The Splendour of Gardens

 The 18th century "woman of letters" (as Wikipedia describes her), Madame de Staël, once wrote, "The splendour of gardens has the love of nature as a prerequisite."

This quotation instantly reminded me of the words by Dorothy Frances Gurney, the English hymn writer and poet, which my grandfather wrote in my autograph book when I was a little girl:

"The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth - 

One is nearer God's heart in a garden

Than anywhere else on earth."

He was a great gardener, my grandfather. Just after World War II, he and my grandmother moved into a huge Victorian house in Woolton, having never seen inside it, on the strength of loving the gardens. I blogged about their adventure here.

Sadly, I have never been a gardener myself. I love admiring other people's gardens, enjoy visiting the beautiful gardens and grounds of stately homes, and watch Gardener's World every week. But I find actual gardening rather too much like hard work.

But I do have the love of nature the quotation by Madame de Staël speaks of. Nothing lifts my heart, restores my soul, so quickly as being out in the natural world, whether that is up in the mountains, by the sea or in my beloved Salcey Forest. There is something wonderful - wonder-full in the true sense of that word - about nature. Its astonishing complexity, its simple beauty - these nourish the deepest parts of me and I have often written about it in this blog. There is something about being away from people, being surrounded by the glories of nature that brings me back into balance, with myself, with the Divine.

And that is a blessing.

Not a Petrified City

 Novalis, the 18th century German philosopher, mystic and poet, wrote, "Nature is a petrified magic city." I wish I could have read this quotation in its wider context, because as it stands, I could not disagree more. At least with his first adjective... magic city, yes, petrified...?

Because one thing I know for certain, Nature is *never* petrified. Since lockdown began, I have been walking most days in Salcey Forest, the entrance to which is only five minutes' walk away from my front door. And I have been thrilled by being able to witness the ever-changing landscape of my daily walk, from the buds and new growth of Spring, the full glorious greenness of Summer and the wonderfully changeful colours of Autumn. Even today, on a grey and misty morning, I have seen things still growing, still changing. And I know that even in the depths of Winter, there will still be activity in the natural world - I will still be able to see evergreen trees, and holly berries and listen to the birds overhead. Seeds will be waiting under the soil, ready to burst forth with new life next year.

Even mountains and rocks, like the ones pictured on the postcard, are not entirely petrified. They may seem so, to our human eyes, but if they are also subject to change as wind, sun and rain act on them. And rivers and seas have the power to soften jagged outlines over time. One of my regular activities, when we visit our favourite part of Wales, is to walk along the stones thrown up by the tide and marvel at the rounded shapes and multifarious colours of the pebbles.

A while ago, my son persuaded us to watch an astonishing video on YouTube, called Timelapse of the Future: A Journey to the End of Time, which took the longest view of our future as it is possible to take. It is here and is well worth a watch. It showed that everything, absolutely everything, is subject to change.

Watching it made me feel very small and insignificant. On the scale of universes, we are not even microscopice dots on microscopic dots. Nevertheless, we are here in a particular time and place, and it is our responsibility to do whatever we can, where we are, to ensure that Nature continues to be a magic city, not a petrified one.

Flowers are Nature's Laughter

Such a gorgeous quotation this week, by the poet James Henry Leigh Hunt: "Colours are the smiles of Nature, and flowers are her laughter." It was illustrated by a gorgeous photo of (I think) apple blossom...

In this time of fear and physical isolation, it has been lovely to go out for my daily allowed walk, and to see the beauties of Nature unfolding in front of my eyes. Just before we were confined to the village, my husband and I went for a walk at Castle Ashby and saw these two beautiful magnolias, which will now be blossoming unseen by any except the gardeners...

And just around our village, there are beautiful flowers blooming in the Spring sunshine, whether in the hedgerows...

or in neighbours' gardens, which have lifted my heart so much...

It seems as though Nature is putting on a show to keep us cheerful, and to help us to stick to the rules and stay at home and stay safe.

Flowers are Nature's laughter. Even reading that made me smile. Every time I see a flower blooming I will smile right back at it. I've noticed a new influx of nature photos on Facebook - it seems that other people have had the same idea. And some people have commented that my photos have cheered them up too.

