Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 147

What I know for sure (guest post from Ronna Detrick)

This week Ronna Detrick is sharing a guest post of her love of scripture stories about women. Make sure to join her this summer at the Abbey (along with John Valters Paintner, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, and Roy DeLeon) for an exploration of the scriptures and the questions to which they call us. Exile and Coming Home: An Archetypal Journey through the Scriptures is a six-week online class which begins June 16th!

What I know for sure:

When I read the ancient, sacred stories of women I am ever-finding intimate, generous, wise companions who come alongside to strengthen me; who make sense of the circumstances in which I find myself; who soothe my tired brow, who bless me, and who provide me the encouragement I need to continue on. Sometimes their stories enrage and embolden me – their circumstances so much harder than my own, their silencing so much more blatant than mine has ever been, their marginalization and dismissal so much more excruciating than I can begin to imagine. Either way and in all ways, I am compelled in nearly out-of-body ways to tell these stories, to tell of these women, to hope that you will come to know and love them as I do. They deserve that. And I believe that you do, as well.

If I could, I’d tell you story after story from my life; particular circumstances and scenes in which these ancient, sacred stories of women have been nearly the only thing to sustain me. And if I could, I’d strive to make sure you understand that I do not read or love them because they are housed within scripture. Actually, I read and love them because they exist, period. Because they have survived – despite thousands of years of less-than-stellar tellings. Because if they can survive, so can I. Because they remind me that I am not alone; that I am their daughter, their lineage, their kin.

In all my reading and telling of their stories, and in the living of my own, there are three things I’ve come to know for sure:

1. We persevere.


Do your shoulders bow at the word itself? Do you feel its ominous weight pressing against your chest? Do you hear the voice within that says, “Please, can’t I just catch a break?!?”

But what if perseverance wasn’t a default setting or a required characteristic; rather, something you celebrated and even aspired toward? To persevere embodies the best of who we are – not because we must (though that is true, as well), but because we can. We have the capacity. We have the ability. We will endure – no matter what. And because of such, this is not something to sigh over. Our perseverance is worth celebrating, toasting, and shouting out loud to all who will hear and then some!

2. We are prophets.

It just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? Mmmhmm. Truth-be-told, you probably don’t want this title or this role. You might think of a prophet as soothsayer, fortune-teller, or predictor of the future. Or maybe you hearken back to old stories about guys in the bible who had a pretty bad time of it – martyred, tortured, and usually dismissed as crazy. Uh, no thank you.

In truth, prophets have been and are people who tell the truth. They see what is happening around them and name it. They speak and/or act cogently and boldly in response to what is. They articulate the reality within which they live – politically, environmentally, socially, culturally, spiritually, relationally, emotionally. Is it easy? No. Would they often rather just remain silent? Yes. But can they, really, and still be true to themselves? Absolutely not.

To be a prophet(ess) describes exactly who we are when we are functioning at our best, when we are living in places of integrity and resonance with our deepest wisdom, when we do not remain silent, when we boldly and bravely tell and live our truth – no matter the consequences, the risks, the ramifications. It’s got to be done, we know this, and we are up to the task.

And these two certainties lead me to a third:

3. We are amazing.

As I’ve steeped myself in these scriptural narratives, I have encountered amazing examples of perseverance that would cause the bravest of souls to quake in their heels. I have encountered amazing prophet(esse)s who have spoken and acted in such strength, such truth, such power that no matter how their story has been mangled and maligned throughout the years, they will not be silenced.  I have encountered amazingness that defies all explanation, limit, and time.

Because they are amazing, we are, as well. For we are their daughters (and sons), their lineage, their kin.

***************

Believe me, there is much of which I am not sure. I have endless doubts, unanswered questions, and ongoing struggles with theology, with doctrine, and with just the day-to-day realities of my life. But in the midst all my uncertainties, the ancient, sacred stories of women sustain me. Their perseverance enables mine. Their prophetic voice invites my own. And their amazingness reminds me that I am called to and capable of the same.

And if me, I’m pretty sure, so too, you. —Ronna Detrick

Register for our summer online course!

Exile and Coming Home: An Archetypal Journey through the Scriptures

June 16-July 27, 2014

A six-week online program

with John Valters Paintner, Ronna Detrick, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, & Roy Deleon

The scriptures can seem foreign and out of date to modern readers. The Bible is often ignored, misused, or abused even by those who claim it as their own sacred text. And yet, beneath all its modern baggage, it holds great sacred truths. Only through careful reading and reflection can we find a deeper kinship with our spiritual ancestors. It is time to put aside what we think we know and read again with fresh eyes what the scriptures have to teach us.

