simplicity // 21
the Bare Foot
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
What do you think of, when you hear the phrase “bare foot”? Hippies? A sunny childhood? Paddling by the sea? I suspect that most of us can only summon memories of walking bare-foot as a child, or at the beach, because we simply don’t do it any other time.
Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote a poem called ‘God’s Grandeur’ in 1877, about humanity, nature and its Creator; and within it comes this intriguing line about the foot. The “soil is bare now” (since the Industrial Revolution) and “nor can foot feel, being shod”. We are disconnected, physically and spiritually.
In a fabulous book Born to Run, Christopher McDougall asks, in particular, why runners have slavishly worn heavily cushioned trainers (since Nike introduced them in 1972), which cause our natural muscles to waste, and which lead, he argues, to widespread injury.
“Just look at the foot’s architecture,” he writes. “[It’s] a marvel that engineers have been trying to match for centuries... Buttressing the foot’s arch from all sides is a high-tensile web of twenty-six bones, thirty-three joints, twelve rubbery tendons, and eighteen muscles, all stretching and flexing like an earthquake-resistant suspension bridge.”
“The barefoot walker receives a continuous stream of information about the ground [from as many as 7,200 nerve endings] and about his own relationship to it,” writes Dr Paul Brand, a professor of surgery, “while a shod foot sleeps inside an unchanging environment.”
Even Nike awoke to the reality, in the end, and when Jeff Pisciotta, their senior researcher, filmed people running bare-foot, he was startled: “Instead of each foot clomping down as it would in a shoe, it behaved like an animal with a mind of its own – stretching, grasping, seeking the ground with splayed toes, gliding in for a landing like a lake-bound swan.”
We have disconnected from the earth in so many ways. I wonder what would happen if you took a walk, or even a very gentle run, today, in bare feet, in some place you’d normally wear shoes? I wonder what people’s reaction would be? I wonder what the ground would feel like? I wonder what you’d reconnect with? And I wonder what you’d be missing if you didn’t try?
* * *
action point:
Barefoot? Just do it!
You could also read the rest of the poem by clicking here
* * *
rsvp:
“I grew up in the Fens - somewhere many don’t like as they are ‘featureless’. I don't get back there often, but when I do it is like food for my soul. Big sky, endless horizon - wonderful...” Tim
“Got to love Proust! Get shivers down my spine (good ones) when I think of how he describes that feeling of connecting with intangible things and the past and the present and the future and the self...” Emily
“I'm enjoying this journey very much. It is challenging, encouraging, insightful and revelatory. I'm loving the journeying together of a community of ‘un-met, but known friends’... My challenging-joy during this season has been to constantly try and simplify my journey through this thing called life and to try ever increasingly to live in the now and to be as alive and as present to the present as I possibly can be... My eight month old son is an amazing lesson to me in living in 'the now'... his every need is immediate (and simple) throughout a day. Food, milk, play, sleep... Simple. And within that simplicity come beautiful moments... A whole day of them, each day. Bountiful simplicity. My personal prayer during and beyond this series is that I will be able to increasingly embrace the journey-as-destination sense of my life, thus raising my appreciation and awareness of the 'awesome normal' that I am surrounded by every single day!” Stuart
“I wanted to share my journal from Tuesday to encourage any other 'Lenten failures': ‘Not been able to do the Simplicity devotions for 4 days - before doing today’s I felt low - felt I had failed in the Lenten walk so far. All the things I said I would do, I’ve failed to do, so therefore felt unworthy to continue. But today’s task was to repeat for five minutes, “Father of all we thank and praise you that while we were still far off, you met us in our need, and brought us home.” As I repeated it I changed the 'we' and ‘us’ to 'I' and 'me'... It was incredible, the sense of God’s love! I no longer feel unworthy or condemned , just forgiven, loved and 'home'. I then picked at random a CD and the words from the recent Amazing Grace version spoke to me: ‘and like a flood His mercy rains, unending ,unending love, amazing grace'. My question? How does God go on being so patient with me? I'm so glad He does.’” Keith
* * *
May you feel the ground beneath your feet...
