On Tuesday the 15th
of May, Angela Gallipoli conducted the monthly Spiritual Reading Group in the
Carmelite Library on Christine Valters Paintner. Here are the readings used
during the session, with the book titles from which the passages are sourced.
How to Feel the Sap Rising
Walk as slowly as
possible,
All the while
imagining
Yourself moving
through
Pools of honey and
dancing with
Snails, turtles and
caterpillars.
Turn your body in a
sunwise direction
To inspire your dreams
to flow upward.
Imagine the trees are
your own
Wise ancestors
offering their emerald
Leaves to you as a
sacred text.
Lay yourself down
across earth
And stones. Feel the
vibration of
Dirt and moss,
sparking a tiny
(or tremendous)
Revolution in your
heart
With their own great
longing.
Close your eyes and
forget this
Border of skin.
Imagine the
Breeze blowing through
your hair
Is the breath of the
forest and
your own breath
joined, rising and
falling in ancient
rhythms.
Open your eyes again
and see it
Is true, that there is
no “me” and “tree”
But only One great
pulsing of life,
One sap which
nourishes and
Enlivens all, one
great nectar
Bestowing trust and
wonder.
Open your eyes and see
that there
Are no more words like
beautiful,
And ugly, good and
bad,
But only the
shimmering presence of your
Own attention to life.
Only one great miracle
unfolding and
Only one sacred word
which is
yes.
The inner monastery:
The inner monastery is
a quality of consciousness you bring to everything you do, including creating.
It is the crucible for
your transformation, and everything you need to be whole is right there within
you already.
The desert monks would
say, “Sit in your cell, and it will teach you everything” (Thomas Merton, Wisdom of the Desert). This cell is the
cave of your heart, that interior place of reflection and struggle. It is the
place where the spark of the divine glows and you carry that with you wherever
you go. As you make art or write, the
process is a container for awareness. Everything that rises up- judgments, blocks,
and insights – is a reflection of the whole of your life. Your cell, the blank
canvas, the white page – each of these invites you to pay attention to what is
happening right in this moment. There is no need to go elsewhere to find
enlightenment or transformation. The space within which you dwell and the
container for your creative expression can each become the holy site of
struggle and freedom. Whatever you encounter in prayer and in art making is a
microcosm of the macrocosm of your life:
You do not need to leave your room… Remain sitting at your table and
listen.
Do not even listen, simply wait. Do not even wait, be quite still and
solitary.
The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no
choice.
It will roll in ecstasy at your feet. (Franz Kafka)
(The Artist’s Rule : nurturing your
creative soul with monastic wisdom)
Beholding:
The art of beholding
is like this. “Behold” means to hold something in your gaze. To behold is not
to stare or glance; it is not a quick scan or an expectant look. Beholding has
a slow and spacious quality to it.
Your vision becomes
softer as you make room to take in the whole of what you are seeing. There is a
reflective and reverential quality to this kind of seeing. You release your
expectations of what you think you will see and instead receive what is
actually there, while in the process everything can shift …
When you cultivate the
art of beholding, you nurture your capacity to see the world with the eyes of
the heart. Hold your camera in your hand and open yourself to grace and
revelation hidden in each moment, just beneath the surface of what seems to be
another ordinary moment … Your camera isn’t just a tool but a portal …
Contemplative seeing
and beholding are conscious acts of becoming receptive and dropping, as much as
possible, our own ego desires and projections. It is only from this space of
openness and wonder that we truly see the movement of God in the world.
(Eyes of the Heart : photography as a
Christian contemplative practice)
Heart-centered prayer:
The
heart is an ancient metaphor for the seat of our whole being. To be
“whole-hearted” means to bring our entire selves before God – our intellect,
our emotional life, our dreams and intuitions, and our deepest longings. The
heart is both active and receptive. The heart listens, but also hears; the heart
savors and supplies nourishment to be savoured; the heart responds but is also
open to the call of others.
