Even a Cliché Can Hold Truth

When I read this week's quotation, my heart sank a little. It seems so obvious, so banal. "Learn from yesterday. Live for today. Hope for tomorrow."

Then I thought again. The advice may be hackneyed, oft-repeated, but it is good advice, nonetheless. If we do not learn from our experiences, both from what we have done, and from what has happened to us without our own volition, we will make the same mistakes over and over again. Regretting events of the past will not change them. The only thing we can control is our response to what has happened. 

And I have blogged often about the benefits of living in the present, about being mindful about what is happening at each passing moment. Particularly here. In that post, I shared the Sanskrit affirmation, which I'd like to share again:

        

"Look to this day - for it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course lie all the verities and realities of your existence:

the bliss of growth, the glory of action, the splendour of beauty.

For yesterday is but a dream, and tomorrow is only a vision,

but today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness

and every tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day."

If we can learn to take this attitude deep into ourselves, I honestly believe it can make a difference. Because if we do learn from the past, and deeply appreciate the present (which is the only point at which time touches eternity) surely there must be a sliver of hope about tomorrow? It may be hard to find, if our personal experience of the present is sad and desperate, yet without hope that the hard time will end, we may succumb to despair.

In the ancient Greek myth, Pandora opened a jar left in her care, which contained sickness, death and many other unspecified evils, which were then released into the world. In spite of her best efforts to close the jar, only one thing was contained - Hope. Wikipedia explains, "Pandora's box is a metaphor for something that brings about great troubles or misfortune, but also holds hope. Symbolically, the box represents the curiosity and desire for knowledge that can lead to both negative consequences and positive outcomes. The evils inside the box can be seen as the challenges and difficulties of life, while the hope represents the optimism and resilience to overcome those challenges."

So yes, this week's quote is good advice: Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.

The Start of Everything

The Buddha once wrote, "We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world."

Which may be a sobering thought! The ways we think, the beliefs we hold, will condition how we react to other people, to situations in the world, to the experiences we have. So it is no wonder that the Buddha made 'Right Mindfulness' one of the elements of the Noble Eightfold Path which is the heart of Buddhist teaching.

Wikipedia describes 'Right Mindfulness' like this: "sati: a quality that guards or watches over the mind; the stronger it becomes, the weaker unwholesome states of mind become, weakening their power 'to take over and dominate thought, word and deed.' (Rupert Gethin) In the vipassana movement, sati is interpreted as 'bare attention': never be absent-minded, being conscious of what one is doing; this encourages the awareness of the impermanence of the body, feeling and mind, as well as to experience the five aggregates, the five hindrances, the four True Realities and seven factors of awakening."

Yet how often do we actually do this? How much are we aware of what is going on in our thoughts? It seems to be far more usual to react first, think later. How different would our lives be if we were constantly conscious of how our thoughts were influencing our words, our deeds? 

The two spiritual practices of meditation and centering prayer can help us to cultivate this quality of right mindfulness. Regularly practised, they can allow us to access the quiet centre inside each of us which Right Mindfulness needs to function.

I also find the concept of the "pause for thought" useful. It works like this: each time we finish a task, we stop, take a few deep breaths, and re-centre ourselves. Rather than jumping straight into the next thing. This practice can also be used to put a brake on instant reactions: if we choose to take those few deep breaths before reacting to something, our minds will calm down, our higher brain will be able to re-engage, and we will be able to respond to whatever it is in a more considered fashion.

Easily written, less easy to do in the heat of the moment. Yet I find that when I do remember to do it, the outcome is always, always better.

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 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?

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

Every Moment Meaningful

 The 19th century Russian novelist Turgenev, once advised, "You have to arrange life so that every moment is meaningful."

And yes, I agree that this ought to be something towards which we aspire. I have blogged about it here. But I also believe that it is probably not possible to spend "every moment" of our lives in a meaningful way. Perhaps it may be, for some who are very far advanced on their spiritual journey - people like the late Thich Nhat Hanh, for example. But I (and I guess most of us) am still very far from achieving that total mindfulness which Turgenev seems to be recommending.

