Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 66

100th Birthday Video Request

Dearest dancing monks,

On June 23rd and 24th John and I each turn 50 years old! It marks the official end of our Jubilee sabbatical year. This year has been a tremendous gift for us and we will be sharing more in the coming weeks about some of what we discovered.

We were planning to have a combined 100th birthday party in Galway to celebrate, but due to the pandemic, we sadly had to cancel our celebrations.

So we are coming to you, our beloved community with a request for a birthday present:

Would you consider creating a short (15-20 second video) of yourself?

Overview: 

Start by saying your name, "I am a dancing monk," and where you live

(e.g. – "Hello, I am Christine and I am a dancing monk living in Galway, Ireland")

Then offer in just 1-2 sentences something you love about Abbey of the Arts.

(e.g. – "What I love about Abbey of the Arts is . . . ")

Technical advice:

Film yourself horizontally (landscape, not portrait)
Stand or sit in the middle of the screen
Stay close to the video camera (can be on your phone) so that sound quality is best
Make sure there is more light in front of you than behind. (Natural outdoor lighting is good.)

Send the Video by June 15th

Please send your video by email to: John@AbbeyoftheArts.com by June 15, 2020 with the subject line "Abbey Birthday Video Submission." If the video file is too big to attach, please try to send in a Dropbox file.

Include whether you give consent 

We would love to create a short video editing together several of the clips to share with others some of what folks love about being a part of this community. We may not be able to include all of them (will depend on number of videos and sound quality), but we will savor each one that comes in regardless! Be sure to indicate in the body of the email whether you do or do not consent to being in the final video (which will be public on our website). Please indicate that when you send in your video clip. We welcome your submissions either way!

Thank you so much for helping us to celebrate!

Love and blessings,

Christine & John 

Monk in the World Guest Post: Michael Schoenhofer

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Michael Schoenhofer's reflection "Awe."

Awe: It's a key to well-being

"an overwhelming feeling of  reverence, admiration, wonder produced by that which is grand, sublime, powerful. . ." (Dictionary.com ).

Joshua Tree National Park

My wife Mary and I traveled out west for a little sunshine and warmth during the last week of January. Our aim was to walk the trails in Joshua Tree National Park near Palm Springs, California. We flew to Las Vegas, rented a car, and then drove four hours to our Airbnb near Palm Springs. The beautiful ranch home we rented was at the end of a mile-long dirt road in a desert valley. We got out of the car, looked around and said, "This is awesome."

We could see the sunrise over the mountains each morning from our bed. We watched the sunset from our patio, waiting for the night sky to brighten and shine full of stars. "Awesome."

The first morning we walked outside and saw the blue sky for the first time in weeks. It was so quiet I could feel the silence and peace flow through me like warm honey.  "Awesome."

We walked in the National Park awestruck by the beauty of the mountains some even snowcapped, the Joshua Trees unique to the area, and fresh mountain air.

An Encounter with a Local

The closest grocery store, Vons, was a thirty-minute drive. We needed some supplies. (Since we were out west, I called our groceries supplies. It felt more cowboy.) At the checkout, we stacked our food and beverages on the counter. The checkout lady was older, all business, and a little dour. When she finished ringing everything up, she looked at Mary and said, "Do you have a Vons Club Card?" It felt like a cross-examination.

"No. We're visitors," May said.

She starred at us, hesitated a moment, and then reached under the counter and gave Mary a Vons Club Card. "Here. Use this now. I don't care what you do with it afterward. You saved $14 on your bill."

"Thank you," we said in our kindest and most genuine midwestern voices.

"Harrumph." She grunted, and we left.

Out in the parking lot as we packed away our supplies we looked at each other and laughed. "That lady was awesome!"

Awe comes in different packages. Sometimes it is the breathtaking beauty of a desert sunrise or a sky full of stars. Sometimes it creeps up on you like the stillness and silence I felt on our first morning. And sometimes it is just an ordinary old package wrapped in brown paper or burlap like the checkout lady at Vons.

Why practice awe?

