Christine Valters Paintner's Blog

Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims,

Tomorrow, September 8th we begin a four week journey for Resistance, Renewal, and Resilience: Resting into Uncertainty and Harnessing Opportunity with Kindred Spirits led by Wisdom Council members Aisling Richmond, Felicia Murrell, Jamie Marich, and Richard Bruxvoort Colligan. This retreat will guide you through contemplative and action-based practices to meet the challenging times in which we live. 

Felicia Murrell offers this reflection.

As a descendant of enslaved humans in America, I embody resistance, resilience and renewal. These energies live within me, blood memory genetically coded in my DNA, alive in every cell. I’ve been asking Sacred Presence to show me what it looks like to move toward transformation and fully participate in life and social justice issues from a posture of awareness and openness. How can I stand resolute against systems that cause harm while holding empathy for all humanity, even for those who do wrong? The challenge is to not confuse a person’s actions with their ontology and to avoid mirroring the hate and disregard for human dignity that I oppose.

What is it to join with Love and my ancestors in the eternal work of renewal? Renewal as mutual care for our shared home, and love of neighbors and creation as an answer to “the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor.” What keeps me resilient, grounded in beauty, truth and goodness?

To be resilient is to be rooted in community and open to Light. In the words of Jon Kabat-Zinn, “We cultivate resilience through ongoing practice. It’s a way of living and living well with what life offers us.” 

In my body, resistance feels the opposite of living well. Tight like a clenched fist, it’s an armored, defensive state, hypervigilant to harm. As Eckhart Tolle notes, this kind of resistance is an “inner contraction, a hardening of the shell of the ego.” Taking action from this place of negativity only creates more external resistance. It closes the shutters and blocks the light. Audre Lorde’s wisdom echoes this: “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” Fighting with the same energy of blame, judgment, and division will never bring renewal. 

To navigate the tension between resistance and open awareness, I offer for consideration the practice of lament. Lament is a powerful container for our resistance, one that allows us to be with reality as it is without shutting down the flow of Love. Lament is the courageous act of bringing our full attention to the complexity of our world—to sit with pain and name it. Lament provides an opportunity to stare the monster of injustice in the face and call it what it is. It demands an authentic encounter with truth, an accurate telling of history, and an acknowledgment of suffering. Lament is the act of letting our hearts break while setting aside cheap platitudes.

Lament takes us into another’s pain, as a bridge to empathy, where resistance sometimes falls short. It creates a sacred space for both protest and grief, transforming our pain into a profound act of resiliency.

Lament doesn’t come with the assurance or announcement of hope, only hope-filled yearning — the seedbed of resiliency. Resiliency is the work that happens in the dark, in the liminal space between life as it is and life as we hope it might be. Like seeds buried in the earth, we wait with expectancy, trusting these seeds of hope will take root and germinate. Though we cannot know the outcome with any degree of certainty, we know there is no renewal without burial. The two are intricately linked.

In New Orleans, Louisiana (USA), jazz musicians embody this paradox. Funeral processions begin with the “first line,” a slow, mournful dirge—a lament for what has been lost. But after the burial, the music erupts into the “second line,” a joyous revelry for their loved one’s transition into the ancestral realm. The whole of both parts are necessary for renewal.

The hope of lament is that the mournful sounds of heartache, of injustice, will penetrate our numbness. And in a sea of awakened hearts, amid the dance of life and the merriment of our kinship, all will experience renewal.

Close your eyes.
Imagine what is true and beautiful in our world.
Take a full, deep breath
and imagine once more.

 If the only way forward is toward, what are we moving closer to? I hope the answer is each other. And I hope you’ll consider joining our band of kindred spirits as we explore these themes: resistance, resilience and renewal while resting into uncertainty and harnessing opportunity.

Many thanks to Felicia for her powerful reflection. If you are feeling overwhelmed in these times, this retreat-style program may be the fit for you. Our exploration begins September 8th.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, OblSB, PhD, REACE

Image Paid License with Canva

The post Resting into Uncertainty and Harnessing Opportunity ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Rick Diehl’s reflection From the Forest to the Desert.