The
heart is also where we cultivate compassion for ourselves and for others; where
we discover we are intertwined with other human beings, with all creatures, and
with the Divine …
Above
all it signifies integration and relationship : the integration and unification
of the total person within her or himself, and at the same time the centering
and focusing of the total person upon God …
Lectio divina is the practice of being
present to each moment in a heart-centred way. When we pray lectio we see sacred text as God’s
living words being spoken to our hearts in the moment. The practice allows us to encounter God in an
active and intimate way. The invitation of lectio
divina, therefore, is to
cultivate a heart-centered intimacy with the sacred texts that is a different
way of engaging them than pure interpretive reasoning. Lectio divina asks us to listen, savor, and respond – not simply
understand their meaning. The purpose of this practice is that we gradually
bring these qualities of being to the whole of our lives and everything is
potentially a sacred text through which God can speak to us.
(Lectio Divina – the sacred
art : transforming words and images into heart-centered prayer)
“Walking” Lectio Divina:
Sometimes for prayer,
I engage in a “walking” lectio divina, choosing a text and praying with it as I
walk. Recently the passage … about an experience St. Benedict had at the end of
his life had my heart burning. “The whole
world was gathered up before his eyes / in what appeared to be a single ray of
light.”
I took these words on
a walk with me, entering with Benedict into his final vision. I began by
relishing the words themselves, savouring them within me. Then I allowed my
imagination to unfold, to let images, feelings, and memories stir in me. I was
flooded with images of creation infused with radiant light – sitting by the
sea, walking deep in the woods, climbing a mountain, breathing in a field of
wildflowers – each place luminous and connected in a sacred way to the others
through this luminosity.
From these images and
memories rising up in me, I listened for the invitation God had for me. How am I being called in response to what I
have seen and heard in my prayer? It was springtime and I turned a corner and
saw clusters of daffodils splayed across patches of grass. White and gold
petals were open in their own prayers of supplication, illuminated by sunlight.
In a moment of grace, I saw the daffodil was not radiant just because of the
sunlight dancing across its surface. Suddenly the daffodil was lit from within.
The sun merely calls this spark of God forth, the spark residing within each
person and each extravagant moment of creation.
I saw that as it is
with the daffodil, so it is with me as well. The sunlight spread across my
skin, warming me with its radiant heat. And in this way, the sun reminded me of
the way God illuminates me from within, dwells within me as a spark. When I
open my heart I become a burning flame. My invitation is to carry this light
into the world and to see fire everywhere I look.
Becoming Fire :
Abba Lot came to Abba Joseph and said:
Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule,
and my little fast, my prayer, meditation, and contemplative silence; and,
according as I am able, I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts :
now what more should I do ?
The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands
to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire.
He said: Why not become fire?
-
Desert Fathers
I love the story from
the desert fathers above. In the
spiritual life we keep our practices, spend time in prayer, seek God in all
things, and yet at some point even all this is not enough – and we are asked to
become fire. Becoming fire means letting our passion for life and beauty ignite
us in the world.
It means, as St.
Ignatius of Loyola wisely said, that we are called to set the whole world on
fire with our passion for God.
We may find ourselves
drawn to creative expression because it taps into what is most vital and alive
in us. The burning in our blood seeks
expression in the world, whether through art, song, cooking, gardening, our
work, relationships, or in our presence to others. Becoming fire means saying
yes to life by the very way we live.
Outcasts and border-dwellers :
In my book The Artist’s Rule, I present the monk
and artist as archetypes, that is, they each have an energetic presence within
us and are present to people across time. I describe the inner monk as that
aspect of us which seeks out a whole-hearted connection to God and cultivates
the ability to see the sacred presence shimmering everywhere.
The inner artist seeks
to give form to our inner longings and create beauty in the world. Both the
inner monk and inner artist are border-dwellers. Neither fit neatly into mainstream society as
they both call us to new ways of seeing.
