Whatever the Weather

 This week's quote is by John Ruskin, the Victorian writer and philosopher, who wrote, "Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind is rousing, snow is exhilarating. Where is the bad weather?"

And my first reaction was, "Right, John. That's absolutely fine, so long as you have a cosy home, appropriately warm or cool clothing and footwear, and can choose whether or not to be out in it." Because so many people in the world today - in the UK today - cannot choose. They are either homeless, or cannot afford to heat their homes adequately. For them, bad weather - rain, bitter wind, ice and snow - are disastrous, not "refreshing" or "rousing" or "exhilarating". Which is why I have a monthly standing order to Crisis, the homeless charity.

But I guess if we took his words metaphorically, as though they were about the weather of our lives, I could agree with him. Sunshine can warm our hearts, rain can refresh us, wake us up, wind can blow fresh air into our minds and yes, the beauty of snow can be exhilarating.

But not all the time. Because none of us enjoys wall-to-wall delicious sunshine. All of us have seasons of depressing rain, bitter wind and freezing snow. Times when we cannot see the bright side of life. Times when we wonder whether the sun will ever shine again, for us. It is at those times that the warm sunny friendship of stalwart loved ones, who stand by us in all seasons, not just when we're feeling happy and upbeat, is most valuable. Indispensable, in fact. As is belonging to a loving community, such as a Unitarian congregation.

So his words remind me to be thankful for those loved ones, whether family members or dear friends, who stand by me in all the seasons of my life, who help me to weather the weather, if you see what I mean. 

You know who you are. And I am most grateful.

Trusting in God

 This week's quotation comes from the Book of Psalms in The Hebrew Bible. It reads, "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act." 

I envy the writer of those words his simple trust. (I don't think I'm making an unwarranted assumption that it was a man). Because simple trust in God is not easy, in these complicated days. At a time when our news headlines are full of stories of war, violence, sadness and grief, it is difficult to trust that God knows what He/She/It is doing.

I recently listened to the audio book of The Shack by William P. Young. And its central character, Mack, who is grieving the adbduction and murder of his youngest daughter, brings up this very issue. And Papa (God the Father) tells him, "There are millions of reasons to allow pain and hurt and suffering rather than to eradicate them, but most of those reasons can only be understood within each person's story. I am not evil. You are the ones who embrace fear and pain and power and rights so readily in your relationships. But your choices are also not stronger than my purposes, and I will use every choice you make for the ultimate good and the most loving outcome."

When Mack protests that she shouldn't allow bad things to happen, she replies, "You see pain and death as ultimate evils and God as the ultimate betrayer, or perhaps, at best, as fundamentally untrustworthy. You dictate the terms and judge my actions and find me guilty.... You don't think that I am good. If you knew I was good and that everything - the means, the ends, and all the processes of individual lives - is all covered by my goodness, then while you might not always understand what I am doing, you would trust me. But you don't."

Mack makes one final comment, "I just can't imagine any final outcome that would justify all this." And Papa replied, "We're not justifying it. We are redeeming it." Later on in the book, Sophia (who is the personifcation of Papa's wisdom) tells him, ""Papa has never needed evil to accomplish his good purposes. It is you humans who have embraced evil and Papa has responded with goodness. ... Give up being his judge and know Papa for who he is. Then you will be able to embrace his love in the midst of your pain, instead of pushing him away with your self-centered perception of how you think the universe should be."

Later on, Papa explains, "Just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn't mean I orchestrate the tragedies." 

Which has given me a whole other understanding of God. I have realised that the only way forward is to let go of judgement and trust. I like how Mack learns to trust but, like him, I find it so very hard. That last quotation really hit home. It helped me to understand that although God, because he has given us freedom, will not intervene in the affairs of this world, he will "work incredible good" out of it. Hard to hold on to, hard to believe, but what if it is true? Can I let go enough of judgement to trust in God's goodness? I'll get back to you on this.

Reaping What We Have Sown

 This week's quotation, by the great Medieval German poet, Gottfried von Strassburg, reads, "We must reap what we have previously sown and accept what the seed brings us."

We are all deeply interconnected with one another and with the rest of creation, so this is a good reminder that all of our actions and words have consequences. But we also have the God-given gift of free will, so we can try to ensure that our actions and words (the seeds we sow) lead to good consequences, for ourselves and for others.

And to appreciate that each deed or word we do or utter can have consequences that reach much further than we think they will. Our good deed or kind word may cause other people to respond with their own good deed or kind word to another, and so on out into the world. And if we do or say something bad, the same thing applies.

What I'm saying is, we are agents in our own lives and must be responsible for the consequences of our actions and words. And aware of the impact they might have on others. Which is what von Strassburg means by his words about "accept[ing] what the seed brings us." 

The World in Festive Splendour

 The author of this week's quote adds another dimension to it, being Elie Wiesel. Who was, according to Wikipedia, "a Romanian-born American writer, professor, political activist, Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor."

He wrote, "The world appears in festive splendour to those who look at it without desire."

At this time of year, when we decorate our houses (both inside and outside) and our shops and our streets, the world may indeed seem to have "festive splendour." But I'm not sure that is what Wiesel was talking about. The meaning of his words is much deeper. He seems to be saying that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and that if we can detach ourselves from our desires, anything can look beautiful. Whereas, if we cannot detach ourselves from our desires to have other than what we already do, then the most beautiful scene or object may seem tawdry, cheap, not enough. 