Research suggests that "experiences of awe may have long-term positive effects on our minds, bodies, and social connections."

We feel kinder.
We feel happier.
We feel more curious and creative. (I enjoyed drawing and writing out in our desert Airbnb and took two afternoons to finish a simple sketch)
We feel smaller and humbled in the presence of something bigger than ourselves.
We feel healthier. Awe may help us reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, depression, and autoimmune disease by lowering our levels of cytokines, which elicit an inflammatory response linked to these problems.
We feel more alert.

PRACTICE

Here's a simple exercise from the Greater Good Science Center at Berkeley that you can do anywhere (you feel safe) and anytime. It's called:

AN AWE WALK

It is a matter of intention, with the right outlook, we can find awe in almost any environment, turning a mundane experience into a flight of inspiration and wonder.

No matter where you are, the key is to be in the right frame of mind.

The WALK

To get started, turn off your cell phone. Even better, don't bring your phone with you at all so it won't tempt you to check it.
During your walk, try to approach what you see with fresh eyes, imagining that you're seeing it for the first time. Then follow these steps:
Take a deep breath in. Count to six as you inhale and six as you exhale. Feel the air move through your nasal passages and listen to your breath. Come back to this breath throughout the walk.
As you begin walking, feel your feet on the ground and listen to the surrounding sounds. Shift your awareness now so you are open to what is around you, to things that are vast, unexpected things that surprise and delight.
Take another deep breath in. Again, count to six as you inhale and six as you exhale. Let your attention be open in exploration for what inspires awe in you.
Continue your walk and, every so often, bring your attention back to your breath. Count to six as you inhale and six as you exhale. Notice—really notice—the multitude of sights, sounds, smells, and other sensations that are dancing through your awareness, undetected.

Once you get in the habit of taking walks like this, you may find how often you have opportunities to experience awe—they are infinite.  (Awe Walk, Greater Good Science Center, Berkeley California)

Take a moment today to step back and notice moments of beauty and kindness. See if you can surprise yourself at what you find. You will be better for it, becoming more humble and acting with more kindness.

Michael Schoenhofer retired after twenty-five years as mental health professional. He is the author of Stumbling into Happiness, a memoir of his life changing time in Africa. He blogs at OverFlow.care on topics of well-being. He lives in Lima, Ohio with his wife and cat. He can be contacted at schoenhofer.author@gmail.com.

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

Dear 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 7. I commit to a lifetime of ongoing conversion and transformation, recognizing that I am always on a journey with both gifts and limitations.

Consider writing the words "always we begin again" somewhere you can see them regularly as a reminder to be gentle with yourself on the spiritual path.  This is an invitation to respond to the call of being a monk in the world.  It is not something we simply become and arrive fully.  It means daily practice of contemplative ways of being.  It means being committed to the process of discovery and transformation for a lifetime.

How do you practice conversion?

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

Praise Song for the Pandemic now in French

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Praise Song for the Pandemic from Christine Valters Paintner on Vimeo.

The combined views of our YouTube and Vimeo versions of the Praise Song for the Pandemic video have reached over 150,000 and over a million on Facebook! We are grateful to know many are using this in their online worship services.

Diane Ellison wrote to us to ask permission to translate the poem into French which we share gratefully below.

Chant de louange durant la pandémie

Loués soient les infirmières, les médecins et tout le personnel médical qui prennent soin des humains et qui, par leur présence, réussissent à sauver des vies ou à les accompagner vers la mort;

Loués soient les agriculteurs qui labourent le sol, qui plantent des semences porteuses de fruits et qui perpétuent ainsi l'espérance;

Loués soient les concierges et les éboueurs, les commis d'épicerie et les camionneurs, qui travaillent dans l'ombre de la nuit;

Rendons grâce aux chauffeurs d'autobus, aux livreurs, aux postiers, et à tous ceux et celles qui surveillent l'eau, le gaz et l'électricité;

Bénis soient nos dirigeants qui font des choix difficiles pour le bien commun et qui savent nous réconforter par leurs paroles;

