Putting the Cheerful and Luminous in the Foreground

Plutarch, the Ancient Greek philosopher and priest, once wrote, "In the soul, as in a painting, one must put the cheerful and luminous in the foreground."

At this time of year, the days are short and the nights are long;  indeed last night was the Winter Solstice - Merry Yule to all those readers who celebrate it. So it is good to have lights of many kinds around us, whether in the form of candles, fire light or many coloured Christmas lights in our towns and cities and on our Christmas trees. As in the beautiful Advent crown in the picture above.

Of course for Christians, Advent is a period of waiting for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, whom they believe is the Light of the World. I find it interesting, how many festivals at this time of year are about light: Hanukkah and Diwali as well as Advent and Christmas.

I love to watch the twinkling lights on my Christmas tree; they never fail to uplift my spirits, being a true reminder of the "cheerful and luminous" that Plutarch talks about. And in our Unitarian churches, chapels and meeting houses, many congregations will be participating in a special Christmas service this coming Sunday, Christmas Eve. One of our most important symbols is the chalice candle, which I have always seen as symbolising the warmth of community, the light of insight, and the heat of our ethics and values.

Even if you are not particularly looking forward to Christmas this year - whether you are grieving, or depressed, or anxious, or lonely - I hope that somewhere, at some time, Christmas lights will lift your spirits too, at least for a little while.

I wish you all a light-filled Christmas and a cheerful and luminous New Year.

God Rays

 As soon as I saw the image on this week's postcard, my heart lifted. Such beauty. Golden sunlight shining through trees - one of my favourite things to see, always. I felt a rush of happiness at the sight of them.

Then I read the words which accompany the image, "Happiness shines back like the light of heaven", by the American short-story writer, essayist, biographer, historian and diplomat of the first half of the 19th century, Washington Irving. I googled him and discovered that he was responsible for the well-known stories Rip Van Winkle and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Both of which have risen to the level of American folk tales.

"Happiness shines back like the light of heaven." I have experienced this sometimes. When I have been particularly happy, the world seems to come into clearer focus - everything I see around me is illuminated by its own inner light, which I am willing to believe is not objectively true, but a result of my state of mind influencing my vision. I think that for me, that is what makes a place, a memory, sacred. In my memory, it is lit by the rays of God, the light of heaven.

And because memory is faulty and will fade in time, I have sometimes tried to capture the essence of the beauty of what my eyes have seen by using the camera on my phone. My nearest equivalent to this picture happened one Autumn morning in Salcey Forest, when I saw this, and was filled with joy and wonder at the beauty of God's creation:

I am so grateful for eyes to see, ears to hear, a nose to smell, a mouth to taste, skin to touch and a heart and soul to interpret and understand. I believe it is our senses which bring the glory of God into our experience, and our hearts and souls which enable us to be ready to receive it. It is what we perceive through our senses which brings us happiness, which reflects the light of heaven into our lives. And it need not be limited to natural beauty - I have felt the same thing when beholding the face of a friend or family member, when listening to something which speaks to my condition and so on. We are complex creatures and our responses to events and places and people will be unique to each of us. But I do believe that when we are awake to them, they can also point us to the presence of the Divine in our world.

Believe in the Light

 I'm not sure I agree with the French poet and dramatist, Edmond Rostand, who wrote, "It's only at night that it's nice to believe in the light."

Unless I'm misunderstanding what he's saying... 

From a theological and spiritual point of view, of course, the Light often stands for the Divine Other. Quakers in particular frequently speak of the "Light of God", of "holding yourself and others in the Light" and about "experiences of the Light".  And one of the Christian views of Jesus is as the Light of the World. 

I find this way of referring to the Divine Other, to God, helpful. My imagination can picture God as a warm, yellow Light which is all around us and also emanating from us, because I believe that God is both transcendent and immanent, both "here" and "everywhere". And in some special way, it also holds us - holds the divine essence of who we are as individuals. 

One of the Quaker advices (no. 32) suggests that we "bring into God's light those emotions, attitudes and prejudices in yourself which lie at the root of destructive conflict, acknowledging your need for forgiveness and grace." Which I guess is why psychologists and spiritual teachers call the process of acknowledging our inner failings "shadow work". It is our job to bring the bits of ourselves we would much rather ignore out of the shadows into "God's light" so that we can be helped to acknowledge them and overcome them, to integrate them, so that we can become whole.

So no, Monsieur Rostand, I believe in the Light all the time, not only at night.

We are the Sunbeams

 Yesterday, I had a session with my spiritual director, which was rich and good. And towards the end of it, we spoke of our relationship with God, and he shared the revelation that there is no separation between us and God, "not even the shadow of a hair's breadth".

In the past, I have felt moments of connection with the Divine, whatever we name Him/Her/It. But the idea that there is *no* separation between us was new to me - or maybe I was not ready to receive it before. My spiritual director said that it would take time for this idea to move from my head to my heart, that I would have to sit with it for a long time before I truly experienced it. And I believe that.