For over fifty years I lived in the US Northeast. Taking countless walks in the Thoreauan woods  of Massachusetts, Vermont, and New Hampshire. Then, almost a decade ago, my wife and I  moved to the high desert of Arizona. Maybe this new landscape would give me revelation on the lives of the Ammas and Abbas of the Desert – you would have thought? Well it did, but not the way I assumed. Instead of seeing the harshness and bareness of the desert, I saw the  beauty. To this day I am amazed at how many flowers, shrubs, trees, and animals have  adapted to the thin air and relentless sun of the desert. They thrive with little. The Divine desert  design principles are built into who they are. They wait patiently for the soaking rains of the seasonal summer monsoons. Gee, I have a lot to learn from this place. 

The last few years for many of us have been less than lush with abundance. A post-pandemic world where division seems way more popular than unity and understanding. Books like Earth, The Original Monastery and Sacred Time are, for me, manna in times of want. The prayer of Saint Francis is one of my go to reminders to understand rather than to be understood. I am so grateful for all the Abbey of the Arts posts and resources along with my local centering prayer group and friends. My fellow monks and pilgrims have inspired me to finally start writing down my poetry. Here are a few: 

Silence

Once an enemy
Now dear friend
Empty?
The opposite, full
The space between all things is silence
Stillness connects moments
Balances the colors
Removes the noise
So you can hear the Wind
Wind pauses time
Quiet quenches fires
Fills sails
Moistens dry lips
Silence connects hands with heart
Stillness calms my storm
Alone?
Never… silence is presence

Each Day

Morning prayers start with the chorus of songbirds
Even before the sun fully rises
They are thrilled to praise the Maker of the new day
The mountains are my abbey
The forest my hermitage
The bank beside the still stream… my cell
Midday finds my hands at tasks
Lonely? Never
For you are the God of the laundry
The Lord of sweeping
As I cook You entertain me with thoughts of grace
I see out the window
The two squirrels that spiral run up the Ponderosa
The sun journeys along its arc whether I perceive it or not
But the crepuscular rabbits and deer let me know that sunset is coming
Vespers is lead by the chortle of the ravens as they head to roost
They know the times for Evensong better that I do
Sun down
The candle is the story of who we are in this world
My weary head finds the pillow welcoming
Stay awake to ponder or pray?
No, for He gives to His beloved sleep
Watcher over all
Isaiah warned of occupying myself with things too great or marvelous
The darkness and rest is where you are, always
Til the songbirds call me again.

Feathers

Most never noticed
I see them
I pick them up
Delicate
Vanes so soft
Colors, on some
Lift the hollow boned wind walkers
Or leave a trace to where they were
Or where they fought
I see messages in them
Wind travelers
Soaring is better than flapping
Feathers are stories

I’m by nature much more monastic than communal if I’m being honest. So my challenge lately is to not be too isolated and to join with others even in these barren times. To take a lesson from the flowering manzanita plants that grow together across an entire hillside. Or be like many cactus that for a time grow in the shade of another stronger tree until it’s ready to reach out for the sun on it’s own.

Best to all of you whether in forest, farm, city, island, or desert.

Rick Diehl and his wife Janet live in the beautiful Prescott, Arizona. A retired instructional designer and video editor who now spends his days with hiking, kayaking, pickleball, and videography. Rick and his wife often travel around America in their van seeing beautiful places and people.

The post Monk in the World Guest Post: Rick Diehl appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

Longtime Wisdom Council members and Abbey friends Jamie Marich and Richard Bruxvoort Colligan met in person for the first time at the Wild Goose Festival in Union Grove, North Carolina! As a virtual Abbey and online community we have been blessed to form deep relationships with one another across the globe and it always a treat to meet someone in person we have known for years online.

Richard and Jamie are co-teaching with Felicia Murrell and Aisling Richmond our upcoming retreat Resistance, Renewal, and Resilience: Resting into Uncertainty and Harnessing Opportunity with Kindred Spirits that beings September 8th. Here is a short video of their conversation filled with the delight of community. (Click CC for closed captions.)

The post Wisdom Council Members Jamie and Richard Meet in Person for the First Time! appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims,

On Monday, September 8th we begin a four week journey for Resistance, Renewal, and Resilience: Resting into Uncertainty and Harnessing Opportunity with Kindred Spirits led by Wisdom Council members Aisling Richmond, Felicia Murrell, Jamie Marich, and Richard Bruxvoort Colligan. This retreat was created to guide you through contemplative and action-based practices to meet the challenging times in which we live. Through rest and renewal we not only nourish ourselves, we settle into what is most important for our spiritual growth and our capacity for resilience. 