This six-week course will explore the universal experiences of exile and return home again through personal reflection on the stories of several Biblical figures and Psalms. These offer invitations into different archetypal themes of what it means to live meaningfully as a contemplative and creative person in the world. How might these potent stories and ancient prayers from the Hebrew Scriptures deepen our journey into becoming monks in the world and artists of everyday life?

Each week we will explore a different theme which break open the great archetypal themes of exile and coming home at the heart of the scriptures, a male and female voice from scripture, and a Psalm which deepens our understanding of the theme, connecting our prayers to the great lineage of monastic tradition.

The course includes reflections by John Valters Paintner, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, and Ronna Detrick whose passions are the wisdom of the Scriptures for our world today. Roy DeLeon will be inviting you into a gentle movement prayer for the week's psalm, to explore its meaning in an embodied way.

Each week you will be invited into reading, questions to ponder, the practice of lectio divina, creative invitations through writing and photography, movement prayer, as well as an online forum to have conversations with other monks reflecting on this journey. John, Richard, Roy, and Ronna will be facilitating this virtual gathering space. You are welcome to participate online as much or as little as needed for your own journey.

Click here for more details and to register>>

Invitation to Dance: Sacred Ordinary

We continue our theme this month of "Sacred Ordinary" through the practice of dance (please visit our Community Visio Divina practice with our newest dancing monk icon of St Francis, Invitation to Photography, and Invitation to Poetry which all explored this theme for May).

I invite you into a movement practice.  Allow yourself just 5-10 minutes this day to pause and listen and savor what arises.

Begin with a full minute of slow and deep breathing.  Let your breath bring your awareness down into your body.  When thoughts come up, just let them go and return to your breath. Hold the image of the sacred ordinary, of the holiness of this moment whatever it brings, and step into the dance. You don't need to think this through or figure it out, just notice what arises. Let dance guide you on the journey, listen for how your body wants to move.
Play the piece of music below ("Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace" inspired by a prayer attributed to St. Francis and sung by Sarah McLachlan) and let your body move in response, without needing to guide the movements. Listen to how your body wants to move through space in response to your breath. Remember that this is a prayer, an act of deep listening. Pause at any time and rest in stillness again. Sit with waiting for the impulse to move and see what arises.
After the music has finished, sit for another minute in silence, connecting again to your breath. Just notice your energy and any images rising up.
Is there a word, phrase, or image that could express what you encountered in this time? (You can share about your experience, or even just a single word or image in the comments section below or join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group and post there.)
If you have time, spend another five minutes journaling in a free-writing form, just to give some space for what you are discovering.
To extend this practice, sit longer in the silence before and after and feel free to play the song through a second time. Often repetition brings a new depth.

*Note: If this is your first time posting, or includes a link, your comment will need to be moderated before it appears. This is to prevent spam and should be approved within 24 hours.

Monk in the World guest post: Sara Hillis

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Sara Hillis' poetic wisdom on yielding to the divine Artist at work in us:

Mold me, O Potter, for I am Your clay.

Shape me, O Sculptor, for I am Your stone.

Play me, O Harper, for I am Your Instrument.

Sing me, O Bard, for I am Your song.

Live me, O Life, for I die without You.

Cherish me, O Love, for I pine without You.

Speak me, O Word, for I am Your silence.

Breathe me, O Breath, for I am Your void.

Conceive me, O Mind, for I am Your darkness.

Of old, You brought all things into being.

Bring me now into being.

Be in me that I may be in You.

May I be filled and brim over like a well-molded pot.

May I be radiant and regal as a beautiful sculpture.

May I bring beauty and joy like a well-tuned harp.

May I sing for gladness like a sublime song.

Let me be a mirror reflecting You.

Let me be a distant echo of Your voice.

Let me live in Your Light that I may know my own darkness.

Let me walk in Your Beauty that I may know my own scars.

Let me come to You at last as nothing more nor less than Your child.

Let me rest in You that I may truly act.

Let me be still in You that I may truly move.

Let me die in You that I may truly live.

Be my Father.

Be my Friend.

Be my Battle-cry and my lullaby.

Be my first and last thought.

Be my Joy and my peace.

Be what You already are: my own dear-beloved Christ.

And I will endeavour to let you be these things.

I will struggle to cease struggling against You.

I will strive to stop contending against Your goodness.

Give me Your hand and I will be taken by it.

Give me Your love and I will be lived by it.

Give me Your mercy and I will be used by it.

Give me Yourself and I will be healed by it.

Let me know You as my Source as You know me as your creation.