Célébrons les scientifiques qui veulent comprendre ce fléau et qui cherchent un antidote, ceux qui fabriquent les médicaments et les journalistes qui nous tiennent informés;

Loués soient les professeurs qui trouvent de nouvelles façons d'instruire les enfants à distance et aux parents qui les soutiennent dans cette voie;

Heureux les aînés, ceux qui ont un système immunitaire affaibli et qui se soucient de leur santé, et ceux qui restent à la maison pour les protéger;

Heureuses les victimes de violence conjugale enfermées avec les agresseurs, ainsi que les sans-abri et réfugiés;

Loués soient les poètes et les artistes, les chansonniers et les conteurs, et tous ceux et celles qui nourrissent par des mots, des sons et des couleurs;

Heureux tous les pasteurs et thérapeutes qui prodiguent des paroles de réconfort;

Heureux ceux et celles qui n'ont plus d'emploi, qui n'ont plus d'économies et qui sont rongés par la peur de l'inconnu;

Heureuses les personnes qui sont affligées par le chagrin, qui vivent un deuil ou qui se sont endormies dans la nuit éternelle;

Loués soient les policiers, pompiers, ambulanciers paramédicaux, et tous ceux et celles qui travaillent pour assurer notre sécurité, et loué soit l'ensemble des travailleurs et soignants;

Loué soit le son des notifications et des messages d'amis qui s'informent de nous, et qui nous comblent de leur rire et de leur gentillesse;

Loués soient nos compagnons à quatre pattes qui n'ont ni appréhension ni anxiété, et qui n'offrent que de l'amour;

Loués soient les mers et les rivières, et les forêts et les pierres qui nous apprennent à endurer;

Rendons grâce à nos ancêtres qui ont vécu et enduré guerres et fléaux, et qui y ont survécu, car leur résilience c'est maintenant nous qui la portons;

Bénie soit l'eau qui coule sur nos mains et le savon qui les nettoie comme dans un geste baptismal répété;

Loués soient les moments de calme et de silence qui mènent à l'écoute de nouvelles voix et qui incitent au ralentissement;

Loués soient les oiseaux dont le chant nous éveille au quotidien; louée soit la primevère aux pétales jaunes qui jaillit de terre; béni soit l'air qui se purifie et que nous pourrons, un jour, respirer à fond;

Et puissions-nous, avec le temps, dire que l'amour est plus virulent que le virus lui-même, et qu'il ne s'agit pas là d'une fin, mais bien simplement d'un début.

—-Christine Valters Paintner, Abbaye des Arts

Monk in the World Guest Post: Nancy Joan Brighid neé Muire, OblSB

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Nancy Joan Brighid neé Muire's reflection "Lessons in Humility."

Most of my life I thought I was successfully managing to get and then control what I wanted. Money was coming in, I owned my home. I had a husband. Then in 2010, disaster struck. By 2012, I was divorced and living on my own. I had bought a home and small acreage in southwestern Colorado and was managing it as a homestead farm. I had a sweetheart, a long distance relationship. None of it was working like I wanted it to. I was in over my head. I lost my job. I got sick. The next seven years were topsy turvy with multiple moves for work. Finally, I took early retirement in 2016, and entered the AmeriCorps program. I was in AmeriCorps for 2 1/2 years. Two of those were as a VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America). The Sweetheart relationship ended. I became homeless for four months between the two years of VISTA, due to a failed second year VISTA appointment. Then I managed to sell my homestead farm, which got me back on my feet. Getting back up on my feet used up all the equity from the real estate sale. Now I live in a beautiful subsidized senior apartment complex near downtown in Albuquerque.

I tell you this story because not being able to hold down a job, and spending much of my time in dire poverty over the last seven years, has taught me a valuable lesson. It is about humility and openings. It is about letting go and letting God.

The best three of the lessons came in quick succession.

