Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 29

The Spiral Year and the Celtic Seasons ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

Join Simon de Voil and me for an online retreat next Sunday April 23rd hosted by OneSpirit Seminary where we will be exploring the Spiral Year and the Celtic seasons. 

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

Sacred Rhythms of the Earth

The unfolding of the seasons was an overarching template for the Celtic imagination and spirit. There are significant feast days aligned with the equinoxes and solstices, then there are the cross-quarter days, which are the midway points between them and were part of the harvest cycle. 

By attuning to the rhythms of the earth, the Celtic monks allowed nature to be a wisdom guide that can teach us about life’s rise and fall. The monastic way is full of respect for these sacred rhythms. We see it especially in the liturgy of the hours, that daily unfolding of prayer which honors the movement of the earth from dawn’s first breaking open to the holy crucible of night’s stillness. Living our way into these rhythms each day and each year, gives us a way of honoring the integrity of our soul’s own cycles and rhythms. These rhythms were essential to the desert, Celtic, and Benedictine monks. 

Each of the great Celtic harvest festivals happens at the midway points between the Solstices and Equinoxes. Each festival is considered to be a threshold time when the veil is thin between worlds. I offer here just a brief overview of this cycle of honoring the seasons’ unfolding. 

Samhain: A Time of Remembrance

November 1st is the midway point between autumn equinox and winter solstice and is the beginning of the new year in Celtic tradition. This feast is called Samhain (pronounced sow-en). 

In the ancient Celtic imagination, this was considered to be an especially “thin time” when the veil between heaven and earth grew more transparent and the wisdom of our ancestors was closer to us. We are reassured that we are not alone, that we share the world with a great “cloud of witnesses” and “communion of saints” just across the veil. 

Winter invites us to gather inside, grow still with the landscape, and listen for the voices we may not hear during other times of year. These may be the sounds of our own inner wisdom or the voices of those who came before us. This season call us into the grace of descent. We spend so much of our spiritual lives trying to ascend. Descent is the path of having everything stripped away that offered comfort.  In the mystical tradition, the descent is also the slow revelation of the true face and incredible mystery that is God. It is also the season to call forth the wisdom of those who walked before us. 

Imbolc: A Time of Awakening

Imbolc is the midway point between winter solstice and spring equinox. February 1st-2nd marks a confluence of several feasts and occasions including: the Celtic feast of Imbolc, St. Brigid’s Day, Candlemas, Feast of the Presentation, and Groundhog Day. In Celtic cultures it is considered to be the very beginning of spring. 

As the days slowly lengthen in the northern hemisphere and the sun makes her way higher in the sky, the ground beneath our feet begins to thaw.  The earth softens and the seeds deep below stir in the darkness.  The word “imbolc” means “in the belly.”  The earth’s belly is beginning to awaken, new life is stirring, seeds are sprouting forth.  

In many places the ground is still frozen or covered with snow, but the call now is tend to those very first signs of movement beneath the fertile ground.  What happens when you listen ever so closely in the stillness?  What do you hear beginning to emerge?

Beltane: A Time of Flourishing

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

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

Lughnasa: The Time of Harvest 

Lughnasa (pronounced loo-nassah) is one of the ancient Celtic feasts celebrated on August 1st, halfway between summer solstice and autumn equinox, marking the time of the beginning of the harvest and the gathering in. It is said to originally honor the Celtic sun-god Lugh who was an ally to the farmer in the struggle for food. 

Lughnasa is a time to gather in and to reap what has been sown. It is sometimes thought of as the time of “first fruits” and is when the grain is gathered in. One of the central rituals for this feast is cutting the first corn and making it into a loaf for the Mass at church on August 1st or 2nd. In the Hebrides in Scotland, it is recorded that families would celebrate Lughnasa on August 15th in connection with the feast of the Assumption of Mary. Each family member would take a piece of the bread and walk sunwise around the festival fire and sing a song to Mary. 

You can register for The Spiral Year retreat Simon and I are leading next Sunday where we will be diving into much more depth into the wisdom of the year’s turning and weaving in meditation, poetry, and song.

Join Simon tomorrow for his sacred chant service and Therese on Wednesday for Centering Prayer!