Let me find the harmony with You that I have lost.

Let me know the Truth of You that I have turned to lies.

Let me be Your beloved one and thereby learn to love all others.

Mold me, O Potter, for I am Your clay.

Shape me, O Sculptor, for I am Your stone.

Play me, O Harper, for I am Your Instrument.

Sing me, O Bard, for I am Your song.

My given name is Sara Hillis, though I have unofficially taken the name Evangeline to embody my practice of being a monk in the world. I have always lived in Southern Ontario, Canada, and I have a Masters degree in English Literature, am a musician, an aspiring novelist, a sometime poet, and more generally, a person who seeks the contemplative way of life. I came to Christ from a pagan path, and so this former path does still inform my practices in small ways. I find the Abbey to be a place of kindred spirits, and though I don’t visit it often, whenever I do I find refreshment for my creative soul.

Click here to read all the guest posts in the Monk in the World series>>

St. Hildegard Strolls through the Garden

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St. Hildegard Strolls through the Garden

Luminous morning, Hildegard gazes at

the array of blooms, holding in her heart

the young boy with a mysterious rash, the woman

reaching menopause, the newly minted widower,

and the black Abbey cat with digestive issues who wandered

in one night and stayed.  New complaints arrive each day.

She gathers bunches of dandelions, their yellow

profusion a welcome sight in the monastery garden,

red clover, nettle, fennel, sprigs of parsley to boil later in wine.

She glances to make sure none of her sisters are

peering around pillars, slips off her worn leather shoes

to relish the freshness between her toes,

face upturned to the rising sun, she sings lucida materia,

matrix of light, words to the Virgin, makes a mental

note to return to the scriptorium to write that image down.

When the church bells ring for Lauds, she hesitates just a

moment, knowing her morning praise has already begun,

wanting to linger in this space where the dew still clings.

At the end of her life, she met with a terrible obstinacy,

from the hierarchy came a ban on receiving

bread and wine and her cherished singing.

She now clips a single rose, medicine for a broken heart,

which she will sip slowly in tea, along with her favorite spelt

biscuits, and offer some to the widower

grieving for his own lost beloved,

they smile together softly at this act of holy communion

and the music rising among blades of grass.

—Christine Valters Paintner

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

My recent illness has had me pondering herbs and healing much lately. The poem above had been percolating in my imagination for at least a week, the images dancing in my mind as I lay in bed resting and recovering. Finally came the day when I started to feel like "myself" again, the inspiration and joy returning to my daily tasks, and the poem arrived on paper.

Our theme this month at the Abbey is "sacred ordinary," something I have also been pondering a great deal. I have been feeling a call, even before this last trip to the States, to figure out ways to stay put more at home, to deepen into the landscape of Ireland which has seduced me here to put down roots.

Illness has a way of bringing more texture to the joys of daily life. Going to the market, cooking a meal, crafting herbal remedies, and walking by the sea become the sacred ordinary when we are paying attention. Illness slows us down, so that we can attend more to what is happening in this moment of time. I fall in love with the world around me all over again.

I am more than grateful to be returned to health, and I continue to listen to the invitations and wisdom burgeoning forth in the midst of my days. I have been reminded of a truth, that creating space and slowness in the rhythm of my life means that I offer more openings for the divine voice to speak, or rather more possibility that I might actually hear those whispers. Clarity grows with slow tending. This is the path of the monk in the world. And I am full of anticipation for my slow summer of writing and more listening.

We have another group of pilgrims arriving to Galway on Tuesday and I am thrilled to show them this place I have fallen so much in love with. Please hold us all in prayer as we make a slow journey together to ancient sites, create a community of monks in the world, and discover new thresholds within us. I continue to be changed by this work, so I hold an open heart and know my work is to show up fully as myself.

In the poem above, Hildegard also knows these truths, of the slow tending of life and love, and the power (as well as challenges) of showing up with her gifts fully. Where are you feeling these invitations in your own life?

For more reflection this week, stop by John Valters Paintner's guest post on How I Came to Love the Old Testament, The Abbey is thrilled to be offering a summer online class on Exile and Coming Home: An Archetypal Journey through the Scriptures and John is one of the main teachers.

For our Northeast U.S. dancing monks (or anyone who want to join me in beautiful Cape May, NJ this fall), the Sacred Rhythms Writing and Movement Retreat only has 4 spaces left!  We gather September 20-24, 2014 for a time of diving deep into our bodies to uncover the voice it holds and explore what it means to be a dancing monk. No yoga or dance (or even writing!) experience required. All are welcome! (I won't be traveling as much to the U.S. in the future, so this is a wonderful opportunity to join me for a live program Stateside.)