So perhaps our challenge this Christmas is to truly appreciate what we have - to look at it with new eyes, so that we can appreciate its "festive splendour", rather than casting envious glances towards the lives of others. If we watch too many TV adverts, with their visions of happy families getting together, silly paper hats on their heads and corny Christmas jumpers stretched across full stomachs or dresses of velvet and glitter, and of tables groaning with delicious food, and our own lives are less than ideal, it can be easy to be seduced into believing that everyone else is better off than we are.

Nevertheless, it is true that these visions are far from the reality for many people As I have written before, Christmas has a darker, largely unacknowledged side. There are many lonely people who simply don't have anyone to share Christmas with, who wouldn't feel like celebrating even if they did. For them, the contrast between their lives and the Christmas projected through the media can exacerbate their feelings of isolation, panic, stress and depression. Christmas becomes a season to be got through somehow, rather than a time of joy and sharing.

So perhaps we should also have these people in mind, and do our best to make their Christmasses a little better, a little happier, in whatever way we can. Perhaps by making a donation to a food bank, or a charity for the homeless, or taking the time to visit a neighbour whom we know is alone. It doesn't take much to make a positive difference.

Not only for them, but also for us. Because if we can concentrate on the needs and desires of others, it will have a beneficial effect on our own perceptions of this complicated season. 

May your Christmas be full of festive splendour, and may you share your joy with others.

 

Disagreeing with Socrates

 This week's quotation is by the Greek philosopher, Socrates. He wrote, "Leisure is the finest possession of all."

Admittedly, I don't know the context in which this was written, but as it stands, I couldn't disagree more. There are far more important things than leisure, in my opinion. Such as health, peace, love and friendship - the list goes on.

And I don't believe it is possible to "possess" leisure anyway... My Concise Oxford Dictionary defines leisure as, "(Opportunity to do, for, afforded by) free time, time at one's own disposal." And, we cannot "possess" time either - it passes by at a rate of sixty seconds a minute, sixty minutes an hour, twenty fours hours a day, no matter what we are doing. 

I guess that what he might have been talking about, is that "time at one's own disposal" is a fine possession. Leisure time allows us to engage in activites which feed our hearts and minds, which we would otherwise not have time for. And I certainly value my own leisure time, which is generally spent in a variety of ways: walking in nature, writing, reading, and crocheting. I can attempt to ring fence such time, so that my life is made richer. But I cannot possess it.

These days, it is only too easy to waste our precious leisure time, by scrolling idly on our phones, engaging with social media, or watching trashy television programmes. And I am as guilty of the latter as the next person. My saving grace is that I am usually crocheting at the same time. I do believe that leisure time, well spent, can enrich our lives.

What do you do, to make your leisure time rich and meaningful?

What Can We Rely On?

 The 16th century philosopher, Michel Eyquem de Montaigne, once wrote, "That which we can least rely on, is ourselves."

And my first reaction was, "that's a bit depressing." Because in this frenetic century, many people believe that the *only* thing they can rely on is themselves. Which is sad.

Then I thought again. Many thoughtful people have commented that this yearning for independence, this belief that the individual has to be front and centre, is the ego speaking, not the soul. I would rather say that because all of us are deeply interconnected, not only with each other, but also with all other living things, we must rely on those connections to live fruitful and fulfilling lives. 

Two of the Unitarian Universalist Association's Seven Principles find a balance between these two points of view. The First Principle reads: "We affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person."

While the Seventh Principle reads: "We affirm and promote the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part."

So yes, every person has inherent worth and dignity, and each has "that of God" in them. At the same time, no-one can only rely on themselves, so it is necessary to be aware of and to interact with the "interdependent web of all existence" so that we are in relationship, in community with the wider world. 

We can rely on ourselves, but we also need to rely on others...

Swings and Roundabouts

 The German Romantic poet, Karoline von Günderrode, once wrote, "In order to win something more surely, one must always give up something else."

And I have certainly found this to be true, in my own life. In fact, I would go so far as to say it is amost always true, for the vast majority of people. The phrase "No-one rides for free." did not come about by accident.  Life is a process of making choices and decisions, and there is usually a downside, a price, to any decision or choice we make. 

Let me give you a couple of examples: the price of nurturing my children through to adulthood, of giving them strong roots, inevitably led to them leaving home as fully-formed adults. I had to also give them wings to fly. The cost of a daily writing habit is the ability to ever lie in bed beyond six a.m. The things we have to give up in order to "win something more surely" may be minor and easily absorbed (like geting up an hour early, at least for me) or it may be major and life changing (having to let my children grow into their own people, no longer dependent on me).

The thing we have to give up may be something we never thought would change. I was a librarian for twenty-five mostly happy and fulfilling years, before I felt the call to ministry. I was happy in my final library job, working for Learning Resources for Education, Northamptonshire's Schools Library Service, and had to think long and hard about leaving. I still miss being in touch with the children's book publishing scene.

But, as I was on the cusp of beginning my ministry training, Rev Lindy Latham sent me some very wise advice, by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, which I have never forgotten; in fact, it made so much sense to me that it has been pinned to the notice board in my study ever since:

"You must give up everything in order to gain everything. What must you give up? All that is not truly you/ all that you have chosen without choosing and value without evaluating, accepting because of someone else's extrinsic judgement, rather than your own/ all your self-doubt that keeps you from trusting and loving yourself or other human beings. What will you gain? Only your own, true self; a self who is at peace, who is able to truly love and be loved, and who understands who and what [s]he is meant for. But you can be yourself only if you are no one else. You must give up 'their' approval, whoever they are, and look to yourself for evaluation of success and failure, in terms of your own level of aspiration that is consistent with your values. Nothing is simpler and nothing is more difficult." 

