Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 66

Monk in the World Guest Post: Lita Quimson

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from Wisdom Council member Lita Quimson entitled, "Kindred Spirits: A Divine Encounter."

My Name is Lita, and I am the founder of On the Third Day (OTTD) Renewal and Formation Center, an ecumenical ministry of spiritual formation and accompaniment in the Philippines. The first time I came across Christine's book, "The Soul of a Pilgrim", I instantly connected with her heart. I immediately went to the Abbey of the Arts website and got even more excited because I found in there everything I was searching for. I felt a deep connection.

Apart from OTTD, I also founded Cherimoya Eco-Spirituality and Retreat Center, a sacred space strategically placed an hour from Manila so it can be accessible to as many people as possible. Many people have come and spent some quality time with God in nature and in silence. They go back to the city refreshed and restored by God's presence.

One of the major inspirations for the founding of our ecumenical ministry and the retreat center was St. Ignatius, the founder of the Society of Jesus. In his Spiritual Exercises, he highlighted the connection between the creator and the created. This has become a core mission of the center and ministry.

My ministry was also influenced by the author Matthew Fox. I was giving a 3-day retreat on creation spirituality based on Fox's book when I was struck by a chapter saying God is the most creative being in the universe. Although we have been using art expression as a form of reflection in many of our retreats, those words opened up a whole new area in my life. It began my search into the deeper meaning of words and concepts such as hospitality, generosity, and creativity and how these are all reflections of the heart of God. In an interview with Christine some years ago she was asked about a word that would capture what Christianity really meant to her. Her answer was "hospitality". It stayed with me to this day. It strengthened my resolve to know more about God's heart.

Our ministry and center welcome every seeker who comes knocking. We extend Benedictine hospitality to those who need it. For us, all a person has to do is to desire to know God and we will be ready to assist him or her. We believe that the lack of financial resources should not be a hindrance to seek God. We do a number of fundraising events to build a scholarship fund so we can help those who need financial assistance in enrolling in our programs. The generosity of our donors is overwhelming and so we also pass on that generosity.

The ministry has been here for 8 years and we have done a number of expressive arts such as djembe drumming, painting, origami, mosaicing, mandala-making, poetry, and clay sculpture. Personally, I have fallen in love with mosaicing and this has become my preferred way of expressing myself. The fragmented shards of porcelain constantly remind me of how broken I am and yet can be fashioned into something beautiful through God's love and grace who heals and puts us all together. I finished my first piece last year and have many more lined up for the center. We have tableaus depicting earth, wind, fire, and water. They are all inspired by Christine's book, a major reference for my creation spirituality retreat as well.

As a result of a deep connection with Creation, my seekers and I are launched by God's grace to become fully alive. We are invited to respond to God's call through a life well-lived and pleasing to God.

 

Fully alive and wild at heart. Lita founded and leads On the Third Day Renewal and Formation Center and Cherimoya Eco-Spirituality and Retreat Center in the Philippines. She specializes in designing sacred landscapes and is a believer and encourager of connecting with God through the surroundings. Lita uses expressive arts in various forms to encourage her retreatants to know God and themselves more deeply. Lita is an experienced spiritual director trained in various local and international institutions. She holds a Master's Degree in Ministry with a major in spiritual formation, and certificates in spiritual direction and formation.

Let art, poetry, and music hold you in the paradox of these times ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

In a Dark Time

Do not rush to make meaning.

When you smile and say what purpose

this all serves, you deny grief

a room inside you,

you turn from thousands who cross

into the Great Night alone,

from mourners aching to press

one last time against the warm

flesh of their beloved,

from the wailing that echoes

in the empty room.

When you proclaim who caused this,

I say pause, rest in the dark silence

first before you contort your words

to fill the hollowed out cave,

remember the soil will one day

receive you back too.

Sit where sense has vanished,

control has slipped away,

with futures unravelled,

where every drink tastes bitter

despite our thirst.

When you wish to give a name

to that which haunts us,

you refuse to sit

with the woman who walks

the hospital hallway, hears

the beeping stop again and again,

with the man perched on a bridge

over the rushing river.

Do not let your handful of light

sting the eyes of those

who have bathed in darkness.

