Click. My boarding pass has been automatically added to my digital wallet. It’s a modern miracle that being strapped into a huge gangly metal contraption for 5 and a half hours will magically transport me from my home on this little island in Canada to “the Isle of Saints and Scholars”. Tomorrow morning, I will wake up in the city of Dublin, take a train to the western side of a different island, and begin to walk the Dingle Way.

Walking.

Such an ordinary thing. I do this almost every day, without thinking. One foot in front of the other. Arms swinging in a regular rhythm. Step, step, step. In a way, there is nothing complicated about this. Although this ordinary act takes me extraordinary places and accomplishes incredible feats for me, I confess that I rarely think twice about it. 

I often do not even notice the human act of walking.

But for four days next week, this may be all I’m thinking about as I walk the southwestern corner of Ireland.

A few weeks ago, I watched a video about walking the Dingle Way. It featured a young man in his 20’s. He looked strong and athletic but yet he was huffing and puffing as he stood on top of a very large hill/small mountain and talked about the last day’s route. The elevation gain. The strenuous nature of the walk in general but that leg in particular. I shuddered. If he struggled, what can I expect from this dear middle aged, menopausal body of mine? I felt a stab of fear and promptly closed my computer.

I am grateful for the ability to walk. Just last week, I helped lead a small group of pilgrims on Pilgrimage PEI: The Way of St. John. It’s a 100 km walk from our small town to the north shore of Prince Edward Island, mostly made up flat old rail trails. (Notice the almost non-existent elevation gain.) We began our pilgrimage on the day of Pentecost. The rain fell and the wind blew most of the week. Malcolm Guite’s words from his poem “Pentecost” ran through my head, “Today we feel the wind beneath our wings.” We certainly did. We felt the wind in our faces and we heard our rain ponchos slapping and flailing as we walked like a line of ducklings along the path and against the invisible force that we could not ignore. 

I realized that when I think about Pentecost, I tend to think of a gentle breeze and warm candlelight. Last week’s walking made me question that and I began to wonder about gales, squalls, and tempests in terms of the Spirit. I wondered if I had created a more domestic picture of God in my mind that was simply comfortable. I like the idea of the wind gently blowing my hair back. To feel the wind brush softly against my skin is soothing. Sometimes even a bit refreshing. But as I walked last week, a gust of wind would blow back my rain hood or a powerful blast of air would shower me with rain and I would think, “This is not a cozy experience! This is not hygge!” 

What if this is also an accurate picture of the Spirit? What if the Spirit is more unpredictable and more powerful than I imagine?

Maybe this is exactly what I need as I nervously anticipate walking the Dingle Way.

As I look around our weary world and the chaos that seems to continue without consequences, I want a God who can do something. I want more than comfort. I want things to change and for oppressive structures to be turned upside down. Like Mary says in her Magnificat from the nativity narrative, I want the mighty to be cast down from their thrones and for the lowly to be lifted up. I want a God who has the power to make things right. 

Maybe this is why the early Celtic Christians were drawn to the wild goose as their favourite image for the Spirit.

I wonder if walking helps me understand how this happens. Do I continue moving forward in the ways of love and joy and peace, confident that the Spirit is wild and powerful enough to create and re-create? Do I faithfully press on, one step at a time, trusting that God is more than a gentle breeze? I wonder if my task is to walk with persistent hope— and trust that the Spirit will blow. Maybe this is what Isaiah was referring to when he talked about waiting upon the Lord and then flying like eagles.

As I walk the Dingle Way in a few days, I’m going to remember Pentecost and the wild wind I experienced on Prince Edward Island and I will pray beyond what I usually pray. As I climb hills, I’m going to intentionally stretch my faith as I pray for family, friends and maybe even the whole world and try to believe more impossible things than usual. 

I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and imagine the Spirit as a powerful gale rather than a gentle breeze.

Residing on Prince Edward Island (Canada), Elizabeth Millar is a spiritual director and pilgrimage leader. Her doctoral work on sacred storytelling and everyday spirituality reminds her that stories about ordinary life can indeed be testimonies to the Divine Love of God. 

The post Monk in the World: Elizabeth Millar appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

Dearest dancing monks, artists, and pilgrims,

As part of our 21st year of Abbey of the Arts’ ministry last year I contemplated harvest a lot and what comes from endurance and steadiness, staying the course over a long span of time. I am beyond grateful to continue 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 over 20 years now (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 21st year, we invite you to consider joining our Sustainers Circle for 2026-2027. 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

*Blessing from A Book of Everyday Blessings by Christine Valters Paintner (Ave Maria Press)

Image: Paid License with Canva

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

Joins us in Lent 2027 for the retreat The Wisdom of Our Wounds: Chronic Illness and Spirituality.

The post Christine Interviewed on The Healer with a Thousand Faces Podcast appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.

After reading Christine Valters Paintner’s poem, “St. Gall and the Bear,” I responded in writing to the prompt: “Write about a time you extended kindness to someone or an animal being and they reciprocated in ways you did not expect.” My writing took me back twenty years to a moment that still sparkles in my heart; electric with love. What emerged brought tears to my eyes because I now recognize this animal encounter as a moment in which I met God.

Just divorced, feeling depleted and lonely
on a family trip with people more like strangers,
I set off alone on Sunday while everyone
else attended their favorite mega church.

I met the divine that day while drinking 
coffee at a sunny table near a couple
reading a newspaper while their companion,
a canine, sat settled at their feet.

I watched this fine canine: curly gray locks, 
alert with buoyant energy, sparkling eyes 
that seemed to ask, "will you let me love you?"
His people read comfortably.

Before long, feeling the pull to meet
and be nearer to this pleasant beast, 
I rose to ask the newspaper readers whether
I might make his acquaintance.

They both smiled and introduced him
as Joey. I sat in the empty chair in 
front of him and immediately, Joey's 
head rested on my newly available lap. 

Gently scratching behind his floppy-soft
ears, I introduced myself and 
and complimented his soft fur.
Our eyes met and what passed between us

was pure, unguarded love.
My heart flooded with a peace that
passeth understanding and in an instant,
all 50 pounds of him sat on my lap.

I beamed as Joey radiated light. His
human companions laughed and said, 
"Joey's purpose in life seems
to be bringing people joy."

I left the sanctuary of Joey's pure 
love reluctantly that day. I still needed more.
For two decades now I've carried his
unbounded divine love with me and

this has brought me so much joy.

Jaqui Eicher is a visual artist and writer and works as a Chaplain and Youth Coordinator at Albany Mennonite Church in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Jaqui’s paintings and murals depict the beautiful landscapes that have companioned her during her lifetime in the area. Jaqui’s poetry reflects the divine in nature.

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

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.

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. 

Special gratitude goes to our amazing team at Abbey of the Arts who keep things running smoothly and support our dancing monks community with such kindness and grace. Our wonderful program coordinator Melinda Thomas is taking on some extra responsibility to free me up for more writing and teaching, so she is now our new Program Director! Thank you to Melinda, Delaney, Jo-ed, Garrett, and John for your behind the scenes support that helps this work unfold in such loving and beautiful ways!

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 until the end of August. 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.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, OblSB, PhD, REACE

*Blessing from A Book of Everyday Blessings by Christine Valters Paintner (Ave Maria Press)

Image ©️Paid license with Canva

The post For Deeper Gratitude ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess appeared first on Abbey of the Arts.