Go well!
Brian
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
The Horizon
simplicity // 20
the Horizon
I wonder where you go, when you need to look to the horizon? The sea draws me, intuitively, it seems, when I want to gaze without interruption, as far as I can see. Perhaps you climb a hill or a mountain. Perhaps you find a desert or a wilderness place.
The horizon is inextricably linked with our seeing. It invites us, for a change, not to notice the smaller details in front of us, the distractions and the urgent reminders. Instead, it helps us literally to rest and refocus our eyes, and provokes an inner way of seeing. It re-opens the eyes of our heart to the infinite and eternal. And it helps us to return, once more, to the minutae before us with fresh vision.
We can never visit the horizon physically, of course. It is, inevitably, beyond us. Yet still it draws our soul to the very edge of the physical world, to experience the point at which the known world bleeds into the unknown beyond. And sometimes, on a misty day, you can’t even see the join.
Restless explorers have always wondered what lies beyond the horizon, and have ventured to cross that line, towards new lands, through strange seas. We may not literally be setting sail, but we can go into this day with the same sense of exploration, mystery and wonder. After all, “the real voyage of discovery,” as Marcel Proust wrote, “lies not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”
* * *
rsvp:
“When I thought about our journey in life, a dear friend’s funeral came to mind, as it was five years last Sunday that she died of cancer. At her funeral, we heard the story written by Bishop Brent - about a ship which sails towards the horizon. Someone says, ‘She is gone!’ and the ship sails from our sight. Yet it begins to appear to others watching her coming over their horizon, and so they shout, ‘There she comes!’ The story made me think of our journey with and towards God’s heavenly kingdom. Our lives, a passing moment on our individual journey towards everlasting life – coming home.” Sue
“I opened your email late in the day (The Road Home). So it wasn’t that I’d deliberately taken a different route home from school, but it just so happened that I did. On the way I passed a kindly lady whistling to a blackbird on a fence. Astonishingly the blackbird sang back to her and she told me he often did. What was remarkable was not only had this woman struck up a relationship with a blackbird, but also the beauty of the blackbird's (a common place garden bird) song. Somethimes you forget to appreciate the things you see every day.” Kate
* * *
action point:
I love this exercise - “Soft Eyes” - from the writer, scientist and philosopher George Leonard. It’s a way of seeing afresh, for those who can’t get a view of the horizon, today. Here’s a quick pre-amble, which you’re welcome to skip.
Usually, the way we see involves focusing on specific objects, giving them shape, meaning, a name. It’s an analytical way of seeing with “hard eyes”. Seeing with hard eyes is useful for many situations, but not all, says Leonard. “Soft eyes” provides an alternative. It’s a way of seeing that’s receptive and synthesising, instead of proactively analytical.
With soft eyes we tend to perceive a whole field of vision in terms of energy and motion, instead of individual details. Peripheral vision is enhanced, depth of field appears greater, and colours intensify. You become aware of much more going on within your vision, and it’s a practical skill that some sports players intuitively have mastered – the ones who seem to be able to see everything that’s going on around them, without specifically looking. It also helps you to enter a deeper state of consciousness (accessing the ‘alpha’ state, as it is known, which is generally associated with closed eyes – taking you beyond the day-to-day busy ‘beta’ brainwaves which, while helping you to deal with the minutae in front of you, cause you stress if you stay in that state for too long.)
Here it is:
Begin by standing, with eyes closed, in a relaxed way. Breathe normally, naturally. With the pads of your fingers, very gently massage your eyeballs through the closed eyelids until they seem to soften, if only slightly. Let your hands drop to your sides, and focus on your breathing. After a few breaths, let your eyes open and let the world come in. Don’t stare or stop your eyes from blinking. Don’t reach out with your eyes to focus on anything. Just focus on nothing in particular. Your eyes are simply open. Now, let yourself become aware of the entire field of vision, giving no part of it more importance or time than any other. Let any movement or shape or colour simply be integral to the whole.
