Keep Your Head Up!

 This week's quote reads, "Keep your head up! Otherwise, you won't be able to see the stars."

It is a good reminder. There are many reasons why people walk around with their heads down, unaware of what is going on around them. Perhaps we are "in our head", preoccupied with our thoughts; perhaps we keep our eyes down to avoid meeting the eyes of anyone else we encounter; or (worst of all, in my view) we are so engrossed in our mobile phone screen that we are oblivious to the real world. 

Maybe I'm getting old, but it never ceases to astonish me when I see people walking around buried in their phones. They are missing out on so much - real life, going on around them.

Holding our heads up can also be a sign of self-worth. We are not afraid to meet the eyes of other people, are comfortable in our own skin. Which is a vulnerable act, and takes courage. Because I also appreciate that for many people, who do not, for one reason or another (like skin colour, sexuality, neurodiversity) "fit in" with the majority, flying under the radar is important for their safety; meeting the eyes of the dominant majority can be potentially dangerous. I hope there are places where they feel secure enough to raise their heads and be with their community and watch the stars.

But the most important reason to keep our heads up, in my opinion, is exactly what the quote states: "otherwise you won't be able to see the stars". Or the rest of the wonders of the world, all around us. My DH and I have recently spent a week in West Sussex (based near Chichester) and spent our time sight-seeing. We saw much to wonder at - the glories of Chichester Cathedral (see below), the different period buildings at the Weald and Downland Museum, Arundel Castle, and the beauty of the South Downs. None of which we would have been able to appreciate, had we not been looking around us, keenly aware of our surroundings. 

The Little Miracles

This week's quote advises us, "Don't wait for the big miracle, otherwise you'll miss the many small ones."

Such wise advice. Sometimes we can get fixated on a particular desired outcome and pour all our energies into making it happen (or worse, sit around, passively wishing for it to happen). And while we are concentrating on that (whatever it is) we miss all the "fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity" (thank you, Sarah York) along the way. 

I have more than one daily spiritual practice. And for me, the most important one happens at the end of each day. I call it "Small Pleasures". In my journal, I record three good things that have happened to me since I woke up that morning. It doesn't matter how small or insignificant they are - a meal or a television programme I have enjoyed, some writing I have done, something beautiful in nature, a conversation with a friend or family member -  what matters is that I have noticed and recorded them. And appreciated how lucky I am to have had them in my life, for that moment on that day.

I got the idea from Clare Law, whose blog, Three Beautiful Things, I have followed ever since she began it, way back in 2004. (She stopped in 2014, and I was bereft. I was so delighted when she began again during the first lockdown). She writes so beautifully about the most mundane, everyday things, which turn into magic under her skilful fingers.

I also appreciate that this can be very hard to do when we are in pain, or grief. Last month, when I had shingles, and the pain was quite intense, I had to really rack my brains to think of those small pleasures - like the support of my District, good advice from a friend who had recently suffered from it, some flowers sent to cheer me up, and so on. I am convinced that my established practice of trying to find something to be grateful for, helped.

Slow Down and Appreciate the Now

The 20th century Geman novelist, Wilhelm Raabe, once wrote, "Slowly, step by step, further up the stairs! Truly, the world does not offer such an abundance of pleasures that you should fly over them in jumps." (or something like that - the German to English translator on Google was vague). 

And I guess the implication is, that we need to walk through our lives slowly, "step by step", so that we are able to appreciate each beautiful object or pleasurable experience as we experience it, rather than being so fixated on some mythical future goal that we leap over them in our hurry to get there. 

Which is counter-intuitive for many of us. It is so easy to rush through the to-do list for the day (or the week) frenetically ticking off items as we go, with the idea that then, yes, then, we will be able to slow down, to rest. Only to find that when we finally reach the evening or the weekend, we are too exhausted and wound up to enjoy it properly. 

In the picture above, each blue vase of plants is beautiful in its own right, and each can be appreciated as a singular whole. How much more would we receive from our lives, if we slowed down and truly lived in the present moment? A lot, I suspect.

Meditation practicses are an excellent way of grounding us in the present, particularly following the breath. Because we spend far too much of our lives being "walking, talking heads", unaware of our bodies, oblivious to how they are moving through our days. And so we miss all the lovely moments of now-ness which are in front of us.

There was a fascinating article in The Inquirer some years ago, by Peter Hawkins. He was talking about borders, which he referred to as , "the spaces between places, between roles and between times." His argument was that we all need a breathing space between activities so that we can finish the present task properly before we start on the next. 

He recommended instituting a brief spiritual practice, which he defined as "a ritual to fully finish one event and empty myself before I cross the boundary into the next event." This could be something as simple as taking a couple of deep breaths while focussing on your breathing. I thought this was a really interesting idea, and try to follow it, when I remember.

 

Becoming Aware of the Light

This week's quotation is by Bettina von Arnim: "Wer sich nach Licht sehnt, ist nicht lichtlos, denn die Sehnsucht ist schon Licht."

Which being translated reads: "Anyone who longs for light is not lightless, for yearning is already light."

Seeing this quotation sent me back to Richard Rohr's wonderful book Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer. In it, he explains how we can only become aware of the presence of God in our lives by detaching from our monkey-mind ego-driven selves, and finding Him/Her/It in the stillness. He argues that the busy, acquisitive world we live in is the antithesis of this stillness, and is the reason why it is so hard for modern people to let go and simply be.

The Buddha, Jesus, Hafiz and many other mystical teachers all stress the importance of being awake; of being aware of what is happening in the present moment. Rohr shares an amusing conversation between a Zen master and his disciple:

"Is there anything that I can do to make myself enlightened?
"As little as you can do to make the sun rise in the morning."
"Then of what use are the spiritual exercises you prescribe?"
"To make sure you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise."

Rohr says: "We cannot attain the presence of God because we're already totally in the presence of God. What's absent is awareness. Little do we realise that God is maintaining us in existence with every breath we take.As we take another, it means that God is choosing us now and now and now." (emphasis mine)

Which is why I try to sit in silence for 15 minutes every morning ... so that I will not be asleep when the sun begins to rise.