Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 28

Litany of Guadalupe and the Story of Dance

Here at Abbey of the Arts we have a commitment to seeking out and uplifting a wide range of cultural expressions of artistry and Spirit.  Our culminating song/prayer dance on our Birthing the Holy CD/DVD features a tune composed by an indigenous Guatemalan composer, Tomás Pascual from the 17th Century.  This song was adapted by our dear friend, Laura Ash with bilingual lyrics she wrote to honor Our Lady of Guadalupe.  It’s a beautiful blend of ancient and new devotions!  When we came to filming the dance/prayer, I found a gorgeous shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe here in the Northwest at St. Frances Cabrini Church (in Lakewood, WA.)  I invited the Indigenous Dance Troupe at the parish  (Los Matachines) to be featured in our video, but for various reasons, this wasn’t possible.  When I put the word out to find another group of cultural dancers, those that stepped forward were the Filipino Community!  I learned much about the similar threads in Mexican and Filipino cultures who were colonized by Spain simultaneously in the 1500s.  Both cultures now have integrated a blend of indigenous dance and festivals with the overlay of Christian faith, and in particular, both cultures have a robust devotion to Mary!  I’d like to honor Eloisa Cardona for being my spirit sister, dancer, and cultural advisor for this project!  Please enjoy this dance to Our Lady of Guadalupe with a gift of the Filipino village of families dancing along!

Betsey

Betsey Beckman, MM

TheDancingWord.com

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Where Love Lives Poem + Day 5 Mary Prayer Cycle

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

We have two treats for you today! 

The first is the video podcasts from Day 5 of our Birthing the Holy Prayer Cycle. 

Last Spring we created a prayer cycle and audio podcast series to accompany my book Birthing the Holy: Wisdom from Mary to Nurture Creativity and Renewal. Today we continue our release of the companion video podcasts for the Birthing the Holy Prayer Cycle with Day 5 Morning and Evening Prayer. 

Day 5 morning and evening prayer explores Mother of Sorrows and Greenest Branch. Through her own experience with deep grief and loss Mary, Mother of Sorrows tends the threshold of our of lives, knowing both the profound joy and grief that life can bring and encourages us to cultivate compassion for ourselves and all the ways we have been wounded. Mary, Greenest Branch reminds us of the interconnectedness and intercommunion of all levels of created life with each other and with God as Source. 

Our other treat is a final poetry video from my third and newest poetry collection from Paraclete Press titled Love Holds You: Poems and Devotions for Times of Uncertainty. There were some delays in the shipping process for this book but all seems resolved now so it should be available at the usual booksellers. I so appreciate your support for this work! 

This poem reflects a similar paradox explored in Day 5 of our prayer cycle above – holding the tension between lightness and density, between the experience of reaching and stretching, and the need for grounding and rooting down. To be human means to rest in the paradox of grief and joy. As beings who are flesh infused with spirit we hold this tension in our bodies and souls.

Read the poem below slowly and then watch the poem video at this link. See if the images spark anything further for you or if the images distract you, close your eyes and listen to me reading it to you.

*

Where Love Lives The sun is a shy lemonpeeking from behind a curtainbefore disappearing. All I want to do is lift away,live in that weightless placewhere gravity has no claim on me,where lightness is my name. All I want to do is bend back downinto dust and mud, savor how stonesabsorb sunlight and become radiant,until heaviness is my name. I see that I am always both:I am stone, weight, gravity.I am angel, feathered, floating.Love lives in the wonderof the in-between, the longingfor all possible worlds,the way sunlight explodesits lemon tartness in my mouth,the way sunlight lingersat the heart of every stone. *Spend a few moments in reflection. You might ponder these questions:

What are the moments of life that stir you to a longing to fly away, feel lightness?

What are the moments that prompt you to desire the density of things, to know the world as solid?

Have you found the gateway into the world of divine longing where weight and weightlessness merge in the interior landscape of your soul?

If you want to deepen the meditation, take this into a breath prayer practice:

Breathe in: I am feather

Breathe out: I am stone

You might close your reflection time with an affirmation:

I am both weightless and heaviness, both feather and stone. I hold contradictions within myself.

A wonderful and free way to support this work is to leave a review of Love Holds You at any of the major online booksellers like Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Goodreads. Thank you for helping to spread the word about poetry! 

