Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 153

Monk in the World guest post: David Norling

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community (you can read the call for submissions here). Read on for David Norling's wisdom about mindfulness and cultivating non-judgmental awareness:

The Second Naïveté

Judgment limits awareness, awareness limits judgment.

I went through a phase in college where, in addition to Birkenstocks, I wore very simple clothing: cotton, loose fitting, monochromatic. There was a girl in one of my classes who asked if I was some kind of a monk. Without thinking, I said, "Yes." The idea must have appealed to me. To imagine myself as set apart for a higher calling, free from the trappings of a consumer identity. Even though I was attracted to the girl, I let her believe this about me for the rest of the semester, presumably hindering any chance I might have had with her.

This was during Ronald Reagan's first term and I was transitioning from a Business Administration major to English with a Creative Writing emphasis. Another strategic blunder. Not that I have any regrets, experimenting with ones' identity is inevitable. I'm glad to have gained a sense of self as separate from my professional identity at a relatively early age. Remembering this story makes me smile and wonder, especially now, when I would describe myself without reservation as a contemplative. Perhaps the tender shoots of a new way of being in the world were breaking through what was at that time rather arid soil.

I grew up Evangelical. Looking back, it seems as if the air I breathed was richer with judgment than with oxygen. Of course, we weren't explicitly encouraged to be judgmental. Jesus had clearly discouraged this behavior. Our practices were referred to as rightly dividing the word of God, resisting the devil, and standing up for eternal truth. However it might be defined, the result for me was that I ended up judging everything that I saw. I also painted myself into a corner with a lot of premature conclusions and preferences that became untenable.

I don't blame all of this on my religious heritage. There were cultural and temperament factors, as well. As it turns out, everything is raw material in the hands of the divine artist. When I eventually "stumbled" across Christian contemplative literature, the soil of my soul was thirsty for the nourishment offered from that tradition. But it wasn't until I was introduced to non-judgmental awareness that I found a life-long practice. Mindfulness, and non-dual thinking are other ways of naming the same approach. While these are also attractive it was the emphasis on non-judgment that felt like a prescription specifically designed for someone with my faults.

One of the ways that Richard Rohr describes contemplation is, "meeting as much of reality as we can handle in its most simple and immediate form, without filters, judgments, and commentaries." This is the vision to which I aspire. That I continually fail matters less and less. Simply desiring the gift of new vision and risking the vulnerability of not knowing changes everything without depending upon the feeble psychic muscle we call willpower. Exercising willpower is all about mastery and victory rather than process. I have been much helped by Simone Weil's idea of the will. She saw its purpose as rather humble, as the steering wheel of our attention. Just as our bodies become what we consume, so it is with our souls. We become like that to which we pay attention.

Ms. Weil also wrote of a "Method for understanding images, symbols, etc. Not to try to interpret [judge] them, but to look at them till the light suddenly dawns." I think of this as the more beautiful way, because when the light dawns the only thing to do is walk in it and rejoice. I would trade a decade of mental certitude for a moment of light.

I was a little suspicious of these ideas at first. They can be difficult concepts. It felt reasonable to think that I must discern right from wrong. It felt as if I would be affirming evil if I didn't call it evil. But, of course, there are problems with naming things, especially when done quickly. I've since come to think of non judgmental awareness as a deeper form of discernment. Deeper and slower. By suspending quick and conditioned judgments, I give God's spirit time to reveal deeper, less obvious truths. Truths that can only be seen with the eyes of love. Only love sees rightly. And with a little reflection I had to admit that it was rare for me to see with the eyes of love.

"One must be so careful with names anyway; it is so often on the name of a misdeed that a life goes to pieces, not the nameless and personal action itself, which was perhaps a perfectly definite necessity of that life and would have been absorbed by it without effort." –Rainer Marie Rilke

I've come to realize that nonjudgmental awareness includes awareness of judgment. I will, inevitably, have superficial preferences and conditioned responses. Noticing them, in what I like to think of as my shared awareness with God, is what allows me to notice myself judging without actually pronouncing or projecting on to others. Just as delayed gratification is a necessary part of maturity, so is delayed judgment a necessary part of mature discernment.