Jamie Marich offers this reflection as inspiration.

In a World
by Jamie Marich

The world is screaming around us
Endless wars
Political unrest
Hostile takeovers
Climate chaos
Corporate greed
Silenced voices
Hungry people
Thirsting for change
Begging for justice
Aching for affirmation
Of their existence

I fear that they are coming for me too
In many ways they already have
I know there are so many others
In this messy world of ours
Bleeding in every way
Who would trade places with me
Because at least I have
Running water
Food to eat
And a bed in which to sleep
The only bombs I dodge on the daily
Are those of cruelty

This is my lament in a world that is 2025. Cogent words seem impossible to string together to describe what I am experiencing. Sometimes I wonder if words written by this empathic heart even matter during these times in which we find ourselves; especially when many brand empathy as toxic. My heart feels heavy as a queer person of faith for a variety of reasons right now. I want to fight back. I know that I am finding ways to do that. Yet just as I observe divisions in the world that are the source of so much pain, I also ache in seeing many advocates and caring, faith-filled people arguing with each other on the correct way to engage in acts of resistance. You may also be finding that people whose values largely correspond with your own are attacking you for having a different opinion, or for trying to build bridges in places of division instead of burning them. It can be difficult to know how to even take up fights of resistance right now when there is so much in-fighting and quarrel amongst advocates, usually fueled by the pain of trauma responses. In a world where we need community more than ever, even community can feel very unsafe. 

I am often active on social media spaces where advocates share ideas. There is quite a bit of virtue signaling (e.g., calling out people, often in shaming ways, for not using correct language or taking what the user sees as a preferred moral stance). There is also this deep sense of, “When people start thinking and behaving exactly like I do, then the world will be a better place.” Interestingly, I grew up with this thinking in the Christian nationalist, Evangelical context in which my father raised me. And I’ve been hearing it with increased intensity from people with whom I am aligned in so many ways. I’ve been guilty of virtue signaling behavior myself, forgetting a core lesson that I learned years ago in my own healing process: You can’t shame people into transformation.

It’s difficult to know how to operate, as an advocate and a resistance fighter with no tolerance for hate and discrimination, and to not shut down vital human interactions that are needed to heal the world. Here is what I wrestle with now, in my own lived experience. I am a queer person and I am a female-identified person who believes that bodily autonomy is not just a legal right, it is a spiritual blessing given to us as free will from our Creator. Even as a person of faith, I believe that the separation of church and state is vital to a harmonious society. I regard assuring food security and health care equity for all as more important than military might. So it’s pretty obvious how I will vote in any given election in my country. I will not back down from my convictions. And I also need to remember that many people extended me a great deal of grace on the long journey to getting here, after being raised to see the world in a different manner. So is it possible to stand strongly  in my convictions, fight for what I believe in, challenge others where needed and not be a horrible person to others in the process? Even those who vote differently than I do? Even those who abstained their vote in protest? 

So what would Jesus do in a world that is imploding on itself? Sadly, even that question is up for interpretation right now, depending on who you ask and on how they see Jesus. In navigating the conundrums I lay out in this article, here is the answer I am getting: Jesus would flip tables, especially those tended to by people in positions of authority who use that position to exploit others. Jesus would speak his truth. And he would also have a meal and talk with those who others might not judge as very Christ-like. He would love them no matter what. The scriptures we venerate as Christians show us that Jesus did all of these things. And as people of faith being called to acts of resistance in 2025, we can use Jesus’ model as useful inspiration. 

Now, is it difficult to be kind to those who persecute us? Of course. Are we expected to put ourselves in situations where we are being repeatedly maligned and abused in our work to make a difference in a world that may not even want to change? That is your personal call to make. However you decide to work for the resistance in our modern times, may you also know that showing care and grace for yourself, while attending to all areas of your nourishment (e.g., spiritual, emotional, physical) is imperative. One way to look at the importance of rest is that those who are in positions of exploitative power want and even rely on the people with caring hearts to burn out and go away. One of my She-roes, poet Audre Lorde, said it best: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” 

I hope that you will consider joining us for our upcoming Abbey of the Arts online retreat, Resistance, Renewal, and Resilience: Resting into Uncertainty and Harnessing Opportunity with Kindred Spirits. This four-week experience starting on September 8 will allow you to navigate some of the difficult questions that might be coming up for you around how to practice resistance in our current climate in an environment that we are cultivating to be both challenging and free of shame. You will also learn a bounty of practices for rest and renewal for the much-deserved care of your body, mind, and soul. It will be my pleasure to be one of your teachers and forum facilitators for this experience, and I hope to see you in our shared community. 