Join Simon tomorrow for Taize-inspired sacred chant. This will be our last online prayer service until the fall. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

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Christine Interviewed by Leadership Conference of Women Religious

I was recently interviewed on Leadership Conference of Women Religious on “Entering a Relationship with Radiance” for their summer journal. Read the interview below or download the PDF to see the printed version.

Christine Valters Paintner heads Abbey of the Arts, a virtual monastery and global community offering programs and resources for contemplative practice and creative expression. She is the author of 20 books on prayer and creativity including three collections of poetry. Christine lives out her commitment as a Benedictine oblate and monk in the world in the west of Ireland.

You have studied and written extensively about the mystics — people who became the radiance of God. What are some of the commonalities you have noticed among the mystics that enabled them to be such powerful embodiments of God’s light for the world?

One of the core commonalities is that early on in the lives of a lot of the mystics they had to wrestle with something difficult – whether that was with illness or some other challenge. So, the mystics have in common the particular humility and vulnerability that can come from dark night experiences. I think of St. Ignatius of Loyola whose leg was injured and caused him to be bed-bound for many months. Out of that struggle came the inspiration for the Spiritual Exercises. Julian of Norwich had a serious illness that brought her almost to the point of death when she had visions that she then spent the rest of her life unpacking. Hildegard of Bingen was often sick and illness was the catalyst for the next phase of her journey at midlife. 

For me, as someone who struggles a lot with illness, I find much consolation and comfort in knowing that this wrestling is an essential part of the journey of our humanity and that it does bring us more deeply in connection with the Divine, if we are willing to go into that deep place of surrender to the radiance within. We also have to get out of our own way and become an open vessel. Then God can be at work through whatever our life’s circumstances bring us. So, I believe, mystics are often the people who let the difficult experiences soften and shape them in ways that made them more compassionate and loving for the world.

Who are some mystics whom you would characterize with a radiance that had a particular influence on others whose lives might be important to raise up right now? What can we learn from them about embodying God’s presence in a struggling world?

In addition to those I just mentioned, I also think of more contemporary mystics like Dorothy Day who was a Benedictine oblate and worked very long hours directly with people who were poor. She also had a contemplative commitment to nourishing and restoring herself in order to continue doing her work. Thomas Merton was very involved in interfaith dialogue and, towards the end of his life, very active against war. Howard Thurman also wrote about this inward/outward movement – going inward for restoration and that deep connection with the Divine and then coming back out and finding ways to bring that radiance into being in the world.

In a world that values large-scale achievement, it can be tempting to believe that embodying God presence and love is inconsequential in its impact on the world. How would you counter that belief with what you know about the impact of even one radiant life on the world?

The dominant culture in our societies today seems to value achievement, productivity, speed, and relentless working. The Gospel helps us see the fallacy of this way of being by calling us to trust in our small actions which can include slowing down, becoming more fully present to ourselves, and listening fully to another. I often think about mystics who dedicated themselves to doing small things with great love – like Brother Lawrence and Therese of Lisieux. Brother Lawrence, who sustained a serious leg injury in war and had to deal with a lot of pain, worked in his monastery kitchen. His core practice was being aware of the presence of God. That’s “all” he really did – and I say “all” with quotes because this practice was completely transformative for him. Therese was often sick and didn’t even live very long.

This valuing of large-scale achievement is a way of disempowering us on a cultural level. Our relationship with the Divine can help us rediscover our original empowerment which is that radiance that is already there and manifest in many small ways in our lives. We need to look for the pathway to ways of being in the world that are in resistance to what the dominant culture says is valuable or important.

Brian Swimme says that our task is “to become the human form of radiance” and he reminds us that we have evolved to manifest 14 billion years of radiance. What would you suggest as practices that can help us understand this call to be the human form of this radiance that has existed since creation?

When I even think about 14 billion years, my first response is to cultivate a profound sense of humility of our tiny place in the timeline of creation. While I do not want to diminish the human role in the manifestation of radiance, I feel that we sometimes enlarge our importance. We forget how much we are an intimate and intricate part of creation itself and that we are just one aspect of radiance manifesting itself through creation. 

