My Little Piece of Heaven

Marcel Proust, the French author of the famous In Search of Lost Time, advises us to "Always try to keep a little piece of heaven above your life."

And that is exactly what I have been doing this week. After getting this Sunday's service written and recorded (on Monday!) I set off on the long journey up the M6 to my best friend's cottage in Cumbria. Since then, I have enjoyed three gorgeous days in her good company, conversing, playing endless games of canasta, and sitting in the lounge crocheting. It has been peaceful and relaxing and good.

Coming up here has been my "little piece of heaven" for some time now. When I'm tired and frazzled after long weeks and months of solid work, she is kind enough to offer me a bolt hole, where the only thing I have to think about is enjoying her company.

Whenever I drive back home, there is the feeling of leaving behind a haven of peace and re-entering my real life. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning, as I have a service at Shrewsbury on Sunday. And that is good too. I am blessed in my vocation. But sometimes, just sometimes, it is good to spend a few days away from it all. Then I return home rejuvenated and relaxed, ready to reconnect with the wider world.

Thank you, Celia.

In Search of Paradise

According to the Hebrew Bible, Adam and Eve were expelled from Paradise very early in human history. And people have been searching for the elusive ideal of "paradise" ever since. So it was interesting to read Bernard of Clairvaux's view of this. He was a 12th century Cistercian abbot who later became a saint. And he wrote, "You do not enter the garden of paradise with your feet, but with your heart."

There is a fascinating article about the concept of Paradise by Hugh S. Pyper, in The Oxford Companion to Christian Thought. In it, he explains the various theories about Paradise - it is the "garden of the Lord", or a reference to a Golden Age, or the Elysian Fields or the Isles of the Blest, or a physical garden somewhere in the Middle East. Then, at the end of the article, he brings it right up to date, writing, "But the quest for the earthly paradise hs never quite died.... Even for those Christians who would not read the geography of Genesis literally, paradise has lately gained new significance as a reminder of the natural order which has been threatened by human despoliation of the earth. It also holds out a vision of a world restored to ecological balance and transcending social, sexual, and racial difference."

Which fits in well with Bernard of Clairvaux's idea. Perhaps paradise is only attainable when we stop treating the Earth as a resource to be used, and start to think of it as a precious place to be respected, cleaned up and cared for. Because in the 250 or so years since the Industrial Revolution began, "Western man has acted as master and lord of his environment, paying no heed to the effects of his actions on the environment. In the name of progress, water, land, air, and the wildlife they support have been despoiled and depleted, perhaps beyond reclaim." (Jonathan Helfand)

It is tragic that, in spite of all the publicity about the climate crisis, most of us in the West are still a society of consumers, with our heads buried firmly in the sand. Natural resources such as gas and oil are running out and the biodiversity on which our planet depends for its health is at risk from the activities of humankind. And it is not only "other people" who are to blame. We are all to blame. I've been watching the new David Attenborough programme Wild Isles in recent weeks, about the natural life in the British Isles. And he has made it crystal clear that species of animals, birds, fish, plants and insects are dying out, here, now, because of the activities of humankind in this country.

In the Anniversary Service at this year's Unitarian GA meetings, Rev Winnie Gordon asked, "When will we wake up and truly be aware of the problems and how we are complicit in them?" And stated, "Our faith calls us to responsibility for the fate of this planet. Calls us to account for each other in our working, playing, nurturing and growing, our educating and profiting - in this world, now, and for all generations to come. Acticism transcends creed, dogmas, doctrine, and social constructs (if done right), and mends (makes whole) the divisions and separateness. That our individualistic beliefs create." Her words wer a powerful call to action for all of us, by all of us.

I believe that if we are to save our beloved blue and green planet, we will need to make extensive changes to how we live our lives, far beyond putting stuff out for recycling. Each of us has a responsibility, both to the planet and to future generations, to both make greener choices as individuals and to show up for justice, so that we may find ways to collectively make a difference.

