The Divine is Everywhere

This week's quotation is by Annie Besant, the 20th century socialist, theosophist, women's rights activist and human rights activist. It reads, "Underlying everything is an eternal, infinite, unknowable, real Being."

Most of it makes sense to me, because I have felt it. For me, God, the Divine, Spirit of Life and Love, is eternal, infinite and real. But not unknowable. At least, not entirely. I believe we can only get glimpses of the Divine, but we can be aware of Her / Him / It in everything around us, in ourselves and in each other. 

Which makes me a panentheist, which is defined in Cross's The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church as "the belief that the Being of God includes and penetrates the whole universe, so that every part of it exists in Him [sic], but that His [sic] Being is more than, and is not exhausted by, the universe."

So the Divine is not only beyond and eternal and infinite, but also immanent, within all things. As the Quakers would say, there is "that of God in everyone". To which I would add, "in everything".

I was first shown this as a little girl, when my father took me out into the garden and asked me to look - really look - at one flower and to appreciate the wonderfully intricate design of it. He told me (and I'm paraphrasing now) that the amazing way that everything fits together is evidence for the existence of God, because nothing so wonderful and intricate could have come into being at random.

And, unlike many of the nuggets of wisdom that parents share with their children, that one has stayed with me. I am still filled with awe and wonder at the the beauty and intricate coherence of the natural world and often stop, on my walks in the forest, to give thanks.

The understanding that this Divine presence also extends to humankind has taken longer to penetrate. But now I do honestly believe that there *is* that of God in everyone. I have also come to believe that God is Love at the centre of everything. And that the best way of worshipping Him / Her / It is to recognise that and to try to live in the world in response to it. 

Which ain't easy. It is far easier (and perhaps more instinctive) to make snap judgements about everyone we meet, rather than waiting to get to know them and then to perceive the divine Spark at work within them. None of us is perfect, but if we try to bear the everywhereness of God / the Divine in mind, we might learn to relate to the world in better, more productive ways.

Growing into Beloved Community

 I have just returned from an inspirational conference at the Nightingale Centre at Great Hucklow. It was my first visit for two years and it felt so good to be back. For me, the Nightingale Centre is a very special place, my spiritual home.

Our guest speaker was Alistair McIntosh, Quaker and spiritual activist, and his theme was on becoming the beloved community. He explained it was about combining being engaged with the world and society from a deep place, in which we realise we are part of a deeper reality.

It doesn't matter what we call this deep, implicit, underlying order. He gave us many definitions: the Hindu word, dharma - the deep structure present in reality, the Taoist Way, or Christian God-consciousness. It's all about walking in the ways of good. It's about practising the central spiritual question of discernment: "Does this bring life? Does this lead you into life?" (rather than back into the concerns of the individual ego).

He explained that we live in a deeply materialistic society, in which it seems to make sense to compete. And that self-referential narcissism cuts us off from community. All of us are complicit in the capitalist, consumerist paradigm that is Western society.

But we all have souls - that deepest part of us that enables us to connect with each other on a deeper, more spiritual level. There is a level on which we are all members, one of another. He gave the example of the difference between being individual fingernails on a hand, and the hand as a whole.

At this deeper level of interconnection, we are able to grow into becoming the beloved community.  But in order to reach that point, it is necessary to do deep spiritual work, to get the shadows, the concerns of the ego, out of the way. Even then, we only get glimpses or intimations of the Way. It is a task that will take the rest of our lives.

Our job as Unitarians is to offer a safe and sacred space in which this deep spiritual work can take place. He quoted Ram Dass, "We are all walking each other home." Home in this context meaning being in right relationship with others and with the Divine.

It was a rich few days and I have come home feeling inspired and grateful and connected.

Visit from the Inspiration Fairy

 All writers sometimes struggle to find the right words. So this week's quotation, by poet William Blake, rang very true with me: "Don't be afraid of your imagination! No bird can fly too high using its own wings."

Which cheered me up no end. It seems as though even such a great poet as Blake sometimes needed a little nudge to set him off in the right direction.

Many writers and artists of all kinds believe they have a muse, who helps them when they are stuck and enables them to produce their best work. Stephen King calls his, "the boys in the basement", which I rather like. Liz Gilbert, in her wonderful book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear,  makes a distinction between being a genius (which is tough to live up to) and having a genius, a benevolent spirit who occasionally shows up to help creative artists. I call mine the Inspiration Fairy.