I feel it’s important to allow nature’s wisdom and intelligence to guide us to see ourselves not as a sort of pinnacle of all that is coming, but rather to see us as humans in the midst of the cosmic unfolding, contributing to the fruition of God’s radiance in partnership. I use a lot of metaphors like slow ripening and unfolding to give the sense that we are not here to impose our will on the order of the natural world, but rather to let that radiance of the Divine work through us. I see in nature’s wisdom – for example, through the unfolding of the seasons – how nature allows that creative force and energy to move through it to bring things to fruition in its own appropriate time, as opposed to trying to force it into being, which is what we, as humans, often do. 

If everything in the universe gives off light, what are some practices that could enhance our capacities to perceive this radiance in all of its manifestations in this unfolding cosmos? 

One practice that I love to teach about is visio divina, which is an adaptation of lectio divina, and is a way of sacred seeing. I started teaching it when I wrote a book about contemplative photography. Since photography has a lot of aggressive language attached to it – aiming, shooting, capturing – I suggested that we change the language. So, for example, rather than seizing the moment, we instead receive a gift. A story that illustrates this from the Celtic tradition is of St. Kevin and the blackbird. Kevin was an early medieval hermit who was very intimate with creation and they say that he prayed with his arms outstretched. The story goes that one day a blackbird lands in his palm and starts to build a nest and lays eggs. Kevin realizes that he cannot withdraw his hand because he is so invested in the nourishment of creation. I see this as a metaphor for how we can move through life. We can move trying to grab things and holding them with our fists or we can move with open palms ready to receive the gifts that come and hold them with reverence. We might do this by learning to see the world more deeply. We can pay attention to what shimmers around us. What shimmers might be what is inviting us to pay close attention. Sometimes what shimmers isn’t always what is beautiful, but it might be luring us into a conversation or relationship. I think this is what is at the heart of the contemplative life – the practice of coming to the world with open palms – to gaze, witness, be present, hold, reverence, and then see what is inviting our heart. What is radiating? Then we spend time with whatever that is — listening to it, being curious, not trying to impose our own judgment about it, but seeing how the Divine is speaking through that moment.

Seeing the radiance of God in the beauty of life around us – in the natural world and in the presence of other humans – is often somewhat less challenging than seeing it in situations of devastation and suffering. How might we train ourselves so that we perceive radiance – God’s presence – even there?

I think another core part of our practice has to be making space for the difficult emotions in our lives – the grief, anger, and sorrow that comes in many forms for us both personally and in the communal laments we carry. I am grateful for the recent writing I am seeing about “spiritual bypassing.” This is the phenomena in which we all engage – often in very subtle ways — where we try and avoid painful emotions by using spiritual concepts and language. Even when we talk about love and light, we have to be careful that we are not lifting up only light and not seeing the gifts in the darkness as well. There is a radiance in the darkness and darkness can be a holy place, a holy crucible of transformation. My experience is that the more I open myself up to those places within me that I feel are difficult and welcome them in, listen to them, grieve over them, and let them shape me, the more I cultivate compassion for others who are experiencing those same things that I meet in myself. In order to be a loving witness in the world, I have to be able to see what is difficult, and not go numb nor run away from it when looking at it feels challenging. 

You have stated that you believe in “the revolutionary power of stillness and spaciousness, and of practicing presence to life’s unfolding” and that a commitment to this practice can change the world. Would you say more about how the world can change in this way? What has it meant for you to live with this commitment?

This question reminds me of a quote from a David Whyte poem: “what you can plan is too small for you to live.” I am definitely a “recovering planner”! I read that line years ago after I finished my graduate studies and was discerning my next step. That’s when I discovered this idea of unfolding and ripening. I started to notice how the seasons helped me pay attention to that. 

When I commit to sitting in silence, when I commit to a life that is slower, when I commit to a way that has less striving and reaching and trying to prove myself – or where I simply exhaust myself – then the more life reveals itself to me and the more God reveals the next invitation in my life. What’s the next invitation which when I think of responding to it, I feel a sense of joyfulness? Where do I feel that sense of shimmering that confirms this is where I am being invited next? What is going to create more capacity within me to hold grief?

Committing to this way of being has a lot to do with intuition and letting our intuition guide us. We live in a very rational culture that emphasizes linear thinking. But using our intuitive senses can create a lot of spaciousness and openness within us to receive the gifts offered to us by the Holy.  

I work with creativity and the arts and see how much that energy – which is an invitation to co-create with the Divine – needs slowness, spaciousness, stillness, and the freedom of non-grasping in order to unfold in its own time and manner. We cannot see what our path is – probably even more than a day out, if even that. We are never guaranteed anything other than that moment-by-moment learning to trust in what’s unfolding and learning to tend to those little signs that come to us through dreams, nature, conversations, or other prayer. 