I offer thanks to Jamie for her profound reflection and invite you to join us beginning September 8th to explore what resistance, renewal, and resilience means to you on your spiritual journey.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, OblSB, PhD, REACE

P.S. Today is the last day to register for our Sustainers Circle. There are four levels each with its own package of programming. All levels include access to new weekly poems and a private forum facilitated by our program coordinator Melinda Thomas.

Image © Jamie Marich of Dr. Kellie Kirksey, one of the guest conversation partners for the retreat. Used with permission.

The post Resistance, Renewal, and Resilience ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Laurie vandenHurk’s reflection on praying the Rosary.

Sometimes there are no words for prayer.

Sometimes silence just opens me to the chatter and anxiety in my brain. 

A number of years ago there was a crisis in my inner circle that threw our lives into chaos. How could I support a loved one whose life just fell apart? How could I hold a supportive space for the others who are equally impacted? What do I need for my own mental health? 

Since the crisis was not mine, I could not talk with others about my worries without sharing what was not mine to share. 

One day I was meditating with the gospel story of the paralytic man whose friends brought him to Jesus for healing. There was a dense crowd around Jesus and they could not get near, so they went to the roof. I imagined the dried mud and straw as they dug open the flat roof and lowered their friend before Jesus. In the gospel narrative the paralysed man did not ask Jesus for healing. He did not demonstrate or confess faith in Jesus or in his healing. It was his friends who had faith that Jesus could heal him, and their faith was not misplaced. (1)

I pondered, who can I ask to join me in bringing these loved ones to Jesus for healing? I remembered the “great cloud of witnesses,” (2) those who, although they had died, were still nearby. I asked them to join me in a circle of intercession. I asked our parents, and a couple of dear friends; I asked Saints that I thought might understand the situation; I asked Mary and Joseph.  The prayer was simple, “Mom, pray for ….”  “Our Mother, pray for ….” I called on at least ten of them, once or twice a day. 

Until then I had never consciously addressed Mary in prayer. But understanding that she was part of the circle of saints gathered around Jesus enabled me to approach her as I approached others. Until then I was uncomfortable with, and reluctant to pray the Rosary, that most beloved of prayers in which people ask for Mary’s help.

Today I would like to relate how the Rosary has become a prayer for me when I have no words, and how it has created an inner peace when I could only hear the loud worries in my head during silent meditation. (See footnote 3 for a link to the most familiar way of praying the Rosary.) 

John Paul II introduced the Mysteries of Light for the Rosary. (4) The “mysteries” are gospel narratives with which I have been praying my whole life.  John Paul said that the inclusion of a phrase with the name of Jesus has the potential to bring us back to the mystery of Christ on which we are meditating. Following his inspiration, in making the Rosary my own, I added a phrase after the name “Jesus.”

Now whether I pray the 5 groups of 10 (decades) of invocations to Mary, or only a few, I pray…

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus, Risen from the Dead. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.” 

I was moved by the fluidity of the prayer. John Paul made other suggestions which I tried, like reading and reflecting on a Scripture passage before praying each decade, and concluding each decade with a different prayer related to the mystery. But my prayer lost its contemplative nature. I was too busy thinking about what I would be saying next.  

I loosened the practice some more. Before beginning to pray the Rosary, I sit with what I am presently experiencing in my life. What are the great needs in my family, my community and in the world? What is troubling me? Is there a gospel narrative, like that of the paralysed man, that speaks to me of the hope that I am seeking? 

The crisis in my inner circle passed. More than that, something new and unexpectedly beautiful emerged from the ashes. I recognize the resurrecting work of the Spirit in the healing that has taken place. 

Sometimes I use other phrases in place of “Risen from the Dead,” such as “Prince of Peace,” or “who blesses marriages,” or “Bread for the World.” However, lately I have found that “Risen from the dead” addresses my concerns for myself and others, who are grieving, or who are struggling with mental health or addictions. It is relevant for difficult and estranged relationships. It gives me a place to rest my hopes in national and international conflicts and in care for the earth.  

The Rosary is not a magic formula. We never know the outcome of our prayers. However, in this prayer, I continuously affirm my trust in the God who raised Jesus from the dead and brings hope and new life out of seemingly hopeless situations. 

