Approaching the Future with Joy

This week's quotation, by Epicurus of Samos, seems almost paradoxical, "Those who are least concerned about tomorrow, go to meet it with the most enthusiasm."

I had to read it several times, before I suddenly understood what it means. And why it is so appropriate in the first week of a new year. Particularly this new year, which so many of us are entering with great foreboding. I think it's about what Brené Brown calls "foreboding joy".

She explains this, in her book, Daring Greatly, "Softening into the joyful moments of our lives requires vulnerability. If, like me, you've ever stood over your children [sleeping] and thought to yourself, I love you so much I can hardly breathe, and in that exact moment have been flooded with images of something terrible happening to your child, [that is foreboding joy]. ... Once we make the connection between vulnerability and joy, the answer is pretty straightforward: We're trying to beat vulnerability to the punch. We don't want to be blindsided by hurt. We don't want to be caught off-guard, so we literally practice being devastated or never move from self-elected disappointment."

Approaching the future with joy requires vulnerability. The road to happiness means being "least concerned" about tomorrow, not spending all our days worrying and anxious about what *might* happen. Because, here's the thing. Very often, it won't.

I heard a lovely quotation years ago, not sure who it's by:

"Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.... and all is well."

Anxiety and worry are very real, and very debilitating. And fatal to present happiness. I count myself very blessed in being a natural optimist. I am married to a natural pessimist, who is always waiting "for the other shoe to drop" as Brené Brown puts it.

Perhaps I am naïve, always hoping for the best. But it is a much happier way to live. I have faith that things will turn out alright in the end, and that I must work to help that to happen. 

So not just blind faith, but faith and works. Let's go forward into 2020 with a zeal to work for a better future.  For all of us.

The Art of Giving Presents

This week's quotation is by A.A. Milne, author of the Winnie the Pooh books. It reads, "The art of giving presents is to give someone something that they cannot buy." Which reminds me of the episode In which Eeyore has a Birthday and gets Two Presents. Which turn out to be an empty honey jar (Pooh got hungry on the way) and a burst balloon (Piglet tripped up).

Here is the gorgeous E.H. Shepard illustration, which proves A.A. Milne's point beautifully... taken from my own copy of The World of Pooh. Eeyore could have bought some honey, he could have bought a balloon, but he had much more fun playing with the unintended results of his friends' accidents.

The art of giving presents is to give someone something that they cannot buy. Like a hug, or a smile, or the gift of real presence. Or your time... spent doing an errand for someone, or looking after a child to give them a break. Or a coffee to cheer someone up. Presence is far more important than presents.

I've had a gorgeous Christmas and have had some wonderful presents.... but the best thing of all has been spending time with my husband, my son, my daughter and her fiancé. Plus Boxing Day with the extended family.

photo by Henry Richards

And the gift from myself - a week off work, so that I have had time to enjoy the presents I have received. I've spent a considerable amount of time reading, and producing a detailed map of my imaginary world, Veylindre. And watching Christmas programmes and well-loved films with Maz and David. And finishing my latest shawl...

This has been a useful reminder, that there are so many things that money cannot buy, which are more precious than all the roc's eggs in the world.

I wish all my friends and family a very Happy and Blessed 2020, with all the time you need to spend with those you love.

Season of Rest

I will be leading worship this coming Sunday, on the Winter Solstice. I like the modern Pagan interpretation of Winter as a time of stillness, darkness, dormancy, rest. So this week's quotation, by Karl Tucholsky, struck a chord with me: "There are many different noises. There is only one silence."

In the lead up to the Christmas season (and, by the way, how did two. or even twelve, days turn into a "season"?) many of us will be feeling not quiet and peaceful, but frazzled and exhausted. Human beings are not supposed to operate at peak capacity 365 days a year. It isn't natural, and it sure is wearing. We all need some "down time" to rest, nourish ourselves and prepare for the year ahead.

One of the readings in my service, by Stephanie Noble, reminds us "Dark is the rich, fertile earth that cradles the seed, nourishing growth. Dark is the soft night that cradles us to rest.... Dark is the gestation of our deep and knowing self. Dark is the cave where we rest and renew the soul."

Yet how many of us, in the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season, have time to rest, and nourish ourselves? Only too often, I am afraid, we end up feeling shattered, rather than rested, as we try to meet all the demands of this season of conspicuous consumption. How often do we give ourselves the chance to stop, to rest, to replenish our souls?

It is only too easy to rush from task to task, ticking off items on the to-do list, and then straight on to the next one. Yet there are times when being busy, busy, busy just gets too much. The thought crosses our minds: "Stop the world! I want to get off!" But it won't stop, so we have to consciously make the effort to schedule some time to step off that treadmill.

So if we can, perhaps we might all consider committing to spending the next few days in Sabbath rest, the deep breath before the plunge into Christmas proper. And perhaps even resolving to carve out a regular rest day each week in 2020.

What you choose to do with your time of rest and silence will be up to you. Each person has different ways of relaxing. I love reading, and stitching, but the ideal for me is to follow the Quaker advice, and "find a way into the silence which allows us to deepen our awareness of the divine and to find the inward source of our strength."

May your Christmas be peaceful and restful, and blessed with light and friendship.

Following the Beam of Light

This week's quotation is by Ralph Waldo Emerson: "One has to learn to catch and follow the beam of light that flashes inside him" [her/them].

I have long believed that there is a divine spark within each of us, which the Quakers call "that of God in everyone".  It is interesting that the phrase "divine spark" also refers to light...