I try to be spiritually awake and to be present for as much of my waking time as I can, so that I can appreciate the world around me, the people around me, more. But sometimes, I just want to blob. To turn off my brain and sit in front of something entertaining on the TV. 

Or lose myself in a wonderful book. And I have found that it is nearly impossible to do this "mindfully". I sit with my eyes flying across the page, filling my mind and heart with the story that is going on in front of my eyes. I guess that at such times, I am fully present to what is happening in the book. But I don't *think* that is the same thing as making every moment meaningful. For me, mindful reading is when I detach slightly from the story and admire what the author is doing with their words and phrases. Or maybe that's just the writer in me.

Or am I misunderstanding what he meant? Does arranging our lives to that every moment is meaningful mean something else? Is it more about being present to what we're doing, whatever that is, whether or not it has meaning for us? 

I don't know... what do you think?

A World Within

 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, the 18th/19th century German poet, playwright and novelist, wrote, "I return to myself and find a world."

The part of that quotation which fascinates me is "I return to myself." It reminded me how often we are so lost in our minds that we reduce ourselves to walking heads. We walk around unaware of all else that is going on, in our hearts, in our guts, in our bodies and in our souls. And by gut, I mean that part of us that works on intuiton. The part of us that reacts to experiences with physical sensations. That part of us which we so often ignore, but which actually, we should spend a lot more time with, because it can always be trusted.

If we can genuinely "return to myself" (ourselves) and be fully present to the world from every part of us, I believe that we would interact with the rest of the world in a profoundly different way. Because it would surely be easier to see people and events truly and with integrity and compassion when we are present to ourselves as well.

Because everyone and everything is sacred and should be treated with the utmost respect. And I think we can only appreciate that if we are fully present ourselves.

Seize the Day (or not)

 The title of this blogpost comes from the Roman poet, Horace, "carpe diem quam minimum credula postero", which means, "pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next one." A similar sentiment is expressed by Dante Alighieri, who wrote, "One waits for time to change, the other grabs it firmly and acts."

A couple of decades ago, I would have agreed wholeheartedly with both Horace and Dante. I have always found it easier to jump into a situation and *do* something, rather than sitting passively, waiting for something to happen to me.

But in recent years, I have learned that we are called human beings for a reason. We are not called human doings. Sure, there are times and places where action is imperative and we should be "up and doing" as the hymn writer says. Nevertheless, I have learned that simply being also has its place. Time to sit still, breathe, reflect, Simply Be.

Because it is when we give ourselves time to Simply Be, to be still, to wait on the time, that deeper insights come, those nudges from the Divine that we would otherwise not have noticed, being too busy rushing from one place to another, one task to another.

There is a fascinating article by Zindel Segal on the Mindfulness website, here. In it, he explains that the mind has two basic modes: Doing mode and Being mode. He says that the job of the Doing mode 

"is to get things done—to achieve particular goals that the mind has set. These goals could relate to the external world—to make a meal, build a house, or travel to the moon—or to the internal world of self—to feel happy, not make mistakes, never be depressed again, or be a good person. The basic strategy to achieve such goals involves something we call the “discrepancy monitor”: a process that continually monitors and evaluates our current situation against a model or standard—an idea of what is desired, required, expected, or feared."

The focus of the Being mode, on the other hand, "is “accepting” and “allowing” what is, without any immediate pressure to change it. “Allowing” arises naturally when there is no goal or standard to be reached, and no need to evaluate experience in order to reduce discrepancies between actual and desired states. This also means that attention is no longer focused narrowly on only those aspects of the present that are directly related to goal achievement; in being mode, the experience of the moment can be processed in its full depth, width, and richness."

I come closest to Being when I am out walkig in Nature and can lose myself in the glories of creation. I have also found that simply being conscious of the Being mode has enabled me to stand back sometimes, breathe, and allow and accept what is happening in that moment. It's hard, but so worthwhile. It is a richer, less stressful way to live.

And... breathe.

Happiness is Where You Find It

I thoroughly agree with David Dunn's view that, "Happiness has to be found along the way, not at the end of the road."

Because if we always have our eyes fixed on the end of the road, on a fictional happiness that will happen in the future, if only we do X, Y or Z, it is very easy for us to miss out on the ordinary, everyday instances of happiness happening right under our noses.

