Behind the Mask

"Behind the mask is always a living face." These words, by Irish poet, William Butler Yeats, are so true.

One of the bravest things we can do in our lives is to take off the masks we wear, and show our true selves to the world. The mask of competence, the mask of "Everything's fine", the mask of "I can make it alone", the mask of "I don't need anything."

Many of us, myself not least, spend most of our lives hiding behind those masks, because the thought of sharing our needs for empathy, companionship and help is a scary one. But taking that step, showing our vulnerable selves to the world, is a vital one on the journey towards our true selves, our lives in God.

I have found the Enneagram an incredibly useful tool on my journey towards my true self (two steps forward, one step back). I discovered nine years ago that I am a Three, the Achiever, who would rather gnaw her own leg off than admit to needing other people's praise and approval, but in desperate need of them nonetheless. I have blogged about this before, here. Slowly, slowly, I have learned to peep out from behind my mask, to trust (a few, very special) other people with my vulnerability. My journey is by no means over yet - I expect it will take the rest of my life.

But just knowing that behind the mask is my unique living face, helps, somehow. Which is why the prayer of Teresa of Avila, below, really resonates with me, these days...

Today, may there be peace within.
May I trust God that I am exactly where I am meant to be.
May I not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May I use those gifts that I have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to me.
May I be content, knowing I am a child of God.
May this presence settle into my bones,
and allow my soul the freedom
to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.
Amen

Loneliness vs Solitude

This week's quotation, by Hans Krailsheimer, really resonated with me, "To *have to* be alone is most difficult; to *be able to* be alone is most beautiful."

I have always liked being alone - more chances to read! - but until a few years ago, there was always the nagging doubt of "Am I missing out on something?" I needed the validation of other people's presence and approval to function.

But over the last ten years or so, as my spiritual journey has moved on, two steps forward, one step back, I have come to truly appreciate the benefits of solitude. I looked at the photo above and my first reaction was "Oh, I wish..." It all looks so peaceful; the white house in the sunshine, set in the natural world, and the small white boat in the foreground... I longed to be there.

Loneliness is a terrible thing... you feel unloved, unwanted, as though the world has passed you by. Whereas solitude, the ability to spend time alone, by your own choice, with the Spirit, can be wonderful. I have also come to love silence, and no longer feel the need to fill all the spaces in my life with words. To sit in silence is to be at peace.

So I would love to spend some time in that little white house, with a desk, my laptop, and endless supply of tea and coffee, and time to write. Bliss. No phone calls, no texts, no e-mails, no calls on my time. I would write and write, then take a break to walk in the landscape, or perhaps take a turn on the water. Then return to the house, to write again.

I think that the key thing is balance. While I would love to spend *some* time in that house - perhaps a week, perhaps two, I would begin to miss people after that. There are few pleasures I enjoy more than sharing the evening time with my husband, half watching something on TV, half doing a craft - cross-stitch, crochet. Because sharing your solitude with another can also be wonderful.

The Confidence of Experience

This week's quotation is by Sylvia Plath, "Nothing broadens the horizon, gives you as much confidence, as experience."

No idea why the quote is illustrated by a photo of a whale's tail, but there we are... :)

And yes, I agree with her, up to a point. I can remember the very first time I led worship for Northampton Unitarians, in February 2001. I had spent weeks preparing the service, anxiously rehearsing every element of it, changing this, tweaking that... On the day, I was a bundle of nerves, my hands shaking so badly that I had to lay my papers down. Now, 19 years later (how did *that* happen?) I still take a good deal of trouble to put a service together, but I am no longer afraid. I have led worship so many times that I have confidence that I know how to do this. And mostly, it goes reasonably well.

That's not to say I am blasé about the process... far from it. I believe it is one of the most important things I do, as a minister. It is a huge privilege, which I am always conscious of, to share my mind and heart with a congregation...

So experience does broaden the horizon, does give me confidence.

BUT

At the same time, I believe it is important to face the world as though for the first time, to retain a sense of awe and wonder, at the glories of God's creation, at the wonderful complexities of the human heart, at the serendipitous work of grace in the world. And that happened to me this morning... I went upstairs at 7.00 am, to do my morning sit. And my breath was taken away by two views, one out of my West-facing window, one out of my South-east facing window. Here they are... the setting moon and the rising sun.

Had I come up ten minutes later, this beauty, so transient, would have been and gone. Such a gift, such a grace! I was astonished by the beauty, by the glory. And so grateful for the eyes to see, the heart to marvel. Because I am still open to wonder, still "innocent", if you like. Not bored, not cynical, not "meh, seen it all before". Because I think that sometimes, unless we are careful, too much experience (of a bad kind) can steal our sense of wonder, close us down to awe.

So yes, experience is good, experience is helpful. But innocence is so important too...

The Bliss of Not Knowing

This week's quotation, by Oscar Wilde, reminds me of Rilke: "It is the uncertainty that excites us. A mist makes things beautiful."

Compare that thought to Rilke's famous quotation about living in the questions... "Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers."

So many of us are far more comfortable with certainty, than in wrestling with uncertainty. It takes a certain amount of courage to be able to sit with uncertainty, having faith that an answer will be vouchsafed to you, in God's own time. Even if that answer is, by then, far from what you expected it to be.

There is an (I think) erroneous belief that, faith and reason are polar opposites. I believe that using our reason is part of the path of "living into the answers". My belief is that the true opposite of faith is certainty.

Mr Google's definition of faith is "strong belief in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual conviction rather than proof." And the Epistle to the Hebrews, in the New Testament, says, "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

I wonder whether uncertainty is actually the true basis of faith? That we have to take a "leap of faith" in order to believe in something, someone. And that it is the very *un*certainty which excites us about God, the divine, the Source of All Being... Who by His / Her / Its very nature cannot be known by us, but only believed in, hoped for...

A mist makes things beautiful...