This end of the week has been a dark time for many of us, as the government not of our choosing has been returned to power. I have seen many sad, angry posts on Facebook, and a whole heap of despair and fear, for our society, for the NHS, for those worse off than we are, and also for ourselves, which is legitimate, after all.

How can we move on? How can we get past this and find the mojo to continue to work for the good of society, to stand on the side of love, to carry on supporting good causes?

I think that the only reliable way of doing this is to connect with this "beam of light that flashes inside us". For me, and I would guess, for many, the simplest way to make this connection is in the silence of meditation or contemplative prayer. Or by sharing silence in a community that cares.

It is only when we re-connect with the light which is our divine centre, that we can respond faithfully and constructively to the sh*t that happens in our lives. Otherwise, we often end up throwing a quick solution at a problem, which is like applying sticking plaster to a serious wound, and hoping it will heal.

A. Powell Davies wrote a beautiful prayer, which is speaking to me right now:

O God who hast given us the vision of a world made beautiful and good,
be with us as we seek once more that faith
that makes our dreams come true.
When it seems to us that all before is dark,
give us to remember that so it seemed
to many who went before us.
When mistrust and doubt are upon us
and we are battling bleakly with despair,
let us know that the great and good of every time
have had to find their way, as we must,
by their courage and in confidence and trust.
Help us, O God, to keep close company with their spirits.
Amen

The Doors of Perception

Such a poetic quotation this week, from William Blake, "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is: infinite."

When I googled it to get the exact quote, I found that The Doors of Perception is also a book by Aldous Huxley, published in 1954, which explains his psychedelic experiences under the influence of mescaline in May 1953. According to Wikipedia, "Huxley recalls the insights he experienced, ranging from the 'purely aesthetic' to 'sacramental vision'."

But I do not believe that you need to be under the influence of dangerous drugs to experience the possibility of infinity in the everyday world. The "doors of perception" - our senses - may be cleansed through spiritual awareness and through moments of grace.  At such times, you may experience the ordinary world, everyday events, with a heightened awareness and infinite gratitude.

Such an experience might occur when you are out in that natural world, and are brought up standing by the singular beauty of a sunrise, or a waterfall, or a single flower in all its wondrous complexity, or a mountain. Or the sight of a star bearing bright witness in the darkening sky.

Or the sound of a beautiful song or piece of music. Pilgrim by Enya has been doing this to me, the past few days.

Or bending over your sleeping child and being filled with so much love, that you feel your heart might burst.

Gratitude and an awareness of grace can transform our world, if we let it. We just have to be awake to the possibilities and aware when the moments come. Because come they will. And they are a blessing. Sacramental vision is available to all of us.

Small Excitements

This week's quotation, by Friedrich Hölderlin, reads, "There is nothing so little or small, that you cannot get excited about it."

And I absolutely believe that. Small children know the secret, because they have not got the experience of life to be blasé or cynical about the world. The way that the frost turns the leaves all sparkly, the sound of a loved one's footsteps coming up the path, a visit to somewhere new... all these are sources of excitement for them. Everything, no matter how "little or small" has the potential to be greeted with cries and wriggles of excitement.

As we get older, we seem to become more world-weary. We've seen it all before... meh, whatever. And I think that is so sad. So I try to put myself into a small child's mindset, when something new happens, and appreciate it with all of me.

Yesterday was a good example. I started a new cross-stitch project. There are few things in life which give me so much quiet pleasure as unpacking a new kit - examining the glowing colours of the silks, having a good look at the chart, and being thrilled by the notion that over the next few weeks or months, these disparate elements - silks, material and needle, will be coming together to create something new and beautiful.

And then giving it away to the person I've stitched it for. Most of my stitching these days is for other people, in the shape of wedding and anniversary and birth samplers. It gives me great joy to create something original for the people I love.

Reading can be another source of small excitements. I've recently discovered The Expanse series by James S.A. Corey, and the books (eight of them) are beautifully written. Every few pages, I will come across a sentence, or a passage, which is so perfect, I want to share it with someone. The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever by Stephen Donaldson have the same effect, as does J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. The magic of well-written words, to transport the reader to a new world - this is a small excitement which will never pall.

What little thing makes you excited? Look around your life and see...

Only One Step

When I first read this week's quotation, from Seneca, I was discouraged. It reads: "What you take for the summit is only one step."

I thought, "Bother (or a less printable equivalent) - my work is never done. Why even try?"

But then I thought again, and saw it in a different way - that our journey through life is made up of only one step, followed by another and another... and then, somehow, we get to where we're going.

And then rest, re-evaluate and start the whole process over again! So the message I'd like to take from Seneca is that although we can only take one step at a time, each one is important, and each one moves us on in our lives. Sometimes, we may feel that it is "two steps forward, one step back", but hey! That is still progress.

And if we feel we have hit rock bottom, as happens to everyone at some point (for me it was the Summer of 2013, when I had my first and only alcoholic blackout and realised that if I didn't quit, the only way onward was down), then we can choose a different direction, and start to move on again.

For me, the "one step" was quitting drinking for good on 2nd September 2013.  I have not had an alcoholic drink since. Alcoholics Anonymous and other Twelve Step programmes  also recognise the importance of the "one step at a time" way of living. The important thing is being brave enough to make that one step, over and over again.

Each of us has an opportunity every day to make another step in the direction we're going. And can choose to make it - or not. But when we choose Life, the onward steps will always be for good.