A natural outflow of this is that the Biblical imperative to "watch and wait" has become my modus operandi. It has also been helpful to receive a new name: He-who-does-not-know. When I live from this identity it's not uncommon for me to see everything as revelation and even as a gift. Every disappointment, every temptation, even confusion and despair, it's all an invitation to a new way of seeing.

Speaking of seeing, my son gave me a book for Christmas titled Contemplative Photography. The subtitle summarizes as well as anything I've seen the heart of my desire: "Seeing with Wonder, Respect, and Humility." God help me…

David has been the owner/operator of a carpet cleaning franchise in Orange County, CA for over twenty years. More recently, he finished the certificate program in spiritual direction though Loyola Marymount. His wife Mary will complete the same program this summer. David blogs about contemplative listening and spiritual direction at awestruckdumbpilgrim.com.

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

Stirring in the Belly (a love note from your online Abbess)

Dearest Monks, Artists, and Pilgrims,

I love revealing each of the newest dancing monk icons (created by Marcy Hall of Rabbit Room Arts). This week we welcome in Saint Brigid to our dancing circle. She is one of the most revered saints of Ireland, second only to St. Patrick.  Born in the middle of the 5th century, and carrying the name of one of the ancient goddesses, Brigid performed miracles from an early age and was a founder of many monastic communities, the most influential of which was in Kildare (meaning “Church of the Oak”) and was a double monastery for both men and women.

She is known for her extravagant generosity and care for the poor, bringing great dignity to ordinary tasks, a spirit of blessing on the mundane as the place for encounter with the divine.  In her fabulous book In the Sanctuary of Women Jan Richardson has a lush and wondrous chapter on Brigid titled “A Habit of the Wildest Bounty” which comes from a description written about the way Brigid ministered to others.  Many of her miracles have to do with abundant provisions for daily life and festivities, mirroring the miracles of Christ himself who offered generous sustenance for all.

Brigid’s feast day is celebrated this coming Saturday, February 1st. I am delighted to be going to a Brigid Festival this weekend, to honor her mystery and presence among us still. February 1st is also the Celtic feast of Imbolc which is one of the four cross-quarter days that fall between the solstices and equinoxes.

In Ireland, Imbolc is the first herald of spring’s arrival. It means “stirring in the belly” which refers to the pregnancy of the ewes and the stirring of seeds deep beneath the ground. I have long appreciated the Celtic feast days as further ways to mark the great turning of the year, but living here has deepened my appreciation for them. Living at this latitude there is a marked difference in light between winter and summer, and starting this week I can begin to feel the shift of the earth toward the season of illumination.

This Thursday is the New Moon, and Imbolc heralds new beginnings of spring. Our path as monks in the world is about always being willing to begin again. There is a wise story from the desert monks:

Abba Moses asked Abba Silvanus, “Can a man lay a new foundation every day?” The old man said, “If he works hard he can lay a new foundation at every moment.”

Even if we made grand commitments at the New Year which have long been forgotten, even if the rush of life has carried us far from our heart’s desire, even if we have neglected our practice of showing up to the stillness each day to hear God’s voice, every moment is the invitation to a new beginning.

And with the confluence of lunar cycles, the Celtic heralding of spring, and the feast of St. Brigid, one of our monastic ancestors, the call to begin anew shimmers even more brightly.

If you have been loving the dancing monk icon series, Marcy is getting prints ready for sale by the middle of February. I will let you know when you can purchase your own copy of Mother Mary, St. Benedict, St. Hildegard, or St. Brigid (with more monks to come!) and part of the proceeds going to support the Earth Monastery Project.

We have a new Dance Party for you this week, as well as a new Monk in the World guest post from Anneclaire LeRoyer.

If you sign up for the online Lent retreat before February 1st, you will also receive a free mini-retreat on the theme of stirring in the belly, to support you listening into the deep rumblings of new life burgeoning forth within.

May Brigid bless you with lavish generosity,

With great and growing love,

Christine

Invitation to Dance: Give Me a Word

We continue our theme this month of "Give Me a Word" through the practice of dance.

