Sabbath by Christine Valters Paintner from Abbey of the Arts on Vimeo. Dearest monks and artists, Every summer we try to step back from this wonderful work and take a bit of time off for planning, dreaming, and resting. Sabbath is one of the profound gifts of a generous and abundant divine presence who says that work is good and rest is necessary. We are so grateful for all the ways this community supports our work in the world and we are eager to listen more deeply in the coming weeks to what new things want to be birthed through

Crossing the Divide by Christine Valters Paintner from Abbey of the Arts on Vimeo. Crossing the Divide She walks, as if from a dream, into your life, ribboned hair unraveling, brown eyes like cups of tea, come to whisper a secret into your trembling ear. You try hard not to listen, clinging to your calendar, your achievements, your loneliness, until the silver ache of it all spreads through your limbs and she holds out her hand across the ravine, and you see how the chasm is not empty, but filled with a rushing river, and you can swim until you

God Among the Pots and Pans by Christine Valters Paintner.mp4 from Abbey of the Arts on Vimeo. God Among the Pots and Pans (After St. Teresa of Avila) Sifting flour for daily bread white mist rises dough multiplies before my eyes Chopped carrots form a broken string of orange prayer beads The sharp knife cuts through any confusion bone gleaming exposed Sizzle of steak onions and mushrooms alchemy of steel and flame My cup of coffee is of course always a revelation And the glasses of wine waiting on the table a wonder of earth and time Magpie caws outside

Listen by Christine Valters Paintner.mp4 from Abbey of the Arts on Vimeo. I wake to a rising of robin voices, their tiny chests puffed like ripe persimmons. Acres of clouds strum across the day-blue sky, wind breathes its endless score over heathered hills and the sea beyond my window churns. Somewhere a hazelnut drops rustling to the ground. Peony peels herself open in a slow yawn to reveal a multitude of pleasures. Fox darts between hedgerows, breaking her silent reverie, orange fur brushing against golden gorse profusion. Beneath sirens and the perpetual groan of cars, the march of trains and