Gilbert also has a fascinating theory about ideas, believing them to be "a disembodied, energetic life-form. They are completely separate from us, but capable of interacting with us... Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner." And that this not only applies to the creative arts, but also to science, religion, philosophy, industry, commerce and politics - all the areas which need new ideas to flourish and grow.

She makes it clear that our part is to show up and be willing to engage with the idea. That we have to make a commitment to the writing (or painting or crafting) process and then, only then, once the Idea is positive that we are serious about it, may inspiration strike. She emphasises that for most writers, inspiration only turns up on rare occasions. 

I have found this to be true. Most of a writer's (or artist's) work is about showing up and putting in the hours. As she explains, "There is no time or space where inspiration comes from - and also no competition, no ego, no limitations. There is only the stubbornness of the idea itself, refusing to stop searching until it has found an equally stubborn collaborator.... Work with that stubbornness. Work with it as openly and trustingly and diligently as you can. Work with all your heart, because... if you show up for your work day after day after day, you just might get lucky enough some random morning to burst right into bloom."

It is wonderful when it happens. For me it generally occurs when I am on the edge of sleep, mulling over the events of the day. And suddenly, I will get an idea for the next scene of my book (or how to correct an old scene that I wasn't happy with). Or some lines for a poem. Or a topic for this week's service. I have found that the only thing to do is to put the light on, sit up, pick up notebook and pen and scribble it down. I have learned by bitter experience that it's no good believing I will remember it in the morning. At least, not for me. 

And this idea of visits from inspiration can apply to our ordinary lives. So long as we make a commitment to follow the best that we know, we will often be give a nudge out of the door. Which enables us to lives passionate, creative lives.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

The German theologian, Martin Luther, who famously nailed his Ninety Five Theses to the doors of All Saints Church in Wittenberg in 1517, thereby starting the Protestant Reformation, has some good advice for us: "For we must ascend gradually, on a flight of stairs to other stages, no-one becomes the first in one fell swoop."

This is good advice not only for life in general, but also for the spiritual journey.  At least, for Unitarians. I understand that some Christians have a profound conversion experience and make the huge step from non-belief to accepting Jesus as their Lord and Saviour in "one fell swoop" as Luther said.

But we Unitarians tend to be more cautious. Our faith is based on what our reason and conscience tell us is right and true. And that may change over time. What I believe now, in my early sixties, is very different to what I believed in my twenties. As the 19th century Unitarian minister Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, " What we are is God's gift to us. What we become is our gift to God." And this becoming is often not a straight road, with no diversions, no backsliding. Which is why most of us only manage to move two steps forward, one step back at a time.

There are many lovely quotations about the spiritual journey in Stephen Lingwood's anthology, The Unitarian Life:  Voices from the Past and Present. Michaela von Britzke wrote, "A spiritually growing person - like a spiritually growing congegation - is developing awareness and a capacity to pay ttention to what is at hand in daily tasks and encounters, as a template for understanding and filling a place in the wider scheme of things." 

That is what why I agree with Martin Luther's quote about doing the journey step by step, stage by stage. 

And yet, as UU Sarah York wrote in Singing the Living Tradition, "We receive fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity, brief moments of insight. Let us gather them up for the precious gifts that they are and, renewed by their grace, move boldly into the unknown."

These "fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity" can help us on our journeys, enabling us to move onto the next step and "into the unknown." But we often need the help of others to be aware enough, attentive enough, to see them for what they are. And what these fragments and glimpses mean to one person may not speak to the condition of another (to use the Quaker phrase).

Which is what being part of a Unitarian religious and spiritual community means. Being able to talk to other people about our own spiritual journeys and to hear about theirs is so precious.

The Spirit of Place

 French philosopher Jean de la Bruyère wrote, "It seems to me that one depends on place and landscape in terms of mood, passion, taste, feeling and spirit."

I have found that to be true, up to a point. Being in certain places and landscapes brings me instant peace - for example, Salcey Forest. Which is why I go up there so much: if I am feeling agitated or fed up, I know that going for a walk in the forest will soothe me and bring my soul back into balance. I walk there in all seasons and it never fails to lift my spirits. Whether the trees are bare with the spare elegance of Winter, sharing their glorious Autumn foliage, or in their full green power (see below) being in among them brings me peace.