Stay like this for several minutes, relax, and notice what you notice.
... from George Leonard’s The Silent Pulse: A Search for the Perfect Rhythm that Exists in Each of Us.
* * *
May you see, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Horizon
I wonder where you go, when you need to look to the horizon? The sea draws me, intuitively, it seems, when I want to gaze without interruption, as far as I can see. Perhaps you climb a hill or a mountain. Perhaps you find a desert or a wilderness place.
The horizon is inextricably linked with our seeing. It invites us, for a change, not to notice the smaller details in front of us, the distractions and the urgent reminders. Instead, it helps us literally to rest and refocus our eyes, and provokes an inner way of seeing. It re-opens the eyes of our heart to the infinite and eternal. And it helps us to return, once more, to the minutae before us with fresh vision.
We can never visit the horizon physically, of course. It is, inevitably, beyond us. Yet still it draws our soul to the very edge of the physical world, to experience the point at which the known world bleeds into the unknown beyond. And sometimes, on a misty day, you can’t even see the join.
Restless explorers have always wondered what lies beyond the horizon, and have ventured to cross that line, towards new lands, through strange seas. We may not literally be setting sail, but we can go into this day with the same sense of exploration, mystery and wonder. After all, “the real voyage of discovery,” as Marcel Proust wrote, “lies not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”
* * *
rsvp:
“When I thought about our journey in life, a dear friend’s funeral came to mind, as it was five years last Sunday that she died of cancer. At her funeral, we heard the story written by Bishop Brent - about a ship which sails towards the horizon. Someone says, ‘She is gone!’ and the ship sails from our sight. Yet it begins to appear to others watching her coming over their horizon, and so they shout, ‘There she comes!’ The story made me think of our journey with and towards God’s heavenly kingdom. Our lives, a passing moment on our individual journey towards everlasting life – coming home.” Sue
“I opened your email late in the day (The Road Home). So it wasn’t that I’d deliberately taken a different route home from school, but it just so happened that I did. On the way I passed a kindly lady whistling to a blackbird on a fence. Astonishingly the blackbird sang back to her and she told me he often did. What was remarkable was not only had this woman struck up a relationship with a blackbird, but also the beauty of the blackbird's (a common place garden bird) song. Somethimes you forget to appreciate the things you see every day.” Kate
* * *
action point:
I love this exercise - “Soft Eyes” - from the writer, scientist and philosopher George Leonard. It’s a way of seeing afresh, for those who can’t get a view of the horizon, today. Here’s a quick pre-amble, which you’re welcome to skip.
Usually, the way we see involves focusing on specific objects, giving them shape, meaning, a name. It’s an analytical way of seeing with “hard eyes”. Seeing with hard eyes is useful for many situations, but not all, says Leonard. “Soft eyes” provides an alternative. It’s a way of seeing that’s receptive and synthesising, instead of proactively analytical.
With soft eyes we tend to perceive a whole field of vision in terms of energy and motion, instead of individual details. Peripheral vision is enhanced, depth of field appears greater, and colours intensify. You become aware of much more going on within your vision, and it’s a practical skill that some sports players intuitively have mastered – the ones who seem to be able to see everything that’s going on around them, without specifically looking. It also helps you to enter a deeper state of consciousness (accessing the ‘alpha’ state, as it is known, which is generally associated with closed eyes – taking you beyond the day-to-day busy ‘beta’ brainwaves which, while helping you to deal with the minutae in front of you, cause you stress if you stay in that state for too long.)
Here it is:
Begin by standing, with eyes closed, in a relaxed way. Breathe normally, naturally. With the pads of your fingers, very gently massage your eyeballs through the closed eyelids until they seem to soften, if only slightly. Let your hands drop to your sides, and focus on your breathing. After a few breaths, let your eyes open and let the world come in. Don’t stare or stop your eyes from blinking. Don’t reach out with your eyes to focus on anything. Just focus on nothing in particular. Your eyes are simply open. Now, let yourself become aware of the entire field of vision, giving no part of it more importance or time than any other. Let any movement or shape or colour simply be integral to the whole.