—Christine Valters Paintner

Dear monks, artists and pilgrims,

Ireland went officially into lockdown mode a week ago although we are allowed to go to the grocery store, to medical appointments, and exercise within 2 km of home. Thankfully our daily walk with our dog Sourney is 2 km up the canal and then 2 km back down the river.

I certainly never imagined we'd be spending the last few weeks of our sabbatical time in quarantine. The actual retreating is not hard for us as we both love to spend time alone at home, John and I can write for hours at our desks and then meet in the kitchen for dinner and to watch a movie or series in the evenings.

When all this started unfolding a couple of weeks ago, the call to offer the free Novena came with such clarity. It was such a gift for me to really remind myself how much these ancient mystical and contemplative practices have to offer us in the uncertainty of our lives. The other gift was being reminded what an amazing global community the Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks is.

As I sink back into quieter rhythms again, I feel tremendously blessed to have my days filled with writing, art, music, and movement. A typical day for an online Abbess certainly begins with some journaling, poetry writing, meditation, and yoga.

From there I've been spending time writing my next book commitment due to the publisher at the end of summer, doing final edits for my poetry collection this fall, working with an artist for some illustrations for my book on Sacred Time due next spring, giving interviews in writing and on podcasts to promote Earth, Our Original Monastery – my book just released(!), promoting our new album of 14 songs to accompany it, working with our designer to create a full color postcard book of the 12 beautiful images created to accompany some of my poems in the fall collection, working with John to carve some art in lino blocks for a Mary book that I will be writing next, printing up the St Muirgen mermaid icon card and considering how to make that available for folks, praying with a series of songs we are considering for an album in spring 2021 of blessings and songs inspired by scripture, dancing with some of the gesture prayers created by my dear friend Betsey that will go in a series of videos, gathering the files for a spoken word album of me reading my poems, creating a series of poetry videos (one of which is above), and of course times of rest and stillness in between.

My days right now are filled with visual art, poetry, prose, dance, and music, and it is the perfect antidote to the climate of anxiety and fear in the world right now.

Rather than a distraction from those things, immersing myself in imaginative possibility and the creative vision of other artists helps me to see something much bigger and vaster than myself, beneath the surface are endless possibilities coming into birth.

When you feel anxiety rising, find a poem you love and sit with it. Read it again and again until it becomes knit into your bones and memory. Let a phrase become your prayer and a compass for your days.

Play a song you love and let it carry you into the river of grief, releasing all that has been resisted until it flows no more, dance with it, and then rest back into the stillness.

Find a piece of art you adore and enter into its landscape in your imagination. Let it carry you to new places.

Art helps us sit in the uncertainty, the mystery, the paradox of being human without needing to resolve anything. It calls us into the heart of grief and joy, co-mingled. The longer we can rest there and resist our need to control and plan, the sooner we live our way into a new way of being that has its own gifts for the future we are creating. We are in this together. I am weeping each day and laughing each day.

In addition to the new poem and poem video above, as well as the many resources below including our next installment in the Monk in the World series, the final in A Different Kind of Fast series for Lent, another Monk in the World guest post, I have a few links to other places on the web you can find my work:

This week I led a free hour-long webinar for Paraclete Press on Celtic spirituality and the practice of threshold. You can watch the recording here. The scripture passage I use for the meditation is Jeremiah 6:16 –  Stand at the crossroads and look, and ask for the ancient paths,  Where the good way lies, and walk in it, and find rest for your souls .
My poem "Ross Errilly Friary" was published in the Irish literary journal Crannog. Because they were not able to do a live launch this time of the issue, they invited contributors to record themselves reading their poem for a virtual launch. You can find mine along with a number of other wonderful poems being read at this link. Pour a cup of tea and let poetry steady you.
Virtual Book & Album Launch – on Earth Day, Wednesday, April 22nd at 12 noon eastern time, I will be joined by Betsey Beckman, Simon de Voil, and Richard Bruxvoort Colligan for a live webinar session where we will be formally launching  Earth, Our Original Monastery  book and album. Reflections, poems, songs, gesture prayers and more! Register here to join us.
Ave Maria Press is still having a big sale on the e-book versions of most of my titles with them including my newest Earth, Our Original Monastery ($7.99 on Amazon.com) and other titles as low as 99 cents.
From the Abbey Archives – a reflection on Holy Saturday: The Space Between and resting in the paradox. Click here to read.
I was interviewed this week at the wonderful podcast  Encountering Silence about my newest book Earth, Our Original Monastery and wild silence and the cloister of the earth. Tune into Part 1 here.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Video © Christine Valters Paintner (text/voice) and Travis Reed (video)

You can share the video at this link>>

Monk in the World: Sabbath 6 – Questions for Reflection and Closing Blessing

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

During this Jubilee year of sabbatical we are revisiting our Monk Manifesto by moving slowly through the Monk in the World retreat materials together every Sunday. Each week will offer new reflections on the theme and every six weeks will introduce a new principle.

