The Paths We Take

This week's quotation, by Marion Gitzel, reads, "Every path that you take is also a footbridge on which you stand."

It took me a while to work out what she was getting at, but I think she means that each choice we make leads to consequences, that our choices lead us into situations where we have to make other choices.

Which reminded me of a service I did a few years ago, about living in the moment, inspired by a reading from Wayne Muller, who wrote, "What is the next right thing for us to do? Where in this moment, shall we choose to place our time and attention? Do we stay or move, speak or keep silent, attend to this person, that task, move in this or that direction?"

I don't know about you, but to me, this seems to be such a simple approach to life, much less stressful than being worried about a thousand possible alternatives. You just concentrate on the Next Right Thing - give that your time and attention, and then go on to the next one.

But I was, and am, very conscious that "simple" does not mean the same as "easy". This moment by moment approach to our lives *is* elegantly beautiful in its simplicity, but it is by no means easy to do. Because it means that we have to be conscious, awake, moment by moment, so that we make our many small choices with awareness, rather than blindly, depending on how we are feeling at the time. Actively considering each choice, moment by moment actually sounds like quite hard work. 

But it is the most important work in the world.

If we look at our lives, really examine them, we can see that they *are* the result of all the choices we have made, in the past days and months and years (and, I guess, the choices the powers that be have made on our behalf). It is a gradual, moment by moment, process. Muller likens it to a mountain stream, and like the stream, we "know nothing of what is ahead, [are] not conscious of planning for the future. [We] simply follow the path of least resistance, motivated by gravity. ... The only choice we make - what is the next right thing to do - responds to a similarly vital inner gravity, an invisible thread that shapes our life, as our life meets the world."

This is the footbridge on which each one of us, moment by moment, stands. The results of this process have shaped our lives. All of us are where we are now, today, because of our past choices. And where we end up, tomorrow and the next day, will depend on the choices we make today.

Seeing with New Eyes

For the past three weeks, I and a colleague have been co-facilitating a reading group, for Leela Saad's challenging book, Me and White Supremacy: How to recognise your privilege, combat racism and change the world by Leela F. Saad.

The third session was last night, and today, the quote of the week, by Marcel Proust, read, "The real journey of discovery does not consist in looking for new landscapes, but in seeing with new eyes."

And this book is definitely helping the participants in our reading group (including the two facilitators) to do just that. Chapter by chapter, Saad covers all the multifarious aspects of white supremacy, including white fragility (feeling hurt and defensive if you become involved in a conversation about racism and are criticised), white silence and white apathy (saying and doing nothing in the face of a racist situation) and white exceptionalism (believing that you are one of the good people, and therefore do not need to do this work). The list goes on... Saad gently leads the reader to understand how insidious white supremacy in all its manifestations is in our society, and gives them the tools to overcome it in themselves and become a true ally to people of colour in the battle against racism.

Reading it, working through it, has helped me to see with new eyes. It has made me realise how far I have to go, but I am determined to stay the course. Because if I do not, I will be betraying one of the central Unitarian values, as stated in the First Principle of the Unitarian Universalist Association, 

            "We affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person."

And it is not possible to do that, from a one-up position. 

Enhancing the Landscape

I thoroughly agree with American architect Frank Lloyd Wright, who wrote, "A good building is not something that hurts the landscape, but something that makes it more beautiful than it was before it was built."

Anyone who reads my posts on Facebook will know that I am a huge fan of natural landscapes - I walk in Salcey Forest most mornings, and am never tired of appreciating the glories of nature. But when my husband and I go on holiday, we love to explore a new city on foot, and a big part of the pleasure is admiring the wonderful buildings, as they enhance the urban landscape we are walking through. And I can think of several examples of buildings that have that wow factor. The Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, any cathedral you like to name, gorgeous castles... they all enhance the landscape they are in.

Last year, we visited our favourite part of mid-Wales. The sight of Harlech Castle, brooding high over the sea, was something to behold. And the wonderful Italianate village of Portmeirion, built by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis in the heart of the Welsh landscape. Both take the breath away, both enhance the landscape they are in.

Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain, is another example... Whoever the ancient folk were, who built it all those millennia ago, they certainly knew how to pick their spot. And they knew a thing or two about the path of the sun through the sky too.