Stay like this for several minutes, relax, and notice what you notice.
... from George Leonard’s The Silent Pulse: A Search for the Perfect Rhythm that Exists in Each of Us.
* * *
May you see, today.
Go well!
Brian
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
The Road Home
simplicity // 19
the Road Home
“If we say ‘Yes’ to Christ’s call to follow him, our discipleship asks of us to follow a man who had nowhere to lay his head.”
So writes Esther de Waal in her wonderful book, The Celtic Way of Prayer. And as we try to follow Jesus into the wilderness this Lent, it’s worth pausing a little while longer to ask where such a road could take us. It’s a pilgrimage, of sorts.
Typically, we imagine pilgrimage to have a specific destination. Jerusalem. Santiago de Compostela. Canterbury... But the Celts had a different understanding which could help us, here. It was unique, in fact, in the Christian world.
For them, there was no fixed point to a pilgrimage; they used a different word, even – peregrinatio - which is almost untranslatable, but infers “seeking, quest, adventure, wandering”. It was an outward journey which symbolised a prompting from within, to take the longer, inward journey of the soul.
“Ready to go wherever the Spirit might take them,” writes de Waal, “seeing themselves as ‘guests of the world’, what they are seeking is the place of their resurrection, the resurrected self, the true self in Christ, which is for all of us our home.”
It’s a counter-intuitive idea – that you set out without destination, save that you are heading home. But here is the rub. “I shall not find Christ at the end of the journey ,” concludes de Waal, “unless he accompanied me along the way.”
* * *
action point
Take a journey today – however small – that involves you travelling somewhere different. If you have time, allow yourself truly to wander. If you don’t, you may simply like to walk a different way “home”. As you go, allow this to symbolise the inner journey you are taking this Lent. Try not to think too hard about it, but walk prayerfully, reflectively, and see what you notice about the process.
Otherwise, reflect on this poem by Sheena Pugh:
What If This Road?
What if this road, that has held no surprises
these many years, decided not to go
home after all; what if it could turn
left or right with no more ado
than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin
were like a long, supple bolt of cloth,
that is shaken and rolled out, and takes
a new shape from the contours beneath?
And if it chose to lay itself down
in a new way; around a blind corner,
across hills you must climb without knowing
what's on the other side; who would not hanker
to be going, at all risks? Who wants to know
a story's end, or where a road will go?
* * *
rsvp
“I have always felt at home in mountains. Powerfully so. Whether it is north Wales (home of my youth) or Scotland, or the foothills of the Himalayas where I once spent an amazing few days. I think it is the grandeur, the comfort I find in feeling small, the way their solid mass puts life in perspective. And yes - the way that I sense something powerfully divine in those places. I was two-thirds up a mountain on the day of my engagement - my knee had said 'enough' and Pete was making a bid for the summit. As I wandered around a shimmering Loch and waited I had an epiphany moment - I've only ever had two. I felt so close to God, I prayed, I worshiped, I felt a deep, deep peace and an intense intimacy. Then the man that I love walked down from the summit and asked me to marry him!” Esther
“The saying tells us that ‘home is where the heart is’... My heart has been held by Jesus for many, many years now, and through many changes of living place, some of which were uncomfortable, he has remained my home; the place where I can know and be fully known.” Wendy
“I have so appreciated this journey through lent - as I reflected this morning on home, these were my thoughts:
A place of acceptance where words no longer need be measured and weighed in quite the same way,
A place of belonging, and a place of safety, protection and containment,
But also, a place of freedom, exploration and experiment.
A place where emotions can come out to play,
or lie sorrowfully.
A place where pieces that have been broken
Can be lovingly put back together again.
A place of beginning and a place of ending.
A place of journeying and exploring
A place where a kiss
really does make it better.