Lesson 1: My second year of VISTA ended in late summer. The small stipend I received for service was ended. I had used up almost all the equity from the sale of my home farm. I was on the waiting list to get into subsidized housing. I had been asked to teach at SIPI (Southwestern Indian Polytechnic Institute, a tribal college) but the application/on-boarding process was not going well. I was terrified that I would end up homeless, again. I became distraught. Then, finally, I came off the waiting list for HUD subsidized housing and started the application to get into the apartment I now live in.

The lesson: if I had not had my VISTA stipend end, if SIPI had hired me immediately instead of the long slow process it took to get me in, then, I would not have been financially eligible to get into the beautiful senior apartment in which I now live.

Lesson 2: Shortly after I moved into my new apartment all of the lights on the dash in my car lit up. I took it to the car dealership for repair. I was scared that I would not be able to pay the bill as I'd just used up almost all of the bit of money I had left to move. If I lost my car because I couldn't pay the bill, then, I would not be able to get to SIPI to work. If I can't work, then I will not be able to make ends meet.

The lesson: For one day I had no wheels. It was a day I didn't work at SIPI. I did have two medical appointments, though, which I had to cancel. I was late getting out the door to take my service dog for her morning walk because I was on the phone with the car repairman. As a result of the delay to get out and my canceled medical appointments, I met on my walk both the Manager and the President of the Board of the Sawmill Community Land Trust (the non-profit property holders of the place I now live). I was able to talk to them about making the community garden on the Land Trust ADA compliant. Subsequently, as a result of this conversation, the property owner has agreed to spend the money to do this, so, I no longer have to apply for grants to accomplish this small project I want to see come to fruition.

Lesson 3: A few days after the debacle with my car, my SIPI students in my range science class were being disrespectful. The teaching/lecture had not gone well because of that. I was very discouraged. At the same time, I noticed that I had not included my lesson for Thursday on my syllabus. This is an omission that I still scratch my head over.

Lesson: if my students hadn't acted up on Tuesday... If I hadn't missed putting the lesson plan into my syllabus for Thursday... Then, I wouldn't have gotten to teach my students a valuable lesson about the Golden Rule, and building strong teams by treating each other with kindliness and respect.

The Bottom Line: I've learned that trying to control my life; and worrying when I can't, and when things don't go the way I've planned... is precisely the time when the Holy Spirit speaks most clearly to me. Closings become openings. Without humility closings can't become openings for wondrous miracles to happen because I am not present to listen.

This is, I believe, rung three of the Ladder of Humility. In The Rule of Benedict, It states, "Truly, we are forbidden from doing our own will, for scripture tells us 'turn away from your desires' (Sir. 18:30). And in prayer too we ask that Gods 'will be done' in us (Matt. 6:10]. We are rightly taught not to do our will..."

I think, I pray, and I hope that I'm finally beginning to learn this lesson.

Advent Dreaming

The snow floats down

Lazily from pearly skies.

Pine tree peaceably accepts

Her white and rainbow cloak

As she gracefully dreams

Her winter thoughts.

Chickadee forages

His winter stocks

Of dried berries

And insects caught

In tree sap amber.

Brown bear

Ambles to her door

To sniff the air

And taste the winter snow.

Beaver turns

And curls around her pregnant belly

On her couch of sleep

In her twig built home

Within the safety

Of her carefully wrought dam.

The pace of life

Slows to winter stillness

And mostly indoor activities

For we scant haired

Two-legged souls.

Our opposable thumb hands

Busily

Repair and sharpen

Growing season tools.

And weave

Warm woolen garments

For our loved ones.

As the trees

We dream our winter thoughts

While fire flickers on the hearth.

And snow settles on the roof

Of our Advent season home.

 

Nancy Joan Brighid neé Muire, OblSB lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She is an educator who works mostly with Native youth. The natural sciences curriculum she continuously develops is place-based and culturally embedded. After many years of agnosticism and trauma recovery, Nancy entered a dedicated spiritual path in 1997. That path reflects her deep relationship with wild lands as a field botanist and ecologist; and her Christian roots as a rebellious Baptist preacher's daughter. She has close ties with Contemplative Outreach (2006), the Northumbria Community (2009), and Benedictine spirituality (2012). Nancy personally undertook vows as a Benedictine Anchoress in 2017. To learn more about Nancy's calling as an educator you may visit her website EarthFriendlyed.com. To enjoy her spiritual viewpoint you may read her blessings, essays and poetry at NancyJoanBrighid.com.