Principle 6: I commit to rhythms of rest and renewal through the regular practice of Sabbath and resist a culture of busyness that measures my worth by what I do.

This week I invite you to ponder the following questions as guides for your Sabbath practice.

What happens when you allow yourself to receive the full grace of Sabbath rest?

What longings are kindled in this space of stillness?

Closing Blessing from Christine

God of holy rest,

on the seventh day you paused,

laying down the work of creation

and entered into sacred stillness.

Kindle in me the strength to say no

to a world of perpetual busyness.

Sustain in me the desire to simply be.

Let my life be a loving witness to

a world of restoration and renewal,

joy and laughter.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

A Different Kind of Fast: Part Seven – Embrace Mystery

Dear monks, artists and pilgrims,

Let mystery have its place in you; do not be always turning up your whole soil with the plowshare of self-examination, but leave a little fallow corner in your heart ready for any seed the winds may bring, and reserve a nook of shadow for the passing bird; keep a place in your heart for the unexpected guests, an altar for an unknown God.

— from Amiel's Journal, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward

John Cassian, one of the ancient desert fathers, describes three renunciations he says are required of all of us on the spiritual journey. The first is our former way of life as we move closer to our heart's deep desires. The second is the inner practice of asceticism and letting go of our mindless thoughts. The third renunciation is to let go of our images of God—the idols we cling to so tightly—and to recognize that any image or pronouncement we can ever make about God is much to small to contain the divine. Even the word "God" is problematic because it carries with it so many interpretations and limits based on our cultural understandings.

We live in an age when fundamentalism has emerged as an overwhelming force in religious consciousness. In times that are chaotic and uncertain, our human minds grasp for a sense of control. One of the ways we try to make sense of things is to engage in black and white thinking. Establishing clear rules for how the world works, and who is inside and outside of God's sphere, is a way of coping with this felt loss of an anchor or shared cultural sense of meaning.

The via negativa or apophatic way in Christian tradition, which means the way of unknowing, demands that we talk about God only in terms of negatives, or what God is not. It helps to cleanse us of our idols. Alan Jones, in his book Soul-Making, writes, "We can only say that God is both unknowable and inexhaustible." Humility is required. We are so attached to our ideas of who God is and how God works in the world. Ultimately, what the desert journey demands is that we let go of even this false idol and open ourselves to the God who is far more expansive than we can behold or imagine.

Letting go of our images of God can be terrifying. It is often the result of an experience of suffering in our lives, when our previous understanding is no longer adequate to give meaning to what has happened to us. When my mother died suddenly in my early thirties, I was thrust into the desert. All of my certainties about God and life were stripped away and I was left raw and frightened. Many people offered trite words and shallow comfort in my grief, they were not willing to sit with me in the darkness, but only hoped to rush me through to a place of light.

This is the mystical experience of the "dark night of the soul," when old convictions and conformities dissolve into nothingness and we are called to stand naked to the terror of the unknown. We must let the process move through us—one which is much greater than we can comprehend. We can never force our way back to the light. It is only in this place of absolute surrender that the new possibility can emerge. We don't just have one dark night in our lives, but again and again, as we are called to continue releasing the images we cling to so tightly.

Sheri Hostetler is a Mennonite poet whose poem "Instructions" begins, "Give up the world; give up self; finally, give up God." Her choice of words is certainly provocative and when I have read this poem in classes and on retreats, I encounter a wide range of reactions from a visible sigh of relief to the anxious confusion over whether I am proposing a kind of atheism.

In some ways I am, at least in the way that Christian mystic Simone Weil speaks about it. She tells us that "there are two atheisms of which one is a purification of the notion of God." This is the call of the desert elders: to let go, let go, let go, and let go some more, on every level of our lives, to everything we cling to, including, or especially our ideas about God. As soon as our human minds begin to fashion categories, we risk making idols of them.