I realised that this home will be wherever I go, because I have been blessed with the ability to create it.” Tania
“When I saw today’s title, I almost didn't want to read it. Six months ago my husband and I emigrated to the US for his job. Home for me, at the moment, is still Britain. There are many days where I miss so much about home. But, I know that where I am now, not just geographically, but spiritually, God gets to fulfil me, sustain me and make me feel at 'home' in his presence. For all the things I yearn for back home; friends, family, good tea and good chocolate!, I know, that here is where I want to be - relying on God to be my home.” Emily
“My childhood home wasn’t a sanctuary but a place of great uncertainty and confusion. Even now I don't always feel safe in my own home, so the concept of God being home doesn't come easily. But that's the thing about God, He's bigger than all of this so when I can't find sanctuary even with Him, He knows and understands.” Kirsty
“While my house is not impressive in any way, it is a happy home full of life and from where I can see lots of sky, trees, flowers and hear bird song all day long. It is a home that doesn’t escape the wander of creation and it is also a home that shines Jesus's light. In a world where thousands of people have recently lost their homes, my contemplation this morning made me realise that the only thing I can put any value on is Jesus’ light and it will be with me wherever I go.” Kate
(The Appreciative Inquiry) “I have usually focused on what might go wrong with the day's activities on the basis that we should always be prepared for all eventualities. This thinking has often taken over. Now I shall try to put the positive first ,and remember that even filling the bird feeder is making the day for the birds of the air.” Jeremy
“My three things were: 1. Be positive when things don't go to plan. This happened quite quickly as there was a change to arrangements at work and instead of feeling cross, I felt happy that I could get on with other tasks. I made sure I extended it to others by accepting the decision happily, wokring brightly and conscientiously on the things I did do and staying positive through the day. In doing this I actually achieved so much more than I would have usually. 2. Driving by myself. (Long story but something I often don't find easy). Did this on the way to work and felt successful and happy. 3. Attacked jobs I have been putting off! Did loads, did more at home without feeling grumpy and went to bed happy. Thanks for helping with a great day. I've continued the ideas today. And I’m still humming St Patrick’s prayer, too...” Paula
* * *
May the road rise up to meet you...
Go well!
Brian
the Road Home
“If we say ‘Yes’ to Christ’s call to follow him, our discipleship asks of us to follow a man who had nowhere to lay his head.”
So writes Esther de Waal in her wonderful book, The Celtic Way of Prayer. And as we try to follow Jesus into the wilderness this Lent, it’s worth pausing a little while longer to ask where such a road could take us. It’s a pilgrimage, of sorts.
Typically, we imagine pilgrimage to have a specific destination. Jerusalem. Santiago de Compostela. Canterbury... But the Celts had a different understanding which could help us, here. It was unique, in fact, in the Christian world.
For them, there was no fixed point to a pilgrimage; they used a different word, even – peregrinatio - which is almost untranslatable, but infers “seeking, quest, adventure, wandering”. It was an outward journey which symbolised a prompting from within, to take the longer, inward journey of the soul.
“Ready to go wherever the Spirit might take them,” writes de Waal, “seeing themselves as ‘guests of the world’, what they are seeking is the place of their resurrection, the resurrected self, the true self in Christ, which is for all of us our home.”
It’s a counter-intuitive idea – that you set out without destination, save that you are heading home. But here is the rub. “I shall not find Christ at the end of the journey ,” concludes de Waal, “unless he accompanied me along the way.”
* * *
action point
Take a journey today – however small – that involves you travelling somewhere different. If you have time, allow yourself truly to wander. If you don’t, you may simply like to walk a different way “home”. As you go, allow this to symbolise the inner journey you are taking this Lent. Try not to think too hard about it, but walk prayerfully, reflectively, and see what you notice about the process.
Otherwise, reflect on this poem by Sheena Pugh:
What If This Road?
What if this road, that has held no surprises
these many years, decided not to go
home after all; what if it could turn
left or right with no more ado
than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin
were like a long, supple bolt of cloth,
that is shaken and rolled out, and takes
a new shape from the contours beneath?