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 your word for 2014 gently in your awareness, planting a seed as you prepare to step into the dance. You don't need to think this through or figure it out, just notice what arises.
Play the piece of music below ("Naked" by Anoushka Shankar) 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 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: Anneclaire LeRoyer

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from Anneclaire LeRoyer (you can read the call for submissions here). She has been involved in the Abbey for several years and even joined us for our Vienna pilgrimage last year.  Read on for Anneclaire's wisdom:

A Monk and Artist in the World

I am an aspiring monk and artist and I am on the best possible of adventures. There’s always room to grow! I am blessed to be part of Abbey of the Arts. For several years now I have gratefully drunk in the teachings offered here and have felt lifted up in my essential being.

Thomas Keating writes in Open Mind, Open Heart “The fathers of the Church had a fondness for this particular verse: ‘O that his left hand were under my head and that his right hand embraced me’ (Song of Solomon 2:6). According to their interpretation … with the left he humbles and corrects us; with the right He lifts us up and consoles us… If you want to be fully embraced by the Lord, you have to accept both arms. When … struggles are persecuting you, you should think that God is hugging you extra tightly. Trials are an expression of His Love …”

I experienced both physical and verbal abuse as a child and left home in my teens with no job skills and no social communication skills – we didn’t communicate in our home – everything was swept under the rug. I had so much repressed inside.

But a constant in my life is my search to deepen my relationship with God, to discover whom I really am and what I am called to do.

I now live back in Quebec, a poor province with few job opportunities especially if you are not fluently French speaking, which I am not. I am here because I cared for my parents during their end of life journeys, leaving my job with good salary, security, benefits, pension, etc., etc. That job that meant nothing to me. It was the request of my Mother to come home, and it is sure, there was much unfinished in our relationship.

Fortunately in my years in Toronto I had gone through much healing, because it took everything I had to journey for years with my parents through dementia. Of course, I did not do this alone, they were eventually placed, and other caregivers helped me. But I felt the rest of my family, while being happy my parents were not abandoned, did not really understand.

As things became more difficult and draining, there were several things that supported me. The digital journal I worked in each morning has included material from Christine’s courses and other inspirational gleanings: quotes, poems, images, music, as well as my own efforts. When I look back at the time around my mother’s death, the beauty of the entries startles me. My mother became more and more pure love, and I felt so at peace being with her. My relationship with my father healed. We became friends. It was an hours’ walk to my parents’ residence along the Lake, and I walked whenever I could. My photography was always a joy although finally there was no time for that. And contemplative prayer continued its process of healing and teaching me.

My appreciation for nature, love of photography, enjoyment writing poetry, artistic inclinations, and monk aspirations certainly received strong support when I discovered Christine and “Abbey of the Arts.”

I lost my Mom November 2011, and my Dad, January last year.

Today I start the day at 3:30 a.m. lighting a candle and saying a prayer for that day. It usually includes my parents! I begin my journal, but stop at 4:20 a.m. to say Vigils (the time the Cistercian monks in Rougemount, Quebec, chant them — I go on retreat there), and later read Lauds, Vespers and Compline. Brother David Steindl-Rast in The Music of Silence opens my eyes to the richness and deeply life-giving quality of the Monastic Hours — and of nature as well! Centering Prayer, Lectio Divina, and spiritual reading are also part of my practice.

When weather permits, I like to be out an hour before sunrise walking along the confluence of two rivers — the St. Lawrence and Ottawa — also known as Lac St-Louis at its widest point, and spend several hours photographing. I am out at a magic time of day, open and observant, and get my exercise as well.

If you are new to the Abbey of the Arts, I am glad you have found your way here. There is much to nourish your deepest self in terms of the wonderful material offered, but also this is a genuinely supporting community. Something that is rare and precious in my experience. Welcome!

 

Born in Ottawa, Ontario, grew up in Toronto, and moved to Montreal in 1967. Had applied to McGill University’s Music Department, but instead left home and returned to the Toronto area. While by day I worked to survive in office jobs, I was a seeker in the evenings. I took and taught Taoist T’ai Chi for 17 years, finally at Toronto’s Metro Central YMCA, and was part of the Gurdjieff “Work” under Louise Welch in New York. I returned home twenty years later, graduated with honors in a graphic design program, but gradually cared for my parents more and more. Now that my parents are in far better hands than mine, the aspiring monk, artist and musician within have opportunities to emerge.

