Harmony, Love and Happiness

The final quote for 2023 is by the 17th century German poet and dramatist, Andreas Gryphius, who wrote, "Where harmony, love and happiness and firmly combined, there is blessing and pleasure."

And that has been my experience, these past few days. My son and his partner and my two grandsons, plus my daughter and her partner have all been here, and blessing and pleasure definitely happened. Yesterday, my son sent some gorgeous photos of everyone enjoying themselves, opening presents and playing.

I know how very blessed I am, and that this blessedness will not have been experienced by many people this Christmas. Which makes it so important that we remember the words of Howard Thurman, who wrote, 

"When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among brothers,

To make music in the heart."

May we all do our utmost to do this in the year to come, remembering that each small good deed has the potential to make a huge difference in the lives of others.

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Putting the Cheerful and Luminous in the Foreground

Plutarch, the Ancient Greek philosopher and priest, once wrote, "In the soul, as in a painting, one must put the cheerful and luminous in the foreground."

At this time of year, the days are short and the nights are long;  indeed last night was the Winter Solstice - Merry Yule to all those readers who celebrate it. So it is good to have lights of many kinds around us, whether in the form of candles, fire light or many coloured Christmas lights in our towns and cities and on our Christmas trees. As in the beautiful Advent crown in the picture above.

Of course for Christians, Advent is a period of waiting for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, whom they believe is the Light of the World. I find it interesting, how many festivals at this time of year are about light: Hanukkah and Diwali as well as Advent and Christmas.

I love to watch the twinkling lights on my Christmas tree; they never fail to uplift my spirits, being a true reminder of the "cheerful and luminous" that Plutarch talks about. And in our Unitarian churches, chapels and meeting houses, many congregations will be participating in a special Christmas service this coming Sunday, Christmas Eve. One of our most important symbols is the chalice candle, which I have always seen as symbolising the warmth of community, the light of insight, and the heat of our ethics and values.

Even if you are not particularly looking forward to Christmas this year - whether you are grieving, or depressed, or anxious, or lonely - I hope that somewhere, at some time, Christmas lights will lift your spirits too, at least for a little while.

I wish you all a light-filled Christmas and a cheerful and luminous New Year.

The Difference a Week Makes

When I wrote last week's blogpost, I was still feeling fairly fragile, it being only a couple of days since my foot surgery. But now, only seven days later, I have little or no pain, have become a dab hand with my crutches and am feeling quite chipper. Admittedly, I am still confined to my chair except for the hourly, obligatory hurple around the downstairs rooms to keep my muscles toned and the danger of a blood clot minimised, but I'm fine. Really fine. In fact, I'm revelling in the chance to spend my days writing and crocheting without guilt, as the District has generously granted me a period of sick leave. 

So this week's quotation, by the 19th century humorist and author, Prentice Mulford, really struck home. He wrote, "When you think bright things, you attract bright things to you." And I'm sure this is true. I believe that it is because I have freely accepted the restrictions of this post-operative period, rather than grousing about and resenting them, that I've healed so well, so far.

Because I can remember a time when it was far otherwise. My son was born via an emergency caesarean section, and I was desperately upset that I had "missed" his birth through being under a general anaesthetic. Looking back, I am sure that is why I had so much trouble with my section scar, which remained painful for nearly three years. At the time, I used to joke that the hospital porter had stitched me up, but actually, I now believe that I stitched myself up. I was so down on myself and my body, it is not surprising she took so long to heal.

I honestly think that our minds have a huge (if often sub-conscious) influence on our bodies.  And that it is up to us to live in harmony with all the different parts which make us human - our bodies, our minds and our spirits (souls). Living in a way which the American sociologist Brené Brown calls "wholeheartedly" can only be good for us. Or so I have found.

Nature Works Wonders

When I read the text of this week's quotation by the French mountaineer, Jean-Christophe Lafaille, my first reaction was, 'Well, it seems that God has a sense of humour.' It read, "Nature works wonders, it's up to me to enjoy it."

Because the closest I'm going to get to nature (or at least, to the natural world outside) in the next few weeks is looking at it through the large picture window in the lounge. Which does, admittedly, give me a wonderful view of the back garden. I am confined to barracks following an operation on my left foot, which is now the size of Minnie Mouse's, due to all the dressings on it, and am under strict instructions from the surgeon to stay inside for the first four weeks and only walk for five minutes in each hour.