We let go of who we are certain God to be and cultivate an openness to the One who is far beyond the horizons of our imagining. In the Book of Job, God challenges Job's desire for understanding and asks "where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?" God is never a set of concepts to be understood and grasped, but a relationship to encounter and engage. In this way, the spiritual life is always a journey and in process. We do not let go once and for all, but move through the layers of clinging in our lives until we are living more from our hearts than our minds. We do not arrive, but travel toward the horizon, realizing that it is always receding from our view.

This Lent I will fast from the places in my life where I crave certainty and sure outcomes, and release them to the great Mystery. I will celebrate a God who is infinitely larger than my imagination and I will rest in the possibilities that affords.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

Celtic Practice of Thresholds Webinar

We have collectively entered into a time and space of threshold, when the old has fallen away and the new has not yet come into being. In the Celtic imagination, thresholds were places where the veil between heaven and earth was especially thin and so we had access to a deeper connection with the spiritual wisdom of the divine, of the saints and mystics, and of our ancestors.

Paraclete Press invited Christine Valters Paintner to speak about Celtic wisdom for the times we are in. Below is the recording of the session which includes teaching, meditation, and poetry.

This is the passage we used for our lectio divina practice:

Stand at the crossroads and look, and ask for the ancient paths,

Where the good way lies, and walk in it, and find rest for your souls.

(Jeremiah 6:16)

Closing poem "You Are Here" is from Christine's forthcoming collection The Wisdom of Wild Grace

You Are Here

(after Rainer Maria Rilke's Book of Hours)

You are the now and not-yet, the darkened dawn just before

the first rays rise and you are the rays that pierce and prod.

 

You are the siren screeching through city streets

dropping me to my knees in prayer.

 

You are the lilac and the dust,

the refugee's body found on shore with empty pockets.

 

You are the wound that does not heal, the salve,

the bandage, and the raised scar that remains.

 

You are the dandelion growing through concrete cracks,

the mirror smashed into pieces, the mosaic created.

 

You are the vigil for my mother dying, you are the steady beep

of the heartrate monitor and the long tone that makes me wail.

 

You are ash from the burning towers

the great gashed tree felled by storm, now moss-coated, silent,

 

You are the grey headstone and the red bird that lands and sings,

the gaunt face I ignore while rushing down the street.

 

You are the old man's spectacles

and the love letters from his wife now gone.

 

You are thick grime, a sob stuck in the throat,

the voice long silent speaking once again.

Earth Monastery Virtual Book & Album Launch

EARTH DAY: Wednesday, April 22, 2020 at 12 noon Eastern

(9 am Pacific/5 pm Ireland/UK)

Christine Valters Paintner will be joined by Abbey of the Arts Wisdom Council members Betsey Beckman, Simon de Voil, and Richard Bruxvoort Colligan for this free hour-long event.

Christine will introduce and share a meditation from the book Earth, Our Original Monastery, Simon and Richard will share songs from the album, Betsey will lead us in embodied prayers, and Christine will read poems from her forthcoming collection this fall, The Wisdom of Wild Grace. Celebrate with us these important resources for our times!

There will also be a chance to win some special prizes for those attending live. (The event will be recorded for those who can't participate live).

REGISTER to join the event live






ORDER the Earth, Our Original Monastery book






REGISTER for the summer online retreat






ORDER the Earth, Our Original Monastery album






PRE-ORDER The Wisdom of Wild Grace: Poems












SUBSCRIBE to the Abbey of the Arts email list






Visit RICHARD's website Worldmaking






Visit SIMON's website






Visit BETSEY's website The Dancing Word






SUPPORT Richard's music on Patreon






SUPPORT Simon's music on Patreon

Monk in the World Guest Post: Marilyn Freeman

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on Marilyn Freeman's reflection "Cinema Divina: Another Way of Seeing Seeing." This is an excerpt from her new book The Illuminated Space: A Personal Theory & Contemplative Practice of Media Art published by The 3rd Thing Press, 2020.