Monk in the World: Conversion 4 – Guided Meditation by Christine Valters Paintner + Audio ~ A Love Note from your Online Abbess

Dear 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 7. I commit to a lifetime of ongoing conversion and transformation, recognizing that I am always on a journey with both gifts and limitations.

https://abbeyofthearts.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/6-Conversion-Monk-in-the-World-Lectio-Divina.mp3

 

I invite you to pray lectio divina with the following scripture passage:

Do not remember the former things,

or consider the things of old.

I am about to do a new thing;

now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness

and rivers in the desert.

–Isaiah 43:18-19

First Movement – Lectio: Settling & Shimmering

For now, find a comfortable position where you can remain alert and yet also relax your body.  Bring your attention to your breath and allow a few moments to become centered.  If you find yourself distracted at any time, gently return to the rhythm of your breath as an anchor for your awareness.  Allow yourself to settle into this moment and become fully present.

I will read the line from the Psalms once or twice through slowly and listen for a word that feels significant right now, is capturing your attention even if you don't know why. Gently repeat this word to yourself in the silence.

Second Movement – Meditatio: Savoring & Stirring

Read the text again and then allow the word or phrase which caught your attention in the first movement to spark your imagination.  Savor the word or phrase with all of your senses, notice what smells, sounds, tastes, sights, and feelings are evoked.  Then listen for what images, feelings, and memories are stirring, welcoming them in, and then savoring and resting into this experience.

Third Movement – Oratio: Summoning & Serving

Read the text a third time and then listen for an invitation rising up from your experience of prayer so far. Considering the word or phrase and what it has evoked for you in memory, image, or feeling, what is the invitation? This invitation may be a summons toward a new awareness or action.

Fourth Movement – Contemplatio: Slowing & Stilling

Move into a time for simply resting in God and allowing your heart to fill with gratitude for God's presence in this time of prayer.  Slow your thoughts and reflections even further and sink into the experience of stillness.  Rest in the presence of God and allow yourself to simply be.  Rest here for several minutes.  Return to your breath if you find yourself distracted.

Silence also has an integrative function.  Lectio divina can stir up a great deal of images and symbols which speak to the new thing being birthed within us.  In this fourth movement we recognize the need to step back and simply be with what is happening in us, releasing our desire to be actively working on it, and allow it to ripen slowly.  We enter the wisdom of night, the place where we can honor that which is nameless within us, that which is still seed and not blossom.  We release all of our thoughts and desires and striving and simply rest in the presence of the One Who Is already there with us in the sacred space of our hearts.

Closing

Gently connect with your breath again and slowly bring your awareness back to the room, moving from inner experience to outer experience.  Give yourself some time of transition between these moments of contemplative depth and your everyday life. Consider taking a few minutes to journal about what you experienced in your prayer.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

P.S. I was featured on the Ave Explores podcast this week to talk about "The Soul of the Artist". Also, St. Michael's Episcopal Church in Arlington, VA is having an online art exhibition in response to the pandemic – here is a collection of poems shared including mine on p. 27 "Always" under the theme of Solace. 

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner

More from Christine Around the Web This Week

Christine was featured on the Ave Explores podcast this week to talk about "The Soul of the Artist"

Christine has a new poem titled "Spring Ephemerals" in Bearings journal online which celebrates spring's arrival and our intimacy with the more-than-human world. You can read it here>>

This poem comes from her second poetry collection The Wisdom of Wild Grace, being published by Paraclete Press this October. The collection is filled with poems reminding us of what it means to belong to the world of wildness and to honor nature as intimate companion.

You can pre-order at Paraclete| Bookshop | Amazon

Monk in the World Guest Post: Becky Rische

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Becky Rische's reflection on paying attention to nature and the divine.

Quieted by nature, I can sometimes better hear that God-given voice showing me what is mine to do.  Noticing who I am, how I am, and where I am when this happens, gives me guidance on how to hear and see and follow God at other times.

For instance, right now I'm writing this from a dear friend's cabin in the mountains. I planned to leave today, but a fresh six inches of snow covered the roads.  Driving in ice and snow is foreign to me, and practicing alone on narrow mountain roads clearly didn't offer a good learning environment.  So I dug in for another day.  In truth, staying longer is my overwhelming preference.

I have a spectacular display of three-story pine trees to keep me company. The pines provided welcome privacy during this week's stay, and now seem just as happy balancing large mounds of snow on their limbs. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see the great village of creatures housed in those trees. I've learned their names because a bird field guide and a 14-year-old "critter journal" sit on a nearby table inviting visitors to record their sightings. Bear stories appear in those pages, as well as dates and lists upon lists of bird sightings.

This encouraged me to pay attention to the vast assortment of fluttering wings at the feeder outside the window. Along that same sight line, a herd of nine deer have moved into the picture to play in the new snow. I bundled up and walked down to see them, so they rewarded my attention by scampering across the snow field like jack rabbits, and I got it on video.

This enchanted place belongs to my spiritual director who has years of experience practicing the art of paying attention.  Her vocation calls her to help others to do the same. Shortly before that luscious snowfall, she had sent me a message to "watch for all the ways God says 'I love you' today." Soon the softest, quietest, white flakes began floating down and continued for a full day.  In nature, God speaks for Himself mostly, but soul friends help us to listen.

My soul friend's signature and God's signature appeared everywhere around that mountain cabin, and I held them both in special gratitude all week.  Beauty and restfulness, serious birds and relaxed deer, the nighttime threat of bear, and the daytime, up-close mix of small town people all spoke of God's great imagination.  It was hard to leave, but I felt so blessed to carry that holiness with me.

I find writing too can provide a slowed-down experience of fast-paced lives.  My time at the cabin was part of a transition period into a new calling, one that I wanted to continue to include writing.  Reading that critter journal made plain how friends I hadn't known to write, found it irresistible to play with words, given the time and encouragement.  Sorting and feeling through just the right phrases to describe our experiences helps us to learn from them.

The focus required by writing can also settle the whirring chatter of my mind and help me to relax.

Paying close attention to things and analyzing my part in making them work can seem inconvenient, but I want to remember the moderating rituals of writing or nature walks can also be life-giving.  Whether absorbed by the daily demands of a simple existence or a vigorous calling, I hope always to find my way back to meaningful spiritual practices that move me to a new sense of wonder, where God's voice becomes unmistakable.

Becky Rische is retired from a long professional career in writing ranging from city lifestyle magazines to business journals to public relations at major universities.  She now offers faith story writing retreats to help capture transformational moments in peoples' lives, and support the culture of listening.

Practicing Resurrection with All of Creation ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dear monks, artists and pilgrims,

Christine has written an article for Godspace Blog. An excerpt is below with a link to read the full article.

Lent is a powerful season of transformation. Forty days in the desert, stripped of our comforts, and buoyed by our commitment to daily practice so that we might arrive at the celebration of Easter deepened and renewed. And yet this year, we were challenged to a much more severe Lenten experience, where many of our daily securities have been stripped away.

How do we then approach the glorious season of resurrection, and celebrate not just for that one day, but for the full span of 50 days.  How do we savor joy in the midst of so much grief and heartbreak. Easter is a span of time when days grow longer in the northern hemisphere, blossoms burst forth, and we are called to consider how we might practice this resurrection in our daily lives.

My new book Earth, Our Original Monastery is rooted in my love of monastic tradition and practice: the gifts of silence and solitude, hospitality, daily rhythms, slowness, soulful companionship, and presence to the holiness of everything are gifts our world is hungry for. Over time, I began to discover the ways that Earth herself teaches us these practices. In the Celtic tradition it is said there are two books of revelation – the big book of Nature and the small book of the scriptures. Nature is experienced as the original scripture.

Thomas Merton, the 20th century Trappist monk who was such a genius at translating contemplative wisdom for a contemporary world often found his experiences in creation as some of the most profound spiritually. He writes, "How necessary it is for the monks to work in the fields, in the sun, in the mud, in the clay, in the wind: These are our spiritual directors and our novice masters." For Merton, the elements of water, wind, earth, and fire are our original soul friends.

The monastic tradition is also filled with stories of the kinship between saints and animals as a sign of their holiness. The desert and Celtic traditions in particular have many of these stories, such as St. Cuthbert who would emerge from the sea each morning after prayer and otters would come to dry him off and warm his feet or St. Brigid who had a white cow as a companion who would give endless milk.

And of course, the great tradition of the creation psalms gives us a window into a worldview that sees all of nature singing praise together in the original liturgy.

How do we find resurrection in a season when many will die from this pandemic? How so we practice a deep sense of hope in the midst of economic uncertainty? What might happen if we let Earth teach us a new way of being?

Imagine if, during the Easter season, we each took on practices like these:

     * Allow time and space each day to grieve fully, to release the river of tears we try to hold back so carefully. Listen to the elements and see what wisdom they offer to you for this sorrow and for how to endure.

Click here to read the rest of the article.

At the top of this love note is a link to the recording of our Earth Monastery Virtual Book and Album Launch. During this hour long session, I was joined by Betsey Beckman, Simon de Voil, and Richard Bruxvoort Colligan in sharing reflections, meditation, poetry, song, and dance in celebration of the release of Earth, Our Original Monastery (the book and album).

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Video © Christine Valters Paintner

Monk in the World: Conversion 3 – Reflections by Christine Valters Paintner (with AUDIO MP3)

Dear 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 7. I commit to a lifetime of ongoing conversion and transformation, recognizing that I am always on a journey with both gifts and limitations.

https://abbeyofthearts.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/7-Monk-in-the-World-Conversion.mp3

 

Conversion in monastic tradition is never a once-and-for-all event.  Instead it is always a process of unfolding, ripening, emerging, arising.  I like to think about this commitment to conversion as always being surprised by God, always remembering that God's imagination is far greater than our own.  Or in David Whyte's words, through conversion we commit to opening our eyes again and again, seeing what is deep below the surface of everyday life.  We let ourselves be moved by something unexpected, a momentary awareness of beauty or grace.

Do you ever have those moments when you are suddenly caught in the emotion of a past story you thought you had worked through already?  "That again?" You might ask yourself.  But the expectation that we somehow work through an issue and then are done with it is a very linear way of approaching life, when I would suggest our experience is much more of a spiral.  We come around again and again to the very same things that cause us to stumble, but each time we see them from a new perspective.

As monks in the world, we are always on the path, always growing, we never fully arrive and so we always have more to learn.  Being a monk in the world is not something we simply become once and for all. It means being committed to the process of discovery, it is the ongoing transformation of a lifetime. St. Benedict in his Rule writes "always we begin again."  These are four of my favorite words.  Buddhism has a similar idea called Beginner's mind.  We recognize that we are always a beginner in life.  When we think we have everything figured out, cynicism and cleverness clouds our vision.

Conversion calls us to a radical kind of humility, where we recognize that we simply do not know, we aren't in control, that at the heart of everything is a great Mystery.  Only when we surrender to that kind of radical unknowing can we be transformed.  Only when each moment of life breaks us open with wonder and awe are we on the way.

The poet David Whyte writes: "What you can plan is too small for you to live."  He goes on to say that the moment we begin our planning each morning there is an opening to grace which closes.

When we focus on planning we miss the opportunity to discover new directions.  We rely solely on our own agenda and goals for life.

Part of the monk's path is cultivating what I call an organic spirituality, one where we practice deep listening so we can attune to what is next, where is the energy and grace calling us in this moment of my life and can I release my grip on the path I think I should be taking enough to hear this new possibility?

This is one of the reasons I am drawn to the practice of the expressive arts.  Art-making becomes a pilgrimage or path of discovery.  As I listen each moment to the creative impulse, I let go of what I think whatever I am creating should look like. I let go of my orientation toward creating a beautiful product and let the journey take me where it will.  This is a wonderful way to practice this for life as well.

As a Benedictine Oblate I have made a commitment to live out monastic values and practices in my everyday life. Perhaps one of the most profound values for me is humility. Humility does not elicit much awe or admiration in our culture. It is a value that seems outdated in our world of self-empowerment and self-esteem boosting, negating much of the me-first values that our culture holds so dear.

Some of the reservations about humility are legitimate, especially for women. Abuse of humility can encourage passivity, low self-worth, and be used as a tool of oppression, imparting fear, guilt, or an abiding sense of failure, in an effort to remind people of their proper "place" and keeping them from rocking the boat or challenging institutions or those who hold power. There is also such a thing as false humility, when someone denies how good they are as a means to make themselves look even better.

The word humility is derived from humus which means earth. Humility is at heart about being well-grounded and rooted. Humility is also about truth-telling and radical self-honesty. It is about celebrating the gifts we have been uniquely given in service of others, as well as recognizing our limitations and woundedness.

Humility means to be profoundly earthed and to face up to truth about our human condition.  Humility demands that we also celebrate our blessings as a part of truth-telling. It teaches us to recognize that our gifts are not of our own making but are gifts we receive and held in trust to give to our communities. Our gifts are not for ourselves alone.  We are called to create not for our own satisfaction, but to participate in the co-creation of a more just and beautiful world.

Honoring our limits as creatures can be deeply liberating. Giving up our demanding inner perfectionism can be freeing.  How often do I resist beginning a creative project because of my fear that it will not live up to the image in my mind?  Humility invites me to release those expectations and enter into the call of my gift knowing that it may look very differently from my imagining.  Recognizing our flaws in gentle and compassionate ways can bind us closer to others.  We must have patience with the unfolding of our lives and the world. God's kingdom unfolds in God's own time. We discover that we are not solely responsible for saving the world. Acknowledging our limits, can liberate us from our compulsions and frantic busyness and lead us towards recognizing our interdependence. Each of our gifts contributes to the whole.

Humility is also about welcoming in those experiences which create a sense of resistance in us.  Those places in say scripture text which make us wrestle are often the ones that bear the greatest fruit in terms of revealing our own hidden places of resistance and fear.  The same can be said of the creative process, the thing we most fear doing has perhaps the most to teach us about our own places of restriction and block. Humility invites us to embrace the challenges as doorways toward deeper understanding of ourselves and God.

Humility is deeply rooted in the beginner's mind I already mentioned.  The poet Rainer Maria Rilke writes:

"If the Angel deigns to come it will because you have convinced her, not by tears but by your humble resolve to be always beginning; to be a beginner."

Bringing the mind and heart of a beginner to our lives helps us to discover the wisdom inherent in each moment.  When we let go of our desire to be clever or successful or create beautiful things we may begin to open to the sacred truth of our experience as it is, not how we want it to be.

Wonder is at the heart of conversion, letting ourselves be moved by life, letting ourselves be surprised by God, letting ourselves be open to the grace of the moment.

Expectation can preclude the opportunity for discovery. When we try to reach a goal, we become fixated on it and we miss the process. Beginner's mind is the practice of coming to an experience with an openness and willingness to be transformed.  Art is one way to reconnect us with our childlike sense of wonder.  When we engage art as prayer we can remember that play is also an act of prayer, praising God out of sheer delight.  We can learn to take ourselves – our art and our spirituality – a little less seriously.

Thanks for spending this time with me pondering how you might invite conversion into your own life.  In part two of this month's reflections I invite you into a guided experience of lectio divina, or sacred reading.  Blessings to you on the monk's path.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Photo © Christine Valters Paintner