Between a Rock and a Hard Place

 I came across a beautiful short poem by John Roedel in my Facebook feed this morning: 

"Between a rock

and a hard place,

let me be water,

let me be water,

let me be water."

And its truth convicted me. Sometimes in our lives, we feel as though we are completely stuck between a rock and a hard place, between two hard and unpleasant things, and that there is no way out. Roedel's words reminded me that water always finds its way through, somehow. That it has the power to seep through the smallest cracks in the reality of our lives, and flow on, undisturbed. And that in the end, it also has the power to wear down those rocks, soften the edges of those hard places, and bring us into a new equilibrium.

There are so many hard places in all our lives. The temptation can be to armour up against them, to protect our vulnerability by enclosing our souls in a carapace of "I'm fine", "I'm dealing with it", "I can cope". It can feel much harder to allow ourselves to feel the feelings, to be open and vulnerable, to trust that life is ultimately good, even if we are not in a particularly good place, right now.

I attended my regular yoga class yesterday evening, and the instructor always begins in the same way. She has us lying on our backs and talks us through a series of breathing and relaxation exercises to open up our bodies, enabling them to stretch and soften. I believe that being open and trusting and vulnerable has the same effect on our souls, enabling them to stretch and soften too. 

So John Roedel's words will be a mantra for me in the days and weeks to come: "Between a rock and a hard place, let me be water."

Coming to Rest in God

This week's quote is by the 20th century German Existentialist philosopher, Peter Wust, whose works have never been translated into English. According to my Google German to English translator, it reads, "Man is the eternal seeker of happiness, the tireless seeker of truth, the seeker of God who never comes to rest."

When I read it in the original German, I mistranslated it to mean that people eternally seek after happiness, tirelessly seek after truth, but are only able to find peace and rest in God. Which I know is not what he is saying, but it is what I believe. It is certainly what I needed to hear, this week.

Otherwise, what is faith for? I believe that my faith in God helps me in times of sadness, when I am unable to perceive the "truth" of a situation, so that I am able to hand whatever it is over to God and know that I am held in loving arms. This may be manifested through the love and concern of other people, but I believe that all humankind have a divine spark within them, which prompts them to reach out to other human beings in pain and offer them consolation. 

And that's all.

Respectful Dialogue

The 20th century German philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer once wrote, "A conversation presupposes that the other person could be right."

We, as a society, seem to have lost this insight in recent years. Most public "conversation" is fiercely adversarial, with each participant focussed only on their own point of view, on putting over their own agenda, with little care for what the other person thinks or believes. Scoring points seems to be more important than learning about the other.

I think that is so sad. I believe that *no-one* has Got It All Right, whatever "It" is, and that there should always be room and time for listening to what the other person says, for learning from each other.  Even if our lack of listening skills come from a misplaced zeal for our own points of view, it is still wrong to disregard the wisdom of other people. Like Gadamer says, "the other person could be right".

If I was in charge of the world (😀) I would wave my magic wand and stop all conflict in its tracks. Then I would enforce a long process of deep listening on all participants, interspersed with times of stillness and meditation, because in true conversation, where there is give and take, it is possible to come to understand and appreciate that we are not always right, that the other person has a point, if not several points, with which we might come to agree, if only we thought about it long enough. Which would be where the times of stillness and reflection came in.

We all have the innate ability to pause before we leap in with a reaction, but in order to practice this, we need to step back from our immediate gut responses, and take time out to reflect on what we have heard. To understand that "the other person could be right".

And even if we know for sure that the other person is wrong (for example, if they are saying or doing hateful things to other people or the planet) there are still better ways of responding than through instant aggro. Because mutual aggression only leads to entrenchment behind fixed positions. Whereas, respectful dialogue may just lead towards a change in behaviour, to a more enlightened understanding.

I blogged about the art of deep listening a few years ago, here, and I still hold by what I said then: "It takes a lot of practice to put [all the blocks to deep listening] aside and to 'step out of the I' and truly listen to what the other person is saying.... But it is essential, if we are to have 'real', deep, meaningful conversations. For the speaker, it is about being heard, held, and deeply accepted. For the listener, it is about putting all the blocks aside and concentrating exclusively on the other."

I wonder how much more peaceful, how much more harmonious, our world would be, if more of us tried to put this into practice?

Compassion: A Complex Process

This week's quote, by American philosopher, Martha Nussbaum, sums up beautifully the complex process which is compassion. She writes, "In order to feel compassion, you have to have a fairly complex sequence of thoughts: that another being is suffering, that this suffering is bad, that it would be good if it were alleviated."

I have blogged many times about the importance of compassion here - if you go to the tags at the side of this post, you'll find links to those posts. Yet I believe it cannot be emphasised too often that compassion for others is the true basis for a civilised society. It is only when we care for others that we are able to transcend our own selfishness and begin to work together for the good of all.

Having compassion for another involves having a certain level of awareness of them, so that you are able to (at least partly) understand how they are feeling, and not judge them, but empathise with them. It involves deep listening, no blame, and a willingness to sit alongside someone else in their darkness and be with them. Without trying to fix whatever is wrong.

And it's closely connected to empathy, which Brené Brown defines like this (in Daring Greatly): "Empathy is a strange and powerful thing. There is no script. There is no right way or wrong way to do it. It's simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of 'You're not alone'."