All of this contributes to changing the world. Those small acts make a difference – even though we will probably never know how. We have to act as if the small actions have an impact – because the other alternative is to go into a kind of nihilism and give up. 

As a person who has known Catholic sisters for many years, what might you want to say to us about this vocation to embody God’s love and light for this world? How would you want to see us live out this call today – even as most of our communities become smaller and older?

First, I feel a lot of gratitude for communities of religious and, particularly women. You have stepped out of the mold that was created by the cultural expectations over many generations. I want to affirm the witness your way of life has for the world. We need to remember that all of us are called to do our own little part in making the world better. We don’t have to do the whole of it. We are called to trust that this path that you are on and that I am on of doing the contemplative work and working for justice in the world – even in small ways – matters. 

Another thing I want to say – and it is something I am wondering about for myself as well – is how to make space to welcome in some of the younger activists in the world who need that contemplative refreshment to fuel, sustain, and inspire them. I am sure some of that is already happening among women religious, and I would encourage it. When I look to the younger generation, I feel hopefulness. I also look at them and think there is so much that they have to do and I wonder how I can support them to ease that burden – not just in their activism, but also in living their contemplative presence. You have a culture of wise elders and I think this could be a time for the wise elders to step forward even more to share the value of their inner lives and do so with the confidence that this is what is needed in the world today and for the future. 

Download the PDF to see the printed version.

*Reprinted with permission from LCWR Occasional Papers – Summer 2023

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Adam Brooks Webber

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Adam Brooks Webber’s reflection and poem on kinship with creation and adventures with God.

The fourth point of the Monk Manifesto emphasizes our kinship with creation. That speaks to me strongly, because the earliest religious experiences of my childhood began with that sense of kinship. In the first such experience I can remember, I was about ten years old. I was sitting alone in a willow tree, when suddenly, unaccountably, I knew I was not alone. I could feel the life of the tree singing out from beneath the bark. I could feel my connection to it, to all living things, and to the God of life. And I could feel a tremendous yearning in that willow tree, a longing to which it responded continually, pouring itself up to God in one long breath.

The psalms speak often about the yearnings of living things: deer long for flowing streams (Psalm 42), and young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God (Psalm 104). All living things, from the simplest to the most complex, embody yearning and respond to it. Leaves grow toward sunshine, and roots toward water. Salmon swim upstream. Bees fly to find flowers; flowers blossom to bring bees. And in all this great dance of dynamic yearning I find affirmation of my kinship with creation. For I too yearn. I too strive. I too stretch out in the direction of the things I desire: food and drink, love and laughter, interesting questions and their answers, and God. And all the different things I do—as pastor and poet, singer and songwriter, husband and father—they are all responses to the longings of my heart.

I must not pretend to know what happens to us when we die. But I do have a belief about this, a sort of irresistible hunch, and I’ll share that hunch with you, my fellow monks in the world. I know that dynamic yearning is a property of life. I know that God “is God not of the dead, but of the living.” (Mark 12:27) I know that God’s love for us is stronger than anything. And so I believe that after death, our adventures with the God of life continue. Whatever it is to be with God, it must be life, and life is a dance of yearning and response.

That’s what was in my heart when I wrote the following poem, with which I leave you, dear reader. May all your yearnings be blessed!

ValhallaThe window rattles in the frame.The old house shakes.I am looking out at the moonlight, the icy earthscape, the skeletal trees, snow slithering across snow.I shiver in the draft, undressed, and remember: I was going to bed.Between cold sheets I climb in quickly, smiling to myself, pulling the covers up over my head.Cocooned here, I will be warm soon.If there is life after death, there is cold.That most entrancing girl sits beside me on the sand.At the nape of her neck, in the warm breeze, fine hairs beckon.Her lips are full and slightly parted, the color of candy, caramel candy,her hair a savory apple-pie sweetness,her laughter the breathlessness of hot wine in the throat.She puts her head up and I put my head down and ah!If there is life after death, there is desire.I am playing badminton with my brother under the sun, hot as hell, lunging, laughing on the lawn, bodies sweating, rackets swinging, furious and futile.Exhausted finally, soaked with sweat, we limp into the house, into the kitchen.Ice cubes clink in the pitcher, in the lemonade Mom made us.If there is life after death, there is thirst, and heat, and weariness.And lemonade. And Mom.