Matthew 9:1–8, Mark 2:1–12, and Luke 5:17–26Hebrews 12:1https://thecatholichandbook.com/how-to-pray-a-decade-of-the-rosary/https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_letters/2002/documents/hf_jp-ii_apl_20021016_rosarium-virginis-mariae.html

Laurie vandenHurk writes as a partner, grandparent, and care-giver from her years of experience in facilitating community development, spirituality and bereavement, with people of all ages and widely diverse circumstances, including 10 years in Tanzania. Laurie is a trained Spiritual director of The Haden Institute. 

The post Monk in the World Guest Post: Laurie vandenHurk appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

A Blessing for Trust in Abundance*

Spirit of generous abundance,
remind us there is always more than enough,
enough food, enough love, enough time, enough resources.
Help us to see how our patterns of living
separate and disconnected amplifies our scarcity.
Bring us into the joy and challenge of community
where bread divided multiplies, where laughter shared overflows.
Empower us to share freely from our own abundance
with others in need. Slow us down to see how time expands
when we breathe and pay attention.
Bless us in our efforts to trust
in the goodness and love that pulses through the world
sustaining it moment by moment.
Give us the courage to speak out
when resources are distributed unfairly,
so we may remind others there is more to share.
Encourage us to release that which we no longer
need to hold onto so tightly.
Inspire us to live in a way that witnesses
to our trust in the lavish fullness of life.

Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims,

As part of this 20th year of Abbey of the Arts’ ministry I have been contemplating harvest a lot and what comes from endurance and steadiness, staying the course over a long span of time. I am beyond grateful to recognize this rich harvest over the course of this service I am called to offer as well as my own contemplative journey.

When I started Abbey of the Arts, it was initially a blog to share my reflections on the contemplative life and a way for me to untrain myself from academic writing! After working several years to earn a PhD I discovered academic life wasn’t where my heart was. As much as I loved the students, I found the admin and bureaucracy draining. I wanted to engage with people and their lived experience, and I wanted to focus on the contemplative life. I still have a strong scholarly heart and love to bring that in service of opening up ancient wisdom for our current lives and world.

Over the years, the Abbey has grown, mostly by word of mouth. We often have people join us who say their spiritual director or pastor or friend pointed them our way, and that is the highest compliment we could receive. Thank you to everyone who has ever shared Abbey of the Arts with others. 

One of the gifts of steadiness over time is the amazing group of artists and teachers we have been blessed to partner with. Many of them are on our Wisdom Council, or offering retreats and programs, or part of our prayer cycles. This community of kindred souls longing to offer this inclusive vision of a place to celebrate slow rhythms and creative expression is a wonder to me still. Add in our amazing dancing monks who show up with such open-heartedness, kindness, appreciation, care, and a desire to be a force for Love in the world, each day I am grateful. You are each in my prayers every morning. You help to sustain and nourish me when things feel hard or challenging.

In Benedictine terms, I have been called to stability and staying with this beautiful ministry over the span of 20 years (and beyond), I have been called to obedience and listening to the way the divine calls this community into continual unfolding, and I have been called to conversion, letting myself be surprised again and again by the holy at work in our midst and always being open to my own ongoing growth. 

At Abbey of the Arts, in addition to being a place to nourish our contemplative hearts and creative visions, and in addition to being a welcoming and inclusive place for everyone who desires to live this path of Love, is also fiercely committed to financial inclusivity. We strive to make all our programs accessible to anyone who wants to join us, regardless of financial means. We have a sliding scale fee lower than many other similar programs and also full scholarships available.

If you have the means to support us financially in our 20th year, we invite you to consider joining our Sustainers Circle for 2025-2026. This is one way to help keep our programs affordable while also allowing us to pay a living wage to the many artists and teachers we partner with. Please read over the options available for this support. The registration will close on August 31st. 

If you prefer to make a one-time donation or a recurring donation without receiving programs in return or would like a tax-deductible option for those living in the States, please visit this page for more details.

For those of you who don’t have financial means right now, please know there are so many other ways you can support what we do. Your presence is a gift in itself, truly. Your words of appreciation for our programs inspire us. When you tell a friend about our work, you light a spark. Your positive reviews on my books left at Amazon, Goodreads, and other online booksellers is another free way to help this work reach others and continue to thrive. Thank you. 