I have tried to live by it ever since. 

Memento Mori

Warning: may include distressing content. 

The Latin phrase, 'memento mori' means "remember that you have to die." I was reminded of it yesterday evening, when my husband and I were watching a programme presented by Alexander Armstrong, about his experiences of visiting South Korea.

(image: Wikimedia Commons)

Most of the programme was about the (to us) very weird and unusual popular culture in Seoul, but there was one segment, only a few minutes long, when he went out into the countryside to participate in a death meditation. Which was absolutely fascinating and very powerful. He was in this beautiful green space, with mature trees all around, to meditate on death. He obviously had no idea what was coming.

This is what I remember about it: at first, the meditation master talked about Armstrong's life - how would he feel if he knew it was coming to an end. Then he took him to a nearby space which had rows of open, empty coffins in it. They walked along one row, and came to one which had an A4 photo of Armstrong propped up in it.

And I saw Armstrong's face change. Suddenly, this was serious, important. The meditation master dressed him in a pale yellow garment to represent a shroud, and invited him to sit in the coffin. Then he asked him questions about his life - what he was proudest of, what he had achieved, did he have any regrets etc. I could tell Armstrong was finding it hard to think about this stuff, while sitting in a coffin with his own photo in it.

Then the meditation master told him to lie down in the coffin. And put the lid on top of him, then banged on it several times with a wooden mallet, as though he was nailing it down. This freaked both Maz and I out - we agreed that we could never have undergone it.

A short while later, the meditation master opened the lie and told Armstrong that he had been reborn, and asked what he would do with his new life. 

Armstrong's response was something like, "It's all about love." I don't think he will ever forget that experience. I'm sure I wouldn't. A real tipping point in his life - a call to action, to examine one's life *now* before it is too late.

It was such a powerful ritual.

Finite and Infinite

 Thomas Aquinas, the 13th century Dominican friar and theologian, one wrote, "Whatever a finite being conceives is finite."

And yes, I agree, up to a point. I think his point was that only God is infinite, so only God can create something infinite. But his word, "conceives" hints at something else. I Googled "conceive" and every dictionary definition I came across spoke about "forming a plan or idea or design in the mind." Which is the starting point for every human achievement, whether it is a painting, a sculpture, a piece of music, a book, or the beautiful ceiling in the picture above. They all begin with a plan or idea or design in the mind of a finite human being.

And yet I also believe that some things created by human hands, human hearts, human minds can, in one sense, be infinite. I'm talking about the effect they can have on others. When a beautiful object such as the ones I detailed above, is presented to a human being, it can have a catalytic effect on the viewer or listener or reader.

It can even become what the Buddhists call "a finger pointing at the moon", although Joan Chittister, in a fascinating blogpost, gives the Sufis the credit for this saying. She wrote, "The Sufi tell of disciples who, when the death of their master was clearly imminent, became totally bereft. 'If you leave us, Master,' they pleaded, 'how will we know what to do?' And the master replied, 'I am nothing but a finger pointing t the moon. Perhaps when I am gone you will see the moon.' The meaning is clear: it is God that religion must be about, not itself. When religion makes itself God, it ceases to be religion."

Nevertheless, I do believe that finite creations - which enter our minds and hearts directly through our senses, even religions, can play a role in our spiritual growth by helping us to sense the infinite presence of the Divine. But we have to remember that they are only fingers pointing at the moon, not the moon itself. The distinction is important, and absolute.

Creativity as Self Expression

 The wonderful artist, Vincent van Gogh, once wrote, "Express hope through a star, longing through a radiant sunset." Which I think is a brilliant summary of the ways in which creativity can help us to express ourselves and to maintain balance in our lives.

Until about fifteen years ago, I didn't consider myself to be a creative person. Sure, I enjoyed putting together my worship services, and stitched numerous cross-stitch projects, but I didn't consider these things to be creative - in fact, I referred to my cross-stitch projects as "paint by numbers with needle and thread."

Then a dear friend challenged me, when she was teaching me how to Zen doodle, and I said, "I'm sorry, I'm not a creative person." She pointed out quite firmly that being creative was the birthright of us all and that there were a myriad ways for this creativity to come out. I didn't have to be a brilliant artists

 to describe myself as creative. And this affirmation opened a door for me, for which I will be forever grateful.

I have recently been re-reading Elizabeth Gilbert's fabulous book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. She defines "creative living" as "living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear." She describes it as, "cooperating fully, humbly, and joyfully with inspiration." 

Doesn't that sound fun? We (and I mean every single person with a heartbeat) can learn to express our creativity in a multitude of ways, and hence living a fuller, more joyful life. Liz Gilbert has taught me that it doesn't matter whether we "succeed" in the world's terms; the thing which matters is that we choose to spend at least part of our time bringing something new and never before seen into the world. 

Since that day my friend challenged me, told me I absolutely *was* creative, I have spent much of my spare time writing and crocheting - my two favourite expressions of creativity. And doing either of them brings me so much happiness, so much fulfilment.

How do you live a creative life?