Yet I quickly realised that there was another, far more positive way of interpreting Lafaille's words, "Nature works wonders." It's only the third day since the operation and I can already tell that my brilliant, complex body is doing her level best to heal, all completely without my volition. It is the nature of our bodies to repair themselves when they have been wounded or injured. And I am in awe of my body's ability to adapt to her new circumstances.

And in awe of my mind, which has also adapted very swiftly to my presently limited mobility. I have (with my husband's help, for which I am truly grateful) all the "necessaries" around me, within easy reach as I sit in my reclining chair, my foot supported by pillows. My laptop and journals, Kindle and phone, are on the piano stool to the right of my chair, which is now an impromptu 'bedside table'; and my crutches and crochet and drink are to my left, within easy reach. And the TV remotes are on the arm of my chair. I had the foresight to buy myself a cheap plastic laptray beforehand, on which the laptop balances well. So hopefully, I won't have to bother him too much during the day, except for meals.

I am also exceedingly grateful for the love and good wishes of many friends, and my immediate family, who have all rung in the last couple of days to check how I'm feeling. My son brought his partner and my very new grandson round for a brief visit on Wednesday and it was gorgeous to see them. And a dear friend from the village is kindly keeping me company this evening, as well as yesterday evening and all day Saturday, as this is the week of the village panto and my husband is not only directing it, but is also Group Eight's sound engineer. 

I feel incredibly blessed and hopeful about a good recovery, a couple of months down the road. I am sure that nature will indeed work wonders.

The Meeting Place of Fantasy and Reality

 I'm not sure I agree with the 20th century German psychologist, Alexander Mitscherlich, who once wrote, "Happiness is the meeting place of fantasy and reality."

I'm writing this blogpost at the beginning of the season of Advent, which is generally viewed as a season of anticipating the joy of Jesus' birth, or looking forward to spending time with our loved ones. Yet for many people, the Christmas season is not one of joy, of hope - it is rather a time of worry about the expense and how to manage the expectations of others, or a time of loneliness, of feeling left out, when everyone else (apparently, if all the adverts on the TV are to be believed) is having a wonderful time. Or a time of grief, as someone they care about is ill, or as they prepare to spend their first Christmas without a much-missed loved one. Christmas, and the build-up to it, can be really hard for many of us.

I think Mitscherlich is talking about the happiness which occurs when our dreams (our fantasies, if you like) come true. But I believe there is a lot more to true happiness than that. In my view, happiness is not only re-active (by which I mean, it rises in us in response to events outside ourselves). It can also be pro-active; an "inside job", if I can put it that way. Because I believe that the only thing over which we genuinely have control is our own response to the events which happen to us, to the waiting time, the anticipation time, the time of fantasies. To that extent, we can control our own level of happiness, but in no other way.

I have shared before, and will doubtless say again, my belief that "now" - the present moment - is the only time that has any significance whatsoever. The past is over, and cannot be changed, and dwelling on it, either with nostalgia or regret, is a waste of time and emotion. And the future is something which is rushing towards us at a rate of 60 seconds a minute, 60 minutes an hour and 24 hours a day, whether we are looking forward to it, or worrying about it. I do concede that it is important to do at least some planning for future events, but not to the extent that we spend all our time longing for some mythical future time (in fantasies), when everything will be wonderful and we will have all that our hearts desire. Or conversely, worrying about some other mythical future time, when we have lost all that gives our lives savour.

No, it is Now that matters. It is the present that we should be concerned with. Only the present moment is sacred, and whether we are in grief or in joy or in gratitude or in despair, we need to pay attention. Which can be hard, if the present moment is a difficult one. But I find comfort in the belief which C.S. Lewis explains in The Screwtape Letters, that we will be given the inner strength to deal with whatever joy or sorrow comes our way, in the present. But not the strength to cope with worrying about possible future alternatives, most of which will probably not happen.

So as we enter this season of Advent, may we remember that happiness is an inside job, that it is within our power to experience our lives moment by moment. I love the lines in Rumi's famous poem, The Guesthouse: "Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all."

I believe that this is the route to true happiness - the ability to appreciate what we have today, now, this minutes. For very little lasts forever. And we need to also accept that most events will happen anyway, whether or not we anticipate them with joy, wait for them with impatience, or actively dread their arrival. Truly, happiness is an inside job.