But our moods, passions, feelings and spirits are also affected by other things, mostly by other people. Because each person we meet bring with them their own moods, passions, feelings and spirits, which in turn can affect ours. So being with some people makes me feel happy and secure and uplifted, whereas the company of others brings me down. They seem to move through the world seeing the downside of everything, like Eeyore. I sometimes feel like that myself. Which is when I take myself off into the forest.

Which is why we all need friends like Pooh and Piglet and Tigger to comfort us and cheer us up. Good friends, who will sit alongside us, listen to us with empathy and compassion, never judging us. 

Where We Feel Whole

 This week's quotation, by Jean Paul, reads, "Only at home is one whole."

Which left me thinking, hmmm. I'm not at all sure it is true. At least not in that particular phrasing. Because "home" can be interpreted in so many ways. From the photo which came with the quotation, it seems to imply a physical building, of which you go through the front door and then you are home and whole.

Hmmm. I think it depends on what the author meant by "home". For me, "home" is more nearly the company of loved others, in front of whom and with whom I can be myself - nothing to do with bricks and mortar. It's more about feeling "at home", at peace, seen and heard for who we truly are. Which I guess is what the author meant.

Whereas "home" in the bricks-and-mortar sense of "the place where you live" can be very far from a real home. There are far too many dysfunctional families for that. And the scars of childhood (whether physical, mental or psychological) are far too frequently felt by far too many people for me to believe that "home" means "the environment in which you were brought up".

One of my favourite books by Celtic poet and theologian John O'Donohue is Eternal Echoes: Exploring our hunger to belong. In it, he writes about what I believe is the true sense of home - a place where we belong. He has much to say about longing and belonging and about "homne" as a place of sanctuary and belonging, where we feel safe and can grow. He writes, "The word home has a wonderful resonance. Home is where you belong. It is your shelter and place of rest, the place where you can be yourself." 

But sadly, it may not be the building in which we live...

Love of Words

Unitarians may not be People of the Book, like the Christians, Jews and Muslims, but we are surely the People of the Word.  Our worship services, our books, our magazines, our Wayside Pulpits, are all examples of how important we, as Unitarians, find words. Words that influence us, words that inspire us, words that make us think, words that challenge us, words which paint pictures of the wonder and beauty of the world. I would guess that the most well-read issues each year of our periodical, The Inquirer, are the two ‘Faith in Words’ issues, which are compilations of original words by Unitarians all over the country.

Unitarian minister Stephen Lingwood wrote, in his anthology, The Unitarian Life: Voices from the Past and Present, that, “We can pay attention to a cloud of witnesses from many different countries around the world and many different times in history. We can delve deep into the traditions of our spiritual ancestors and listen to their voices. In doing so, we can create a ‘living scripture’: a loose, dynamic collection of texts which brings together essential insights from the past and present of our movement.”

This lovely quotation shows that we are not limited to readings from a particular sacred text – we are free to create our own “living scripture” of readings that speak to our condition and that of our hearers. And so we do – many of the readings and prayers in our worship services have been written by Unitarians, past and present. Unitarian worship leaders are also free to choose any words they believe will have spiritual significance for us, which relate to the theme of the service.

And often, these words are poems. Someone once defined poetry as “the best words in the best order” and I have to agree. Poetry seems to be able to reach parts of people’s hearts and souls in a very special way, which prose does not generally share. The poems of John O’Donohue, William Stafford, Mary Oliver, Denise Levertov and others are frequently used in Unitarian worship services, as are the poems of more classical poets – Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Blake and so on. We are not limited to poems originally written in English either – thanks to the skills of contemporary translators. We find both wisdom and spiritual nourishment in the words of Kahlil Gibran, author of The Prophet, in those of the Sufi poets Hafiz and Rumi, in the poetry of the Bohemian-Austrian poet, Rainer Maria Rilke and in the words of Rabindranath Tagore, the "Bard of Bengal", who died 80 years ago this week.

Whichever flavour of spiritual poetry you enjoy, there is little doubt in my mind that reading these poets (and others) can nourish our souls. To quote Unitarian minister, Cliff Reed, let us "give thanks for all the honest, healing wordsmiths of the world."