The monk calls the
world to presence rather than productivity. The monk takes the demanding path
of inner work and growth. The world offers possible ways to distract them from
these struggles.
The monk chooses a simple
life in the midst of abundance of riches. When we commit to a contemplative
path, we begin to let go of the things that aren’t important anymore. We
release the non-essentials of life that society tells us are important.
We strangers on the
pilgrimage seek to embrace the unknown in service of the journey. The pilgrim journeys to the edges of the
inner and outer world because we know there is more of God to be found there.
Crossing the Threshold :
The Desert Mothers and
Fathers valued their monastic cell as a vitally important place. As with all
things, they view their cells as a way to experience stillness and as a place
to quiet their inner life.
Much of the desert
journey is about becoming present in our emotional life. The pilgrimage helps
us see our own feelings, thoughts, and voices that we battle. The gate is
narrow because there are few who are brave enough to enter this inner cell and
stay present to the storms. I seek to stand and stay present to my own
experience. I want to make space to feel this grief, welcome my feelings of
helplessness, and rage at injustice; I let it all in …
When we begin to cross
the threshold, we are confronted with the greatness of our unknowing. We are
called to recognize that we do not know what the future brings. This allows us
to rest in humility rather than theological platitudes. We may want to try and
come to some resolution to obtain a feeling of control. Yet that is another way
we run away from the fierceness of the storm.
The practice is that
we stay present with ourselves on this journey. We should not abandon the call
luring us forward. We should avoid going back to the comfortable. It is well
for us to remember how the familiar suffocated our inner and outer lives.
(Soul
of a Pilgrim : Eight Practices for the Journey Within)
Radical hospitality and the inner witness :
St. Benedict wrote in
his rule, “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for
he himself will say: I was a stranger and
you welcomed me.” …
For Benedict, our
encounters with the stranger – the unknown, the unexpected, and the foreign
elements that spark our fear – are precisely where we are most likely to
encounter God. This is a practice of outer hospitality.
The concept of inner hospitality is to open our inner
selves to all of the elements about us that we fear and reject – the painful
and dark feelings, our shadow side, or the things we do and long for that we
don’t want anyone else to know about. If we embrace Benedict’s wisdom for our
deepest selves, inner hospitality might be seen as hospitality that proceeds
from the very core or root of who we are and an invitation to extend a welcome
to the stranger who dwells inside of us …
How do you welcome in
the range of your feelings without being swept away by them? One way to do this
is by cultivating your inner witness and connecting regularly with your calm,
non-anxious, compassionate core self… When you notice yourself resisting an
inner voice or shutting your inner door on it, take some time to intentionally
invite this voice inside to the table. Ask what it has come to tell you. Listen
past the first layer, which may sound ugly or painful, and tend to the deeper
layers underneath. This takes time, much like growing in intimacy with a
friend. Our rejected selves will need some coaxing.
When we choose to
receive guests as a window into the sacred presence, we choose to live and
relate from a more intentional and reverential place. When we engage in a
dynamic encounter with what we are fearful of, it relinquishes its power on us,
and a new wisdom and energy are released. It is in this place of hospitality to
the unknown where we encounter God. (Wisdom
of the Body : A Contemplative Journey to wholeness for women)
Stability and Conversion :
Conversion for me
essentially means making a commitment to always being surprised by God.
Conversion is the counterpart to stability. If stability calls us to be rooted
and persistent, conversion is the recognition that we are all on a journey and
always changing. God is always offering us something new within us. Conversion
is a commitment to total inner transformation and a free response to the ways
God is calling us and to new images of God …
Lectio divina demands that we stay the course, that we listen with a willing heart,
and that we open ourselves to ongoing radical transformation. Soul work is always challenging, and calls us
beyond our comfort zone. Prayer isn’t about baptizing the status quo, but
entering into dynamic relationship with God who always makes things new.