This current situation is deeply scary. And it's okay to admit that we are scared. Nothing like this has happened on this scale for very many years. It helps me, when I remind myself how much worse it would be, if we didn't have so many other ways of communicating - by phone, by e-mail and through social media. Not to mention conference call virtual meetings, which many Unitarian churches and chapels are experimenting with. I am grateful for all the ingenious ways people are coming up with at keeping in touch with each other, and for the IT facilities which enable them.

I had some fun yesterday... I had my first Face Time piano lesson. My piano teacher and I each sat at our pianos, linked by our iPads, and it worked really well. She could see my fingers as I played, and hear what was happening. And I could see and hear her demonstrating how it *should* be done :)

And the idea of clapping the NHS was a fabulous one! I'll finish with a prayer, which I'm using in weekly online services for my District:

Spirit of Life and Love,
Be with us as we gather for worship,
each in their own place.
Help us to feel a sense of community,
even though we are physically apart.
Help us to care for each other,
in this difficult time,
keeping in touch however we can,
and helping each other,
however we may.
We hold in our hearts all those
whose lives have been touched,
in whatever way,
by the coronavirus and the fall-out from it.
Amen

Nature goes Deep

The French artist and Post-Impressionist painter, Paul Cézanne, wrote, "Nature does not exist on the surface, it goes deep."

I had to think about this one... If he had written, "not *only*" on the surface, I would have been with him completely. But to say that "nature does not exist on the surface" is puzzling. Because for me, it permeates the whole of creation. The only places where nature does not exist is in completely sterile human-made environments, and even then, given half a chance, it will make its way in.

But yes, oh yes, it goes deep. A deep reverence for Nature is an important part of my faith. Growing out of the fairy tales and legends of my youth, Elsie Proctor's wonder-full book Looking at Nature, and J.R.R. Tolkien's powerful evocations of Middle Earth, I have always found it easiest to sense the presence of God / the Spirit in the natural world. Yet it was not until fairly recently that this reverence for natural beauty became integrated into the rest of my spiritual life.

This started in early 2009, when I did a module on my second Open University course, called Belief Beyond Boundaries: Wicca, Celtic Spirituality and the New Age. I was particularly fascinated by contemporary Celtic spirituality, and have gone on to learn much more about it. I was introduced to the concept of the Wheel of the Year, and to the notion that we (and all living things) move through life in a cyclical rather than a linear manner, in which the dark side is to be welcomed as an important part of the process.

At around the same time, I also came across A Guide to the Sacraments by Christian theologian, John Macquarrie, which reinforced my belief that the whole of the universe could be sacramental. He explained that rather than God's presence being limited to either two or seven sacraments, God has so arranged matters that the material world can "become a door or channel of communication through which he comes to us and we may go to him." For this reason, "man's spiritual wellbeing demands that he should recognise and cherish the visible things of the world as things that are made by God and that provide access to God."

This way of perceiving the world demands that we believe that God is not only transcendent, the one-time creator of the universe, but also immanent - being in the world and acting through it. In other words, we are always in the presence of the Divine, in whom we live and move and have our being. Macquarrie also writes about material things such as stars, mountains and even cities, as "doors to the sacred."

Then I discovered the Celtic mystic, poet and theologian John O'Donohue, whose love for the Irish landscape of his birth flows richly through all his writings. One of his books in particular, Divine Beauty: the Invisible Embrace, helped me to appreciate with my heart, not just my head, how deeply God is present in the earth, in the sky, in the landscape.

Nature does indeed go deep.

Such A Perfect Day

This morning, a friend of mine posted about the elements of her personal perfect day: "Being around like minded people where we just get each other; being inspired; walking in nature; yummy food (normally not my own); seeing my son happy; feeling that I may be making a small difference in the world."

Naturally, this made me reflect about what my perfect day might include ... I found myself very much in agreement with her. All the elements that would make up my perfect day seems to be linked together, which is why the symbol of the Celtic triquetra speaks to me so powerfully.

I too love to be around like-minded people, and feeling in tune with them, but also enjoy being in open and deep conversation with folk who have different views to mine. Which includes Unitarians (of course), and other people of all faiths and none.

I find many things inspiring - words, images, people. I count myself very blessed to be living in the early 21st century, when social media such as Facebook can bring such words and images into my home. Not to mention books, my beloved books ... it would not be a perfect day if I did not spend at least some of it curled up with a good book.