When Adam Brooks Webber was a boy, he couldn’t wait to grow up so that he could A) move
away from small-town Illinois, and B) stop going to church. Consequently, he is now a pastor in
a small town in Illinois. He is also the author of an interfaith fantasy romance trilogy: The Pastor
and the Priestess, Storms Over Corwin, and Wolf at the Door.

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Christine’s Article on Ancestors as Creative Allies in U.S. Catholic

Christine’s article Our Ancestors are Allies on Our Creative Journey was published in the May 2023 issue of U.S. Catholic. It is adapted from her forthcoming book The Love of Thousands: How Angels, Saints, and Ancestors Walk with Us Toward Holiness (releases from Ave Maria Press August 18, 2023).

Here is an excerpt:

We are alive because of our ancestors, that “great cloud of witnesses” mentioned in the letter to the Hebrews (12:1). Our grandmothers and grandfathers struggled, grieved, celebrated, and endured, and we can live our lives in ways that honor their memories. We can imagine that our ancestors would want their descendants to live good, fruitful, and meaningful lives. This is especially true for those who are wise and well and in loving relationship with us. They are allies for our creative unfolding and can offer guidance and wisdom.

Living in a loving, ethical way aligned with our gifts and service to a world in need is a profound way to honor the memory of our ancestors and let that love be channeled. We often have healing work to do with some of our ancestors: As we know through the field of epigenetics, traumas are carried down through the generations. Numbers even mentions how the sins of the parents are laid upon the children, even in “the third and the fourth generation” (14:18).

Part of this healing work is to bring our family secrets out of shame and hiding. As we bring what is unconscious to consciousness, learn to speak truth to others, release the hold of compulsions on our lives, and nourish our minds with education and our bodies through exquisite care, we are doing the hard work of fulfilling the ancestral birthright we carry.

Read the rest of Christine’s article.

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Day 4 Mary Prayer Cycle – New Video Podcasts!

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

Today we continue our release of the companion video podcasts for the Birthing the Holy Prayer Cycle which was created to accompany my book Birthing the Holy: Wisdom from Mary to Nurture Creativity and Renewal. The full prayer cycle is available here.

Today’s video podcast for Day 4 morning and evening prayer explores Our Lady of Silence and Our Lady of the Underworld. Our Lady of Silence invites us into the heart of stillness and quiet where we can listen to the still small voice within. 

OPENING PRAYER
Holy Mary, Lady of Silence, we come to you in quiet this day. Be with us in our time of silence as we let go of words and chatter. Journey with us into the space of deep listening and stillness that we may pause, rest, and discover the magic to be found within the still point of the heart.

This excerpt from Birthing the Holy provides an introduction to Our Lady of the Underworld and the Black Madonna featured in Day 4 Evening Prayer.

Scattered across Europe and other continents are a series of medieval paintings and statues known as Black Madonnas who have dark or black features. Many are well-known pilgrimage shrines such as Our Lady of the Hermits in Einsiedeln, Switzerland; Our Lady of Jasna Gora in Czestochowa, Poland; and Our Lady of Montserrat in Catelonia, Spain. Included among these is Notre Dame Sous-Terre, who dwells in the crypt beneath the church in Chartres Cathedral in France.

Christian feminist theology sees the Black Madonna as revealing aspects of the sacred feminine that are generally not represented in traditional images of Mary. These dark representations of Our Lady expand Mary’s image beyond her usual depiction as a docile white woman. The Black Madonna roots Mary in the struggle of her Black and Brown sisters for justice. Even more than a connection through skin color, the Black Madonna reveals a dimension of the sacred feminine that is fierce and able to stay present with us through our own times of darkness. 

Mary in her blackness offers us a fierce love in which she unequivocally claims that every oppressed person should be nourished, cherished, and welcomed. She compels us to act for justice out of this witness of expansive love.

(Reprinted with permission from Ave Maria Press)

If you would like to help support us financially in creating this free resource, we gratefully receive contributions.

Join Simon and me tomorrow for our monthly contemplative prayer service. This is our final prayer service before we take our summer break. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

P.S. I wrote a guest post at New Eden Ministry titled “Blessing Our Lives.”