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Image: Paid license with Canva

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Liz Hill

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post. Read on for Liz Hill’s reflection “It’s All About the Listening.”

At a goodbye gathering for a friend who was moving to be closer to family, I talked to the son who was helping to pack her things. The task of deciding what to keep and what to discard was taking much longer than he’d anticipated. 

“She wants to tell me the story behind every little thing,” he lamented. 

I understood his dilemma. In my own experience with downsizing and moving, I have learned one very important lesson: it’s not about the packing, it’s about the listening.

Unearthing and sorting our accumulated mementoes and possessions is like watching a documentary of our lives. And not just our own lives; if we have stored items from parents, siblings, or grandparents, not to mention the things our children left behind, it can begin to feel like the “cast of thousands” in the Biblical movies of Cecil B. DeMille.

Entire books have been written on methods to approach the task of decluttering or downsizing. One, dubbed the Konmari method after its Japanese creator, invites us to keep only those possessions that “spark joy.” Another method with the depressing name of Swedish Death Cleaning suggests sorting through our things and keeping only those items which have deep meaning– and to do it now, so no one has to tackle it after we are gone. 

Whatever method we choose, it can be painful to see our precious belongings sorted and labeled “pack, toss, or give away.” I have come to understand that although possessions, even those most dear to me, are an important part of my life, they do not define me. Taken individually, these items comprise the words and images that make up my story. But as the author of my own life, it’s within my power to choose which details I want to keep and which can be discarded.  

For many years I visited my mother from my home across the country. During each visit she would inevitably produce The Box: a black metal box that contained papers and possessions from my late father’s family. Birth and death certificates, military discharge papers, letters, obituaries, an old watch, a cameo pin. These items had no practical use; the watch no longer kept time, and we had no need for documentation on any of these long-deceased folks. But each visit, we would empty the box and I would hear the stories again. That broken watch was my grandmother’s “duty watch,” once pinned to the lapel of her nurse’s uniform. This letter informed the family of my great uncle’s death in the 1918 Pandemic, difficult news for his mother, already a young widow. After we’d talked about each item, my mother would slowly pile the things back into the box and tuck it away again. 

Our accumulated possessions represent the past, the present, and, often, the slow dawning of truth that our own future is finite. I believe that realization is why most of us put off this sorting task and never take time to reflect. My own mother died before she had to empty her house. My sister now occupies that home. Last year, we examined The Box one last time and broke up its contents among family members. I think that was possible only because the stories had been told, and we knew what should become of the individual items.

When it’s time to consider the things that make up our homes and lives, it’s helpful to have some criteria to apply to the task of sorting them. As with so many difficult things, I have found that sometimes the only way to begin is simply to begin. First, clear a space. It needn’t be an entire room, just enough space to consider a manageable number of items. I breathe and take a moment to declare that space, and the time I am about to take, as sacred. Then I ask some questions. Do I need this item? Does it make me smile when I see it, or invoke an important memory? If I decide it’s time to let it go, is there someone else who might appreciate it? I have passed along heirloom jewelry and family photos to younger relatives, along with the notes and stories that went with them.

The sum of our lives is much more than the things we accumulate. It’s the stories that matter, not the things. Recalling the stories, and having someone with whom to share them, can mean the difference between holding on to a thousand useless puzzle pieces and stepping back to see the big picture. When there is someone in my life who has been putting off this seemingly impossible task, I ask if they would like some help. Then I clear a space, say a prayer, and prepare to do some listening.

Liz Hill is a writer and spiritual director who has led workshops in creative process, discovering authentic voice, and un-journaling. She is co-author (with Ruthie Rosauer) of Singing Meditation: Together in Song and Silence, and co-founder of a literary arts non-profit in Youngstown, Ohio. She lives in western North Carolina. See LizHill.net.

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Easter Blessings! ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

We wish you radiant blessings of Easter and the joy of new life out of death!

Next Saturday, Lerita Coleman Brown will be leading a retreat for us on the wisdom of Howard Thurman and the healing power of mystical love.