I go out shooting video regularly, not necessarily every day, but sometimes multiple times in a day. When I'm shooting, I'm guided by four words: read, reflect, respond, rest. The fact they each start with the letter "r" helps when I want to call my mind back to this practice, which is often. This way of shooting is a contemplative practice I've derived from an ancient prayer process called lectio divina or "sacred reading." I call what I do Cinema Divina.

Lectio divina is a central practice of Catholics in the Benedictine order. It is a contemplative way of praying that can be traced to Jewish mysticism. In order to experience an unmediated connection with the Divine, mystics read passages of sacred texts slowly and repeatedly through a series of meditative steps, usually four, sometimes more. My four simple "r" words are rough translations from the Latin lectio, meditatio, oratio, contemplatio.

This creative contemplative practice I've cultivated isn't rigid. Rather, Cinema Divina is a structured but fluid way for me to bring increasing awareness to all parts of my creative process—from shooting through screening. To see what I'm seeing. Read, reflect, respond, rest. Repeat.

Read

So, my camera is set up and on, and my frame is set. I am shooting, recording. My vision is trained on the viewfinder. I think of this initial phase as "reading." I'm reading the image in the viewfinder: noticing the whole composition, noticing objects, people and other animals, noticing movement or activity within the frame, noticing colors, shapes and being attentive to what most draws my attention. I ask what is the image offering.

I take it in as wholly as possible, I see all I can see, I am alert for what interests me, but I am not authoring anything yet, not editing anything out or adding anything, not making meaning. I am reading the image in the viewfinder with the curiosity, surprise, irritation or boredom I might read any text.

While trained on my viewfinder, I don't block out everything else. I remain cognizant of my surroundings. And I am very aware of sounds and that they are being recorded concurrently with the video image. I always record the location sound, usually just using the camera's rudimentary on-board microphone.

After a while, l look around a bit, stretch, breathe and I let myself notice what is staying with me—an object, the way the light is moving, cars passing in the distance or people walking through the shot, the sky. I let myself be with this process for a bit without really pushing.

Reflect

Then, I return to my viewfinder to reflect on what I'm seeing, to sink deeper into what most calls to me. If I were doing a traditional lectio practice I would read the text again. But I'm shooting, and in this practice the image and I are moving along together with the flow of time.

A question I use to guide my reflection is What is this scene stirring in me, stirring in my life? I observe any feelings, thoughts, associations, memories, regrets, prayers, insights, questions that arise? I actively notice the affect on me, in me, of what I'm seeing—what it stirs in my heart. Am I excited, tired, anxious, relaxed, annoyed, distracted, hopeful, sad, disappointed? I stay with this for as long as feels right.

Respond

Then I turn my attention to responding to what I'm seeing and to what it has stirred in me. At this point, and this may be several minutes into shooting this particular scene with this particular framing, I'm asking, What is the invitation? It might be an invitation to take action—to do something or to stop doing something. To be aware of a way of being or thinking. To slow down. To let go. To go deeper. I notice if there is anything in me that longs to be expressed.

I consciously breathe in order to keep myself awake to this contemplative practice, to be aware of what arises in my heart, to let myself respond: to be affected. I linger here as long as feels right, continuing all the while to see what I'm seeing.

Rest

And then, still recording, I rest in contemplation with what is opening in my heart. I let go of actively reading, of reflecting on and responding to what I'm seeing in the viewfinder. If I were doing a traditional lectio divina I would close my eyes and rest in silence. At this point in my Cinema Divina practice I let the camera's frame, and the fact that it is still recording, hold me in a resting, attentive state.

I settle into what has emerged from the process, what it has conjured in me, what has opened my heart, how I want to bring this into my life and into my art. I might formulate an intention, a wish, a prayer…or it may not take any form. Rest is rest. For me, this resting will most often feel both lovely and loving. Without aiming for it, I'll often feel connected, part of everything. This process tends to feel nurturing. And nourishing. Not always, but often, it fills me with a sense of wellbeing.

~ ~ ~

I invite you to watch How Long Will You Sleep, a selection from Cinema Divina, short films made for contemplation:

How Long Will You Sleep from Marilyn Freeman on Vimeo.

