All of Us Are Responsible

It is General Election week. Next Thursday, the population of the United Kingdom will be voting in its next government. 

I believe very strongly that we have a moral responsibility to stand up and be counted. The system of democracy which we have in this country may not be the best, the most effective, but it is what we have, and the right of everyone over the age of 18 to cast their vote is a precious one, which has only been in place in comparatively recent times. I did a bit of digging, and discovered that it was only in 1918, with the passing of the Representation of the People Act, that all men over the age of 21 and all women over the age of 30, were given the right to vote. That playing field was only levelled ten years later, in 1928. So, less than one hundred years ago.

And yet, the voter turn-out in the 2019 General Election was only 67.3%... in other words, nearly one-third of the UK’s eligible voters decided not to bother. I find this baffling – why wouldn’t you? Even if you have little (or no) faith that your vote will make a difference (for example, if you live in a “safe seat” constituency long held by the party you disagree with); if you are disillusioned with the current system (and honestly, why wouldn’t you be?); or if you genuinely can’t make up your mind between rival candidates; you should Still Vote. Even if you choose to spoil your paper, as my father did once, scrawling “A plague on both your houses” across it, you are still exercising your democratic right to vote and that vote will still be counted.

Voting is about caring what happens in our society. We may “vote with our feet”, as the popular saying goes, by choosing any number of ways to make our opinions known. As Unitarian minister Cliff Reed once wrote, “This means, for some, active involvement in campaigns, marches, and demonstrations. It may mean lobbying politicians and making legislators aware of Unitarian concerns in particular areas of policy. It means using one’s democratic rights responsibly and purposefully for the common good. It means focusing on political and social issues in worship in order to explore their spiritual implications.”

What I’m saying is, that as conscious human beings, we are in a unique position to influence the world around us. In fact, we have a responsibility to do so – to strive to make a positive difference, so that we leave our society, our planet, in a better state than we found them. What we do, or don’t do, matters, at a fundamental level. It is in our power as human beings to answer the prayers of the struggling and grieving world – to feed the hungry, heal the sick, look after the marginalised, strike against oppression, care for our planet. Or not.

 We Are Responsible.

And even if the vote on Thursday doesn’t go the way we hope, we are *still* responsible. It is no good if we simply shrug our shoulders at a policy we don’t agree with, saying “Well, I didn’t vote for them.” I believe that as responsible human beings, who care about the future of the Earth and its myriad inhabitants, we need to stand up and be counted. We need to be active, not passive. And I believe that is a spiritual position, as well as a political one.

We are all responsible for making up our own minds about the social and ethical issues of the day. And the tools we have to do this are our hearts, our minds, and our souls. We may discuss our decisions with others, but ultimately, only we can decide, as individuals.

May we at least decide to exercise our democratic rights, and vote on Thursday. Because each of us is responsible for the outcome, one way or another. 

 

At Midsummer

I love this time of year - the long days, the blue skies, the sunny weather. (Apologies to any readers who are suffering under less clement circumstances!). Today is Midsummer Day, and the photo below is of St John's Wort in a neighbour's garden, a true representative of the season.

Perhaps it is difficult for us to truly understand how important this time of year was to our ancient ancestors, living as we do in a world in which (if we have the money) we can buy any vegetable, any fruit throughout the year. As Unitarian author Cliff Reed, wrote, “We live too far apart from the turning seasons, / the earth’s rhythm and nature’s lessons. / We forget our dependence on the plenty / that we take for granted – few of us plant the seeds, / watch growth and ripening, reap the harvest.” 

But in those times, the ancients celebrated the time of the triumph of the light with great bonfires, when the whole community would gather on the hilltops to celebrate life through feasting, dance, ritual and song, rejoicing in the sun at the height of its power. And perhaps also to pray that it would not decline too soon, because a poor summer meant a poor harvest, which in turn could lead to starvation in the long cold winter months. And yet, the urge to celebrate the middle of summer still lingers. 

When I was a small child at primary school, we learned that beautiful Middle English round, Sumer is icumen in. Walking through the woods this morning, I found myself singing the first few lines: 

“Sumer is icumen in 

Lhude sing cuccu 

Groweth seed and bloweth mead 

and spring the woods anew. 

Sing cuccu!

Ewe now bleateth after lamb 

Loweth after calf the cu.” 

Because it summed up how I was feeling. For the past few days, I have been entranced by the sound of a cuckoo in Salcey Forest. I walk in there most mornings of the year. We are so very blessed to live where we do, five minutes' walk from the edge of the Forest. At the time I went out – at seven in the morning – I had the place pretty much to myself, apart from the birds, who were filling the air with their song, and I was filled with wonder at the beauties of God's creation. The cow parsley still lines the path, its heady scent filling my nostrils, and there are dandelions and buttercups, pink and white clover, cow parsley, elderflower, and many waving grasses, as well as the ubiquitous nettles. Also some gorgeous pink and white wild roses. And of course, the trees themselves. Too many shades of green to name. Glory, glory, glory!

#feelingblessed

To Have the Truth

This week's quotation is from Liji, also known as The Book of Rites, one of the five classics of the traditional Confucian canon. It reads, "To have the truth is the way of heaven, to seek is the way of man."