Similarly, the pilgrimages to Ireland in 2015 are also filling quickly and the June 9-17, 2015 dates only have 3 spaces left. Or join us in beautiful Vienna, Austria (one of favorite cities in the world) May 23-31, 2015 and stay in an active Benedictine monastery in the city center.

At the Abbey blog, this week we have a new Invitation to Poetry inspired by the theme of "Sacred Ordinary".  We also have a new and fabulous Monk in the World guest post by fellow monk in the world David Ford.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

www.AbbeyoftheArts.com

How I Came to Love the Old Testament (Guest Post from Prior John)

This week John Valters Paintner is sharing a guest post about how he fell in love with the Old Testament. Make sure to join him this summer at the Abbey (along with Ronna Detrick, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, and Roy DeLeon) for an exploration of the scriptures and the questions to which they call us. Exile and Coming Home: An Archetypal Journey through the Scriptures is a six-week online class which begins June 16th!

When Christine & I moved to Seattle eleven years ago, I had just taken a job teaching an Old Testament course at an all-boys Catholic high school. I was raised in a very Catholic family and attended Catholic schools from Kindergarten through high school. For the previous ten years leading up to the teaching position in Seattle, I had been a pastoral associate and a teacher in another Catholic high school. I am a trained educator and hold a master’s degree in theology. The new job in Seattle wasn’t exactly a baptism by fire, but when I was handed a Bible and told that it was the students’ only textbook, I did feel like I had been thrown in a vast ocean, far from shore with no lighthouse in sight. I needed help getting my bearings.

I knew the Old Testament. Or at least I thought I knew it. As it turns out, I was familiar with many of the major stories and basic theme. But that’s a bit like saying I knew the forest because I was familiar with some of the more widely known trees. It wasn’t until I found myself having to explain the Old Testament to teenage boys that I began to grasp the underlying arc of the Bible’s stories.

I didn’t set out to learn anything profound or new about the Old Testament. I just knew that I needed to have a better handle of what I was teaching. It became clear to me that I could not just sit down with my class every day and read some Scripture with them. They needed some structure. I needed some structure. I found a good student textbook and at first used that as a basis to plan out the year. I eventually adopted it as the student textbook. The boys often referred to it as their workbook and the Bible as their textbook. I also continued my own education into the Old Testament. I read books and took summer courses to stay ahead of my students’ many questions.

Once I, as the student of Scripture, had a better handle on the Old Testament (its history, its many authors, its themes, and its general story arc) then I, as the teacher of Scripture, had a better handle on how best to present the material to my students. Through my own study and the wisdom of others I was able to make some informed decisions about what to include, what to leave out, and how long to spend on what. (I never had enough time and often found myself annoyed at things that interfered with my lesson plans, like holidays and snow-days.)

The irony of learning more about the historical context of the Old Testament, is that the individual figures in that ancient text came more and more alive to me. Abraham and Sarah were no longer just great spiritual forbearers, but a real couple with real marital issues. Joseph wasn’t just the great dreamer, but also an arrogant youth with serious sibling rivalries to deal with. Moses wasn’t just the great prophet and liberator, he was a man who often struggled with his own faith. Naomi and Ruth were more than a couple of minor figures barely mentioned in a tiny and often overlooked book, but great examples of self-sacrifice and love. David wasn’t just a great king, but a conflicted and flawed hero.

And most important to my own faith, the prophets are no longer simply foreshadowers of the Messiah; the prophets are passionate and wise people who have a profound understanding of God’s will and humanity’s shortcomings. I learned that the prophets share many themes and techniques with one another, but I also came to known each of them as unique individuals who were deeply concerned for the people of their day. Through my study of the Old Testament this great pantheon of holy men and women came off their pedestals and came alive.

It took a few years, but I finally found a rhythm to teaching the Scriptures. What I didn’t expect to have happen was falling in love with the Old Testament. I was fully aware of its many issues and difficulties (particularly for modern readers), but that’s part of why I fell in love with it. I knew all the flaws, but loved it anyway.

I may teach a class at the Abbey of the Arts one day on the grand arc of the Bible, but for now I am glad to lend my expertise to the classes currently being offered. In “Exile and Coming Home,” we explore some of my favorite Biblical figures. We briefly cover their contextual role, but then delve deeply into how each of these figures are both very real people and archetypes that we can relate to in our own lives.