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

Kinship of the Heart (a love note from your online Abbess)

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Dearest monks and artists,

I am familiar with strangeness. The stranger within me has become all the more intimate on this life pilgrimage of living in other cultures. I have grown to deeply treasure the value of my sense of strangeness as it challenges all of my preconceived ideas. Ireland is in many ways both like and so unlike the culture I left behind in the States. It is in the unlikeness that I am learning new ways to be in the world.

John and I continue our daily practice of lectio divina as a kind of anchoring, and lectio never fails to bring me back to center, to remind me what is of the essence (my word for the year). The other day my word was "belongs" and the prayer that arose in my heart began with a series of questions. Where is the place of my heart's true belonging? Do I feel a sense of belonging in this adopted land? What does it mean to truly belong?

Exile and coming home are perennial themes for our spiritual journeys. We know the mythical roots of our exile in the story of being banished from the garden of Eden, a way of understanding our lifelong journeys and longings to go home again, to return to the place of paradise, to build the Kingdom among us.

In my own life, exile and belonging have been ongoing questions. I felt it keenly after my mother died and I was left without parents, without siblings, and without children.  Where do I belong became an even more poignant and pressing question.

After having lived in Vienna, Austria for six months and then being called to Ireland, I sometimes marvel that even though Vienna is still very much a place of the heart for me and a source of incredible creative inspiration, I find myself more at home in this adopted land, where I have no known ancestral connections, than in the place where my father and his parents are buried.  The wild beauty of Ireland embraces me in ways I did not expect. The history of ancient monks here shimmers forth, calling me to name this lineage as my own. The landscape, with its aching wild and elemental beauty mirrors something inside of me.

Sometimes I feel self-conscious about teaching this Celtic monastic tradition I love so much, especially to groups of Irish themselves. Who is this stranger who offers us back our own riches? And yet the response has been so warm and enthusiastic. An older Irish woman I met in the pharmacy a couple of weeks ago started a conversation as often happens here with strangers.  After I told her about my work, she took my hands enthusiastically and looked me in the eyes to tell me "Ireland needs you." And I felt the rush of confirmation in that moment, a blessing from a wise one, that I had indeed been called here to receive the riches of this place and share it with the world.

I have come to appreciate my role as stranger here, sometimes we need our own tradition offered back to us through the eyes of another.  And, of course, the earliest Celtic history and artifacts we have in Europe are found in Austria, so the connections are not so very far apart as I might think at first.

So I continue to sit with questions: As a stranger can I offer my gifts? As the adopted one can I feel a sense of true belonging?

Then I remember that the journey of the monk is often to leave family and kinship ties to join a new community, an adopted community, yet one that offers more resonance with the heart's longings.  I smile as I remember that the Abbey has become a global community of monks in the world without blood ties to one another, but with kinship of the heart, and this sense of being adopted into an ancient lineage with so much healing to offer the world. Perhaps there is more belonging in this commitment of our choosing, rather than the ones we feel tied to out of obligation.

One of the central principles or values of the Abbey is hospitality. We practice welcoming in the stranger within as well as outside of us. In everything I do, the recurring theme is to encourage each of us to welcome in all that has been fragmented or rejected. To know that the whole of ourselves belongs and this is the gift of healing we offer to to the world, to remember that everything belongs.

May you find a sense of deep belonging here among other monks and artists, my beloved friends.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Invitation to Poetry: Give Me a Word

Welcome to Poetry Party #74!

I 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 invitation on your blog (if you have one), Facebook, or Twitter, and encourage others to come join the party!

We began this month with a  Community Lectio Divina practice on the ancient desert practice of asking for a word, and followed up with our Photo Party on the theme of "Give Me a Word" inspired by our invitation to let a word for 2014 choose you (here – you can still share it, although prize winners have been announced).   We continue this theme in our Poetry Party this month.