I'm not sure I agree... I'm not convinced that it is possible for anyone to "have the truth", if having the truth means being 100% certain that what we believe is right and true at all times. As I wrote back in February, "Truth (somewhat ironically) is a slippery word, with various shades of meaning."

I know that for the adherents of some religious / faith traditions, it is an essential part of being a Christian / Muslim / whatever, to accept certain truths as absolute. For example, most Christians believe that Jesus is the Divine Son of God, second Person of the Trinity, whose death on the cross brought humankind back into right relationship with God the Father. They would argue that if someone doesn't believe that, they cannot call themselves a Christian. If you "have" that truth, you are a Christian, if you don't, you're not. Simple as that. 

Whereas, for people like Unitarians, truth has a far more nebulous quality. We seek it, for sure, but, as I wrote in February, "we are open to discovering new truths, which may (indeed, should) influence our beliefs and behaviour... Our whole lives are a quest for truth, which we must uncover / discover step by step."

If this is the "way of man", then I am happy to follow it. It is more difficult than resting on "inalienable" truths, but I believe it can be far more rewarding. It means being "open to new Light", as the Quakers would say: new truths which can illuminate our lives and change them for the better. The tricky part is letting go of long-held "truths" which we come to understand are false, in the light of new knowledge and experiences. It takes a certain amount of spiritual gumption to do this, and to keep on doing it, over and over again. Yet if we are to grow into our best selves, I believe it is necessary.

How We Experience Life

Anton Wilhelm Amo was a Nzema philosopher who lived in the first half of the 18th century. He was brought to Germany from Axim (Dutch Gold Coast, now Ghana) at the age of four and, according to Wikipedia, "presented as a gift to Dukes Augustus Wilhelm and Ludwig Rudolf of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, being treated as a member of the family by their father, Anthony Ulrich."

He became a doctor of philosopy at Wittenberg University in 1734 and his thesis, On the Absence of Sensation in the Human Mind and its Presence in our Organic and Living Body, from which I suspect this week's quotation came, "argued in favour of a broadly dualist approach of the person. Specifically, he argues that it is correct to talk of a mind and a body, but that it is the body rather than the mind that perceives and feels."

The specific quote reads, "The person does not sense material things from his soul, but from his living, organic body." 

Yes, I agree, up to a point. It is through our five senses, sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste, that we access the material world. As I have written before, "I am so grateful for eyes to see, ears to hear, a nose to smell, a mouth to taste, skin to touch." Yet I also believe that our heart and soul are necessary to fully interpret what our senses bring to our attention. It is our senses which bring the glory of Creation into our experience, and our hearts and souls which enable us to be ready to receive and appreciate it.

If I stand outside in front of a tree, for example, I can see the beauty of its trunk and branches and leaves; I can hear the sound of the wind blowing through and around it, of birds singing in its branches; I can smell (almost) the greenness of its leaves, the sap flowing through its heart; and I can touch the smoothness of the leaves, the velvety furriness of new rhus branches, or the roughness of an oak's bark. All these are accessible to my "living organic body", as Amo says. 

Yet it is my heart and soul that glory in their beauty, that rise in appreciation of their wonder. My senses enable, my heart and soul interpret. That's as close as I can get to the duality which Amo speaks of, and which I think is not quite what he meant by it...

Small Pleasures

More than a decade ago, I came across a blog called Three Beautiful Things by a woman called Clare Law. It has the tagline "Every day I want to record three things that have given me pleasure." I blogged about it here. I have been grateful to her ever since, for introducing me to the wonderfully nourishing spiritual practice of gratitude, which I have blogged about many times.

These days, I record what I call 'Small Pleasures' each evening before I go to bed. Sometimes, they are HUGE, such as the joy which flooded my heart when I saw my son cradling his newborn son in his arms last November, but generally they are less spectacular.

The photos above are from our holiday last week in mid-Wales with my dear husband, my son and his family, and my daughter and her fiancé. It was a week of love and relaxation and fun, with so many small (and HUGE) pleasures, such as:

• finding another pair of lovely earrings at the market stall in Barmouth.
• S paddling in the sea at Benar Beach.
• all of us visiting Dolgoch Falls (my spiritual home) together.
• finding S's lost tooth in a puddle, so that he could put it under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.
• playing Articulate! with my daughter and her fiancé.
  
• eating all together.
• having a go on a swing and flying high!
• completing the Nana's Hug blanket for my daughter's unborn son.

The trick of gratitude, I have found, is sacred living - weaving moments of attention into our lives, so that we are aware of all the lovely things happening around us. As I have written before, "Through sacred living, we will come to realise that God's grace is everywhere. Sacred living is about living with a new level of awareness. It is about going through our days paying attention to what is happening at each passing moment. It is about noticing the presence of the divine, the numinous, everywhere: in the natural world, in other people, in ourselves, and in things that happen to us. Sacred living is about rediscovering our sense of wonder, and living our lives in response to that. Sacred living is about truly appreciating what we have."

I have found over time that actively keeping a record of the many small pleasures in my life has exponentially increased my general level of happiness. Even when I've had a fairly crappy day, I can still be grateful for having got through it.... And on less good days, I sometimes read back through old 'Small Pleasures' to remind myself how very lucky and blessed I am.

Why not give it a try?