Another way in which I’ve brought my love of Old Testament figures to the Abbey of the Arts are two upcoming “Dancing Monk Icons.” When Christine and I first began discussing the possible creation of these modern icons of vibrant, dancing religious figures, I knew of two people who had to be part of this set: the Prophet Miriam and King David. Both are famous for their spontaneous, exuberant dancing in celebration of the Lord. Miriam led the recently freed Israelite slaves in dancing and singing when God stopped their pursuers. David danced before the Ark of the Covenant as it processed through the streets of Jerusalem to the Holy Mount. Neither figure would’ve been familiar with the monastic movement that came centuries later, but they knew when to dance.

Register for our summer online course!

Exile and Coming Home: An Archetypal Journey through the Scriptures

June 16-July 27, 2014

A six-week online program

with John Valters Paintner, Ronna Detrick, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, & Roy Deleon

The scriptures can seem foreign and out of date to modern readers. The Bible is often ignored, misused, or abused even by those who claim it as their own sacred text. And yet, beneath all its modern baggage, it holds great sacred truths. Only through careful reading and reflection can we find a deeper kinship with our spiritual ancestors. It is time to put aside what we think we know and read again with fresh eyes what the scriptures have to teach us.

This six-week course will explore the universal experiences of exile and return home again through personal reflection on the stories of several Biblical figures and Psalms. These offer invitations into different archetypal themes of what it means to live meaningfully as a contemplative and creative person in the world. How might these potent stories and ancient prayers from the Hebrew Scriptures deepen our journey into becoming monks in the world and artists of everyday life?

Each week we will explore a different theme which break open the great archetypal themes of exile and coming home at the heart of the scriptures, a male and female voice from scripture, and a Psalm which deepens our understanding of the theme, connecting our prayers to the great lineage of monastic tradition.

The course includes reflections by John Valters Paintner, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, and Ronna Detrick whose passions are the wisdom of the Scriptures for our world today. Roy DeLeon will be inviting you into a gentle movement prayer for the week's psalm, to explore its meaning in an embodied way.

Each week you will be invited into reading, questions to ponder, the practice of lectio divina, creative invitations through writing and photography, movement prayer, as well as an online forum to have conversations with other monks reflecting on this journey. John, Richard, Roy, and Ronna will be facilitating this virtual gathering space. You are welcome to participate online as much or as little as needed for your own journey.

Click here for more details and to register>>

Invitation to Poetry: Sacred Ordinary

Welcome to Poetry Party #78!

I select an image (the photo above is by fellow dancing monk Anneclaire LeRoyer) and suggest a theme/title and invite you to respond with your own poem. Scroll down and add it in the comments section below or join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group and post there.

Feel free to take your poem in any direction and then post the image and invitation on your blog (if you have one), Facebook, or Twitter, and encourage others to come join the party!  (If you repost the photo, please make sure to include the credit link below it and link back to this post inviting others to join us).

We began this month with a  Community Visio Divina practice with the latest dancing monk icon of St. Francis of Assisi and followed up with our Photo Party on the theme of the "sacred ordinary." (You are most welcome to still participate).  We continue this theme in our Poetry Party this month. How might you bring reverence to an ordinary moment of your day through the gift of poem-writing? How might you see the sacred in the mundane?

You can post your poem either in the comment section below*or you can join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group (with more than 1800 members!) and post there.

*Note: If this is your first time posting, or includes a link, your comment will need to be moderated before it appears. This is to prevent spam and should be approved within 24 hours.

Monk in the World guest post: David Ford

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for David Ford's wisdom on the journey of becoming a monk in the world:

How do I live as a monk in the world?

Labels are so necessary but can also be misleading, so I usually try to avoid them. Am I really a ‘monk in the world’? It is a label that does have some resonance, so perhaps you will bear with me while I wear it for a few minutes.

Admittedly, I have always felt drawn to the monastic. Having a great aunt who is a Sister in a convent and a grandmother who used to live in that same convent rest home my visits to the convent, as a child and as an adult, were frequent and left a lasting impression on me.

The concept of being a monk in the world first existed in a shadowy, undefined way, lurking in the back of my mind for many years (why shouldn’t monkish activities be practiced by lay people?) The concept developed over time but became properly crystallised when I read “Monk Habits for Everyday People” by Dennis Okholm.  This book explained what it was to be a monk (Benedictine) in the world. But it also brought the realisation that, actually, I would make a pretty poor monk. While I longed for Brother Laurence’s ‘living in the presence of God’, I wasn’t at all suited to the more ordered and routine aspects of monastic life (inside or outside of a monastery).