The harvest is rich and plenty. The banquet table is piled high with sweet fruits. A spirit of generosity pervades the air and says a powerful “no” to all the forces that tell us we do not have enough or that we need to hoard to survive. We are so grateful for all the ways you practice your generosity with us and with the world.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, OblSB, PhD, REACE

*from A Book of Everyday Blessings: 100 Prayers for Dancing Monks, Artists, and Pilgrims by Christine Valters Paintner (to be published in January 2026 by Ave Maria Press) 

Image © Christine Valters Paintner. Quin Abbey, Ireland

The post Trust in Abundance ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

The audiobook version of Christine’s fairy tale for thresholds and transitions is here! Narrated by Christine and several local actor friends in Galway along with some wonderful songs created by musician and wisdom council member Te Martin to companion the journey. Give yourself the gift of receiving this pilgrimage of the heart through the magic of oral storytelling and song. 

You can order the audiobook from Bandcamp

You can order the print version with amazing artwork from online and local booksellers 

In the coming weeks it will also be available on Audible and Apple books, but to support independent artists, Bandcamp is best.

The post Journey to Joy Audiobook! appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Anne Montgomery Schmid’s reflection Behold.

“Come and see,” she said to me. These were powerful words that called to me like a beacon from a lighthouse. I was sitting in Bible Study one morning, wearing grief like a heavy cloak, when this wise woman spoke these words of invitation to me. Noticing my weary posture, she suggested I walk the labyrinth. Not knowing what a labyrinth was, but trusting this soon to be beloved friend, I did indeed go and see. Never could I have predicted how the labyrinth would weave into my personal story nor the fascinating turn my life and faith journey would take.

When I walk a labyrinth, I feel just as I do when I walk alongside the ocean. My feet sink into creation and my body drops into its natural rhythm. As my body engages, my mind begins to rest. The labyrinth serves as a container that holds me as I carry my quietly creeping anxieties, petitions, and longings through the winding path and into the center. While in the center, well, that is my most sacred time. Sometimes I laugh or cry. Other times I talk with God or simply listen. Mostly, I breathe and accept the peace that waits for me. Slowing down does not come easily to me, so this set aside time and space to pray provides cherished nutrition for my soul.

My faith journey deepened as I sought out labyrinths when my family and I embarked on our quest to travel to all 50 states. As we explored and grew, our labyrinth search expanded internationally. On our ancestral pilgrimages to Scotland and Ireland, we found expected labyrinths and sometimes labyrinths would call to us unexpectedly. Yet the one on Iona eluded us. Instead, I had my hoped-for encounter with God while standing in a field of mud and muck. No matter the geography, the experience of discovering and walking a labyrinth amazes me as it encourages me to be still and know.

Studying labyrinths over the years has led me to wonderful discoveries. I love envisioning the ancient monks painstakingly crawling on the labyrinth during Lent and then dancing the same path as they rejoiced on Easter morning. And to think of fishermen on the Scandinavian coastal shores running through a labyrinth then straight to their boats so no ill will would follow them gives me pause.

In addition to my own labyrinth journeys, I enjoy offering the labyrinth to others as a contemplative practice. Traveling with three different labyrinths into diverse communities allows me to introduce this ancient spiritual practice in creative ways. I have been a witness to so many moments of connection that are truly too deep for words. Trusting and recognizing that I have received special gifts, I create safe space for walkers to explore questions and feelings. This nonjudgmental space allows for the possibility of a spiritual awareness that taps into that still, small voice that exists in the core of every person. One needs to feel protected to access that small whisper deep within. I am blessed to hold the vulnerable space surrounding the seeker.

Families entrust me with their tears of grief and concerns of letting go. Young children walk with me as we pretend to be stomping dinosaurs or soaring airplanes. Teenagers bring their stinky feet uneasiness and big questions of their future paths. Cancer patients move through the labyrinth with steady feet and realistic hope. Aging women walk with achy hips and hearts of gratitude. Beloved pets trot alongside their humans offering an additional layer of love and protection.

Yes, I am truly blessed to be a blessing and I do not take this lightly, but rather carry and offer the Light bestowed upon me with reverence and respect. With that said, I once found myself in a playful conversation with a spiritual companion about walking a labyrinth backwards. Realizing it was really wordplay, I accepted the challenge of approaching the labyrinth in reverse mode. Every walk is a new opportunity for fresh insights.