So yes, feeling compassion, having empathy for, another person is complex, is difficult, as Nussbaum says. It takes time and trouble and the ability to put someone else ahead of ourselves. Yet I believe it is the glue which holds people together, which enables us (together) to work towards making our world a better place.

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 is Tolerance?

The French Enlightenment writer and philosopher, Voltaire, famously asked, "What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly."

Freedom, reason, and tolerance are the traditional underlying values of Unitarianism. They are also the three pillars of a good society. The news over the past few months has shown only too graphically how the lack of these values can lead to suppression, unreason and intolerance. In both politics, and on the world stage, intolerance of the other has led to fiercely adversarial situations, violence and death. Why do we find it so difficult to pardon each other's "frailty and error"?

The old Unitarian leaflet, A Faith Worth Thinking About, presented values which Unitarians share, including "mutual respect and goodwill in personal relations" and "constructive tolerance and openness towards the sincerely held beliefs of others."

Outsiders may find it difficult to understand how the Unitarian movement holds together, placing, as it does, so much importance on the freedom of individual belief based on reason and conscience. Yet I believe that tolerance, this openness to new thoughts and ideas, and the refusal to "other" others, is a key concept in Unitarianism; indeed it is what has kept it green and growing down the centuries. Our movement has been underpinned by a process of continuous and continuing revelation. At different times and in different countries, different ideas have been considered to be most important. But our tolerance means we have a tigerish determination to fight for the right of others to enjoy the same freedom to worship in whatever way they choose, so long as it doesn't harm anyone else. Our "fellowship in diversity" (happy phrase) aims to be tolerant towards others. As Joyce Grenfell beautifully puts it, we believe in "loving in spite of human imperfection."

But Unitarian tolerance is NOT just another way of saying "anything goes". There was a fascinating article in our magazine, The Inquirer, many years ago, entitled, Tolerance: what's your limit? It covered both the spiritual and practical aspects of tolerance, a distinction which I think it is important to stress. On the spiritual side, for example, Sarah Tinker, lately minister at Kensington Unitarians, wrote of attending a Build Your Own Theology course: "I learnt that Unitarians, by and large, are spiritual folk who can stand the terror of uncertainty - who can accept that, in matters religious, 'We just don't know for sure'. By sitting together in religious education groups Unitarians are doing far more than just 'tolerating' each other. By truly listening to one another - by creating spaces where we can share one another's stories, hopes and fears - we affirm the right of individuals to express themselves fully and to be heard and accepted for who they are, unique human beings."

David Arthur's contribution was more pragmatic and for me, it summarises what Unitarian tolerance is (and isn't) about: "We Unitarians reckon to be tolerant folk. 'Freedom, reason and tolerance' we proclaim from the rooftops. But what does it mean to be tolerant? Is there a line to be drawn, and if so, where do we, or should we, draw it?

        Let me deal with a tolerance that isn't. We all know Unitarians who say: 'Of course I'm tolerant of other religions; if they choose to believe all that nonsense, that's okay by me!' That is not tolerance; that is condescension. Tolerance of other religions means, 'I recognise that your belief is different. Mine works for me, but I accept that yours is valid for you. And if you get benefit and meaning from it, then good for you.'

        Are there limits to tolerance? Oh yes. 'All are welcome here', says our hymn. Well, actually, no. I would not  welcome those whose beliefs advocate paedophilia, female circumcision, slavery, stoning adultererr to death or homophobia, etc. The Pagan motto of 'do as you will, provided you do no harm' is relevant here. So I draw a line. Let's not kid ourselves that there are no limits to tolerance. Where do you draw your line?"

I agree. So while I would agree with Voltaire that we need to recognise each other's frailty and error, we have to draw a line when that frailty and error leads people to harm others. We must be intolerant of others' intolerance.

  

 

The Path to Contentment

This week's quote, by Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, really speaks to my condition, as the Quakers say. It reads, "Think of what you have, rather than of what you lack! Of the things you have, select the best, and then reflect how eagerly you would have sought them if you did not have them."

The basic idea is about appreciating what we have, rather than continually chasing after what we don't. To appreciate what we have, we need to be awake and aware of the multiplicity of good things all around us. For example, I just (a couple of minutes ago) took the above photo of this week's postcard using my iPhone and sent it to myself via e-mail. A few seconds later, it was in my inbox and I was able to download it to my laptop, then select it and put it into this blogpost.

Which today, it is tempting to take completely for granted. But honestly - wow! At times like this, I am stunned by the miracle of modern computer technology. That I am able to take a photo of a physical object using my phone, and can then edit said photo, before sending it instantly to my inbox, download it, and use it. I am old enough to appreciate what a miracle this is. To realise how completely impossible it would have been in the days before the IT revolution. 

And that is one small and fairly frivolous example. I could offer a multitude of others - the instant connectivity that mobile phones bring us; the blue sky, white clouds and large and magnificent tree outside my window; the fact that I will be going to visit my two beautiful grandsons later this morning; that my husband has made a wonderful recovery from major surgery. There is so very much to appreciate. So very much to be grateful for. I realise how very blessed, how very privileged I am, to be me.

A wise Unitarian, John Naish, once wrote, "Enoughness is the path to contentment." And I think that is the nub of Marcus Aurelius's message. At times like this, I remember a prayer quoted by Rachel Naomi Remen in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings, which I have shared on here before:

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 and appreciate the everyday miracles in our lives. Amen