Image: Our Lady of the Underworld Icon by Kreg Yingst

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June Tea with the Abbess

I so enjoyed our Tea with the Abbess session. Since I can’t pour you a cup of tea myself I led a brief welcoming meditation then shared some of our programs for June and beyond. Such a joyful time with our wonderful community.

We have a number of resources to support you in your contemplative journey including: 

June Lift Every Voice Book Club Practice of the Presence: A Revolutionary Translation by Carmen Acevedo Butcher.

Abbey of the Arts Prayer Cycles – a free resource. The video podcasts for the Birthing the Holy prayer continue to release this month!

Calendar of Upcoming Events

Recommended guides to sacred sites in the west of Ireland.

Pius Murray | WalkwithPius.com

Dara Molloy | DaraMolloy.com

Deirdre Ní Chinnéide | DeirdreNiChinneide.ie

We will be on our summer sabbath from programs and the newsletter from June 26 – August 5th.

With great and growing love,

Christine

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Tom Delmore

I’m delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Tom Delmore’s poems on the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Kingdom of Heaven on earth. The Kingdom within, is a big shift for me. Raised in the Catholic faith and dad’s mantra of: brownie points and rewards are in heaven only. I am seeing the kingdom in the ordinary. These poems are thresholds to the Kingdom.

The Kingdom of HeavenThe Kingdom of heaven is likeAll those truths Jesus spokeIn Matthew’s gospel, I’m sure.It is also,Sisyphus without a boulderOr that fifth ace that’s acceptable.Shopping and talking and no mask. The road is what you expected.God, in all of us. Nicodemus More confident in the light.The woman at the well comparingWater to living water or justThat imagined look upon her face.But I was waiting for that invitationAn entrance, the personal, me.Jesus was telling all the beauty Of heaven and I, like the parochial Child, kept my hand raised. CallOn me, it waved. ABBAWhat is the kingdom of heavenFor me?A place of no pain.*****What to RememberI am not stacking symmetric shapesLike the Montessori studentOn his private mat. My Zen momentComes with dry seaweed amongstDamp, uneven stones. Lapping wavesDon’t speak receding or incoming of tide.Focus, is the bellwether, the “just so”‘Tween the billows of my breath.At three stones I look to seeIf I’ve drawn attentionOther than sandflies. My kneesAnd hips ache-As if,They’ve set limits my mindRefuses to ignore.At four stones and sandI make myself quitStumble back, gain balanceAnd tumble intoThe short tower of rocks.Tide aside, I stagger in soreness.*****I missed a piece of the kingdomI missed a piece of the kingdomLike a well-worn jigsaw puzzle-I pushed instead of fit.Large Cezanne women bathersCalled me outOf fleshy secrecy.Down the road Over the bridge To the left.Stay awake.What I lost I will not know.Only perhaps the castle road-Or a wrestling angel.*****You Shall Dine With me this Evening in the KingdomI am amazed unscuffing a shellOn a desert dune. Invoking dreamsOf an ocean so huge, so deep, to suspend disbelief.At the bus stop all concrete and manmadeTwo oyster shells, as ifA gull had preened and set the mollusks,For another.Wading deep in shoal awarenessThe poor are eating well in the kingdom.

Tom A (TA) Delmore lives in Bellevue, Washington. His books of poetry include Eclipsing F Crow Poems (Little Letterhead Press, 1996); Child is working to Capacity (Moon Pie Press, 2006); A Poultice for Belief (March Street Press, 2009); Tell them that you saw me but didn’t see me saw (Moon Pie Press, 2011). Individual poems have been published in Raven Chronicles and Seattle M.E.N. Magazine. His latest Poem appears in; Take a Stand Art Against Hate. A Raven Chronicles Anthology. Titled: Homeless Vet. 2020 A Thurible of Belief August 2022 in America Magazine a Jesuit Weekly.

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Blessing Our Lives ~ A Guest Post at New Eden Ministry

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

I am delighted to offer this excerpt from my guest post at New Eden Ministry titled “Blessing Our Lives.”

Blessings can be like warm bread for the hungry, a cold drink for those who thirst. They can offer hope and encouragement, steep us in gratitude, nurture our courage. Blessings bring us present to the grace of each moment. The word comes from the Latin, benedicere, which means to speak well of. Blessings help to remind us of the love and beauty of the Holy One in our lives and assist us to take nothing for granted. They act as maps to navigate our human experience, orienting us back to gratefulness and praise.