Rest - the Most Important Thing in Life

 Wikipedia describes the author of this week's quotation, Vita Sackville-West as, "an English author and garden designer... a successful novelist, poet and journalist, as well as a prolific letter writer and diarist." Which sounds like quite a busy life. I wonder whether that was why she wrote, "Rest is one of the most important things in life, but how few find it."

I also wonder whether it was her garden designing which enabled her to find true rest. It must have been a complete change from her normal occupations of writing and reading, occupying a quite different part of her heart and mind.

I also find rest and peace in the natural world. I am just home from a fabulous, but very intensive, Ministerial Fellowship conference about white supremacy and the need to practice anti-racism in our lives and in our congregations.  It was a joy to go for a long walk with some friends on the Wednesday afternoon; to enjoy the beautiful Peak District countryside; to simply be, rather than learning and thinking. (Even if we took a wrong turn on the way back from The Barrel and ended up returning to the Nightingale Centre via Foolow!). The views were fabulous and I came back feeling refreshed and reinvigorated.

I believe it is the stimulation we get in our lives that makes the rest so enjoyable. If we sat around doing nothing all day, that would be tedious in the extreme. But if our lives are generally busy, taking time out to truly rest can be so healing for the soul.

How do you find rest?

No Matter How Hard We Work...

 The Austrian philanthropist, Hermann Gmeiner, once wrote, "Everything great in the world only comes about because someone does more than they have to do."

And back in the day, I would have agreed with that wholeheartedly. But not any more... I believe that *many* great things do come about because someone walks the extra mile, puts in the work and makes them happen, but not all.

There are great things that happen which come about through grace, rather than by our own hard work. No matter how hard we try, we cannot make someone fall in love with us, for example. We can be as persuasive as we like, but we cannot change someone's mind, if they have decided to close it against us. However well we plan, something random may happen, which causes our lives to go in a different direction.

I think there is another element at work here, which some of us may call luck or serendipity, but which Christians call grace. I have blogged about my beliefs about the workings of grace in the world here. And whether you call it 'fate', 'karma', 'destiny' 'luck' or 'grace', I believe there is a random force at work in the world, which means that we cannot plan for greatness. 

Which is not to say that we shouldn't do our best to make great things happen, but that there has to be that extra element present to make it so.

Enjoy Life!

 First century Roman philosopher and statesman, Seneca, urges us to "enjoy life! It flees at a rapid pace."

Which is something I have always striven to do. In fact, I have sometimes been accused of being naive, idealistic and teethgrindingly positive, by less optimistic friends. But I would far rather try to see the good in any situation, then to drown in the bad. I consciously try to live in the present moment, neither regretting the past, nor worrying about the future. Well, I try...!

You might say, "That's easy for you to say - you have never known real sorrow, genuine suffering and misery." And it's true, to a certain extent - my life has been incredibly blessed, on the whole. I have a loving husband, two wonderful grown up children, and some very dear friends.

Nevertheless, I am 62. I have not got to this point in my life without being acquainted with sorrow, suffering and misery. I have lost people who were dear to me. I have suffered physical pain. But I have also been blessed with a natural "glass half-full" temperament and have never suffered from either anxiety and depression. Both of which (I know, from sitting with friends who suffer from these) are debilitating and all-consuming.

So I also strive to be compassionate towards those who are suffering, who are miserable, who are anxious, who cannot see the end of the tunnel. Karen Armstrong writes that true compassion is about dethroning the ego and genuinely trying to put ourselves in the other person's place, meeting them where they are, without trying to "make it all better". It's about deep listening, without our own agenda. And it's about doing whatever we can. 

And not being offensively bouncy and upbeat, trying to "cheer people up." Not being Tigger to their Eeyore. Because when someone is suffering, miserable, grieving, ill, the last thing they want is to be slapped on the back and told that it will all be over soon, and to get over it. That is an incredibly unhelpful, offensive (if wellmeaning) way to behave.

(image: Disney, nsc blog)

And so I try to remember Pema Chodron's words, which Brene Brown often quotes, "Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It is a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well enough can we be present with the darkness of others." Without trying to flip on the light, make it all better.

What is Leisure?

 The 20th century German writer, Otto Flake, once wrote, "We should learn again to turn free time into leisure." And the German/English translator on Google wanted to make "Freizeit" (free time) and Musse (leisure) synonyms.

So what is the difference? I would define "free time" as a period in which we can choose what we want to do. But when I think of "leisure", I think of something more purposeful. We may spend our free time, doing nothing in particular - blobbing in front of the telly, mindlessly browsing our phones. Or simply resting. 

I Googled "leisure" and, in the way Google has, it gave me alternative searches to follow, including "leisure as a psychological condition". Which sounded interesting, so I clicked on it. And found this wonderful definition (anonymous), which sharply delineates the difference between free time and leisure: "Leisure defined as a psychological condition means an opportunity for achieving fulfilment in life... Maintains that if work is enjoyable, leisure will become an extension of it."

And I realised that I love (and live by) leisure as "an opportunity for achieving fulfilment in life". Most of my free time is spent either writing or crocheting, which some would call hard work, but which I find fulfiling. I actively dislike sitting around doing nothing. Even when I watch TV, I am crocheting, more often than not. And often have the TV or the radio on in the background while I crochet, to occupy that part of my mind not filled with the work in my hands.

And I see writing as a huge opportunity for achieving fulfilment. When I tell people that I get up at six each morning, so that I have time to write for an hour before I start work, they look at me as though I am mad. But I really enjoy writing, and agree with Liz Gilbert that the definition of the writer as a suffering artist is a toxic one. Writing is fun for me! Yes, it is hard work too, but I absolutely love it.