Scripture challenges
our ingrained patterns of belief, our habitual attitudes and behaviour. Conversion
is about what the Buddhists call “beginner’s mind”, a reminder that we are
called to approach our practice with the heart of a beginner. St. Benedict
speaks to this practice when he describes his rule as a “little Rule for
beginners” and calls us to “always begin again”.
(Lectio Divina – the sacred
art : transforming words and images into heart-centered prayer)
Transformation :
In the gospel story of
the Transfiguration, it says that Jesus “shone like the sun and his clothes
became dazzling white (Mt 17:2). Fire
and illumination again become a window onto the divine. The burning light that
once appeared to Moses in the bush now radiates from Jesus himself.
For Gregory Palamas (a
fourteenth-century Orthodox monk), it was the disciples who changed at the
transfiguration, not Christ. Christ was transfigured “not by the addition of
something he was not, but by the manifestation to his disciples of what he
really was. He opened their eyes so that instead of being blind they could
see.”
Because their
perception grew sharper, they were able to behold Christ as he truly is, a
source of radiance in the world. We will only see the light that already exists
if we train ourselves to do so. To peer into a deeper reality is a metaphysical
endeavour, requiring that we “see” with more than merely our eyes, and that we
sense with more than merely our natural senses.
The discipline of
spiritual practice helps us to cultivate our ability to see below the surface
of things, to have a transfigured vision of the world.
(Water, wind, earth and fire : the Christian Practice of Praying with
the Elements.)
Praying with Air :
* As a way of entering your time of prayer, take time to
get in touch with your breathing.
Don’t try to change the rhythm of your
breath; simply notice your natural rhythmic rise and fall.
Imagine as you breathe in that God
breathes life into you.
As you breathe out, imagine releasing all
of the distractions and worries that keep you from being fully present in
prayer. See if you can just set them aside for a time.
* Simply spending time with your breath as a way of
deepening your awareness of the God who sustains you moment by moment is
enough. Take time to become aware of your breathing, and allow your heart to fill with gratitude
for this most basic gift of life.
* You can also create your sacred phrase or mantra to
repeat on the in-breath and out-breath.
For instance, upon breathing in say, “I
receive the gift of life; upon breathing out say, “I release and surrender”.
Spend a few moments in silence to see if
you can receive the words of your own breath-prayer, those that rise up from
your heart, rather than intentionally creating it.
* Take time each morning to begin the day with gratitude
for the gifts of the Spirit. Allow the dawn to be a time of praying with the
air and honouring ruach, the holy
breath that sustains you.
Get in touch with your breathing. Give
yourself time to tend to what is stirring in you those first few moments of the
day, becoming aware of the blossoming that feels possible in this time of
awakening.
Inhale love, exhale fear.
* We all have places in our lives where we feel
uninspired, where we are going through the motions.
Pray with God’s gift of air and imagine
the Spirit blowing new life into those places where you have fallen asleep or
have become deadened. Spend time asking for renewed vigor and energy, or try to
notice if you are being invited to let those uninspired places go in order to
make room for new possibilities.
* On a spring or summer day, go to the beach or the park
and spend some time watching birds fly overhead. See if you can enter into
their flight for a moment in your imagination.
If you had wings, where would they carry you ?
Blessing of Water
Spirit of Living
Water,
You hold all creation
in your womb
And spring us forward
onto the earth at birth.
Spirit of the Tides,
Remind me of the rise
and fall of your rhythms
So that I may discover
them deep within my own being.
Spirit of Greenness,
Bring moistness and
vigor to my life
So that I might savor
the experience of your energy
Moving through me out
into the world.
Blessings of water be
upon me.
May I be carried by
the flow of the great river of life.
May I discover a
hidden spring within, gushing forth,
May I be carried to
the shores of the sacred and renewed.
(Water, wind, earth and fire : the Christian Practice of Praying with
the Elements.)
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