Write a poem inspired by your word, something you could use as a prayer or blessing throughout the year, or just a simple reminder of how your word is inviting you to be in the year to come. In our free 12-day mini-retreat one of the suggestions was to write an acrostic poem from your word, where you write your word vertically on the page and each letter becomes the first letter for that particular line of the poem. See what form your poem wants to take!

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 1000 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: Jennifer Trently

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community (you can read the call for submissions here). Jennifer has been involved with the Abbey for the last couple of years through various online courses and is studying to become a spiritual director.  Read on for Jennifer Trently's wisdom:

When I first began my journey of being a monk in the world in January 2012, I really had no idea what it would mean for me.   At first I thought, it would mean living a highly disciplined life and adopting a strict schedule.  No this is not what it meant for me.  For me being a monk in the world meant jumping in and taking risks.  Taking the Way of the Monk, Path of an Artist class through the Abbey was first my huge risk.  I had not done any art for a very long time and did not believe that I had an artistic bone in my body.  As the class unfolded, my own creativity emerged and then I began to see how being a monk in the world meant being the one the Divine created me to be.  As I have let loose my creative self, I have learned that there is no right or wrong as long as I live my life honestly and intentionally.  However in the midst of raising a daughter; keeping my relationship with my spouse going, caring for two cats and trying to earn some money through p/t work; I often find that I am easily distracted.  I get lost in the whirlwind and lose my balance. I am breaking the habit of trying so hard and now let the Spirit take over my priorities, which makes even the chores I dislike easier.  However for the Spirit to take over I have to do my part.

For me living as a monk in the world requires finding some time everyday to be silent; to read and to do something creative.  Again, there is no magic formula; however, I cannot do my part unless I accept who I am and stop comparing myself for others.  Due to my bipolar illness, it is difficult for me to carry out the same disciplines at the same time every day.  However, as I receive the gift of divine love; I am more able to accept myself and accept that for right now I am not one of those monks who sit in a chair everyday at the same time for twenty minutes.  My connections with God are always different but contain the same elements of silence, reading and creativity in some form every day or else I lose my balance.  Somehow, though Jesus is always there pick me up and help me start again.

The gifts I have to offer others are presence and time.  I offer a contemplative presence to life through slowly down and by giving others my undivided attention.  God has bestowed a mind upon me for remembering details, which I use to make my prayers for more specific.  I listen intentionally and with integrity.  I keep confidences and encourage others on their spiritual journeys.  When I am doing these things and am doing them in a way to honor the Divine then my spirit is at peace.

Living into my calling and being a monk in the world continues to take on a shape of its own.  It is not my shape but the Divine creating in me.   During this year alone, I have shed at least five involvements that I recognized were detrimental to me staying honest and intentional.   It is a continual of journey of trust because somehow my old insecurities always come back.  I wonder what other people will think or if anyone will like me anymore.  Yet none of this really matters.  Letting Jesus take my burdens and allowing the Divine Mother to comfort me help me to lower my expectations for my earthly community.

For me the dance is one of celebrating the ordinary and of letting the L’s be my guide: leaning, letting, limiting, learning and living all in love.  I do not be need to be a super monk and stop to pray every day seven times a day but I do need to honor the sacred rhythm that has been given to me.

My creativity continues to emerge in unexpected ways.  Many things are new; but some are old and just needed to be uncovered.  My gifts of writing and listening had been stuffed for many years by own views of not seeing them as valuable and my not being talented enough.  Yet as I live as a monk in the world; these gifts continue to blossom.  There are still many unknowns in my life but letting the Spirit be my guide makes it less scary.   I am excited about how 2014 will unfold and what adventures will come my way.

I live in Jackson Tennessee with my husband, 17-year-old daughter and two cats.  I write a blog at: http://livingintomycalling.blogspot.com/.    Currently; I am studying to become a spiritual director through the Perkins School of Theology certificate program and in my free time I love curling up with a good book.