What do you do for leisure?

The Mystery that is Humankind

 The 18th century German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, once wrote, "The depths of the human heart are unfathomable."

And that is so true. However well we know someone (or believe we know someone), we cannot *know* for certain what is in their mind, let alone in their heart. 

In the coursebook for the Great Course, Writing Great Fiction, Storytelling Tips and Techniques, Professor James Hynes comments that real people are much more complex than the most complicated fictional character. Because authors can choose to take us inside the heads of their characters. Which is not an option for real people. He writes, "We know the people in our lives by what they look like, what they say, what they do, and what other people tell us about them... Consider the fleeting and digressive nature of your own inner life. Then, consider how impossible it would be to express that inner life to another person. Remember, too, that every other person in the world is experiencing the same kind of inner life, all the time. You quickly realize that each of us is alone in the universe inside our heads, surrounded by many other universes with which we can communicate only indirectly."

"Each of us is alone in the universe inside our heads." That is quite a sobering thought. Aside from the few people who have the power of telepathy, it is not possible for the vast majority of us to know what another person is thinking, let alone what they are feeling.

But, by using our powers of empathy and compassion, by truly listening to the other person, by observing their body language (that great non-verbal aspect of communication), we can make an educated guess. It is up to us to do this hard work, to not judge others purely by "what they look like, what they say, what they do, and what other people tell us about them." Because this will inevitably be a superficial judgement. It is only when we listen to others with compassion in our hearts, that we might begin to fathom the mystery that is at the heart of every other person in the world.

Height Wants To Be Climbed

 This week's quotation, by the early 20th century German writer and poet, Paul Richard Luck, reads,  "Height cannot be given, but it wants to be climbed."

"Height... wants to be climbed." I guess he means that we often view an upward path as a challenge, and that we will only be able to see what is at the top, once we have made the effort of climbing it. Nothing comes for free - "height cannot be given". 

Except when it can... I can still remember my huge sense of indignation as a child, when we had climbed Mount Snowdon in North Wales, and found the summit buzzing with tourists who had caught the train up from Llanberis, four and a half snaking miles below. I felt they had cheated, by not climbing the mountain as we had done.

But generally, we cannot attain the heights without doing some hard work to get there. As Luck said, "height cannot be given." And this is true of any field of human endeavour, much though we might wish it were otherwise. For example, I would love to be able to play the piano as well as a concert pianist, but I know that this will never happen without daily hours of practice over a long period of time. And it's not a sufficiently high priority for me, so I don't have the motivation to put in the necessary work.

Writing, on the other hand, is a priority, and I practice my craft for at least an hour each day (this is fiction / creative non-fiction writing rather than the writing I do as part of my role as a Unitarian minister). And because I have put in the time and effort, my writing is beginning to improve. Like most writers, I will never be completely satisfied with it, because it's always possible to do better. Sometimes, I read the words of others - writers I admire, such as George Eliot, Joseph Conrad, J.R.R. Tolkien and Terry Pratchett - and just sigh quietly to myself. Because I will probably never write as well as they do. But by constant pracice, I can get better, can learn to find my own voice.

I believe there is something in every human being, which impels us towards the heights. Which fills us with motivation and enthusiasm for our chosen vocation (whatever that is), so that we don't mind putting the work in, so long as it gets us a little closer to those seemingly unattainable heights. Which makes us strive to do the best we can, each day.

And I don't think it is ambition, although that is part of it. I think it is something purer, something more selfless, something we experience through grace. If attaining our own personal "height" is sufficiently important to us, we will carry on plodding upwards, one step at a time, because it is natural to follow the best we know, to do our best to reach the elusive heights.

Planted Towns

 My dear husband and I are on holiday in the Cotswolds this week. On our first day, we visited Northleach, a charming little town with a beautiful church. And discovered that it is one of several 'planted towns' in the Cotswolds - others including Chipping Campden, Moreton in Marsh, Stow on the Wold, Burford, Wooton Under Edge and Chipping Sodbury. 

According to the helpful leaflet we picked up, from which the map above is taken, "hundreds of such market towns were 'planted' in England and Wales following the Norman conquest in 1066, producing a network allowing people to journey to and from market in a single day."

Who knew that town planning and the concept of 'new towns' went back that far? I certainly didn't. There was a fascinating display explaining the features of planted towns inside Northleach's magnificent church, St Peter and St Paul, which is one of the Cotswold "wool churches" built by wealthy wool merchants. We have visited several examples this week.

Perhaps most people know about this phenomenon, and it was merely my ignorance that I did not. But my husband, who has a town planning degree, hadn't either.

The quotation from Ecclesiastes that keeps running through my head is, "There is nothing new under the sun." So the much vaunted 'new towns' post war, such as Harlow and Basildon and Milton Keynes, are only a reinvention of a much older planning solution - the planted town. And both planted towns and new towns have been successful because they were situated wisely, where they would be of benefit to their inhabitants - the planted towns to enable easier journeys to market from the surrounding countryside, the new towns to house the burgeoning populations of our 20th and 21st century cities.

And I know that some Christian denominations plant ministries to bring their particular brand of Christianity to new places. Perhaps Unitarians might do the same? I know of a couple of examples...