Being creative also makes me happy - whether it is writing, or colouring, or stitching. So creating something new and original would also have a part in my perfect day.

Walking in nature is always an important element of any day, and my perfect day would not be complete without it. I am so very lucky to live in a small village on the edge of Salcey Forest, so walking in nature is a simple matter of walking out of my own front door, and turning right. Last week we were in Wales on holiday and had the added joys of the sea and the mountains. Bliss.

Yummy food, especially when shared with those I love, is a special good in my life. As I write, it is the morning of Father's Day, and my daughter and my husband are sitting in the kitchen, preparing and talking about food. And like my friend, I am much happier (and more appreciative) when somebody else has prepared and cooked it!

Seeing the people I love happy is a key component of my own happiness. I cannot be truly happy if somebody I care about is miserable, for any reason. I just can't. I am finding that as I get older, my circle of compassion is widening, which makes me increasingly restless about other people's unhappiness.

Which is why feeling that I may be making a small difference in the world also has a role to play in my mythical perfect day. There is so much to do, and each one of us is so small and insignificant, but "Still I Am One".

Finally, at the end of the day, giving thanks for all these things, and for life in all its marvellous, messy, chaotic, imperfection, just being grateful for my life, joys and sorrows together, would make a perfect close.

What would your perfect day look like?

 

A Walk in the Woods

It is going to be difficult to write this without resorting to cliches. On this warm and sunny morning, I decided to go for a walk in the woods. I am very fortunate in living five minutes' walk away from a footpath which leads to Salcey Forest. I was only out for about 40 minutes, but it has left me full of awe, full of wonder, full of gratitude.

The combination of weather during the last few months - sunshine and rain in just the right quantities, meant that the verges of the path were a mass of green and flowers. I walked mindfully, opening my eyes and ears to the world around me. There was cow parsley over six feet high, clover, buttercups, many other shy woodland flowers I could not name, and a riot of wild roses; and the air was full of bird song. The sky overhead was blue with wispy white clouds, but the height of the bordering hedges meant that the path was still in shade, very pleasant to walk in on this warm morning. Every so often, there would be a break in the hedge to my left, and the sunlight came pouring through, painting everything it touched in brighter hues. The path is narrow, only wide enough for one person (or one horse - it is much used by the local riders) and I had it to myself. One cyclist passed me on the way out, and one runner on the way back. Apart from that, it was me, alone with God's creation. And it was glorious. And I give thanks.

Coming Alive

A while ago, somebody asked me this question: "What makes you come alive?" and I have been thinking about the answers ever since. My first response was that it is interaction with the natural world - walking by the sea or in the mountains, making a garden, walking a regular route and noticing the day-to-day changes in the nature around me, being awed by natural beauty - all these play an important part in re-connecting me with the numinous presence of God, with making me "come alive." To which I would add, interacting with family, friends and fellow Unitarians and f/Friendly Quakers - being in spiritual community.

An appreciation of our world in its beauty and diversity is definitely something that makes me come alive. When I go for a run, it is wonderful to be out in the changing seasons - to see and savour and appreciate the blossom in Spring, the mass of wildflowers in Summer, the first conkers and the changing leaves in Autumn, and the elegant sparseness of the trees in Winter. this connectedness with the natural world is something that I have learned to nurture and treasure. It so often gets lost in Western society - we are so busy doing the job in hand, rushing to the next appointment, that we don't take time out to appreciate the world around us. My husband and I have, in the past few months, taken to having a half-hour walk when he gets home from work, and it has been lovely and enriching, It has not only re-connected us with the world around us, but also enabled us to re-connect more deeply with each other. What a blessing.

John O'Donohue has a beautiful blessing For Beauty:

As stillness in stone to silence is wed,

May solitude foster your truth in word.

As a river flows in ideal sequence,

May your soul reveal where time is presence.

As the moon absolves the dark of distance,

May your style of thought bridge the difference.

As the breath of light awakens colour,

May the dawn anoint your eyes with wonder.

As Spring rain softens the earth with surprise,

May your winter places be kissed by light.

As the ocean dreams to the joy of dance,

May the grace of change bring you elegance.

As clay anchors a tree in light and wind,

May your outer life grow from peace within.

 As twilight pervades the belief of night,

May beauty sleep lightly within your heart.

 

What a blessing.