there.  It nourished my soul and the Rule was like a study trellis upon which my faith could grow.  The core values of the Rule—stability, obedience, and conversion—became the organizing principles of my spiritual life.  I loved the Rule and the centuries of spiritual riches behind it.

However, it was when I was separated from my faith community and all the roles I played within it, that I discovered I needed the Rule.  When all the external support was taken away, how was I to live?  When I had no one to teach or guide or lead, how was I to live?  When I looked up and saw only desert, how was I to live?  (Can these bones live?)

Stability.  Obedience. Conversion.

Stability: Don’t run away.  God is here. Right here.

Obedience: God is speaking. In this person, in this situation, in this place of need or hurt or loss. Listen.

Conversion: Let yourself be changed. Rest in God’s love. Trust. You will not be abandoned, you will be made new.

A faithful student, I had studied the Rule and followed the Rule (not perfectly) and knew in my heart that the monastic path was my path.  But Mount St. Scholastica, while an amazing gift, was not the place where God was leading me.  The beloved Sisters were not the community that God had established for me.  I was called to live as a monk in my world.

What does this look like? Taking time to make eye contact and greet each store clerk I meet. Opening our home to host the wedding of a young neighbor. Adopting a frail, elderly horse, bound for slaughter if a home could not be found.  Maintaining a faithful correspondence with friends now at a distance.  Being ridiculously patient with puppy accidents, injured cats, and neighbors who support the National Rifle Association.  It looks like surrendering my prejudices and preferences on a daily basis, and extending Benedictine hospitality to most unlikely angels.

It is knowing bone-deep the truth that the implements of the kitchen and barn are every bit as holy as the plate and chalice on the altar.

When God led me into the desert of unwanted change, God intended to heal that part of me that divided life into segments of holy and not-so-holy.  God invited me into intimacy in the ordinary.  God’s face reveled in the face of my spouse, my dogs, my scraggly barn cat, and my horses.  In my neighbors and the man who delivers my packages from amazon.com.

There is no place where God is not.

The lesson from the desert: don’t run away. I am here.  Trust and you will be made new. The monk in the world walks with God In this ordinary, extraordinary place, a place where God says silently, always and everywhere I am with you.

Hilary Lohrman is a lay woman and Benedictine oblate of Mount St. Scholastica Monastery in Atchison, Kansas, US.  She makes her home in rural northern Indiana with her husband, Ed, three dogs, two cats, two horses, and one very cheeky donkey.  She is a mother, grandmother, retired RN, and sometime spiritual companion/director.

May 7: Presence – Pilgrimage of ResurrectionA Creative Journey through the Easter Season

Word for Today: Presence

We don’t need to travel long journeys to grow in the spiritual life. Wherever  we are, we are called to stay in the monk’s cell, which means to stay present to our experience.

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

Reflective Question: Can you inhabit fully the uncomfortable edges of your experience without giving into the need to change it into something else, without trying to find the next thing to make you feel good?

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

May 6: Soul – Pilgrimage of ResurrectionA Creative Journey through the Easter Season

Word for Today: Soul

The monastic cell is a central concept in the spirituality of the desert elders. The outer cell is really a metaphor for the inner cell, a symbol of the deep soul work we are called to in order to become fully awake. It is the place where we come into full presence with ourselves.

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

Reflective Question: Can you enter your inner cell, close the door to distractions, and allow yourself to get in touch with all of your inner voices, emotions, and challenges without abandoning yourself in the process?

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

May 5: Risk – Pilgrimage of ResurrectionA Creative Journey through the Easter Season

Word for Today: Risk

We each have a threshold for uncomfortable or painful experiences….. The only way to widen our threshold of tolerance is to dance at its edges, explore uncomfortable places, and stay present. When we risk the unfamiliar, our resilience grows and we become more capable of living life.

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

Reflective Question: Can you be present to whatever life brings you in the moment, and avoid reaching for the things that numb you and help avoid the pain?

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

May 4: Shimmering – Pilgrimage of ResurrectionA Creative Journey through the Easter Season

Word for Today: Shimmering

[The Desert Mothers and Fathers] sought ‘ hesychia’ , which is the Greek word for stillness. It means more than silence or peacefulness. There is a sense in which the stillness is the deep, shimmering presence of the holy.

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

Reflective Question: Can you sit with the discomfort and turmoil of your inner life until a sense of equanimity and deep inner silence begins to shimmer within?

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

Finding Fruitfulness in the Resurrection of the Body: Fruit – Pilgrimage of Resurrection through Creative Practice (a love note)

This is the fifth in a series of eight reflections over the season of Easter on making a pilgrimage of resurrection.