Here is a brief excerpt from her wonderful book What Makes You Come Alive where she explores Thurman’s wisdom about anchoring ourselves in a radical trust in God’s love:

***

One night in 1910, Howard Thurman’s mother woke him up and coaxed him outside. She wanted him to catch a glimpse of Halley’s Comet, which is only visible from earth about every seventy-five years. Thurman’s father had died a few years earlier. Looking up at the comet blazing against the Florida sky that night, young Howard asked his mother what would happen if the comet fell to earth. She looked at Howard with great serenity. He need not worry, his mother told him, because God would take care of them. 

This experience stayed with Thurman his entire life. “It was not until my experience with Halley’s Comet that there began to emerge a faint but growing sense of personal destiny, religious in tone and spiritual in accent,” he writes in his autobiography. Ever since, he claims, “I have never been totally cut off from a sense of the guidance of my life. . . It was more than mere ego-affirmation, as important as it is—it was a clue to my self-worth in the profoundest sense. It was the shield against the denigration of my environment; but much, much more.”                  

Howard Thurman narrates this same event in Jesus and the Disinherited: “The majestic power of my mother’s glowing words has come back again and again, beating out its rhythmic chant in my own spirit,” he writes. “Here are the faith and the awareness that overcome fear and transform it into the power to strive, to achieve, and not to yield.” Without intending to describe a psychological phenomenon, Howard Thurman points to the way that anchoring ourselves in God leads to high levels of self-esteem and self-efficacy. As he notes, a formidable faith and assurance springs from the conviction that “I am a holy child of God.” It exudes a reliance on God’s guidance and protection. Marcus Borg would later describe this same stance espoused by Jesus as more than a mere belief in God but, rather, as a radical trust in God.

As I closed my heavily underlined copy of Thurman’s autobiography, I kept thinking of that moment between a young Howard and his mother, the way she used a child’s question to strengthen his sense of being God’s beloved child. That scene illumines so much. Howard Thurman wanted people to see themselves as creations of God and to convey that same awareness to children. This certainty—that he was a holy child of God—anchored and guided Thurman. He understood that knowing, believing, internalizing, and acting from a divine center transforms all of life. How could he spark this wisdom in other denigrated human spirits: Black people in America who yearned to know and express their authentic selves?

Thurman garnered immense personal strength from defining himself based on his spirit, his inner self, rather than by attributes projected onto him by society. Understanding what it meant to be a holy child of God—to possess a spiritual self—he discovered its link to self-esteem, achievement, and self-actualization. In one recorded conversation, Thurman describes it this way: “It goes back to my childhood, because I had constantly to affirm my own self in an environment that reduced me to zero, an environment in which I had no standing, as it were. I was driven to find in the grounds of my being that which transcended everything in my environment (external to me). Once I hit it, then I knew I was home free, that the environment could never destroy me because at my center I would never say “yes” to the external judgment of me [as a Black man]” . . .  

. . . Thurman often recounted a tale his grandmother (Nancy Ambrose) told to him and his two sisters. She would say, “Once or twice a year, the slave master would permit a slave preacher from a neighboring plantation to come over to preach to his slaves . . . But this preacher, when he had finished would pause, his eyes scrutinizing every face in the congregation, and then he would tell them, ‘You are not niggers! You are not slaves! You are God’s children!’ When my grandmother got to that part of her story, there would be a slight stiffening in her spine as we sucked in our breath. When she had finished, our spirits were restored.”

Luther Smith, Jr., in his wonderful book Howard Thurman: Mystic as Prophet, writes, “Nancy Ambrose was the first to teach Thurman that spirituality sustains one in the midst of life’s many predicaments . . . She witnessed to the power of her spirituality to meet one of the fundamental demands of life’s hierarchy of needs: the need to survive as a slave. This survival function of religion is not just addressing the condition of the body, but the survival of an identity—that center of a person which gives definition to one’s being.” 

Thus, from an early age, Thurman learned from his grandmother’s and mother’s example, which included many religious practices such as prayer, Bible reading, church attendance, and spiritual conversations. Through their stories and modeling, young Howard became partially inoculated against the oppressive, racist messages surrounding him. Throughout his life he could survive and even thrive in an atmosphere that denied his humanity. 

