Sometimes you just have to go with the flow

 This week's quotation, by the splendidly named Halldor Laxness, reads, "Whoever always asks about the purpose of things will never discover their beauty."

We Unitarians, and religious folk in general, I guess, are often interested in the purpose and meaning of things - of life itself, and what comes after. We read books and articles, attend conferences and retreats, all to go deeper into the purpose and meaning of things. And that is good, and necessary.

But sometimes, just sometimes, it is better to just forget about all that and lose ourselves in the awe and wonder that is life. I often feel this when I am out in the Forest, like I was this Tuesday. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the signs of Spring were everywhere. And I found myself filled with awe and gratitude for the beauty all around me. I felt like shouting alleluias and felt surrounded by the grace of God. The trees around me looked like the pillars of a cathedral.

And so I stopped and gave thanks. Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow.

Wishes as Bridge Builders

 Eflriede Hablé, the Austrian singer, wrote, "Wishes are the most remarkable bridge builders and the most courageous committers."

I think that what she meant was that if we wish for something passionately enough, we will be willing to do the work required to make that wish come true. It is about being sufficiently committed to a goal to not be cast down by setbacks, but to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and try again.

I can understand this from my own sobriety journey, which started over seven years ago. I knew I wanted to quit drinking and knew it was going to be really hard. So I started my journey by sitting down and really thinking through all the reasons why I wanted to quit, to be free of the poison (for me and many others) that is alcohol. I knew that moderation (for me and for many others) did not work, that sooner or later, I would slip back into my normal drinking habits, which weren't good for me. Armed with those reasons (or wishes) I was able to remain committed to my goal, even in the difficult early days and months. Day by day, week by week, month by month, I built my bridge of sobriety. And I have never regretted it.

Sometimes, of course, however much we wish for something, even pray for something, it *doesn't* come true. How many of us have wished for health for our loved ones, only to have to witness them becoming more and more sick, before eventually dying? This can be a real test of faith in a benevolent God - why did He/She let X die? In these circumstances, our wishes and prayers are not enough.

But I have learned that they may help us to endure what has to be endured. I do not believe that God has the power to directly intervene in the world, except through us, the imperfect human beings He/She has imbued with His/Her presence. And a sense of this Presence may help us to endure, give us the courage to bear what must be borne, and to eventually come through to the other side, not heart-whole, perhaps, but in one piece, when our wishes and prayers have not come true, when the event we dreaded has come to pass.

So yes, wishes can be bridge-builders, so long as what we wish for is able to be influenced by our actions.

Honesty on the Path to Wisdom

 Thomas Jefferson wrote, "Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom." 

When I was first introduced to the Enneagram, and discovered that I am a Three, I was pointed in the direction of a wonderful book by Richard Rohr and Andreas Ebert, Discovering the Enneagram: An Ancient Tool for a New Spiritual Journey, I found the chapter on Type Threes to be agonising reading - there was so much uncomfortable truth in it - truth I had been avoiding for years. 

Each Enneagram type has a particular virtue and a particular vice. To my horror, I learned that the vice of a Three is Deceit, which really upset me, as I had always prided myself on my honesty. But in the years since then, I have come to understand that the person I was at the time (2010) was deceiving not only herself, by refusing to look at her flaws, but also the world, by presenting only her best side, so as to win all that so-necessary (to Threes) praise and approval. Openness and vulnerability were complete no-nos. It has taken years of shadow work and prayer to begin to get through this, and to learn that actually, love is not dependent on what we do. True love is always, always unconditional, and is given to us for who we are, "warts and all". The warts in my case being fear of failure to achieve my goals, fear of losing face, being an approval junkie and not coping well with criticism. 

I did not get over this last until I joined Northampton Writing Circle, where we compose a story each month, and then read it aloud and receive the group's comments. When I first joined, I hated my work being criticised in any shape or form, but over the years, I have come to welcome, even be grateful, for constructive critisim. And that is huge - at least for me. But without this change of heart, I am sure I would never have finished my novel, never found a publisher.

I have come to understand and accept that all human beings come from God, and are worthy of love, just the way they are. We are each "unique, precious, children of God", to quote the Quakers. And that the only way forward is to have compassion for all human beings, for all living beings, which includes compassion for myself.

  

 

Standing above the Fray

 The 20th century German novelist, Alfred Döblin, wrote, "Those who stand above things can see far, but not precisely" (or "in detail" - the translation is difficult).

I think that what he meant was, if we are not personally involved in a situation, it is easy to understand the shape of it, and perhaps the main factors, but not the small details. 

There is another saying, about "not being able to see the wood for the trees", which means exactly the opposite. This accusation was levied at me once, more than 30 years ago, when I had written the first draft of my MPhil thesis, about the first seventy years' history of the Chartered Institute of Transport, for which I then worked. To compile this first draft, I had painstakingly gone through seventy years' worth of committee minutes and every issue of the Institute's Journal, and interviewed every living President, and had discovered a mass of information, which I had grouped into ten chronological chapters, covering seven years each.

I had got so involved in small details of  "the things" that I was unable to see the broad brushstrokes of the changes which had happened over that time. I could describe the individual trees, but had no conception of what the entire wood looked like. So my mentor told me to stand back and re-write the whole thing thematically. 

Which I did. I stole an idea out of an early Chalet School  book and produced a history chart on a couple of enormous sheets of computer paper (the old kind with green lines across - only my older readers will remember it). Across the top, I put the seven themes I had chosen for my chapters, with the dates down the side. It took a couple of weeks to complete, but once I had done it, and stood back to look at it, I realised that I had summarised my whole thesis in a new, much clearer way.

Sometimes, it is important, even vital, to be cognisant of the small details of a situation, because if we don't know them, we are liable to make mistakes, which could hurt people. But at others, we only need to know the "executive summary". Impartiality can be useful, but sometimes, we need to stand up for what we believe in and take a stand.

I guess that the skill in life is knowing which approach to use, in which situation.