 Word for Today: Fruit

In the gospel reading for this fifth Sunday of Easter, Jesus offers us the image of the vine and the branches. When we abide in what is life-giving we will bear much fruit. This season is a beautiful opportunity to reflect on what is most life-giving for us and embark on a pilgrimage toward our own growing fruitfulness.

Ultimately, pilgrimage is meant to lead us back home again with renewed vision. Resurrection is about discovering the home within each one of us, remembering what brings us life, remembering that we are called to be at home in the world, even as we experience ourselves exiled again and again.

Perhaps there is no place of greater exile than what many of us experience in relationship to our bodies in this fast-paced consumer culture. We spend money on products to make ourselves more beautiful. We diet and fast and often go to extremes to try to mold ourselves to an external model of bodily "perfection." We seek out quick fixes through a variety of medications. Over and over again, we are sold a thousand ways to be unhappy with our physical beings.

Many of the Gospel readings during the Easter season are about the life of the body: Thomas doubts and needs to touch Jesus' wounds; the nets are pulled ashore overflowing with fish; the disciples on the road to Emmaus recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread; Jesus breathes on them the gift of the Spirit; and of course there is the celebration of breath and fire at Pentecost. In all of these stories, there is a sense of generosity and abundance, of caring for physical needs, and of finding solace and assurance in the wounds. Our pilgrimage is pointed in a holy direction: toward embracing the life of the body as a practice of resurrection.

Resurrection is about entering the fire of our passion and letting it burn brightly. It is about what enlivens us and makes us feel vital—releasing fear and anxiety over what is to come, and embracing this moment here and now. Resurrection calls us to experience the full weight and lightness of our physical being, to claim the beauty of our embodied selves, and to let gratitude for these vessels of aliveness overflow.

Imagine if, during the Easter season, we each took on renewing practices like these:

Make a commitment to move slowly through the world, resisting the demand for speed and productivity that is tearing our bodies apart and wearing them down to exhaustion.

Reject compulsive "busyness" as a badge of pride and see it for what it is—a way of staying asleep to your own deep longings and those of the world around you.
Pause regularly. Breathe deeply. Reject multitasking. Savor one thing in this moment right now. Discover a portal into joy and delight in your body through fragrance, texture, shimmering light, song, or sweetness.
Let yourself experience grief for the vulnerabilities of your body. Be exquisitely tender with yourself and all of the aches and pains and limitations of embodied life. Make a space within to welcome in the sorrow of difficult memories.
Any time you begin to hear the old voices of judgment rise up about your body—whether self-consciousness or criticism or denial—pause and breathe. Then stand firm against those voices, as the desert elders counseled us to do, and tell them you will not offer them sanctuary anymore.
Play some music you love, and dance. Be present to the body's desires in response. Perhaps just a finger tapping at first. Then slowly let the impulse travel up your arm and across your chest, taking root in your heart, so that your dance might emerge from this place. Even just imagining yourself dancing can bring you alive.
Roll around on the grass, the way dogs do with abandon. Release worries about getting muddy or cold or looking foolish. The body isn't concerned with keeping things neat and tidy. Don't hold yourself back.
Every day, at least once, say thank you for the gift of being alive. Every day, at least once, remember the One who crafted you and exclaimed, "That is so very good."
Allow a day to follow the rhythms of your body. Notice when you are tired, and sleep.  When you are hungry, eat. When your energy feels stagnant, go for a long walk. In truth, it often takes several days to sink into this kind of attunement, but begin to consider how you might invite this awareness into your daily life.
Be present to the earth-body, which is the matrix of our own being. The earth offers herself so generously for nourishment. Remember that earth-cherishing is intimately connected to cherishing your own embodied being.

Creativity as a spiritual practice can support us in making this life-giving pilgrimage to what nourishes us. It can remind us of our true source and call us home again.

At Abbey of the Arts, we are inviting the community to make a commitment to practice creativity daily in celebration of my new book being released in May 2015 The Soul of a Pilgrim: Eight Practices for the Journey Within (Ave Maria Press). Please join us (details available at this post).

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD

Click here to read this post at Patheos and share with others>

May 2: Roadlessness – Pilgrimage of Resurrection(A Creative Journey through the Easter Season)

Word for Today: Roadlessness

The second-century bishop and theologian St. Irenaeus wrote that the true pilgrim was to live life in a state of ‘apavia’, a Latin word which means “roadlessness.” He called for a posture of deep trust in the leading of the Spirit, rather than human direction. In essence, he taught that the place where we don’t know where we’re going is also the place of greatest richness.

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

Reflective Question: What would it mean to embrace roadlessness in your own life journey? Where are the places you cling tightly, wanting to know the direction and outcome?