As human beings, we live in time, so it is natural to look towards the future, and there is nothing wrong with that. So long as it doesn't mean that we ignore what is happening to us right now. I've just spent three glorious days with my best friend in Cumbria, and thoroughly enjoyed every last minute of it. Yes, I had been looking forward to it for weeks, but I also enjoyed it as it was happening. It was glorious weather on Wednesday and we enjoyed a brisk walk along Roanhead Beach and then visited Furness Abbey.

An extra thrill was provided by our GA President, Anne Mills, who had kindly dropped off the Vice-Presidential medallion at Celia's house for me. So we had a small presentation ceremony, which has made it all seem real, in a way which the Zoom occasion did not.

Happiness can indeed be found along the way...

 

Everything Flows

 These words, "Everything flows and nothing stays [the same]" typify the philosophy of Ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus of Ephesus. According to Wikipedia, "he was most famour for his insistence on ever-present change - known in philosopy as 'flux' or 'becoming' - as the characteristic feature of the world." He also wrote the well-known saying, "No man ever steps int he same river twice." (who knew?)

And I think they are the truest words I know. Every human being is in a state of constant change, although we go to great lengths to disguise it. Every person, place, event, written or spoken word, social media post we encounter will have a certain impact on us. This may be small, but incrementally, we are in change (or flux) all the time. The person I am today is not the same person as I was yesterday (or even half an hour ago - I've just had a phone call which has brought me joy). But we relate to people *as though* they were exactly the same as the last time we encountered them. 

The Buddhists know this well. They recognise that everything is impermanent, and that if we try to cling to impermanent things, we will never be satisfied. It is perhaps natural to want the good things in our lives to carry on, but this can never happen. Everything changes. Everything. So the trick is to recognise that this is the case, and be able (and willing) to let go. The third of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism is Nirodha, the cessation of suffering. The Buddha taught that the best way to extinguish desire, which causes suffering, is to liberate yourself from attachment. I sometimes think this is a bleak outlook on life - but I recognise that actually, it is realistic, rather than pessimistic. 

Because if *everything* changes, that also applies to bad things in our lives - grief, suffering, pain. And yet we cling to these just as fervently as we do to the good things. How often have we replayed distressful incidents and conversations in our heads, unable to let them go.... and hence bringing them back into the present again? I know I have.

There's an old story, which goes something like this (I can't find it to quote it accurately). Two monks were about to cross a river, when they saw a young woman standing timidly at the bank. The older of the two monks offers to carry her across on his back, and does so. She is grateful and goes on her way.

    The interesting thing about this story is the conversation the two monks have afterwards. The younger monk is shocked that the older monk has had such close physical contact with a woman, and expresses his misgivings forcibly. The older monk turns to him and says, "Carrying her across the river was a kindness to her. I did this, and have moved on. Why are you still carrying her?"

I think the moral of the story is that everything changes, therefore we should not be attached to anything but strive to live in the present, and *be* present in that moment, which is the only instant that Time touches Eternity. 

Living in the Moment

This week's quote is by Friedrich Schiller, "Nicht in die ferne Zeit verliere dich! Den Augenblick ergreife, der ist dein." Which being translated, means, "Do not lose yourself in the distant time! Take the moment, that's yours."

Over the past few years, I have come to believe that God’s presence is everywhere, in our ordinary, everyday lives, if we had but eyes to see, and ears to hear. I believe that through sacred living - weaving moments of attention into our everyday lives, and recognising the sacred there, we will find that which gives our lives purpose and meaning. Sacred living is about living with a new level of awareness. It is about going through each normal day paying attention to what is happening in 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. Then, as Mary Jean Irion wrote, “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savour you, before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.”

Because today is all we have. Today is the only place in which time touches eternity. I love the Sanskrit affirmation: “Look to this day - For it is life, the very life of life. In its brief course lie all the verities and realities of your existence: the bliss of growth, the glory of action, the splendour of beauty. For yesterday is but a dream, and tomorrow is only a vision, but today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore, to this day.”

Yet how often do we spend our days (or one day or even part of a day) totally present? Appreciating every moment, every interaction, every person or object or things our senses come into contact with? I know I don’t!