A Time of Change and Grief

 As regular followers of this blog will know, it is my habit to base it around a quotation from the Harenberg Kalender, which I buy at the beginning of each year. This week's quotation is so apposite for the events of yesterday, it gave me goosebumps. Albert Schweitzer wrote, "Power makes no noise. It is there and works"

It is the end of an era. The Queen died yesterday afternoon, after more than seventy years on the throne. She was a power that was there and worked. As several BBC commentators pointed out last night, she was the one fixed and stable point in a rapidly changing world, and her passing is going to be unsettling at best.

I am not, and never have been, an ardent monarchist, but I have always respected the Queen. I cannot help admiring her long and unwavering commitment to her royal role, right to the end - two days before she passed, she received both Boris Johnson and Liz Truss at Balmoral, to mark the change of Prime Minister, spending about 30 minutes with each. Her high sense of duty was admirable.

Only people over the age of 75 will have any real memory of life before she came to the throne in 1952. Although my best friend, who is 71, remembers the pomp and ceremony of the coronation in 1953. It is the end of an era indeed.

Prime ministers come and go, as do governments, but the Queen was a constant, stabilising presence above the political fray. She was a superb stateswoman and ambassador for this country, which may be judged by the generous, heartfelt tributes which have been pouring in from all over the world. I was never fortunate enough to meet her in person, but I have met Princess Anne, who shares her mother's dedicated work ethic and her ability to pay attention to others, wherever she is.

And the Queen was much loved by her people. I am glad she was able to experience the Platinum Jubilee, so that she could see for herself the affection which the people of this country have for her. But we cannot wish her back. I am glad for her - I think the heart went out of her when Prince Philip died - but sad for us. She is now at peace and with him.

I hope in the days and weeks to come, when they will be so much in the public spotlight, that the royal family (to whom she was not only Queen, but also mother, grandmother, great grandmother, aunt and cousin) will be given time and space to grieve in private.

As for the rest of us, the sense of loss is real. I wish King Charles all the very best, as he steps into the role of monarch. He has a good role model to follow.

Spirit of Life and Love,

In this time of loss and sadness

we come together as a community

to mark the end of the days of Queen Elizabeth II:

to honour and celebrate her life,

to mourn her passing,

to hold her loved ones in their grief,

and to find strength from one another

for the days ahead,

in which she will no longer be present.

May our Unitarian community help us

to accept the mystery of life and death,

and to go forth into the future

consoled and strengthened.

Amen

Awareness of Beauty

 The Ancient Greek dramatist, Menander, once wrote, "The best thing in life is having an understanding for everything beautiful."

This applies whether it is beautiful art, like the mandala pictured above, natural beauty, human beauty or abstract beauty (such as the beauty we recognise in well-crafted words or music). And to recognise that, for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, beauty is all around us. We can also use our other senses, touch, smell and taste, to perceive the beauty all around us.

Which can be hard, sometimes. If we are sad, lonely, grieving, or sick in body or mind, it can be difficult to open our senses to the beauty all around us, because we are consumed by negative emotions. and feelings and have no room for anything else.

But I do believe in the healing power of beauty. If we can only open our senses to its multifarious presence in the world, it can help us to realign our souls. Earlier this year, I wrote a blogpost about the ways in which we can appreciate beauty, here. And I stand by what I said then - that there always is beauty, but that we have to be awake and attentive to see it all around us.

Where have you found beauty, recently?

Look, But Do Not Judge

 The fourth century theologian and philosopher, Augustine of Hippo once wrote, "The gaze of the eyes can only reproduce what it sees, but by no means judge."

I'm not entirely sure what he meant by it... the use of the word 'can' rather than 'should', renders his meaning a little opaque, or at least to me. Because in my experience, most of us constantly make judgements about what we see. Even when it would be wiser to discover more before passing judgement.

I can remember a television advert for The Guardian, many years ago, which made a deep impression on me. First the viewer sees a picture of a little old lady walking down a city street. Then the camera cuts to a young man running along the same street. And the mind instantly jumps to the conclusion that the young man is up to no good - perhaps he is planning to attack the old lady... Then we see him jump at her, grabbing her. An instant later, the viewer realises that the young man has saved her from serious injury, if not death, as a piece of falling masonry lands where she was standing.

The moral of the "story" was that we should not judge by appearances, but investigate what is happening more carefully, by reading The Guardian. And I have never forgotten it. I cannot remember what the slogan was, but I do remember the feeling of revelation - that we should never judge on first sight.

Perhaps we need to bring all of ourselves to the matter of judgement - not only our physical senses, but also our intuition, our intellect and our compassion. So that we do not judge by appearance only.

Symbols of the Eternal

 Gertrude von le Fort was a German novelist, poet and essayist, who wrote, "Nothing earthly is eternal, but everything earthly can become a symbol of the eternal."

And she is absolutely right. I have written before about my belief that it is the presence of the Spirit - that of God within us, which enables us to be aware of the glories around us which enables us to see the eternal in earthly things. 

But we also need to be aware of that little word "symbol". Any earthly object which inspires us to discern the eternal is always and only a symbol, not the eternal itself. Which applies not only to nature, but also to people. As the Buddha advised, "I am a finger pointing to the moon. Don't look at me; look at the moon."

Which is not to say that God / the Spirit / the Divine is not present, immanent in the world. Because I do believe that too. I believe that the entire world is sacramental and wrote about this in March 2020, here. So yes, "everything earthly can become a symbol of the eternal". But it is not the eternal itself.