(excerpted from Lerita Coleman Brown, What Makes You Come Alive—A Spiritual Walk with Howard Thurman, 63-67. Used with permission). 

***

What are the ways we shape our identity and sense of self by outside forces? How has our self-understanding been formed by the expectations of others? 

How does contemplative practice offer a doorway into liberation from these external limitations and free you to become fully yourself? How might Love become your deep anchor and grounding in life and all that you do and say? 

Join Lerita next Saturday as she explores the wisdom of Howard Thurman and his teachings on love. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Dancing Monk Icon by Marcy Hall (prints available on Etsy)

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NEW YouTube Channel!

We have a new YouTube channel! This is another resources we are pleased to offer our dancing monks where you can follow new posts in our Lift Every Voice book club, our Prayer Cycle series, Poetry Videos, and Tea with the Abbess.

Subscribe to the channel.

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Karen Kinney

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Karen Kinney’s reflection Joy in “What Is” adapted from her book Doorways to Transformation: Everyday Wisdom for the Creative Soul.

“Whatever arises, love that.” —Matt Kahn

My husband and I climb the ancient stone steps of the 17th-century church, reaching the balcony that overlooks the orchestra and choir below. I am excited because we are coming to hear the complete rendition of Handel’s Messiah, and it has been decades since I listened to the entire work. And, it will be my first time hearing it performed in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, a town we have recently adopted as our home.

But upon reaching the balcony seating area, to my disappointment, there are only a few black folding chairs, some bleacher-style benches with no backs, and absolutely no view of the orchestra and choir below. We are pointed to the bleacher seating, and as we sit down on the cold metal bench, all we can see are people’s bodies in front of us. No one can glimpse the actual concert, except for a few people in the very first row of black folding chairs who attempt to peer through the wooden slats of the balcony railing. There is a blurry video projection of the orchestra and the singers on the wall to our immediate left. But not only is it out of focus, to watch it, we have to turn our heads at a 90-degree angle while our bodies remain facing forward.

At the prospect of sitting like this for three hours, I begin grumbling to my husband about the balcony seats being false advertising. And how could they sell “seating” in a place where we are unable to view the concert we’ve just paid for? However, if there is one thing I’ve learned from living in another country, it’s that you either roll with things or quite quickly die of frustration. Standards are different, as are expectations.

So, after grumbling for another ten minutes, I finally let myself listen to the beautiful music the orchestra has begun playing. I note the reactions of others in the same seating predicament as us, most of whom seem to be accepting the situation for what it is. Some sit with their eyes closed and focus on listening instead of straining to see something out of sight. Others choose to look at the blurry video projection, craning their necks at an odd angle, settling for at least a fuzzy glimpse of the action below.

As the music progresses, one anointed chorus after the next, I realize I can either continue to be grumpy and miss out on Handel’s work of art, or I can let the music overtake me and relish in the amazing acoustics of this ancient church. Handel was a genius, after all. And as each chorus is sung, I am reminded again of the extreme beauty of this musical masterpiece. The challenge before me is the age-old struggle of what is and what is not, and I will myself to focus on what is.

Slowly, I begin to absorb the notes into every fiber of my being. I let myself remember my years in high school choir, performing this piece with the school orchestra every December for an auditorium full of people. Right before the “Hallelujah” chorus rolls around, I stand up in anticipation and feel moved as others around me stand as well. Handel’s music fills the cavernous space of the church, and thunderous applause echoes in appreciation.

My experience of the concert could so easily have gone a different way. But the music had won, overcoming and subduing my inner struggle; it had captured my spirit and raised it to a higher plane.

Calling myself back to “now” in each moment and taking note of all the good that surrounds me is a powerful practice that assists me in finding joy—especially when circumstances fall short of my expectations. Sometimes, the simplest choices of where to point our focus are the hardest. But as we allow ourselves to marinate with appreciation in the what is of our days, we have the power to alter every moment of our present.

Reflections:

Where have you been focusing your attention of late?

In what ways can you shift your focus from the tyranny of “what is not” to the gift of “what is”?

Karen Kinney is the author of two books, a visual artist, freelance writer, and teacher living in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She has pursued a multifaceted art career, exhibiting work nationally and internationally, and her articles and essays have appeared in numerous publications. Learn more at karenkinney.com.