So how do we spend our days? Many of us, especially as we grow older, spend them living in the past, looking back with either pleasure or regret (or a mixture of both). And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being nostalgic about our past lives, so long as the past is a place we visit, rather than the place we live. As the Sanskrit wise one said: “yesterday is but a dream.” It is no longer real.

Others of us spend our days in the future, always heading towards the next goal, the next hill to climb. Our diaries are full for weeks to come, and there always seems to be a long to-do list on the go. I write a new one, every Monday morning, to make sure that all the things I need to get done in the forthcoming week, somehow get done. And yes, forward planning is important, as we try to juggle home life, work life, looking after children, looking after parents, some sort of social life. If we didn’t plan, everything would fall down crash.

There is a beautiful prayer, quoted by Rachel Naomi Remen, in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings, which sums all this up, much more beautifully than I can:

“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, illumines 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.’”

Amen

A Challenge for the New Year

This morning I was finally re-connecting with the computer, having had a few days away from it over the Christmas period, and catching up with the daily meditations from Richard Rohr's Center for Action and Contemplation, which usually give me a nice, spiritual start to my day.

And I came across this passage, from The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness: Preparing to Practice, by Rabbi Rami Shapiro, which Richard Rohr quotes, and which has really resonated with me, as a challenge for the coming year:

"Will you engage this moment with kindness or with cruelty, with love or with fear, with generosity or scarcity, with a joyous heart or an embittered one? This is your choice, and no-one can make it for you. If you choose kindness, love, generosity, and joy, then you will discover in that choice the Kingdom of God, heaven, nirvana, this-worldly salvation. If you choose cruelty, fear, scarcity, and bitterness, then you will discover in that choice the hellish states of which so many religions speak. These are not ontological realities tucked away somewhere in space - these are existential realities playing out in your own mind. Heaven and hell are both inside of you. It is your choice that determines just where you will reside."

"Heaven and hell are both inside you. It is your choice that determines just where you will reside." Wow. For 2018, I resolve to try to engage with the world, with each moment, with kindness, love, generosity and joy.

The Next Right Thing

It's a funny old thing, life. Every morning we get up, wash, eat breakfast, and then face the day ahead. But how often do we actually appreciate each day, moment by moment? And how do the choices we make, moment by moment, affect how our days go?

Wayne Muller, in his wonderful book A Life of Being, Having and Doing Enough, asks: "What is the next right thing for us to do? Where in this moment, shall we choose to place our time and attention? Do we stay or move, speak or keep silent, attend to this person, that task, move in this or that direction?"

I don't know about you, but to me, this seems to be such a simple approach to life, much less stressful than being worried about a thousand possible alternatives. You just concentrate on the Next Right Thing - give that your time and attention, and then go on to the next one.

But I'm very conscious that "simple" does not mean the same thing as "easy". This moment by moment approach to our lives *is* elegantly beautiful in its simplicity, but it is by no means easy to do. Because it means that we have to be conscious, awake, moment by moment, so that we make our many small choices with awareness, rather than blindly, depending on how we are feeling at the time. Actively considering each choice, moment by moment, actually sounds quite like hard work.

But it is the most important work in the world.

Because if we look at our lives, really examine them, we can see that they *are* the result of all the choices we have made, in the past days and months and years. It is a gradual, moment by moment process, yet the results of it have shaped our lives. All of us are where we are now, today, because of our past choices. And where we end up, tomorrow and the next day, will depend on the choices we make today.

Samuel A. Trumbore wrote: "Each moment of wakefulness has so many gifts that offer energy and delight. Yet too often they seem unavailable, as the weight of our troubles press down on us ... Even in moments of great danger, the direction of attention is a choice. Fear can dominate the mind, binding it like a straitjacket. Or love can unbind it, and open it to resource and opportunity. ... Holding reality and possibility together is the holy, hope-filled work of humanity."

May we all choose love, may we all choose to follow the Next Right Thing.