So, for me, living as a monk is not so much about leading a disciplined and ordered life-style but more about pursuing a contemplative, spiritual, life where life its self becomes a sacrament, daily living becomes prayer, and time spent with others – intercession – the ordinary and mundane are transfigured by and into the spiritual.  In this sense I believe that Jesus was teaching us a new way of ‘being’ rather than another way of ‘doing’; life as a spiritual discipline, not life punctuated by spiritual disciplines. In theory this should all be very natural, and being a spiritual person no more difficult than breathing. In practice it’s more like riding a skateboard; exhilarating when it’s going well, but usually involving lots of falling off and grazed knees! Am I a monk? Perhaps.

The other aspect of this ‘monk in the world’ is the “in the world” part. My experience of church life over the last forty years has been that most churches rather expect the world to come to them. Also, I found that churches have a tendency to consume vast amounts of their congregation’s time on church activities; mostly very worthy but not necessarily very world changing. Being a monk in the worldmakes my place of belonging outside of church walls and in the community. I can still go to church, but I go as a visitor not as a resident. For me this is a very important change in focus.

Last year I reached retirement age but I have a three-day-a-week job and I’m not about to quit. I’m still there because I love the people I work with, I’m “in the world” and being Christ to those I work with in the best, though imperfect,  way that I can. Being a ‘Monk in the world’ isn’t an achievement or a state of self-defined holiness, it’s about getting ‘life-dirty’ along with everyone else, and being one of God’s living epistles at the same time. Am I ‘in the world’? Pretty sure that I am.

Coming across “Abbey of the Arts” last year was very timely for two reasons:

Firstly, I broke my first camera when I was four years old. It wasn’t mine and I wasn’t yet a photographer. But, before leaving school, I did consider photography as a potential career and have broken one or two of my own cameras in an amateurish endeavour since. But photography has been the last hold-out aspect of my life that I felt was not part of who I was spiritually. I had read “The Little Book of Contemplative Photography” (Howard Zehr) a couple of years ago but it hadn’t quite clicked – what an awful pun! But last year I read Christine’s “Eyes of the Heart” and it all began to make sense. I’m still working on this integration but it’s now a work in progress and photography feels more a part of who I am rather than  a separate and competing interest.

Secondly, this ‘in the world’ business can be rather lonely on a spiritual level – I find that it’s not understood by most Christians and, living as I do in a fairly small community, it is not easy to find soul-mates who can support or challenge as needed. Abbey of the arts has connected me with others who have the ability to accept those with less conventional spiritual perspectives; it might be ‘virtual’ but it’s so much better than having no spiritual ‘home’!

My arrival at “monk in the world (perhaps)”, has had a long genesis peppered with many helpers, quite a few of whom have passed on. Oswald Chambers – for shaking me out of my self-righteous complacency. Samuel Logan Brengal, for holding up the banner of holiness so consistently. Evelyn Underhill for clearly explaining the mystical path to a novice. Catherine de Hueck Doherty for causing me to use so much highlighter in my copy of “Poustinia”. More recently, Carl McColman (The Big Book of Christian Mysticism) and Richard Rohr (Falling Upward) have nudged me onward. There have been many others over the years.

Life is truly a journey; a mysterious, spiritual journey if we plumb its depths. For me making that journey as a ‘monk in the world’ seems to be the result (though not necessarily the final result) of things learned that stretch right back to my childhood. Perhaps we journey in circles.

David was born in the UK where he went to school and spent the first part of his life working in Local Government. It was during this time that he met Annette while they were both serving with the Salvation Army. Three months later they were married and settled in Hertfordshire where they eventually had two of their three children (Andrew and Katie). in 1987 they decided to move to New Zealand (Annette's home) and settled in Christchurch where David found work as a project manager in the IT sector. A short while later they were joined by their third child, Bethany. In his 65 years, David has had the privilege of being a part of Methodist, Anglican, Salvation Army and Baptist congregations and likes to focus on the things that unite denominations and faiths.

Click here to read all the guest posts in the Monk in the World series>>

Embracing Vulnerability + Self-Study Summer Sale!

Saint Francis at Yoga

Back row, brown shirt, bald spot, smile

which gets wider when the teacher calls

the eating body breath sheath, says inhale.

Body, breath, energy–he's at home with threes.

During inversions he laughs right out loud–

a whole new world to praise! And he's illumined

by Sun Salutation, brother to Brother.

No stranger to prostrations, he could go on

all day, exalting, bowing, palms together.

He's always called his body Brother Donkey,

so Cat, Cow, Eagle, Downward Facing Dog

are no stretch except to hamstrings taut

from long nights kneeling. He loves Happy Baby.