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

What is Shimmering? (a love note from your online Abbess)

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I have seen the sun break through

to illuminate a small field

for a while, and gone my way

and forgotten it. But that was the

pearl of great price, the one field that had

treasure in it. I realise now

that I must give all that I have

to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after

an imagined past. It is the turning

aside like Moses to the miracle

of the lit bush, to a brightness

that seemed as transitory as your youth

once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

—R.S. Thomas

Dearest monks and artists,

This poem above has arrived to me in a couple of different ways lately and each time keeps deepening me into its invitation. One of the things I love most in Ireland is the way the sky can grow so dark and grey and intense rain falls. Then the sun will emerge through the clouds, its illumination all the more brilliant in contrast to the sky surrounding it. The way the light falls across the wet field and makes it luminous always makes me stop in awe. I wonder too if those ancient Irish monks beheld this vision and were inspired to add gold to their illuminated manuscripts to come closer to reflecting these moments of vision into eternity.

I spent this last weekend leading a retreat for a delightful group here in Ireland of folks who run retreat houses across the country. We explored lectio divina and the creative arts and how lectio can open up our poetic imagination in new ways. The central impulse in lectio is to look for what shimmers, and to trust that as the place where God is speaking to our hearts most intimately, right in this moment of our lives. I have such a love of lectio, and have shared before that John and I pray this way together each morning. These times of listening from the heart then shape our work for the Abbey, so it comes from this place of encounter with the holy presence working in our lives.

Sacred scriptures offer us many things, one of which is a way to meet the poetry of God in an intimate way.  I find myself daily inspired by the words or phrases that shimmer forth, planting themselves in my imagination and calling forth new visions. Words have such power to shape us and shift our ways of seeing, they can break open in a moment.

This act of paying attention to what shimmers in the text also shapes us to begin to see the shimmering all around us at every moment. Life continues to invite us into our own unfolding, offering moments that call us forward into our deep dreams and partnership with the divine Artist at work in our lives.

The rhythms of lectio divina, are the rhythms which call us more deeply into the heart of the world: listening for what shimmers, savoring it and letting it stir us, yielding to the invitation offered, and then resting into stillness. The monk in the world cultivates spaciousness of days so that these possibilities might have room to rise up like fire, like the illumination of the bright field and for at least a moment, remind us of something more beautiful, something enduring, the holiness of now.

For the men of the community, we have a wonderful new program exploring the wisdom of some of the biblical texts for your journey as monks in the world, starting in just a few days.  Join us for Exile and Coming Home: Priest, Prophet, Politician, and Poet – An Online Journey for Men. John Valters Paintner (you can read his previous guest post here), Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, Roy DeLeon, and Michael Landon have a beautiful experience of soulful reflection and shared conversation in store for you. Please consider gifting a man in your life with this experience as well.

John and I will also be leading an online retreat for Lent on The Soul's Journey and exploring a different biblical image of pilgrimage each week. If you register by February 1st there is a free mini-retreat on listening to the stirring in your belly included for the upcoming Celtic feast of Imbolc.

There is a new Photo Party and Monk in the World guest post by Peg Conway. Winners for Give me a Word drawing are here.

May you discover the shimmering heart of God calling you more fully into the poetry of your life.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Photo: Tree in Ireland

Invitation to Photography: Give Me a Word

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 Lectio Divina practice where you were invited to pray with one of the stories of the desert fathers and mothers where one monk asks another "give me a word."

You were invited to share your word for 2014 here (you can still share it, although prize winners have been announced).

I invite you for this month's Photo Party to hold your word for 2014 in your heart as you walk in the world and see which images shimmer forth in response.  See what new dimensions of your word are revealed through the gift of photography.

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) or you can 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 your word 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: Peg Conway

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission for the Monk in the World guest post series from the community (you can read the call for submissions here). Read on for Peg's wisdom:

Trusting the Path

We vacationed at a lake resort in northern Minnesota for several years nearly a decade ago, and enthusiastic fellow guests introduced us to the joys of hunting for agates, which are distinctive red-orange gemstones formed a billion years ago and transported to that area by glaciers. Particularly after a rain, an agate’s vivid opalescence stands out against the sand on a beach or a dirt road road.  The quest for agates takes sustained attention, walking along very slowly with head down, scanning the ground. So too the endeavor to live as a monk in the world involves ongoing commitment to a process that can’t be controlled or forced, and the rewards come unbidden when insight – like an agate – suddenly pops into view.