 

The Joy of Idleness

 The run-up to the Unitarian GA meetings, which took place between 3rd and 6th April, was a very busy time for me. Since I came home, just over a week ago, I have been rediscovering the joy of (occasional) idleness. So I was amused to read this week's quotation, by the first century Roman statesman, scholar and philosopher, Cicero: "There is no-one who cannot indulge in doing nothing for once."

I spent a very enjoyable Easter Weekend in the company of my immediate family - my daughter came to visit us on Maundy Thursday and stayed for most of Good Friday, during which we went for a gorgeous walk in Salcey Forest in the Spring sunshine; we enjoyed the company of my son, his partner and her son on Easter Sunday, when we went over to their house for a delicious lunch; and Maz and I went to see the film Dance Crazy on Easter Monday evening. Which was a real blast from the past for both of us, being made up mainly of footage from gigs by live Two Tone bands such as The Selecter, The Specials, The Beat, The Bodysnatchers, Madness, and Bad Manners. Which were all the rage when he and I first became an item. All in all, the long weekend was a lovely antidote to the busyness of the previous weeks.

So I was able to return to work, refreshed, on Tuesday, and am thoroughly enjoying the process of regrounding myself in my calling as District Minister. 

Yet, looking at Cicero's words again, I see that even during the long weekend, when I was resting from work, I was not simply "doing nothing". I much prefer active leisure, rather than loafing around. Even in the evenings, when I'm relaxing in front of the tv, I generally have either some crochet or cross-stitch on the go. In fact, I find Doing Nothing really hard.

Yet I know it is good for me - to spend time each day in stillness and silence, open to the presence of the Spirit around and within me. So each morning I do a short sit on my meditation bench, in front of the shrine in my bedroom, to set me up for the day. It is the only time I can tolerate actually doing *nothing*, as opposed to actively enjoying my leisure time. Doing the things I love nourishes my soul. 

The Importance of Detail

 Georges Braque was a 20th century painter, who was involved in both the Fauvism and Cubism movements, and who worked closely with Pablo Picasso. Which knowledge makes this week's quote by him, "It's the detail that keeps it entertaining and lively"illuminating.

Because I guess he means (in the context of his painting) it is this brushstroke, that choice of colour which makes the difference. And I believe that this is not only true for painters; but also for writers and other creators. Whether we choose to express our creativity with paints, pencils, words, threads, clay or yarn (or any other medium), it is the details that lift our work out of the ordinary and into the realm of being "entertaining and lively."

Unfortunately, the version of Blogger on my PC is not allowing me to upload this week's photo, which is of delicate mauve and purple pansies growing out of what look like eggshells. In which it is indeed the detail that make the image.

I have always believed that poetry is "the best words in the best order", to quote Samuel Taylor Coleridge. On many occasions, my breath has been taken away by the juxtaposition of words and images in unexpected order. There is the moment of savouring, then the excitement as the meaning sinks in. I have blogged about this before, here. 

I am just home from our Unitarian General Assembly annual meetings, during which many words were spoken (including quite a lot by me, during the plenary sessions!) For me, the highlight of the week was the Anniversary Service, which had the title, Justice does not just happen: Showing up for Justice. Revs. Kate Dean and Stephanie Bisby were the service leaders, and Rev Winnie Gordon was the Anniversary Preacher, and their words went straight to the hearts of their hearers. 

Thank God for all creators, who keep our world entertaining and lively.

Our Childlike Hearts

 This week's quotation, by the Chinese philosopher, Mengzi, tells us, "A great man is he who does not lose his childlike heart."

And I agree that "childlike-ness" is an important quality for us to nurture in ourselves. Childlike, not childish. For me, being childlike, means being open and vulnerable and trusting and curious, rather than closed down, armoured up, mistrustful and cynical. 

Of course, it means that we are more vulnerable to being hurt by others. And when we have been hurt in the past, it may be very difficult for us to trust others again, to trust that the universe is not (all appearances to the contrary, sometimes) "out to get us." 

