When Virtual Becomes Real

Our little cat Luna has been very ill. It started last Saturday, when she was noticeably off her food, and quieter than usual. By Sunday, we were sufficiently concerned to take her to the vet, and again on the Monday. She was given antibiotics and anti-inflammatories, and we were told to keep an eye on her. My husband texted me on Wednesday morning to say that she was no better, so when I got home from my conference in the afternoon, I took her straight back to the vet, who admitted her as an in-patient. That night, she had a 3cm section of impacted bowel removed. Had it not been, she might not have survived. The next day, we went to visit, and she was like a different animal; and on Friday evening, I brought our little one home, well on the way to recovery.

She is currently sitting on top of the wardrobe in the spare room, no mean leap for a cat who is supposed to be "taking it easy". But it's one of her favourite spots, and I guess she wouldn't have done it if she had felt too sore.

During the whole sad time she was in hospital, and I was so worried that we were going to lose her, I have been unutterably moved by the warmth and caring of my community of Facebook friends, who have been commenting and sending love and sympathy for the last 48 hours or so.

I have noticed this before on Facebook - if anyone is in trouble, or in grief, or anxious, or worried, friends *do* rally round, offering words of sympathy and comfort, and warm virtual hugs. And it really does help.

The feeling of connection is very real. I know that it is fashionable to say that the social media and mobile phones between them have ruined genuine communication between people. There are endless images of people standing or sitting "together" with their heads down and their thumbs busy, texting away, and not noticing the world and the people right next to them.

BUT this is the other side of it. And I am very grateful. And moved. And feeling blessed.

The Gift of Laughter

In one of Anne McCaffrey's books, somebody (I think it's Lanzecki in The Crystal Singer) says "A man can sleep any time. But a laugh restores the soul." And I have just been chuckling away at a post on the Tolkien Society page on Facebook, where members were invited to do bad mis-castings for characters in the Peter Jackson films. Of course it very soon got out of hand, and many other cultural references found their way in, from Monty Python's Holy Grail, the Wizard of Oz (Sauron being killed by Edoras falling on his head) and even Dallas (Melkor coming out of the shower and finding it was all a dream). And I will long remember the image of the Nine Riders on black Harleys, with Riders on the Storm by the Doors in the background. And Orc munchkins. And Samwise Gamgee in sparkly red shoes, saying "There's no place like home, Mr. Frodo." It made me laugh out loud, and suddenly the world seems a brighter place.

"A laugh restores the soul." Yes. This is certainly true of the laughter that arises from the joy of sharing something funny with others, or as a side-effect of being happy anyway. But laughing *at* others rather than *with* them has always struck me as a cat of an entirely different colour. I am sometimes accused of having a sense of humour deficit, because I don't often find people falling over / failing to do something / otherwise being made a fool of, very funny. So while I do find many of the posts on Facebook very funny, and indeed, share many of them, some I just don't. This laughing at other people's misfortune *feels* the same way to me as cruelty to animals.

I guess it all comes down to compassion in the end - putting yourself in the other person's shoes, and imagining how they must be feeling. So while I love to laugh, and find that a good giggle brightens my day, I'm selective about what I laugh at.

A Walk in the Woods

It is going to be difficult to write this without resorting to cliches. On this warm and sunny morning, I decided to go for a walk in the woods. I am very fortunate in living five minutes' walk away from a footpath which leads to Salcey Forest. I was only out for about 40 minutes, but it has left me full of awe, full of wonder, full of gratitude.

The combination of weather during the last few months - sunshine and rain in just the right quantities, meant that the verges of the path were a mass of green and flowers. I walked mindfully, opening my eyes and ears to the world around me. There was cow parsley over six feet high, clover, buttercups, many other shy woodland flowers I could not name, and a riot of wild roses; and the air was full of bird song. The sky overhead was blue with wispy white clouds, but the height of the bordering hedges meant that the path was still in shade, very pleasant to walk in on this warm morning. Every so often, there would be a break in the hedge to my left, and the sunlight came pouring through, painting everything it touched in brighter hues. The path is narrow, only wide enough for one person (or one horse - it is much used by the local riders) and I had it to myself. One cyclist passed me on the way out, and one runner on the way back. Apart from that, it was me, alone with God's creation. And it was glorious. And I give thanks.

Taking the Longer View

A few days ago, the first public meeting of a newish (they were founded in September 2013) Unitarian group, the Fellowship of Non-Subscribing Christians, was announced. The meeting will be held at Stalybridge Unitarian Church in a couple of weeks' time.

Some Unitarians (sadly) have rushed to condemn this new group, fearing that its influence on our General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Christian Churches will be divisive. This knee-jerk reaction, condemning the new group 'sight unseen', worries me. It does not seem very Unitarian to me, that we should not be more like the Quakers "open to new Light, from whatever source it may come." Surely it is this openness to new ideas that is the hallmark of our much-vaunted Unitarian tolerance?