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

May 1: Wander – Pilgrimage of Resurrection(A Creative Journey through the Easter Season)

Word for Today: Wander

‘Peregrinatio’ is the call to wander for the love of God. It is a word without precise definition in English and means something different than pilgrimage. This wandering was an invitation into letting go of our own agendas and discovering where God was leading.

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

Reflective Question: Can you trust that the impulse for the journey is always love, that God is both the destination and the way?

 

Next steps:

Let the word, quote, and question inspire your creative practice (Download the list of daily words here.) Use the hashtag  #soulofapilgrim when sharing on social media.
Join the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group to share your art and writing with others.
Name your commitment to creative practice in the comments at this post (and enter the drawing to win a free copy of The Soul of a Pilgrim.)
Share this post with others and invite them to participate (they can sign up here)
Order a copy of Christine's newest book  The Soul of a Pilgrim

Walk the Ancient Paths: Join us on pilgrimage to sacred landscapes>>

Monk in the World guest post: Rachel Regenold

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Rachel Regenold's reflection on the way creatures can become our soul friends and spiritual guides:

A Monk with Four Paws

Amos is a monk in the world in disguise with a shaggy coat, four paws, and an irrepressible sweetness. In the nearly seven years since he rescued me – though officially I rescued him by adopting him from a golden retriever rescue – he has taught me the most important lessons of my life. Really, they have been lessons that only the gentlest of guides could teach by modeling them over and over and over again. Which is why he had to be a dog to teach me, because I never would have listened to a human being.

Keep an open heart. Though not immediately noticeable, Amos’s nose and lip are scarred. I imagine the injuries might have been caused by a dog fight because he spent the first four and a half years of his life in a shed and dog run as a backyard breeder’s stud dog. He was always kenneled with a female to inspire coupling. Perhaps a poor match was made. Nonetheless, Amos loves other dogs and assumes that they are all his friends. Somehow he never learned the proper social graces of dogdom though and irritates some newly-met dogs by sniffing just a little too long. They growl or snap and Amos swings his big head away and moves on. He doesn’t hold a grudge. The next day he’ll try to say hello to the very same dog again unless I encourage him to keep moving.

Have faith. Amos was scared of everything when his foster family delivered him to me. Every noise startled him. He parked himself in the middle of my living room floor for the first two days until my neighbor rolled his garbage bin down the driveway for Monday morning pick-up. Amos lumbered behind my love seat and spent the next two weeks there except when I made him come out.

I was pretty certain that I had made a horrible mistake in adopting him when I called a dog trainer named Tonja for help. I explained Amos’s origins and behaviors and that I thought he needed some training one-on-one in my home. “No,” Tonja replied firmly, “this dog needs to be socialized. He needs to be in class around other dogs and people.” She softened a bit, adding, “No matter what this dog has been through, once he learns that you won’t lead him into harm, he’ll do anything you ask.”

This seemed unlikely to me at our first obedience class as Amos sprawled on the cool floor, unwilling to get up, interact, or accept treats. The only time he did get up was to pee behind my chair in front of the whole class, disappointing my hope that at the first class he would surprise me with a miraculous change in behavior.

Instead, Amos waited till the second class. We did our homework that first week and when we arrived at the next class, Amos showed off his new-found ability to sit for a treat when he wasn’t trying to say hello to the other dogs or accepting treats from our trainer’s husband. “He’s like a completely different dog!” Tonja remarked. He was. It took many months for him to become completely comfortable in my home and a whole year to learn how to walk on a leash. But his faith that I would always love him and never lead him into harm made it all possible.

Enjoy the little things. Poet Mary Oliver says, “It must be a great disappointment to God if we are not dazzled at least ten times a day.” I suspect that dogs never disappoint God. Amos is delighted by meal time, going outside, seeing me come home, and chasing squirrels. Every single day.

Some puppy-mill dogs come to love the outdoors after spending their lives in a cage, but Amos decided from early on that indoor life was the best. He hurriedly went potty and on walks so he could go back indoors. This past summer he started sitting in the yard when we went outside. At first I thought he must be giving his arthritic back legs a rest. Then I noticed that as he sat Amos would look around and raise his muzzle to sniff the air as his silky ears fluttered in the wind. He was savoring his time outdoors, I realized. Not a lot of time. Just a moment or two, then he’d meander a little ways and raise his leg to pee before going back inside. And every once in a while he laid down in the yard as I petted him, sometimes even allowing himself to wriggle around on his back. Watching Amos savor the outdoors for the first time in his 11 years is one of my favorite little things.

I dread the day when Amos will teach me the hardest lesson of all – letting go. Then I will have to learn how to live without him.

Rachel and Amos Regenold live in Iowa. In her spare time Rachel enjoys blogging about finding meaning in everyday life at www.iowaseeker.com and studying to be a yoga teacher.  Amos devotes all of his time to helping Rachel be a better human being.