Read the rest of the article and the Blessing of the Elements.

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

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Celtic Spirituality Retreat + Day 3 Mary Prayer Cycle ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

We continue this week with the release of our Day 3 Birthing the Holy video podcast that accompanies my book Birthing the Holy: Wisdom from Mary to Nurture Creativity and Renewal. Day 3 Morning and Evening Prayer take the themes of Star of the Sea and Vessel of Grace. 

Here is an excerpt from Day 3 Morning: Opening Prayer

Stella Maris, Mary, Star of the Sea, we look to the night sky to see your brilliance shining upon the world. Be with us as a guiding light and safe harbour on our journey of surrender and trust. Show us the way to the Self which knows its true direction as we dive beneath the surface to explore our magnificent depths.

Watch the video podcast here. 

We are delighted to be hosting our final retreat in our Mystical Heart series. On Saturday, June 3rd I will be leading an online retreat on St. Kevin, Celtic spirituality, and the love of creation. I am delighted to be joined by two Scottish friends, musician Simon de Voil and poet Kenneth Steven who will add their gifts to our retreat experience.

This is an excerpt from my book The Soul’s Slow Ripening: 12 Celtic Practices for Seeking the Sacred on St. Kevin:

The story of St. Kevin and the Blackbird is another one of my favorites of all the Celtic saints. He was a 6thcentury monk and Abbott, and was soul friend to many, including Ciaran of Clomacnoise. After he was ordained, he retreated to a place of solitude, most likely near the Upper Lake at Glendalough where there is a place called “St. Kevin’s bed.” 

He lived there as a hermit for seven years, sleeping on stone and eating very simply, only nuts, herbs, and water. In the writings of his Life, it is said that “the branches and leaves of the trees sometimes sang sweet songs to him, and heavenly music alleviated the severity of his life.” Kevin is known for his intimacy with nature and animals. It is said that when he was an infant and young child, a white cow used to come to offer him milk. Later when he founded his community an otter would bring salmon form the lake to eat. 

One of the most well-known stories about him goes that he would pray every day in a small hut with arms outstretched. The hut was so small though that one arm reached out the window. One day, a blackbird landed in his palm, and slowly built a nest there. Kevin realized what was happening and knew that he could not pull his hand back with this new life being hatched there. So he spent however many days it took for the eggs to be laid, and the tiny birds to hatch, and for them to ready themselves to fly away. 

I love this story because it is such an image of yielding, of surrendering to something that was not in the “plans,” but instead, receiving it as gift. Instead of sitting there in agony trying to figure out how to move the bird, he enters into this moment with great love and hospitality. 

How many times in our lives do we reach out our hands for a particular purpose, and something else arrives? Something that may cause discomfort, something we may want to pull away from, but in our wiser moments we know that this is a holy gift we are invited to receive. 

There are stories of St. Columbanus during his periods of fasting and prayer in places of solitude where he would call the creatures to himself and they ran eagerly toward him.  Esther deWaal in Every Earthly Blessing: Rediscovering the Celtic Tradition says that “He would summon a squirrel from the tree tops and let it climb all over him, and from time to time its head might be seen peeping through the folds of his robes.”  Animals like bears and wolves, normally feared and hunted, are shown warmth and kindness and respond with mutual respect.

Celtic tradition is full of legends about kinship and intimacy between monks and the wild animals of the forests where they lived.  Sometimes the creatures were the ones to lead hermits to their place of prayer and solitude.  DeWaal tells of St. Brynach who had a dream where an angel told him to go along the bank of the river until he saw “a wild white sow with white piglings” and they would show him the spot for his hermitage.  Often the animal that would show the monk his or her cell would stay on as a companion, sharing life together.  

This is our call in soul friendship as well, to learn how to yield our own agendas and egos and allow ourselves to be vulnerable and transparent in front of another. To show our shadow and tender places, to seek growth knowing that what is kept hidden only festers. When speaking with a soul friend, keep in mind this open palmed approach to life, not needing to hold too tightly to your own façade or persona you present in life. 

Join us next Saturday to immerse ourselves in the wisdom of the Celtic love of creation. 

This Friday I am offering our final Tea with the Abbess before our summer break. You are most welcome to this free event. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Opening Prayer written by Christine Valters Paintner and arranged by Melinda Thomas

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