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Origins + Mourning Pages ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

I am delighted to share I have a third poetry collection being published on May 9th from Paraclete Press titled Love Holds You: Poems and Devotions for Times of Uncertainty. 

This poem is a series of questions that emerged from a moment of reverie and wondering for me. The whole collection is on the theme of love and in writing it, I found myself encountering love in all corners of this beautiful world. 

What is the impulse for a robin’s song? What is the source of a flower’s fragrance? Where do my own words come from? And when I say Love is at the foundation of everything what do I mean? Of course, there are scientific answers to some of these questions, but these are questions of the heart as well. What are the things you wonder about? 

Allow a few moments to quiet yourself and read the poem below slowly. Then watch the poem video and see if the images add anything. If you find them distracting, close your eyes and just listen to me reciting the poem to you. 

*

OriginsIf I could peer far enough downa robin’s pulsing throat, would I seenotes piled there waiting to be flunginto freshness of morning?If I close my eyes and burrowmy face into peony’s petals,would I discover the source of its scent, a sacred offering?Can I plunge inside and find a lifetime of wordsspooled tightly inside my heartready for a tug?If I dig beneath the bedrock will I find love there, solid like iron or does it flow like magmafilling in all of the empty spaces?

*

Pause after reading and listening to contemplate for yourself what origins you wonder about? Spend some time in reflection. 

What happens when you stop and gaze with loving wonder upon some simple, quiet and unadorned element of nature that throws itself into the wild world, and you are the lucky recipient present to witness it into being?

You might want to engage with a breath prayer. Here is a suggestion:

Breathe in: Love is

Breathe out: the foundation

An affirmation to close your reflection: 

Love is at the foundation of all I do or am. There is no place empty of love.

You can order a copy of Love Holds You: Poems and Devotions for Times of Uncertainty at this link. (Paraclete is offering a 20% discount for pre-orders when you use the code LoveHoldsYou at ).

Join Simon and me tomorrow for our monthly contemplative prayer service on the theme of Holy Week. We have a special guest musician joining us as well, Te Martin will be sharing some of their passion for song with us. 

If you are feeling the weight of grief especially this year due to recent loss or other events, we are delighted to welcome Claudia Love Mair who will be leading us in a two-hour grief writing workshop called Mourning Pages this coming Friday. Join us for a way to honor Good Friday or listen to the recording later on to give your heart space to express its grief.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Poem Video by Luke and Jake Morgan of MorganCreative.org

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April 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 meditation then shared some of our programs for April and answered a lot of great questions. Such a joyful time with our wonderful community.

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

April Lift Every Voice Book Club Outside the Lines: How Embracing Queerness with Transform Your Faith by Mihee Kim-Kort

Christine’s forthcoming collection – Love Holds You: Poems and Devotions for Times of Uncertainty

Abbey of the Arts Prayer Cycles – a free resource

Calendar of Upcoming Events

With great and growing love,

Christine

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Lift Every Voice: Contemplative Writers of Color – April Video Discussion and Book Group Materials Now Available

Join Abbey of the Arts for a monthly conversation on how increasing our diversity of perspectives on contemplative practice can enrich our understanding and experience of the Christian mystical tradition. 

Christine Valters Paintner is joined by author Claudia Love Mair for a series of video conversations. Each month they take up a new book by or about a voice of color. The community is invited to purchase and read the books in advance and participate actively in this journey of deepening, discovery, and transformation. 

This month’s selection is Outside the Lines: How Embracing Queerness Will Transform Your Faith by Mihee Kim-Kort.

Click here to view or listen to the full conversation along with questions for reflection.

Mihee Kim-Kort is a wife, a mom, and a Presbyterian minister. And she’s queer. As she became aware of her queer sexuality, Mihee wondered what that meant for her spirituality. But instead of pushing her away from God, it brought her closer to Jesus and taught her how to love better. In Outside the Lines, Mihee shows us how God, in Jesus, is oriented toward us in a radical way. Through the life, work, and witness of Jesus, we see a God who loves us with a queer love, and our faith in that God becomes a queer spirituality–a spirituality that crashes through definitions and moves us outside of the categories of our making. Whenever we love ourselves and our neighbors with the boundary-breaking love of God, we live out this spirituality in the world. With a captivating mix of personal story and biblical analysis, Outside the Lines shows us how each of our bodies fits into the body of Christ. Outside the lines and without exceptions.

