Not Naivete but Clarity

The American textile artist, Anni Albers, is "credited with blurring the lines between traditional craft and art." (Wikipedia). She was born in Berlin in 1899 and started to study at the Bauhaus in 1922. Many of the disciplines were forbidden to women (much to her disgust) so she enrolled in the weaving class. However, she took to "the challenges of tactile construction" (Wikipedia) like a duck to water. In her writing, she says, "In my case it was threads that caught me, really against my will. To work with threads seemed sissy to me. I wanted something to be conquered. But circumstances held me to threads and they won me over." Her designs were bold and geometric and her work has been exhibited all over the world.

Tapestry, 1948 by Anni Albers (Wikimedia commons)

This week's quotation is by her: "Lack of complication is not naivete, but clarity." The German phrase provided by the Harenberg Kalender, from which I get my quotes for this blog, was difficult to translate. It could read "Uncomplication / lack of complexity is not simplicity, but clarity." But I think I understand what she is getting at.

Human beings are geniuses at making their lives both complicated and complex. A simple life of clarity can seem to be a distant, unrealisable dream. I believe that Albers is reassuring us that if we are able to remove some of the webs of complexity from our lives, try to live more simply, clarity will be our reward.

Last November, I wrote a post about meditation and clarity here. I said then and still believe now, "We live in a complex world, with many demands on our bodies, minds and spirits. The clarity which can come from a regular meditation practice is an essential counterpoint to this. If we can find a place of clarity in our meditation practice, through using gentle curiosity, it may help us to lead more mindful, calm lives."

Mindfulness. Calm. Simplicity. Peace. May we all find a way to access these much-needed qualities.

The Divine is Everywhere

This week's quotation is by Annie Besant, the 20th century socialist, theosophist, women's rights activist and human rights activist. It reads, "Underlying everything is an eternal, infinite, unknowable, real Being."

Most of it makes sense to me, because I have felt it. For me, God, the Divine, Spirit of Life and Love, is eternal, infinite and real. But not unknowable. At least, not entirely. I believe we can only get glimpses of the Divine, but we can be aware of Her / Him / It in everything around us, in ourselves and in each other. 

Which makes me a panentheist, which is defined in Cross's The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church as "the belief that the Being of God includes and penetrates the whole universe, so that every part of it exists in Him [sic], but that His [sic] Being is more than, and is not exhausted by, the universe."

So the Divine is not only beyond and eternal and infinite, but also immanent, within all things. As the Quakers would say, there is "that of God in everyone". To which I would add, "in everything".

I was first shown this as a little girl, when my father took me out into the garden and asked me to look - really look - at one flower and to appreciate the wonderfully intricate design of it. He told me (and I'm paraphrasing now) that the amazing way that everything fits together is evidence for the existence of God, because nothing so wonderful and intricate could have come into being at random.

And, unlike many of the nuggets of wisdom that parents share with their children, that one has stayed with me. I am still filled with awe and wonder at the the beauty and intricate coherence of the natural world and often stop, on my walks in the forest, to give thanks.

The understanding that this Divine presence also extends to humankind has taken longer to penetrate. But now I do honestly believe that there *is* that of God in everyone. I have also come to believe that God is Love at the centre of everything. And that the best way of worshipping Him / Her / It is to recognise that and to try to live in the world in response to it. 

Which ain't easy. It is far easier (and perhaps more instinctive) to make snap judgements about everyone we meet, rather than waiting to get to know them and then to perceive the divine Spark at work within them. None of us is perfect, but if we try to bear the everywhereness of God / the Divine in mind, we might learn to relate to the world in better, more productive ways.

Growing into Beloved Community

 I have just returned from an inspirational conference at the Nightingale Centre at Great Hucklow. It was my first visit for two years and it felt so good to be back. For me, the Nightingale Centre is a very special place, my spiritual home.

Our guest speaker was Alistair McIntosh, Quaker and spiritual activist, and his theme was on becoming the beloved community. He explained it was about combining being engaged with the world and society from a deep place, in which we realise we are part of a deeper reality.

It doesn't matter what we call this deep, implicit, underlying order. He gave us many definitions: the Hindu word, dharma - the deep structure present in reality, the Taoist Way, or Christian God-consciousness. It's all about walking in the ways of good. It's about practising the central spiritual question of discernment: "Does this bring life? Does this lead you into life?" (rather than back into the concerns of the individual ego).

He explained that we live in a deeply materialistic society, in which it seems to make sense to compete. And that self-referential narcissism cuts us off from community. All of us are complicit in the capitalist, consumerist paradigm that is Western society.

But we all have souls - that deepest part of us that enables us to connect with each other on a deeper, more spiritual level. There is a level on which we are all members, one of another. He gave the example of the difference between being individual fingernails on a hand, and the hand as a whole.

At this deeper level of interconnection, we are able to grow into becoming the beloved community.  But in order to reach that point, it is necessary to do deep spiritual work, to get the shadows, the concerns of the ego, out of the way. Even then, we only get glimpses or intimations of the Way. It is a task that will take the rest of our lives.

Our job as Unitarians is to offer a safe and sacred space in which this deep spiritual work can take place. He quoted Ram Dass, "We are all walking each other home." Home in this context meaning being in right relationship with others and with the Divine.

It was a rich few days and I have come home feeling inspired and grateful and connected.

Visit from the Inspiration Fairy

 All writers sometimes struggle to find the right words. So this week's quotation, by poet William Blake, rang very true with me: "Don't be afraid of your imagination! No bird can fly too high using its own wings."

Which cheered me up no end. It seems as though even such a great poet as Blake sometimes needed a little nudge to set him off in the right direction.

Many writers and artists of all kinds believe they have a muse, who helps them when they are stuck and enables them to produce their best work. Stephen King calls his, "the boys in the basement", which I rather like. Liz Gilbert, in her wonderful book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear,  makes a distinction between being a genius (which is tough to live up to) and having a genius, a benevolent spirit who occasionally shows up to help creative artists. I call mine the Inspiration Fairy.

Gilbert also has a fascinating theory about ideas, believing them to be "a disembodied, energetic life-form. They are completely separate from us, but capable of interacting with us... Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner." And that this not only applies to the creative arts, but also to science, religion, philosophy, industry, commerce and politics - all the areas which need new ideas to flourish and grow.

She makes it clear that our part is to show up and be willing to engage with the idea. That we have to make a commitment to the writing (or painting or crafting) process and then, only then, once the Idea is positive that we are serious about it, may inspiration strike. She emphasises that for most writers, inspiration only turns up on rare occasions. 

I have found this to be true. Most of a writer's (or artist's) work is about showing up and putting in the hours. As she explains, "There is no time or space where inspiration comes from - and also no competition, no ego, no limitations. There is only the stubbornness of the idea itself, refusing to stop searching until it has found an equally stubborn collaborator.... Work with that stubbornness. Work with it as openly and trustingly and diligently as you can. Work with all your heart, because... if you show up for your work day after day after day, you just might get lucky enough some random morning to burst right into bloom."

It is wonderful when it happens. For me it generally occurs when I am on the edge of sleep, mulling over the events of the day. And suddenly, I will get an idea for the next scene of my book (or how to correct an old scene that I wasn't happy with). Or some lines for a poem. Or a topic for this week's service. I have found that the only thing to do is to put the light on, sit up, pick up notebook and pen and scribble it down. I have learned by bitter experience that it's no good believing I will remember it in the morning. At least, not for me. 

And this idea of visits from inspiration can apply to our ordinary lives. So long as we make a commitment to follow the best that we know, we will often be give a nudge out of the door. Which enables us to lives passionate, creative lives.