Media artist, writer and spiritual director, Marilyn Freeman, is author of The Illuminated Space: A Personal Theory and Contemplative Practice of Media Art (2020) and creator of Cinema Divina–short films for contemplative practice. Freeman's work screens on PBS, in movie theaters and galleries, at spirituality centers and film festivals worldwide. MarilynFreeman.com

The Illuminated Space is available at The 3rd Thing Press

Love Note, Gratitude, and the Soul of a Pilgrim ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dear monks, artists, and pilgrims,

It is safe to say John and I never imagined the final quarter of our sabbatical year would be spent in quarantine and compassionate retreating during a pandemic. Of course, what makes this so unsettling for many of us is how quickly it has spread and all of a sudden our lives are disrupted in ways we hadn't even imagined a few weeks ago. None of us ever knows what is coming in the next moment. All we can do is practice presence and prepare ourselves to become steady and resilient in the face of the coming storm.

It will take me a while to unpack the many gifts we have already received from sabbatical, gifts that have come both from extensive ancestral travel I was able to make time for and the lovely long spans of time at home in quiet rhythms and working on book projects.

Some of what we have come to discern is how nourishing it is for us to be at home and how tiring travel can be, especially for me, as someone with rheumatoid arthritis and a whole adulthood of fatigue. Entering menopause has also compounded my tiredness. And so we had already been contemplating how that might affect our future rhythms.

Then this disruption descends. As I am sure most of you have, I also have experienced my own moments of anxiety over what this means for our financial well-being with so many live programs coming up and also over my health as someone who takes an immune suppressant drug to manage my illness. Those are all very real concerns and not to be denied.

And yet, what has brought me tremendous joy and a deepened sense of purpose has been the Novena for Times of Unraveling which just ended this week on the feast of the Annunciation. Only two weeks before, on a restless night, the call came to me to offer this gift to our community and I am so grateful to have said yes. Even more so I am grateful for the over 4000 pilgrims and monks who also said yes to register and join us. The live sessions felt like such a powerful connection of love across the globe. These ancient mystical practices matter. They give us an orientation in times of confusion and loss. They connect us to the ground of love when our hearts are broken open.

The spiritual life isn't about pretending everything is great because we believe in God. That is a form of spiritual bypassing, of not taking seriously the pain and suffering of the world. Instead, we are called to be present to the grief, the sorrow, the rage that is stirred in these times and make space for them. We are also called to make space for kindness, compassion, gratitude, and wonder within us too.

On Day 7 of our Novena our practice was gratitude which can open our hearts and shift our awareness from scarcity to abundance, from fear to love. There are a thousand things each day I am grateful for, from the simplest of moments, of food and companionship, of meaningful work, and much more. But that expression of gratitude is never a denial of the anxiety and suffering. We must hold them together in tension. Living into the paradox of a world of terrible cruelty and sorrow with a world of spectacular beauty and moments of extraordinary kindness is what it means to be a mature contemplative. To honor the both/and of our human experience.

When my initial anxiety over what all this would mean for us subsided, I was left with a clear sense of purpose. I knew that the ancient wisdom of monks and mystics had a gift for all of us today trying to live in meaningful and transformative ways. I have centered my life's work on it, but somehow now, it feels even more vital. Perhaps because these are the kinds of circumstances which test us. Being grounded in contemplative practices doesn't mean we don't feel fear and anxiety, but it does mean we have deep resources that can steady us. It means we might be moved to more appreciation and kindness in the moment. It means we have practiced leaning into the Mystery and learned to grow a bit more at ease with unknowing.

Our Novena journey came to an end this week, but of course, like a pilgrimage that journey continues on in our hearts. Anyone is welcome to still access those materials. With so many expressing their heartfelt appreciation of this experience and the opportunity to connect, John and I discerned, what now? How do we continue to honor our sabbatical time and also offer resources and support during an unprecedented crisis. For now we have discerned an offering our Soul of a Pilgrim online retreat in community (April 13-June 7, 2020) which companions my book of the same title. The themes explored in this book and retreat, are themes that serve us well right now as we are all making a pilgrimage through the wilderness with no certainty of where we are heading. There is a sliding scale for payments so please feel welcome to join us whatever your financial circumstances.