This analogy came to me as part of ongoing reflection on the experience of volunteering at a food pantry in a nearby urban parish, where I serve as a shopper escorting clients through the pantry as they select items from each food category.  Heeding an inner nudge, I began this commitment a year and a half ago after a friend mentioned the pantry’s need, and it has become a crucible for spiritual growth.

On one hand, I am completely uplifted by the diverse community of volunteers – about 20 or so each Wednesday, men, women and children of varying ages, races, and walks of life working together as a team to serve others in need. In addition to shoppers, there are greeters and registrars who check clients in and process documentation, and other folks who handle various food stations throughout the pantry, re-stock the shelves, assist clients to their cars and bring back the shopping carts.  Frequent teasing and laughter reflect deep warmth and compassion along with a healthy realism about the task at hand. The community encompasses the clients too; many are called by name, their stories known. Because of the pantry’s small scale, I’ve also been able to assist with fundraising, volunteer recruitment and training, and development of policies and procedures.

But working at the pantry is incredibly draining as well, physically and emotionally. Our numbers are growing, which means long waits for clients, many of them elderly and disabled, and extended hours for volunteers to serve everyone. The pantry occupies a warren-like set of rooms that crowd easily with people and shopping carts. Often we have limited quantities of certain foods and must say over and over, “Sorry, only one can of tuna,” or “Limit one on the beef stew.” Someone who lives outside the zip code that we serve receives a pre-packed bag instead of making their own selections. Clients without a car have to figure out how to get their groceries home; we can provide a box with handles to facilitate carrying if the person is able but the wheeled shopping carts can’t leave the parking lot. And some clients are just grumpy or demanding for whatever reason. The constant onslaught of need and vulnerability against finite resources creates an intensity that wears me out, and fatigue often manifests as an impulse to control – to manage the other volunteers or the clients or the flow of activity to my own preference – followed by a desire to quit.

The anchoring practice of silence and solitude as a monk in the world is one reason that I have not quit. I begin most days with quiet contemplation watching the sunrise from a club chair in our living room, a cup of coffee in hand and our dog on her cushion nearby.  On a recent Thursday morning, the pantry from the day before remained vivid in my mind and invited further reflection. It had been very, very crowded, and nearly two hours into it, I’d felt myself at a true limit, that maybe I would need to leave. Reluctant to abandon my fellow volunteers, I took a break in the kitchen area, drank some water, talked to the coordinator, who was feeling the same, and resumed the work. Revisiting all those conflicted feelings the next morning, I realized that my control response had not kicked in. Instead, I had shown hospitality to myself by tending to physical needs, seeking support from a friend, and accepting myself in the situation; in doing so I was able to continue offering hospitality to the pantry clients.

For years I have admired Fr. Tom Hagen and his work with the poorest people of Haiti through an organization called Hands Together. Circumstances since the 2010 earthquake have been especially challenging, and Fr. Tom shared in his annual letter that he regularly tells God that he doesn’t like it there and that he wants to leave (adding that daily prayer sustains him). In light of my own discouraged moments, his words bring a sense of proportion, and also a connection. We all want to repair the world, but the project is bigger than any of us. We can’t do it all, and we can’t do it alone. Sometimes we just have to set it down for a while, but then we catch our breath and take it up again. We can’t walk away just because it’s hard, but we must accept the lack of control.  A monk in the world’s commitment to hospitality toward self and others keeps us walking the path with complete trust that gems will appear along the way.

Prayer for Hospitality

God of Infinite Compassion,

You transcend time and space,

yet reside in the depth of my being.

 

Well up like a hot spring beneath layers of rock,

breaking through, opening up space,

graciously warming, soothing, healing, welcoming

from within.

– Peg Conway, 2011, during Monk in the World e-course

 

Peg Conway is the author of Embodying the Sacred: A Spiritual Preparation for Birth and offers retreats for pregnant women based on the book.  She also writes a blog called Sense of theFaithful, recently earned certification as a celebrant and serves on her local Village Council. A lifelong resident of Cincinnati, OH, Peg is married and the mother of three nearly grown children.

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