We are so blessed to be able to perceive the eternal in earthly things. Let us strive to be awake and aware of its presence, as often as we can.

What's So Wonderful About That?

 This week's quotation, by François Mauriac, the 20th century novelist, dramatist, critic, poet and journalist, reads, "Man quickly becomes accustomed to the miracles he performs himself."

And I'm afraid he's right. We are surrounded by miracles which we do not recognise as such, because they are part of our daily lives. I'm writing this blogpost now on my laptop, and took the photo above on my iPhone and sent it to myself by e-mail, downloaded it to my laptop, then uploaded it to this post. Which took less time than the words have taken to type. 

But I can remember the days (not so very long ago) when it was unusual to have a computer in the home and mobile phones did not exist. And in the earliest days of the internet, the only way of connecting with it was dial up - who remembers the gloingle gloingle noise it used to make? - and each page loaded with glacial slowness. The possibility of instant connection to the wider world around me still fills me with wonder. Or, it does when I remember to think about it.

It is so easy to be come blasé about the everyday miracles of our lives, to take them completely for granted. It takes more effort to be sufficiently awake and aware to say "Wow!" occasionally, when something goes right without effort. To remember when the accomplishment of this everyday miracle would have been incredibly difficult, if not impossible, because no-one had invented the technology yet.

I make no apology for repeating once mre the beautiful prayer quoted by Rachel Naomi Remen in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings, as it is a wonderful antidote to this sort of cynical, blasé, seen-it-all-before mindset:

"Days pass and the years vanish

and we walk sightless among miracles.

Lord, fill our eyes with seeing

and our minds with knowing.

Let there be moments when your Presence,

like lightning, illuminates

the darkness in which we walk.

Help us to see, wherever we gaze,

that the bush burns, unconsumed.

And we, clay touched by God,

will reach out for holiness and

exclaim in wonder,

"How filled with awe is this place

and we did not know it."

"Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns, unconsumed." Yes, amen, amen.

The Sameness of Sky

 I love this week's quotation, by the American writer and aviator, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, "The sky is the same all over the world, no matter how the world changes."

The truth of this came home to me the first time when I was flying out to Boston Airport, in preparation for spending a magical week on Star Island. As we took off from Heathrow, the sky was overcast. But once we broke through the cloud cover, it was all blue sky and fluffy white clouds - beautiful. I blogged about it here. And I will always remember flying in over Boston Harbour at sunset - the beauty of it took my breath away.

Her words are also true for our spiritual lives - on the mundane level of our everydays, the weather may be changeable, like the world that surrounds us. One day, all may be light and bright and wonderful, the next all gloom, doom, and despondency. At such times, I find it helpful to remember that God is the unchanging power of Love at the centre of everything, unaffected by the ups and downs of my life.

I've also learned that each of us has a deepest part, that is forever innocent, forever unwounded, not affected by our life experiences. The Quakers call it "that of God in everyone". If we can somehow connect with this deepest part of ourselves, it can give us some valuable perspective as we slog through the changing landscapes of our lives.

Every time I see a gap in the clouds, I am reminded of this truth, which helps to ground and centre me as I walk through the story of my days.

The Ideal Day

 The first century BCE Roman poet, Horace, once wrote, "The ideal day will never come. It is today, if we make it so."

Which made me think about what my own ideal day might look like. I would wake up early, naturally,  not through an alarm. The weather would be warm and sunny - ideal for taking a walk in Salcey Forest. So I would do my morning sit and then head out into the Forest's natural beauty. 

Refreshed, I would come back and write my Morning Pages before settling down to do some writing. And because it is my ideal day, the words would come easily and I would complete the latest scene for my novel, full of vivid colour and detail.

Then I would go back downstairs and do whatever work needed doing, being fully present to the needs of the day, after which I would be free to spend time on my latest crochet project. At the moment, I'm working on a throw for a friend, and am getting close to finishing it.

During the day, I would hear that the Russians have withdrawn from the Ukraine and that the United Nations has launched two initiatives, one to end world poverty and the other to combat climate change and that all the countries of the world had signed up to both. (well, I can dream...)

In the evening, pleasantly tired, I would sit with my husband in the lounge, watching a programme we both enjoy, with the cat purring on my lap. Then I would have a nice warm bath, before going to bed with a good book. 

I count myself blessed that this ideal day is often a truth, rather than an ideal. What does your ideal day look like?

Spoiled by Abundance

 This week's quotation, by German-language writer, Elias Canetti, has me puzzled: "You cannot live in a really beautiful city in the long run - it drives out all longing."

Does it? Really? It sounds as though he is saying people become jaded and cynical if they are surrounded by too much beauty, and begin to take it for granted. But I don't agree. It is true that close familarity can stale the sense of wonder, but only if we let it.

I believe it is always possible to recapture our sense of wonder, through sacred living - by weaving moments of attention into our days. We've lived near Northampton for the last thirty plus years, but I still sometimes look up beyond the banal shop fronts and admire the architecture of the buildings. I can think of four, both ancient and modern, straight away. First, the glorious Charles Rennie Mackintosh building that is 78, Derngate; I couldn't find a licensable photo on Google, but it is a spectacular example of Mackintosh's attention to detail. 

Second, the Victorian gothic splendour of the Guildhall, 

(photo: Wikimedia Commons)

Third, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre on Sheep Street, which is a Norman round church (again I couldn't find an image), and the pointing finger of the National Lifts Tower (better known to locals as the Northampton Lighthouse) which is visible for miles around in all directions, the sight of which means that they are nearly home to generations of Northamptonians.