Or it should be. As I have written elsewhere: " This openness to a process of continuous and continuing revelation is what has kept Unitarianism green and growing down the centuries."

In J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, when Frodo first learns that through Gollum, Sauron has discovered that the Ring is now in the Shire, he exclaims: "What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature when he had a chance!" Gandalf responds: "Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need." Frodo retorts that he does not feel any pity for Gollum, and Gandalf again advocates a more compassionate view: "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends."

There is so much truth and wisdom in this advice. He is saying that we shouldn't judge new things too quickly, because they might just turn out to be a force for good. So I agree with a colleague who is counselling a more charitable, open, considered approach, and who suggests that we simply wait and see what happens.

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today

It was twenty years ago today that the United States and Russia ceased targeting long-range nuclear missiles at each other. And yet, twenty years later, both still maintain considerable nuclear arsenals, at enormous expense, and now at least eight more countries (the United Kingdom, France, China, India, Pakistan, North Korea, Israel and Iran) have nuclear weapons. What is wrong with the world?

According to the Institute for Economics and Peace, an independent, non-partisan, non-profit research organisation dedicated to shifting the world's focus to peace as a positive, achievable, and tangible measure of human well-being and progress, "We are in an epoch different to any other epoch in human history. The problems we are facing are global in nature. They include climate change, ever decreasing biodiversity, full use of the fresh water on the planet, and, underpinning all these - overpopulation. Without peace we will be unable to achieve the levels of cooperation, inclusiveness and social equity required to begin solving these challenges, let alone empower the international institutions needed to regulate them."

And yet wars go on, continuously, all over the world. And their cost is enormous, not only in economic and pragmatic terms, but also, most importantly in human lives and the effects on the rest of creation.

They produce an annual Global Peace Index each year in June, and last year's makes grim reading. According to an article by Christina Smith in the latest issue of the Unitarian Peace Fellowship newsletter, "The total economic impact of containing violence is equivalent to 11% of global GDP (Gross Domestic Product) or US$ 9.46 trillion. If the world would reduce the cost of violence by 50%, it would generate enough money to repay the debt of the developing world, provide enough money for the European stability mechanism, and fund the additional amount required to fund the Millennium Development Goals."

So why, oh why, don't governments DO something about it? The 2014 Global Peace Index will be released on 18th June - let us see whether the last twelve months have made the world a more violent or a more peaceful place. And in the meantime, everyone who cares about the future of our world and its inhabitants should make their voices heard - peace is in our hands.

The Fourth R

It is commonly held that there are Three Rs that all children need to learn (even though, confusingly, only one of them actually starts with the letter R!): Reading, Writing and [A]rithmetic.

And I agree, these are essential life skills. Being able to read, write and do basic maths are important skills for coping with life in our complex 21st century world. And I, personally, find both reading and writing immensely pleasurable, and know that my life would be much diminished without them.

But I would add a Fourth R: Running (or any kind of physical exercise of the person's choice). Because I also believe that in order to be happy and fulfilled, we need to look after our bodies as well as our minds. I go for a relatively short (20-30 minutes) run three times a week, and for one or two two-mile walks every day (one with a friend in the morning, one with my other half in the evening). And the feeling of physical well-being from doing this modest amount of exercise is huge! Especially the running - when I get back from a run I feel euphoric and satisfied and at peace. No drugs involved!

If I could wave a magic wand, I would wish for everyone to be able to find a form of physical exercise that they enjoyed, and that they could stick to doing long term, because I have experienced directly how much running (and being out in nature on my walks) feeds my spirit. And that is so precious. 

What's in the Temple?

In his poem What's in the Temple?, Tom Barrett poses three questions: 

If you had a temple in the secret spaces of your heart, what would you worship there? 
What would you bring to sacrifice? and 
What would be behind the curtain in the holy of holies?" 

I think that the first question, "what would you worship there?" is quite a challenging one for Unitarians, as we do not presume to define God / the Sacred Divine for others, and some of us do not believe in an external divine other at all. Our Unitarianism these days is a wonderful “free faith based on the inner authority of the enlightened conscience.” And our consciences are enlightened by not only what we think and believe with our heads. Intuition and feeling are also considered important, thanks initially to James Martineau, the great 19th century Unitarian theologian. And our beliefs may change over time, as part of a process of continuous and continuing revelation.


So my answer to the first question might be: I would worship the God I believe in, whom I have come to believe in through exercising my reason and conscience, and through bouncing ideas off other Unitarians. And that the God I believe in is a personal God, who exists both "out there" as well as "in here", and whose divine principle is Love. But that is just my answer, as a unique Unitarian, and this belief might change over time.