When the teacher chants in Hindi he thinks this must

be how Latin sounds to peasants, and when it ends

Peace. Peace. Peace. it's hard for him

not to answer Et cum spiritu tuo.

He excels at Corpse Pose, Savasana,

the lips of his stigmata chanting Om.

–Susan Blackwell Ramsey, from St. Peter's B-List: Contemporary Poems Inspired by the Saints (edited by Mary Ann B. Miller)

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

I am delighted to introduce the latest in the dancing monk icon series above of St. Francis of Assisi. (I will let you know when prints become available.) The same day that artist Marcy Hall sent me this newest addition, I also stumbled across the poem above in a book I had been asked to review. I was also in the midst of teaching yoga each morning at the Spiritual Directors International conference in Santa Fe, NM. It was one of those happy confluences of events where different passions of mine came together.

Following Santa Fe, I flew on to Tulsa, OK, where Betsey Beckman and I were teaching our Awakening the Creative Spirit intensive and I came down with a virus causing me to spend much of the week in bed with a high fever and coughing. I hadn't been sick in several months and I had been pacing myself at the conference, not attending everything and preparing myself for the week of teaching. But sometimes, no matter how many herbal teas we drink nor how much rest we seek, our bodies succumb to something and force us to release our attachments to everything. The first couple of days I resisted, I didn't want to disappoint others, I didn't want to admit just how sick I was feeling, until my body didn't let me resist anymore and I had to yield in a radical way.

I spent many hours in a horizontal position that week, laying in my cabin surrounded by the quiet of the forest. Much like the poem of St. Francis in his inversions, this perspective offered me a different window onto the world. It was a liminal space where everything was in between and uncertain, and yet somehow also luminous and radiant.

Our group was amazing as always, and Betsey did a fantastic job leading them through the week. This program is always marked by a deep sense of community and I was so moved by my experience of being held in prayer by others. Barbara, one of our wonderful helpers, would check on me and bring me small meals. I felt cared for and nurtured on many levels.

The wisdom of illness for me always seems to come with the slowing down and staying present. I don't believe these experiences come to teach us "lessons" as if God were some great schoolmarm in the sky. But out of our radical vulnerability arises an invitation to ever greater gentleness, to tenderness to the needs of our bodies. This is inner hospitality at its most intimate.

I returned back to Ireland after my fever abated and have spent the last few days continuing in this gentle space of quiet, silence has extraordinary powers to heal. I had to let go of some commitments and postponed some others to just allow a deep entering into the place of surrender. I am grateful to be home again. I am savoring this space of quiet and restoration.

The path of the monk in the world means yielding to the truth of this moment, especially when it is not as we would have it, and allowing generous space when needed.

I have postponed the Novena of Resurrection until September 8-17, 2014. My apologies to those who are disappointed by this, but it seemed like a simple way to honor my body's needs right now and not push forward where it wasn't necessary. We are still offering a special when you register for both the Novena and for our summer scripture course Exile and Coming Home, you receive a free self-study online retreat (from the list of available titles on the registration page).

In addition, we are also offering a special self-study summer sale, register for any two self-study classes and receive a third of equal or lesser value for free. If you have purchases a self-study program in the last month and want to take advantage of this offer, just register for the second program and let me know your free choice. By taking advantage of either of these specials, you help support Abbey work to continue, while also getting an extra gift as a thank you.

Join us for a new Community Visio Divina with the latest dancing monk icon of St. Francis of Assisi, as well as a new Invitation to Photography.  We also have two new and fabulous Monk in the World guest posts by fellow monks in the worldMelinda Thomas Hansen and Kate Kennington Steer.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE
www.AbbeyoftheArts.com

Art by Marcy Hall of Rabbit Room Arts

Summer Self-Study SALE!

Register for any TWO self-study online classes by June 16th and receive a THIRD class of equal or lesser value FREE! Just email Christine with your free choice and she will send you the link.

Make your selections from any of the self-study retreats available. If you purchased a self-study retreat recently, you may purchase a second one and still take advantage of this special offer.

This is a wonderful way to help support the Abbey through the summer, when Christine is taking some more time for rest and recovery, and completing her next manuscript. We are always grateful for your participation and support.

Invitation to Photography: Sacred Ordinary

Welcome to this month's Abbey Photo Party!

I select a theme and invite you to respond with images.

We began this month with a Community Visio Divina practice with our latest in the dancing monk icon series of St. Francis of Assisi. In praying with this image myself I am struck by Francis dancing amongst the creatures and in the midst of the construction happening behind him. Being a "dancing monk" for me means to dance with whatever life brings, to yield to the sacred in the most ordinary of moments.