But this morning, I was mulling over what he had said, during my morning sit, and these words came to me (the first image came from my director, the rest from me):

God is the sun, we are the sunbeams,

we are emanations of God.

God is the Light within us all,

reflecting and connecting with the Light around us.

God is the water, we are the ripples,

caught up in the Divine Flow.

God is the air, we are the breath,

each breath in, a breath of Life,

each breath out, a breath of Love.

God is the One Tree, we are the branches,

growing out of the Source of Being.

God is the fire, we are the sparks,

lighting up our universe from within.

God is Love, we are lovers,

sharing, caring, healing, understanding.

There is no separation between us,

"not even the shadow of a hair's breadth."

We are working parts of God.

I believe that sitting with this will give me enough purpose and meaning for a lifetime...

Light of Joy and Life

This week's quotation is by Honoré de Balzac: "Light is a symbol of joy and life." As simple as that...

And yes, my heart is lifted by visions of light, by photos like this one. I do a quiet sit each morning, and at this time of year, I often witness the return of the sun at dawn from my bedroom window, as the sky changes from black to darkest blue, then red and orange and yellow, before metamorphosing into what we call "the clear light of day".  It fills my heart with wonder at the beauty of God's universe.

In our Unitarian services, we light a candle, a chalice light, at the beginning of each service. The symbolism of this is deep and wide-ranging. It is a symbol of life, and shared community, and also of the hope that comes from being in community, together.

Quakers speak of "the Light within", which is their term for the divine spark that is in each of us. I have a beautiful set of Zen Osho Tarot cards, and one of them shows a shining figure inside a foggy shape...

It reminds me that this divine Light is deep within each of us, waiting to be noticed, and attended to.  And also that a similar divine spark resides deep within every single human being - old, young, male, female, non-binary, of whatever sexual orientation, class or race. A part of each of us that has never been wounded, never suffered grief.

And I believe that it is our job, while we are here in this life, to recognise the divine spark, that of God, in others, and reach out to it in recognition and joy. So easy to write, so very hard to remember, sometimes...

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.

Winter Solstice: Science and Spirit

There is an interesting scientific explanation of the Winter Solstice on the website http://www.timeanddate.com/:

"The December solstice occurs when the sun reaches its most southerly inclination of -23.5 degrees. In other words, it is when the North Pole is tilted 23.5 degrees away from the sun. Depending on the Gregorian calendar, the December solstice occurs annually on a day between December 20th and December 23rd. On this date, all places above a latitude of 66.5 degrees north are now in darkness, while locations below a latitude of 66.5 degrees south receive 24 hours of daylight. The sun is directly overhead on the Tropic of Capricorn in the southern hemisphere during the December solstice. It also marks the longest day of the year in terms of daylight hours for those living south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Those living or travelling south from the Antarctic Circle towards the South Pole will see the midnight sun during this time of the year.
On the contrary, for an observer in the northern hemisphere, the December solstice marks the day of the year with the least hours of daylight for those living north of the Tropic of Cancer. Those living or travelling north of the Arctic Circle towards the North Pole will not be able to see the sun during this time of the year."

by catanna.com

 Just so. But for me, there is so much more to it than that. It is the time of year when the earth turns back towards the light, a time of renewal and hope. But it is also a time to appreciate the necessity of the cyclical nature of things - and to celebrate "the need for withdrawal as an essential part of renewal." There is a beautiful passage in The Circle of Life: the Heart's Journey through the Seasons by Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr, which really speaks to my condition. My thanks to Frederic Brussat for drawing it to my attention via Twitter:

"There is a tendency to want to hurry from autumn to spring, to avoid the long dark days that winter brings. Many people do not like constant days bereft of light and months filled with colder temperatures. They struggle with the bleakness of land and the emptiness of trees. Their eyes and hearts seek colour. Their spirits tire of tasting the endless gray skies. There is great rejoicing in the thought that light and warmth will soon be filling more and more of each new day.
But winter darkness has a positive side to it. As we gather to celebrate the first turn from winter to spring, we are invited to recognise and honour the beauty in the often unwanted season of winter. Let us invite our hearts to be glad for the courage winter proclaims. Let us be grateful for the wisdom winter brings in teaching us about the need for withdrawal as an essential part of renewal. Let us also encourage our spirits as Earth prepares to come forth from this time of withdrawal into a season filled with light.
The winter solstice celebrates the return of hope to our land as our planet experiences the first slow turn towards greater daylight. Soon we will welcome the return of the sun and the coming of springtime. As we do do, let us remember and embrace the positive enriching aspects of winter's darkness. Pause now to sit in silence in the darkness of this space. Let this space be a safe enclosure of creative gestation for you."
 May it be so.