Join our Lift Every Voice Facebook Group for more engagement and discussion.

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Dena Jennings

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series. Read on for Wisdom Council member Dena Jennings’ reflection Boundaries and Borders in Contemplative Life.

I imagine that modern walls of monastic cells, perimeters of abbeys, and the spaces to which cloistered monks retreat are not meant to confine as a prison, nor to keep the  world out, but to allow recesses for spiritual nourishment and focus. They serve as  physical boundaries to remind one of the dedication to this life. Being a monk in the  world calls for a different kind of boundary or border from virtuous and not so virtuous distractions. 

A single light on the welcome porch at our  Farmashramonastery in Nasons, Virginia

I’ve lived a life dedicated to God since I was 11-years old. One day, while on my knees  at the altar, I had a vision of things I had done as they paraded before my mind’s eye. I  felt like a guard at a border checkpoint letting the things I would give up pass into a void.  I said, “Yes,” to one thing and “that, too,” to the next. Being rough on the playground, blaming my sisters, sneaking a piece of scrumptious homemade cake before dinner, reading another chapter in my favorite book well past my bedtime by flashlight under the  covers— all the excessive indulgences of my little life passed the checkpoint. It looked like the line was getting longer. Finally, I saw myself open the gate wide. I heard myself  say, “Yes, all of it. All of it no matter what it is. All of it!” From that moment, I dedicated my life to do what Jesus asked of so many in the stories I had learned, love God enough to leave it all and follow. 

That day, I embarked on a course following the light of love and carrying as much light as I can into dark places. While living a life set apart for God’s use, I have become a physician bringing the light into patients’ rooms, an activist environmentalist shining light in the halls of congress, a luthier illuminating a resonant instrument, a poet and  musician instilling brightness in the hearts of audiences. Yet, in this life, I am continually challenged to recognize, set, and hold boundaries. How does one keep the world and its concerns at bay while offering service to the same? How is this done while maintaining a contemplative life? 

Recently, I read The Cloud of Unknowing translated by Evelyn Underhill. In it, an unknown medieval author writes that there is a Cloud of Unknowing that rests between God and us, and a Cloud of Forgetting from which we turn. God invites us into the Cloud of Unknowing through love. It is where we can blissfully commune in the harmony of oneness with the ultimate, unchanging true reality. The love that calls us to the Cloud of Unknowing equips us with the light of peace and goodwill to share on Earth.  

The author also writes of the Cloud of Forgetting. It is a space apart that, in my  imagination, does not serve as a place of dread, but as a safe space for passions that are a consuming distraction from the love shining through the Cloud of Unknowing. It is a treasure chest for the deep longings that draw us from the invitation of divine love. It seems that the Cloud of Forgetting is that void beyond the border where I stood guard in my youth as I considered this contemplative life. Rather than being armed at the gate  with wit and intellectual rumination of my worthiness or ladened with remorse and regret for the things admitted to the Cloud of Forgetting, I joyfully enter the Cloud of Unknowing with gifts of adoration and communion— a sacred space where I recharge the light of love that guides others in this world as they seek rest from their own Cloud of Forgetting. 

As a monk in the world, other tests of boundaries come from without rather than within.  It is a paradox to walk in the non-duality of oneness while setting boundaries. Thankfully, wisdom can be found in the teachings of sages. Jesus, the desert fathers and mothers, and various pious visionaries sat with their detractors and even welcomed them with compassion while illuminating their inhumanity.  

Sometimes, contemplative life attracts those sickened by the ways of the world— even those who come with a desire to harm us. It takes balance to tend their cries for help without allowing their unjust ways to distract us. Love is what keeps the boundaries clear while leaving our hearts open to receive those wounded by the world.  