I invite you for this month's Photo Party to hold these words in your heart as you go out in the world to receive images in response. As you walk be ready to see what is revealed to you as a visual expression of your prayer.

You can share images you already have which illuminate the theme, but I encourage you also to go for a walk with the theme in mind and see what you discover.

You are also welcome to post photos of any other art you create inspired by the theme.  See what stirs your imagination!

How to participate:

You can post your photo either in the comment section below* (there is now an option to upload a file with your comment – your file size must be smaller than 1MB – you can resize your image for free here - choose the "small size" option and a maximum width of 500).

You can also join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group and post there. Feel free to share a few words about the process of receiving this image and how it speaks of the "Arise and bloom" for you.

*Note: If this is your first time posting, or includes a link, your comment will need to be moderated before it appears. This is to prevent spam and should be approved within 24 hours

Monk in the World guest post: Kate Kennington Steer

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Kate Kennington Steer's wisdom about photography as a portal to presence:

Whenever I can, I am to be found with a camera in my hand, but living with chronic illness means my day revolves around how much energy I have, and whether I am mobile enough to leave the house.  Most days I am a very quiet ‘monk’, and ‘the world’ is rather distant, reached only by what is out of the window, and what threads of community I can conjure through my iPad.  Some days my body gives a very firm indication that it is just a home day, and so I might read a bit, write a bit, pray a bit, email and text some friends, watch a film. When energy allows me to get out of bed, maybe I will open the laptop and make a few pictures from images I gathered the last time I ventured out with my camera. There is always a back log of pictures waiting for an initial edit; then there is also a file full of possibles from which something inspirational might be spirited.

I hadn't concentrated on photography since I was a teenager, but I re-started taking photographs out of my bedroom window several years ago as a tool for overcoming the deep clinical depression into which I had sunk.  There was just enough of me left alive to remember at the back of my mind that God is in the detail, God is in the small things.  If God created the vein on the leaf that I find such a delicate pattern, or the colour of the sky reflected in a bowl of water, or the shape of the edge of that petal, or the way the light falls through the slats of the chair… If these things are not beneath the God’s glorious attention, then how might I be seen? How might it change my outlook on life if I could live out the belief that the God who provides the wealth of little touches of wonder I see out of the window also thought I was beautiful and worth creating?

However slow the day seems, I know I will be furthering my healing if I engage fully with being creative, losing myself in it.  It is rare I manage to do this, but when my monkey-brain stops its chattering the relief is palpable.  Working my way into really looking at an image I have received is always worth trying in order to see if my brain will free-wheel itself away from daily domestic concerns, from thinking about friends and their situations, from being distracted by pain.  If I pray that the images I produce will give a moment of pause, a small pointer to the viewer to slow down and seek what is beneath; how much more do I need to be in touch with God's great Mystery when I create the image?  I find it really hard, but when I can practice the kind of Visio Divina that Christine advocates on this site and in Eyes of the Heart, my eyes are indeed opened just that little bit wider to God's greatness.

But the reality is that I often forget the feeling of this Grace-given vitality, so I have a note on the front of my fridge that asks me 'what are you going to do to live today?'  (And I mean really live as the full person I was created to be, not just as an existing shell I call Kate, whom I have settled for being.) Creating beautiful images gives me life and connects me to the Life that is all around us.

I still suffer from depression, but by concentrating on healing my spirit through counselling and creativity, it is mostly now a chronic condition not an acute one.  By knowing that I am on a healing journey for my 'inside', I am beginning to understand that I can cope with whatever the body throws at me on the 'outside'. The days when I want to rant and rave about my uselessness are fewer.  The days when I can be quiet and accept that today is just a sad or a still day are more frequent.  The days when my spirit can dance with this community and perhaps go out into the 'world' to sit with a friend or have an adventure with my camera are the best.

So now, I am also beginning to understand that I don't need to create 'beautiful' images, because God is firmly found amidst the mess, imperfections and failures of my life.  God is found precisely at the points of pain too and I need actively to seek God there.  It is in those places that my creativity dwells, and it is there that I will be reassured by the comfort of Christ.  As has been frequently stated, not least by Rob Bell in Drops Like Stars: God doesn't do waste.  The images I am given and the places I go to seek them out are now beginning to reflect this too.

God is in the detail.  God is in the small things.  God is in you.

Kate Kennington Steer is a writer and photographer with a deep abiding passion for contemplative photography and spirituality.  She writes about these things on her shot at ten paces blog (http://shotattenpaces.blogspot.co.uk).Click here to read all the guest posts in the Monk in the World series>>