Whether dancing like a monk or walking a labyrinth prayerfully forwards or backwards, metaphors present along the path. On my reverse, dizzying walk, I was met with thoughts such as “I am not too old to try something new,” “View life from unexpected perspectives,” “I don’t need to see the path to trust the path,” and my favorite, “God needs a laugh, too.” But I think the biggest realization came from the wise words of my son videoing the moment and joining me on the journey, “Keep moving!”

Blessing as I Walk

Curiosity and willingness
hold hands
as I enter
the labyrinth.
Their trusted companions
of joy and sorrow
meet me
along the way.
Faith, Hope, and Love
escort me
on my journey
of exploration.
Abiding
in the labyrinth are
Presence and deep awareness.
Grace encircles.

Anne Montgomery Schmid is the founder of Encircled Grace and a Veriditas Certified Labyrinth Facilitator. Journeys from her home in suburban Philadelphia have taken her to labyrinths throughout the United States, Scotland, and Ireland. She loves to share her deep faith and gentle wit through writing, photography, and storytelling.

The post Monk in the World Guest Post: Anne Montgomery Schmid appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

Gratitude Blessing

Spirit of Generosity,
we come to you with hearts
overflowing with gratitude
for your abundant creation.
As we awaken each morning,
help us to remember
this day is a gift,
this breath is grace,
this life a wonder.
Remind us
with every flower we see,
every act of kindness,
every moment of connection
to something so much bigger
than ourselves,
to whisper thank you.
Cultivate in us a sense of awe
and trust in your lavish grace.
Let each word of thanks
we offer expand our hearts
until delight inhabits us
and we know love
as our sustenance.

Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims,

One of the things that makes contemplative life so counter-cultural is the active resistance against living a life of busyness and exhaustion, of not making that a badge of pride, of making time to ponder, to be more present, and to live life more slowly and attentively. 

We are surrounded by messages of scarcity and so our anxiety gets fueled. One of the most profound practices to resist this kind of anxiety, to fast from its hold on me, is the practice of Sabbath. Walter Brueggemann, in his wonderful book Sabbath as Resistance, writes that the practice of Sabbath emerges from the Exodus story, where the Israelites are freed from the relentless labor and productivity of the Pharaoh-system in which the people are enslaved and full of the anxiety that deprivation brings.

God enters in and liberates them from this exhaustion, commanding that they take rest each week. Today, we essentially live in this self-made, insatiable Pharaoh-system. We are not literally enslaved the way the Israelites were, but we are symbolically enslaved to a system which does not care for our well-being. So weary are we, so burdened by consumer debt, working long hours with very little time off. 

So many take pride in wearing the badge of “busy.” So many are stretched thin to the very edges of their resources and capacity.

When we practice Sabbath, we are making a visible statement that our lives are not defined by this perpetual anxiety. At the heart of this relationship is a God who celebrates the gift of rest and abundance. But, Brueggemann says we are so beholden to “accomplishing and achieving and possessing” that we refuse the gift of simply being given to us.

The Israelites, and we ourselves, must leave Egypt and our enslavement to be able to dance and sing in freedom the way Miriam did with her timbrel after crossing the red sea. Dance is a celebratory act—not “productive” but restorative. When we don’t allow ourselves the gift of Sabbath rest, we deny the foundational joy that is our birthright as children of God. To dance in freedom is a prophetic act.

We are called to regularly cease, to trust the world will continue on without us, and to know this embodiment of grace and gift is revolutionary. Nothing else needs to be done. We fool ourselves so easily into thinking if we only work hard enough, we will earn our freedom. But the practice of freedom comes now, amid the demands of the world. 

Thomas Merton wrote in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander: “Here is an unspeakable secret: paradise is all around us and we do not understand.” This is a thoroughly monastic vision, to recognize that paradise or heaven is not some reality after we die, but a living presence now for all. Capitalism tells us the opposite, that we can buy paradise if we only work hard enough and that it is only for a select few.

This experience of divine abundance can make us feel both immense – connected to this lavish extravagance – and small, meaning human and limited in our capacity to fully understand. 

If you are in a position in life to practice financial generosity to support our programs, the doors to our Sustainers Circle will be open for two more weeks. Thank you to everyone who has joined us and helps us to support our many free offerings and scholarship support. We believe this contemplative path should be as accessible as possible and are grateful for those who are able to help us with this. 