So for now, our sabbatical continues. I will be showing up each Monday for 8 weeks during the next online retreat to offer more live webinars because they truly bring me much joy. We will rely on our wonderful facilitators Melissa and Amber to hold the space in the forum and witness the deep sharing and creative expression that will emerge. I can continue writing the books I am working on and keep spaciousness to my days. My own daily practices of meditation, yoga, and journaling have become lifelines and compasses. It feels like grace to be able to respond to a genuine need and I have been praying a lot with the story of Jesus healing on the Sabbath to listen into what the call is for this season now. What does sabbatical mean in light of a global pandemic? How might this sacred space I am standing in shed new light? Can I be of service and also stay grounded in a time of renewal?

I do hope to offer more reflections on Sabbath time in the coming weeks. For now, suffice it to say that we are enormously grateful for this community of kindred souls. Thank you to each of you for bringing more kindness, compassion, and love into the world. We are all in this together.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

A Different Kind of Fast: Part Six – Embrace Organic Unfolding

Dear monks, artists and pilgrims,

* This is the sixth part of a seven-part series we will publish weekly during this Lenten season.

It was said of Abba Agathon that for three years he lived with a stone in his mouth, until he had learnt to keep silence. (Agathon 15)

The silence of the desert elders is called hesychia, which means stillness, silence, inner quiet. However, it is much deeper than just an external quiet. A person can live alone and still experience much noise within and a person can live in the midst of a crowd and have a true sense of stillness in their heart.

There is always a shadow side to silence—the kind of silence that keeps hidden secrets and abuses. This is not the life-giving silence the desert elders seek. Silence can be poisonous, as when someone's voice is being silenced or when we silence ourselves out of resentment or anger. Think of times when you have engaged silence as a weapon in a relationship. There is also the silence of hopelessness or giving up, feeling overwhelmed by life. Or silence that comes when we feel another has all the answers and our voice doesn't matter.

The desert monks are talking about silence that is life-giving. They urge us to seek a particular quality of silence that is attentive and emerges from a place of calm and peace. Our freedom to be silent in this way indicates our freedom from resentment and its power over us. Authentic silence is very challenging to achieve.

Meister Eckhart wrote, "There is nothing so much like God as silence." When we experience moments when we find ourselves releasing words and simply entering into an experience of wonder and beholding, this is the silence of God, moments when we are arrested by life's beauty.

Silence is challenging. We create all kinds of distractions and noise in our lives so we can avoid it. Thomas Merton writes about people who go to church and lead good lives but struggle with quiet:

Interior solitude is impossible for them. They fear it. They do everything they can to escape it. What is worse, they try to draw everyone else into activities as senseless and as devouring as their own. They are great promoters of useless work. They love to organize meetings and banquets and conferences and lectures. They print circulars, write letters, talk for hours on the telephone in order that they may gather a hundred people together in a large room where they will all fill the air with smoke and make a great deal of noise and roar at one another and clap their hands and stagger home at last patting one another on the back with the assurance that they have all done great things to spread the Kingdom of God.

Merton is fierce in his critique of all the ways we cling to words to feel productive, while never making space to surrender into the unknowing of silence and experience silence as beyond all of our good words and intentions. Silence is what makes our actions meaningful, not the other way around.

Silence encourages us to release our desire to control the outcomes of everything and enter into the organic stillness from which new fruit can arise. When we rush and spread ourselves between too many commitments, and saturate our lives with noise, it becomes impossible to truly hear.

When I am immersed in planning my life, writing list after list of things to do, and always trying to meet the next deadline, I am called to pause from these things. For Lent I will fast for a while from my endless desire to control the direction of my life. I will open myself to the grace of silence, in which beauty comes alive and there are things already ripening and unfolding. From this space a garden can flourish.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

Monk in the World: Sabbath 5 – Suggestions for Practice ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

During this Jubilee year of sabbatical we are revisiting our Monk Manifesto by moving slowly through the Monk in the World retreat materials together every Sunday. Each week will offer new reflections on the theme and every six weeks will introduce a new principle.

Principle 6: I commit to rhythms of rest and renewal through the regular practice of Sabbath and resist a culture of busyness that measures my worth by what I do.

Suggestions for Practice

See if you can block out one day in the coming week for honoring Sabbath and renewing your spirit.  If not a day, then begin with a few hours.  Enter into this time with intention, setting aside work and worry and allowing yourself time for silence, play, and friendship.  Consider creating a small ritual for beginning and ending to honor your Sabbath time – perhaps lighting a special candle, saying a blessing, and offering a gesture of receiving the gifts ahead.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner