Yes, but...

 "The years teach a lot that the days never know" is this week's quotation, by Unitarian and Transcendentalist, Ralph Waldo Emerson. I love his writings and never thought I would find myself disagreeing with him. But this time, I do. At least in part...

I agree with him, in so far as the longer we live, the more it is possible to learn. And that hopefully, if we use our time, minds and souls well, we will benefit from the learning. And that it is not possible to learn about all the aspects of anything in a very short time - months and years of familiarity and study are needed.

Here comes the "but". I find that there are transcendental days, transcendental moments, transcendental experiences, which can change our lives forever, in what seems like an instant. I'm talking about the sudden spark of inspiration or understanding which comes like a bolt from the blue and we realise something new and startling about our world. Those moments when, after we have experienced them, life is forever divided into "before" and "after". 

Let me share some examples from my own life. 

• The moments that my son and daughter were born and I experienced instant and life-changing love for them. It was almost like a physical jolt through my body - I was consumed by it. 
• My first sight of the Jungfrau soaring white and beautiful into the blue sky of Switzerland, at the age of 13 - I had never seen anything so beautiful, so awe-inspiring. 
• Watching the BBC documentary The War Game at a CND meeting in the late 1970s and really understanding for the first time how evil nuclear weapons are.
• A less lofty moment - plunging into an ice-cold lake for a naked swim and feeling so very alive.
• Many instances of reading books which changed how I thought, what I believed about life and my place in it.

I am sure that you will be able to think of your own Eureka moments. So yes, Mr. Emerson, the years do teach a lot, but the days and the moments can as well.

I would love to know what your Eureka moments have been...

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. 

*Only* in the woods?

 When I saw the image for this week's quotation, sunlight filtering through the green leaves of trees, I felt at peace.

Then I read the quotation, by Michelangelo, "Peace can only be found in the woods," and thought, "Why only?" If he had said, "peace can be found in the woods", I would have agreed completely. But *only* in the woods?? No, surely not.

When I walk in my local woods, Salcey Forest, I do feel a great sense of peace steal into my soul, especially if the sun is shining. There is something very special about being surrounded by other living things, all going about their business with no regard for humankind. I walk in the forest at all seasons and am filled with awe and wonder at the beauty around me. Whether it is the sky with its endlessly changeful patterns of clouds, the birds filling the air with their calls, or the glory of the trees themselves, walking in the woods makes me feel grounded, at one with the world.

But that little word "only" spoils the entire quotation for me. Because although I do find peace in the woods, I also find peace in other places - worshipping with fellow Unitarians, meditating in front of my shrine each morning, sitting in my lounge, quietly reading or crocheting, in many churches and chapels - I could go on, but you get the point.

Peace is a state of mind, which may be influenced by external factors. I have also *not* felt at peace in all those places. Then I remember the beautiful prayer of St Teresa of Avila:

May today there be peace within.

May I trust God that I am exactly where I am meant to be.

May I not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May I use those gifts I have received,

and pass on the love that has been given to me.

May I be content, knowing I am a child of God.

May this presence settle into my bones,

and allow my soul the freedom

to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.

May it be so, Amen.

Two Ways of Seeing

 One of the proverbs of Solomon, in the Hebrew Bible, reads, "In the mirror of the water, you can see your face, and in the mirror of your thoughts, you can see yourself."

There are two ways of seeing - the literal way, with our eyes, the the spiritual way, with our hearts. I think these words are inviting us to see beyond the obvious - to use our deeper senses to look past the surface of our lives and perceive the deeper truths. 

This is neither an easy nor a comfortable process. It can be very tempting to skate along the surface of our lives and persuade ourselves that we are okay. It takes discipline and courage to delve deeper, to catch sight of the shadows lurking in our hearts and minds, acting on us without our conscious knowledge. 

I'm no psychologist, but I am only too aware that when someone does something that presses my buttons, I need to look inside myself to understand why, before lashing out blindly in reaction. Each one of us is unique and what bothers me, may not worry you at all, but you may get wound up by something that I am happy to let pass unremarked.

So I think that this proverb is a warning to think before we act, and to definitely take the time to think before we re-act to what is happening in our world. Because we are all at the centre of our own stories, and see things from our own unique viewpoint. It takes courage and compassion to make the effort to walk in another's shoes, and to see things from their viewpoint. Which may be very different from ours.

Sometimes you just have to go with the flow

 This week's quotation, by the splendidly named Halldor Laxness, reads, "Whoever always asks about the purpose of things will never discover their beauty."

We Unitarians, and religious folk in general, I guess, are often interested in the purpose and meaning of things - of life itself, and what comes after. We read books and articles, attend conferences and retreats, all to go deeper into the purpose and meaning of things. And that is good, and necessary.

But sometimes, just sometimes, it is better to just forget about all that and lose ourselves in the awe and wonder that is life. I often feel this when I am out in the Forest, like I was this Tuesday. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the signs of Spring were everywhere. And I found myself filled with awe and gratitude for the beauty all around me. I felt like shouting alleluias and felt surrounded by the grace of God. The trees around me looked like the pillars of a cathedral.

And so I stopped and gave thanks. Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow.

Wishes as Bridge Builders

 Eflriede Hablé, the Austrian singer, wrote, "Wishes are the most remarkable bridge builders and the most courageous committers."

I think that what she meant was that if we wish for something passionately enough, we will be willing to do the work required to make that wish come true. It is about being sufficiently committed to a goal to not be cast down by setbacks, but to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and try again.

I can understand this from my own sobriety journey, which started over seven years ago. I knew I wanted to quit drinking and knew it was going to be really hard. So I started my journey by sitting down and really thinking through all the reasons why I wanted to quit, to be free of the poison (for me and many others) that is alcohol. I knew that moderation (for me and for many others) did not work, that sooner or later, I would slip back into my normal drinking habits, which weren't good for me. Armed with those reasons (or wishes) I was able to remain committed to my goal, even in the difficult early days and months. Day by day, week by week, month by month, I built my bridge of sobriety. And I have never regretted it.

Sometimes, of course, however much we wish for something, even pray for something, it *doesn't* come true. How many of us have wished for health for our loved ones, only to have to witness them becoming more and more sick, before eventually dying? This can be a real test of faith in a benevolent God - why did He/She let X die? In these circumstances, our wishes and prayers are not enough.

But I have learned that they may help us to endure what has to be endured. I do not believe that God has the power to directly intervene in the world, except through us, the imperfect human beings He/She has imbued with His/Her presence. And a sense of this Presence may help us to endure, give us the courage to bear what must be borne, and to eventually come through to the other side, not heart-whole, perhaps, but in one piece, when our wishes and prayers have not come true, when the event we dreaded has come to pass.

So yes, wishes can be bridge-builders, so long as what we wish for is able to be influenced by our actions.

Honesty on the Path to Wisdom

 Thomas Jefferson wrote, "Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom." 

When I was first introduced to the Enneagram, and discovered that I am a Three, I was pointed in the direction of a wonderful book by Richard Rohr and Andreas Ebert, Discovering the Enneagram: An Ancient Tool for a New Spiritual Journey, I found the chapter on Type Threes to be agonising reading - there was so much uncomfortable truth in it - truth I had been avoiding for years. 

Each Enneagram type has a particular virtue and a particular vice. To my horror, I learned that the vice of a Three is Deceit, which really upset me, as I had always prided myself on my honesty. But in the years since then, I have come to understand that the person I was at the time (2010) was deceiving not only herself, by refusing to look at her flaws, but also the world, by presenting only her best side, so as to win all that so-necessary (to Threes) praise and approval. Openness and vulnerability were complete no-nos. It has taken years of shadow work and prayer to begin to get through this, and to learn that actually, love is not dependent on what we do. True love is always, always unconditional, and is given to us for who we are, "warts and all". The warts in my case being fear of failure to achieve my goals, fear of losing face, being an approval junkie and not coping well with criticism. 

I did not get over this last until I joined Northampton Writing Circle, where we compose a story each month, and then read it aloud and receive the group's comments. When I first joined, I hated my work being criticised in any shape or form, but over the years, I have come to welcome, even be grateful, for constructive critisim. And that is huge - at least for me. But without this change of heart, I am sure I would never have finished my novel, never found a publisher.

I have come to understand and accept that all human beings come from God, and are worthy of love, just the way they are. We are each "unique, precious, children of God", to quote the Quakers. And that the only way forward is to have compassion for all human beings, for all living beings, which includes compassion for myself.