If you are U.S.-based and prefer to give a tax-deductible donation without any programs included, please visit our Donation page to find out how you can do this through our fiscal sponsorship. 

If you are unable to support financially in this way, please know of our gratitude for all the other ways you support us and help this vision to thrive. 

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, OblSB, PhD, REACE

Image © Christine Valters Paintner. Connemara Beach, Ireland

The post Sabbath and Generosity ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to our Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Callie J. Smith’s reflection Yarns and Yams: On Enjoying What My Loved Ones Enjoy.

Vivid strawberry, variegated mango with cream and aquamarine, a very soft and buttery yellow–my mother handknits dishcloths in a wonderful variety of colors and patterns. I love seeing her smile each time she shows me her latest yarn purchase and, knowing another dishcloth is coming, I find myself soaking up her enthusiasm for the process. Even when my mother pauses from her knitting, all I have to do is open the drawer of her dishcloths, and I smile. 

It’s coming to my attention more and more how living as a monk in the world has often, for me, involved relishing the things that my loved ones enjoy. Attention makes the enthusiasm feel infectious. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised by that. Joy spreads, and I truly can’t imagine appreciating life half as much if I weren’t encountering it with others. 

I still, for instance, enjoy that time of year when leaves fall from trees, and I get to watch from a back window as deer browse for food in the woods. When I was growing up, my father would notice deer outside, and he’d interrupt everyone else at home to call us over to the window to watch with him. And if someone else saw the deer first? My father expected us to notify him. He’d drop whatever he was doing to go to the window. So even now, years after his death, I’ll still pause at the sight of deer in the brush with something a little like wonder.

I pay extra attention to the visual arts, as well. My mother and I both do, but not because either of us paint. We don’t. My grandmother did. 

When my mother and I went to an art fair recently, we passed an artist painting on found wooden objects–barn siding, cutting boards, old wooden spoons. We paused at the artist’s tent, struck because my grandmother did similar work. She was always on the lookout for creative ideas of surfaces she could paint on. My mother and I stood there on the lawn for some time discussing which other artists’ tents my grandmother would have been drawn to. It struck me as we talked how brightly my mother smiled. I suspected my own smile had grown enthusiastic, too.

Sometimes I find this practice of enjoyment coming easy. Paintings, deer, colorful yarn – noticing things my loved ones have enjoyed is a contemplative kind of pause that opens my awareness to more than I’d noticed on my own. It’s certainly an aspect of my deepening presence to relationships with these loved ones, and with our communities and world, and with the divine who – I believe – made each of us and all of these enjoyable things. 

Sometimes, though, that practice of presence feels harder to me. Beyond the happy moments and smiles, appreciating what a loved one enjoys can push at my boundaries in uncomfortable ways. I have a relative, for instance, whom I’ve been finding increasingly disagreeable in recent years. It seems we can talk about very little without bristling and going into defensive anger around our respective belief systems. We’ve found a few things, though, that allow us to interact to some extent. Like yams. 

My relative takes great pride in his yams. He has grown some impressively large ones. I’ve taken them home sometimes and cooked them, paying attention to taste and texture so I could report back to him at the next family gathering. Items like these yams have given us a chance to focus on things other than the topics that divide us. 

I won’t pretend that this relative and I have the best relationship. I certainly can’t claim that avoiding divisive topics is an answer to the tensions in a family or in a society. And yet, by focusing on things like yams as best I can, I find I’m able to keep meeting this relative at family dinner tables during our holiday gatherings. I’m trusting that these shared meals are accomplishing, or may yet accomplish, something with some kind of good in it. Perhaps, at the very least, they’re a start.

In that hope, I practice. I keep enjoying what I can about what my loved ones have enjoyed. I doubt I’ll ever grow yams, myself, and I may never knit more than the wavy edged, terribly uneven scarf that I knitted twenty years ago, but that doesn’t matter. Appreciation provides its own form of participation. I’m enjoying explosions of color in the dishcloth drawer, tasting myriad ways of preparing tubers, and pausing to watch deer as I imagine my father watching alongside me. I’m finding the contemplative presence somehow connects us even now.

Callie J. Smith is a clergy person in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Indiana. She’s author The Sacred Grounds Novels and blogs about everyday things like grief, hope, and creativity. She received the 2025 Award of Merit from The Polk Street Review and is online at CallieJSmith.net.

The post Monk in the World Guest Post: Callie J. Smith appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.