I think it is a natural human instinct, to make beautiful objects. Crafters and artists of all kinds, including architects and builders, pour their souls into their work, and this shows in the finished products. All human beings have the potential to be creators, whether they use pens, paints, needles and yarn/thread, or any other material. The glory of being creative is to make something new that has never existed before, and is somehow more than the sum of its parts. For our own pleasure, and that of those who see it / read it / use it.

I have a wonderful quote about the creative life by Shauna Niequist, taped above my desk. It reads,

"To all the secret writers, late-night painters, would-be singers, lapsed and scared artists of every stripe, dig out your paintbrush, or your flute, or your dancing shoes. Pull out your camera or your computer or your pottery wheel. Today, tonight, after the kids are in bed or when your homework is done, or instead of one more video game or magazine, create something, anything. Pick up a needle and thread, and stitch together something particular and honest and beautiful, because we need it. I need it."

     from Cold tangerines: celebrating the extraordinary nature of everyday life.

What will you create today?

Learning from Experience

 The Chinese philosopher and sage known to the West as Confucius wrote, "Experience is like a lantern facing backwards; it only illuminates the part of the way that we have already passed."

And that is true, so far as it goes. But I have an issue with his inclusion of the word "only" - because each one of us is the sum of our past experiences. The lessons they can teach us are so important, and can influence how we behave in the part of our lives that is to come. And we are able to apply what we have learned in our present and future lives, if we choose. There's a wonderful passage in Neil Gaiman's book, Neverwhere, in which the hero, Richard, has just entered the world of London Below, and is befriended by a girl called Anaesthesia. He has no understanding of how London Below works, and she has to look after him. At one point, they hide from some strangers, and when they have passed, Richard asks her, "What makes you think that they wouldn't have been pleased to see us?" 

Gaiman comments, "She looked at him rather sadly, like a mother trying to explain to an infant that, yes, this flame was hot too. All flames were hot. Trust her, please."

It is easier for us to learn from our experiences if we have someone wiser or more knowledgeable than we are to explain how the world works. Often this is a parent, but it may be a teacher or a minister or manager or other kind of mentor. Without such people, I think our lives would be more difficult, and we would be more prone to repeat our mistakes, rather than learning from them.

So for example, if we have been treated with kindness, we will be more likely to treat others that way. But if we have been treated badly, hurt, abused, oppressed, our experiences may have taught us that the world is an angry, dangerous place, and that others cannot be trusted. It takes a good deal of work and/or a wise mentor to hold and guide us through the process, to overcome the impact of negative experiences and move on; to learn to trust again.

A wonderful example of this was what happened in South Africa at the end of apartheid. Archbiship Desmond Tutu writes about this in God Has A Dream. "One of the things we learned in South Africa is that there is no true security from the barrel of a gun.... There is no peace without justice, and safety only comes when desperation ends. Inevitably it is when people sit down and talk that desperation ends. Negotiations happen not between friends; negotiations happen between enemies. And a surprising thing does seems to take place... enemies begin to find that they can actually become friends, or at least collaborators for the common good. ... Of course, you must have leaders who are willing to take risks and not just seeking to satisfy the often extreme feelings of their constituencies. They have to lead by leading and be ready to compromise, to accommodate, and not to be intransigent, not to assert that they have a bottom line."

Good things happened because people like Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu himself learned from their past experiences that there had to be a better way of living, one which could rise above what their people had suffered, and work towards peace and reconciliation.

So let us shine that lantern on our past experiences and discern what we can learn from them, so that we can become happier, wiser, more compassionate people.

Living Like A Tree

Nazim Hikmet wrote, "Living like a tree, single and free, but fraternally like a forest, that is our longing."

Trees, it seems, have found the right balance between solitude and community. Each is splendidly alone, but also together in community. In these days of social distancing, with new lockdowns being announced in the North of England, it is a mind-set we would do well to adopt. Human beings are social creatures, and the solitude of the last few months has been difficult for many (to say the least). "Meeting" via Zoom or Skype or FaceTime is good, but it is no substitute for face-to-face interaction.

I have just spent three wonderful days with a dear friend. We have kept our distance, only sharing two hugs immediately after morning showers. But we sat at opposite corners of her living room and talked and laughed and were together. It made me realise how much I have missed face-to-face friendships.

Yet being alone is not the same as being lonely. Or it need not be. I have blogged about it here and here. To carry on the tree analogy, when we are alone, we can draw nourishment from the roots of our being, from books and meditation and time alone. When we are with others, we can appreciate the splendour of being in community, of sharing the sunlight of good conversation. Both are important, both can nourish our lives.