Walking Away the Cares of the Week

This week has been a tough one, as some weeks are. So I was glad that it was coming to an end. And delighted to be able to see it out in style, as I welcomed people in to the first Walk Away the Cares of the Week at our meeting house, using our brand new (to us) labyrinth mat. It is based on the labyrinth at Troyes Cathedral, and was made by my friend, and painted by her daughter. And it is sixteen feet square.

Setting up took a while, but was greatly helped by my friend who had so kindly passed the mat on to the congregation (memo to self: it is much more intelligent to light the 24 tealights first, THEN strategically place them around the perimeter, not the other way round). But it was done on time, the atmospheric music was on the CD player, and the first people arrived to walk the labyrinth,

Peacefully, Mindfully.

The trick of walking a labyrinth mindfully is to focus on making each step, rolling from your heel onto your toe, gently lifting your foot, and placing it carefully down in front of you. As I walked, peacefully, mindfully, I felt my body begin to unclench and relax, and my mind began to quieten. Twenty minutes later, when I walked out again, I felt like a new person.

There is something about this kind of purposeful walking meditation that is very powerful, very soothing. I feel so very blessed that it is going to be something I am now able to do regularly.

Your Last Shirt

My other half and I are currently on a tour of the south-west portion of Turkey. Our tour guide, Ahmed, is a delight. He not only informs us, he also admonishes and instructs us. Today our timetable included a boat trip on the Dalyan river delta to the famous Iztuzu Beach, where, in the Summer months, loggerhead turtles come in their thousands to lay their eggs.

On the way, we went past some spectacular rock tombs, which had been carved into the rock face by the ancients, to act as mausoleums. They varied in size and elaborateness, from simple holes to miniature temples. Ahmed was explaining that the size of the tomb varied according to the occupant's status in this life, and then exclaimed: "You know, it really doesn't matter. We have a saying in Turkey: 'Your last shirt has no pockets.' In other words, you cannot take anything with you."

I had been feeling a little sorry for myself, as, unlike the previous day, the weather was grey and overcast, and my back was aching from all the sitting. "Your last shirt has no pockets" reminded me to appreciate the moment, and enjoy what was happening as it happens.

To Find Happiness in Small Things

And so another year begins. Another year of resolutions and plans. In previous years, I have set the bar quite high, and inevitably fallen short. So this year, I have only one resolution - to find happiness in small things, and to be aware of God at work in my life.

This has partly been provoked by re-reading, over the Christmas period, Gretchen Rubin's book The Happiness Project, which I blogged about back in March. Her overall message seems to be that it is possible to find happiness where you are, and that doing so is largely dependent on increasing things that make you feel good, decreasing things that make you feel bad, doing things that make you feel right, all in an atmosphere of growth.

I think that the Quakers are getting at the same approach, when they advise:

"Be aware of the spirit of God at work in the ordinary activities and experience of your daily life. Spiritual learning continues throughout life, and often in unexpected ways. There is inspiration to be found all around us, in the natural world, in the sciences and arts, in our work and friendships, in our sorrows as well as in our joys. Are you open to new light, from whatever source it may come? Do you approach new ideas with discernment?"

Being Present

It is nearly 2013, and the joys, excitements, fears and trepidations of a new year beckon. There are things I'm looking forward to, and things I'm decidedly not. So I turn to Ralph Waldo Emerson, for some challenging yet reassuring advice on how to live this next year:

"Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year. No man has learned anything rightly until he knows that every day is doomsday. Today is a king in disguise. Today always looks mean to the thoughtless, in the face of a uniform experience that all good and great and happy actions are made up precisely of these blank todays.

Let us not be so deceived; let us unmask the king as he passes! He only is rich who owns the day, and no-one owns the day who allows it to be involved with worry, fret and anxiety.

You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubht crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays."

Thank you!

Every morning, when I log on to my computer, the first thing that I look at is Clare Law's blog, Three Beautiful Things http://threebeautifulthings.blogspot.co.uk/. Every day since 2004 she has recorded "three things that have given me pleasure", and I love being reminded that there is so much in life to be grateful for, to be thankful for. As she says: "Gratitude is not just for Christmas. It works because it's about noticing what the universe does." Let me share a typical day's entries with you (Alec is her young son):

"1. Alec and I have had fun this morning. As I am carrying him to nursery, I say: "I wish I didn't have so much to do this afternoon. I'd like to keep you with me to cuddle and nuggle and read stories."
He replies, quite firmly: "Bye Mummy."