But I do think it is a rewarding, if sometimes challenging, way to live. Jesus has two things to say about little children. The versions I have taken are from the tenth chapter of the Gospel of Mark. He says, "Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs." Then a breath later, he underscores this by saying, "Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it."

It is not an easy message for most of us adults to hear. Jesus seems to be saying that we need to open our hearts, to accept the world as it comes. Which ain't easy.  Yet I have found that when I am closed down, armoured up, mistrustful and cynical, I think the worst of others, I become defensive and bitter. And I don't want to live my life like that. I want to believe the best of others, I want to reach out with love and compassion and curiosity. I want to be as brave as a little child. I want to trust that the universe is (on the whole) a benevolent place in which to live. Is that naive of me? Quite possibly. Does it make me happier? Defnitely.

Onwards and Upwards Forever?

The German poet, Heinrich Heine, was a born in 1797 and died in 1856. So he spent most of his life in the first half of the 19th century, when human, industrial and technological progress was seen as an unambiguous good. He wrote, "I believe in progress. I believe humanity is destined for happiness."

Sadly, in the 175 years since his death, we have come to understand that progress is far from being a universal good. It wasn't then, and it isn't now. Back then, all the industrial and technological progress came at a price ignored by many - the terrible working conditions of the industrial poor, and the exploitation of people and lands all over the world. 

Early next month, a book will be published by the Lindsey Press, called Cherishing the Earth - Nourishing the Spirit. I have been fortunate enough to get a sneak preview. Edited by Unitarian minister Maria Curtis, it presents a variety of responses by Unitarians - lay people, ministers and children - to the global ecological crisis we are currently facing. As it says in the publicity, "their insights range from the prophetic and political to the practical and intensely personal." And all the contributors are clear that we are in this situation because of our past and present blindness to the downsides of "progress" and that we urgently need to Do Something before it is too late. If it is not already too late... It is well worth a read.

I believe that if we are to save our beloved blue and green planet, we will need to make extensive changes to how we live our lives, far beyond putting stuff out for recycling. Each of us has a responsibility, both to the planet and to future generations, to both make greener choices as individuals and to find ways collectively to make a difference.

A Refreshing Journey

 The 19th century German poet, Friedrich Hebbel tells us, "A journey is a drink from the source of life." 

In which case, I ought to be the most well-hyrdrated person I know, because most of last year and the first three months of this have been spent travelling around England and Wales, visiting Unitarian congregations as President of the General Assembly. I'm not sure how many thousand miles I have driven, but it is a lot. And the long journeys have mostly been refreshing, due to my habit of listening to audio books while I drive. This year I have listened to several Great Courses, some of which have provided good material for services, as well as His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas (the original recording with Richard Burton as First Voice) and other fiction titles. It has made all the journeying pleasant, and has meant that I haven't got stressed when I have been stuck in traffic.

Of course, I don't think that was what Hebbel meant! When we visit new places, experiencing them can open a door in our hearts and souls. I can think of several holidays I've taken with my husband which have had that effect. Notably, attending the Passion Play in Oberammergau in 1990, being breathless with wonder at the beauty of the Austrian Tyrol, visiting new cities and immersing ourselves in their culture and history (Paris, Amsterdam, Krakow, Prague, Nuremberg, Berlin, Dresden and Leipzig spring to mind), and one wonderful tour around the countryside surrounding Paris, visiting some glorious Gothic cathedrals. And this September, we plan to celebrate our Ruby Wedding anniversary by spending a week in Vienna and another in Salzburg. Perfect!

Each new place has nourished my mind, my heart and my soul. I have sensed the Spirit's presence everywhere, even when visitng places with terrible associations, like the Nuremberg Arena and the concentration camps of Auschwitz and Birkenau. I think that what Hebbel is saying is that if we journey to a new place with open heart and mind, we will be able to take in what it has to offer of wisdom and life - Life with a capital L. And witness to what has happened there, whether recently, or long centuries ago.

Which journeys have enabled you to drink from the source of life?