(photo: Wikimedia Commons)

And that is only the ones I thought of straight away. So no, Mr Canetti, I do not believe that familiarity stales our sense of wonder and longing, unless we wander around in a state of distraction, our eyes looking downwards to our mobile phones and forget to look up and see the beauty all around us.

The Nature of Chance

 The French poet and novelist, Anatole France, once wrote, "Chance is God's alias when He doesn't want to reveal Himself."

Hmm. I'm not so sure about that. By which I mean, I'm not convinced that God directly intervenes in the affairs of our world. I know that many Christians believe this, but I wouldn't put it quite so precisely, quite so unequivocally. I would rather say, there are moments of grace in our lives, when God gives us a nudge. I have blogged about what I mean by grace here. 

I believe that God does occasionally give us nudges, by heightening our awareness of a situation, of a particular moment in time, so that we can decide what to do, in which direction to head, how to respond. But it is our choice, our God-given free will, that makes the decision. I don't believe that God would ever take that away from us, by direct intervention.

I also believe that it is up to us to be sufficiently awake to be aware of these moments of grace in our lives, so that we seize the chance that is in front of us and make the best of it, for ourselves and others. This we can do through what I call sacred living, weaving moments of attention into our lives, and noticing the miracles, wonders, and moments of serendipitous grace that surround us.

Appreciating Beauty

 Like many of us, I enjoy visiting new places and exploring them. In the last month or so, I have enjoyed visiting both Pembrokeshire and mid-Wales and glorying in the beautiful landscapes. So Ralph Waldo Emerson's words resonate with me: "We enjoy travelling the world to find beauty, but we have to carry it within us, otherwise we won't find it."

There are two ways of walking in the world: blindly or attentively. Sometimes, we turn into "walking heads", so full of our thoughts that we simply do not see the beauty around us. And that is such a waste... I have sometimes "woken up" part way through a walk round our village or in the Forest, and have realised that I was thinking about something completely different, and had not been present at all to the beauty around me.

And there always is beauty, even in city streets. In fact, I find it astonishing, on the rare occasions when I visit cities these days, the amount of green that is there. And of course, there is also beauty in man-made objects like buildings and statues, and street art... even advertisement hoardings can be beautiful. As are people.

But we have to be awake to it, have to be attentive to it. We have to "carry it within us", as Emerson says. Otherwise, we will not find it.

Last year, I wrote a blogpost about miracles here. And I wrote, "Our world is full of miracles, if we have eyes to see." Which is exactly what Emerson is talking about, but about beauty, rather than miracles. And I finished the post with a marvellous prayer which Rachel Naomi Remen shared in her wonderful book, My Grandfather's Blessings. I would like to repeat it here, as it is as true about beauty as it is about miracles. Because beauty is a miracle...

"Days pass and the years vanish

and we walk sightless among miracles.

Lord, fill our eyes with seeing

and our minds with knowing.

Let there be moments when your Presence,

like lightning, illuminates

the darkness in which we walk.

Help us to see, wherever we gaze,

that the bush burns, unconsumed.

And we, clay touched by God,

will reach out for holiness and

exclaim in wonder,

'How filled with awe is this place

and we did not know it.'"

May we all have the sight to perceive the everyday miracles in our lives and the beauty all around us. Amen

Passion + Discipline = Bliss

 I found this week's quotation, from Yehudi Menuhin, one of the greatest violinists of the last century, fascinating. as it could be read in two different ways. It says, "Bliss is above all moderation."

And I realised that this could be taken in two ways:

        1 [Bliss is above] [all moderation]

        2 [Bliss is] [above all] [moderation].

Which mean very different things. Did he mean that bliss is the most important thing and that it trumps moderation in every case? Or did he mean that bliss is all about moderation? And what does moderation mean, anyway? I checked the word on the wonderful website Power Thesaurus, and was presented with alternatives which included "restraint", "control" and "prudence". 

So I googled 'Yehudi Menuhin quotes' to see what else he had written, and found that he seems to be advocating both bliss and moderation. In one quote, he wrote, "Music creates order out of chaos: for rhythm imposes unanimity upon the divergent, melody imposes continuity upon the disjointed, and harmony imposes compatibility upon the incongruous." Which seems to suggest that he values the disciplinary aspects of music - how it enables unanimity, continuity and compatibility - balance. He also asked, "Do we not find freedom along the guiding lines of discpline?"

He was clear that if he wanted to play well, he would need to work hard. He wrote, "To be an outstanding musician, you have to be very attentive to the smallest detail, and willing to have infinite patience in the pursuit of your ideal. You require absolute control and professionalism."

 

On the other hand, he also wrote, "Improvisation is the expression of the accumulated yearnings, dreams, and wisdom of the soul." And said that "the violinist is that peculiarly human phenomenon distilled to a rare potency - half-tiger, half-poet." He saw music as "a path between ourselves and the infinite."

So I come to the conclusion that Menuhin believed that it is necessary to combine your passion for your craft (whatever that is) with the discipline to practice it regularly, so that you will be able to achieve greeat things. It is when you combine the passion and the discipline that the bliss results.

I recognise the truth of this from my own discipline as a writer. I love writing and know that if I want to become the best writer I can be, I need to sit down every day and write something. And that when I do, the result will sometimes be blissful. And that is worth all the times of frustration and struggle which are a concomitant part of the writer's life.