”[Jesus] who, but for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross despising the shame…” —Hebrews 12:2b 

Jesus of Nazareth was a visionary who dared to love everyone. He loved so deeply that his behavior was charged as sedition for which he was crucified. He loved so perfectly that it pleased God. 

It is Jesus’ examples of compassion that show us how to open the door to the needs of others while living a life of contemplation and adoration. Times of contemplation help us to recharge our spirit for more challenging encounters. This balance comes as we hold the boundaries set between us and the clamoring world. 

The call to walk the border between compassion for the world and contemplation in solitude is a call to selflessly love everyone even those who despise us, those who are threatened by the mere existence of one who chooses to shine the light of love in darkness.  

It’s hard at times. But God would never ask us to carry this light in the world if we didn’t come equipped with the proper wick, vessel, and oil to do so.

Dena Ross Jennings, D.O. is a luthier, musician, writer, Virginia Master Naturalist, and an Internal Medicine physician with certification in Ayurvedic practice. In addition to over 30 years of  medical practice, she completed a 4-year apprenticeship with a sculptor and luthier in Ontario, Canada where she learned to design and built the gourd instruments of cultures around the world. In 2013 Dr. Jennings married her best friend Donald Jennings and moved to their organic herb farm and wildlife preserve in Nasons, VA which they lovingly call the Farmashramonastery. There, she practices medicine and counselling, hosts contemplative retreats, hikes, and meditation, and raises angora rabbits. 

In the larger community, she conducts conflict transformation workshops including one for artistic ambassadors through the US State Department in Washington, DC. She has developed accredited curricula of meditation for racial justice, and for cultural sensitivity in artistic performance. In 2019, she was appointed to the Virginia Commission for the Arts where she serves as the chairperson.

Since 1996, Dr. Jennings has been the Executive Director and founder of Imani Works, a human rights advocacy group that enjoys consultative status with the United Nations Department of Social and Economic Affairs. Through Imani Works, she provides evaluations for asylum seekers. You can reach her for bookings, consultations, and counseling by visiting ImaniWorks online.

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The Meaning of Manna ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

We are delighted to welcome poet and author Nikki Grimes for a poetry reading tomorrow from her new collection Glory in the Margins. 

For today’s love note we are sharing one of her poems below from this collection. It is a poem about what we need to be truly nourished and how so many of us are weighed down by the multiple and conflicting demands of life. 

I invite you to begin by taking three slow deep breaths, let them out with a sigh and with each breath see if you can soften your body a bit more. Let your awareness descend into your heart and read her words with the ears of the heart attuning to the invitation for you today:

The Meaning of MannaImage: Rush houron the way to a local mount.Jesus knew a thing or two aboutthe stress of daily life.The desperate crowdsclinging to the hem of his robemade it plain:wants pressing in on every sidemisery multipliedby loneliness, poverty,food all but forgottenin the hunger for healing.How often are we crushed by need?Yet, Christ gave usthe secret to surviveand to thrive:we must slow long enoughto feed on the Holy. Oh, the body has use forbaskets of bread and fishbut what aboutthe manna of God’s word?We must pause to bathe in the soothing watersof his spiritleave the weight of worrybehindso that we can meetthe requirements of the next momentand the nextand the next— Refreshed.Refined.Renewed. (Mark 6:30-56)

-Nikki Grimes, Glory in the Margins: Sunday Poems

When was the last time you slowed long enough to feed on the Holy? 

Our world is so desperately in need of new visions and alternate ways of being. These will not arise from pushing ourselves harder, from doing more and more. Grace enters into the spaces between, when we leave room for our imagination to be kindled, for the Bringer of Newness to gift us with holy surprise. 

I am so grateful you are here reading these love notes, because it means there are many of you out there who are committed to and longing for a more contemplative way of being in the world. Who know that this way of life is an act of resistance to a world that wants us to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of production. 

We are here together, creating some space for a new world to enter. It is the work of a collective, not something we need to do on our own. 

For more poetic inspiration, please join us tomorrow for a poetry reading as we welcome the amazing poet Nikki.

I will be hosting a free Tea with the Abbess event this Friday. All are welcome to join us for a meditation, an update on our upcoming programs, and time for questions. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

(Poem reprinted with permission from Paraclete Press)

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