2. To finally sit down and sew that bloody button back on.

3. The crystal water jug is standing where the sun falls on the table. The light splashes around the room, shuddering, dancing, laughing at me."

 

It's a new way of looking at the world, of appreciating your blessings, and being grateful for the wonders and joys of everyday life. For we live in a world of wonders.

 

And in the last few months, I have been trying to take a leaf out of her book, by recognising God / the Spirit at work in my life every day. Mostly these are things to be thankful for, but I am learning that sometimes they are things that challenge me to look at my life whole, so that I can grow into the best Sue Woolley I can be. And I try to be grateful, although it is often hard.

 

So today I wanted to record my thanks to Clare, for starting my day with a smile, and to Meister Eckhart, the 14th century Germany theologian, philosopher and mystic, who wrote "If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough."

 

Thank you.



Finding God in the Dryness

I'm not good at anti-climaxes. You work and work towards something, doing the best that you can to achieve your goal. And then you get there. At first it is wonderful, you're on Cloud 9, and everything in the garden is rosy.

And then life, as it has a way of doing, goes on. Kind friends have congratulated you on your achievement, and then something else happens, and it is time to move on. But there is a flatness, a smidgeon of "so-what-ery" about things, and it is then that I find it difficult to motivate myself to carry out the present task, or even to enjoy the present pleasure. I feel a bit like the Christian described by C.S. Lewis in The Screwtape Letters, who, "no longer desiring, but still intending, to do [God's] will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

As usual, I turn to Quaker Advices and Queries for advice. And it is there:

"Be aware of the spirit of God at work in the ordinary activities and experience of your daily life. Spiritual learning continues throughout life, and often in unexpected ways. There is inspiration to be found all around us, in the natural world, in the sciences and arts, in our work and friendships, in our sorrows as well as in our joys. Are you open to new light, from whatever source it may come? Do you approach new ideas with discernment?"

So I have a job to do - to recognise the working of the Spirit everywhere - in nature, in humankind, in the ups and downs of everyday life. I know in my deepest heart that He/She is there, but need to keep on being mindful, so that I won't miss the shining examples when I see them. And to "listen with the ear of my heart", as my friend Danny would say, so that I hear them too. And to realise how very fortunate I am to have been given the faculties to recognise the sacred at work in my life.

Living with Intention

A wise friend of mine, Eugene Hughes, posted the following on Facebook this morning: "How do you want your day to be? Ask yourself what's the single most important outcome? It could be a way of doing or a way of being."

Time for reflection and rest is so important. It is too easy to rush from task to task, ticking off items on the to-do list, and then straight on to the next thing. But it is not the best way to live our lives. We are "spiritual beings having a human experience", to quote Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and we need to remember that more often. Or at least I do.

In his wonderful book Sabbath: Finding rest, renewal and delight in our busy lives, Wayne Miller writes:

"What makes life fruitful? The attainment of wisdom? The establishment of a just and fair society? The creation of beauty? The practice of loving kindness? Thomas Jefferson suggested that human life and liberty were intimately entwined with the pursuit of happiness. Instead, life has become a maelstrom in which speed and accomplishment, consumption and productivity have become the most valued human commodities. In the trance of overwork, we take everything for granted. We consume things, people, and information. We do not have time to savor this life, nor to care deeply and gently for ourselves, our loved ones, or for our world; rather, with increasingly dizzying haste, we use them all up, and throw them away."

He goes on to say that we have lost the rhythm of work and rest, and explains that "Sabbath honors the necessary wisdom of dormancy. ... We, too, must have a period in which we lie fallow, and restore our souls. ... Sabbath time ... is a time to let our work, our lands, our animals lie fallow, to be nourished and refreshed. Within this sanctuary, we become available to the insights and blessings of deep mindfulness that arise only in stillness and time. When we act from a place of deep rest, we ar more capable of cultivating what the Buddhists would call right understanding, right action, and right effort."

It is a different approach to our lives. It is a way of being as well as a way of doing. It is living with intention.