And if it chose to lay itself down
in a new way; around a blind corner,
across hills you must climb without knowing
what's on the other side; who would not hanker
to be going, at all risks? Who wants to know
a story's end, or where a road will go?
* * *
rsvp
“I have always felt at home in mountains. Powerfully so. Whether it is north Wales (home of my youth) or Scotland, or the foothills of the Himalayas where I once spent an amazing few days. I think it is the grandeur, the comfort I find in feeling small, the way their solid mass puts life in perspective. And yes - the way that I sense something powerfully divine in those places. I was two-thirds up a mountain on the day of my engagement - my knee had said 'enough' and Pete was making a bid for the summit. As I wandered around a shimmering Loch and waited I had an epiphany moment - I've only ever had two. I felt so close to God, I prayed, I worshiped, I felt a deep, deep peace and an intense intimacy. Then the man that I love walked down from the summit and asked me to marry him!” Esther
“The saying tells us that ‘home is where the heart is’... My heart has been held by Jesus for many, many years now, and through many changes of living place, some of which were uncomfortable, he has remained my home; the place where I can know and be fully known.” Wendy
“I have so appreciated this journey through lent - as I reflected this morning on home, these were my thoughts:
A place of acceptance where words no longer need be measured and weighed in quite the same way,
A place of belonging, and a place of safety, protection and containment,
But also, a place of freedom, exploration and experiment.
A place where emotions can come out to play,
or lie sorrowfully.
A place where pieces that have been broken
Can be lovingly put back together again.
A place of beginning and a place of ending.
A place of journeying and exploring
A place where a kiss
really does make it better.
I realised that this home will be wherever I go, because I have been blessed with the ability to create it.” Tania
“When I saw today’s title, I almost didn't want to read it. Six months ago my husband and I emigrated to the US for his job. Home for me, at the moment, is still Britain. There are many days where I miss so much about home. But, I know that where I am now, not just geographically, but spiritually, God gets to fulfil me, sustain me and make me feel at 'home' in his presence. For all the things I yearn for back home; friends, family, good tea and good chocolate!, I know, that here is where I want to be - relying on God to be my home.” Emily
“My childhood home wasn’t a sanctuary but a place of great uncertainty and confusion. Even now I don't always feel safe in my own home, so the concept of God being home doesn't come easily. But that's the thing about God, He's bigger than all of this so when I can't find sanctuary even with Him, He knows and understands.” Kirsty
“While my house is not impressive in any way, it is a happy home full of life and from where I can see lots of sky, trees, flowers and hear bird song all day long. It is a home that doesn’t escape the wander of creation and it is also a home that shines Jesus's light. In a world where thousands of people have recently lost their homes, my contemplation this morning made me realise that the only thing I can put any value on is Jesus’ light and it will be with me wherever I go.” Kate
(The Appreciative Inquiry) “I have usually focused on what might go wrong with the day's activities on the basis that we should always be prepared for all eventualities. This thinking has often taken over. Now I shall try to put the positive first ,and remember that even filling the bird feeder is making the day for the birds of the air.” Jeremy
“My three things were: 1. Be positive when things don't go to plan. This happened quite quickly as there was a change to arrangements at work and instead of feeling cross, I felt happy that I could get on with other tasks. I made sure I extended it to others by accepting the decision happily, wokring brightly and conscientiously on the things I did do and staying positive through the day. In doing this I actually achieved so much more than I would have usually. 2. Driving by myself. (Long story but something I often don't find easy). Did this on the way to work and felt successful and happy. 3. Attacked jobs I have been putting off! Did loads, did more at home without feeling grumpy and went to bed happy. Thanks for helping with a great day. I've continued the ideas today. And I’m still humming St Patrick’s prayer, too...” Paula
* * *
May the road rise up to meet you...
Go well!
Brian
Home
simplicity // 18
home
There is no place like home. It’s where you can know, and be most fully known. Behind the scenes of your life, it’s the place you return for sanctuary, warmth, food, love... And it’s where you can offer hospitality, such a sacred gift to bestow.
Not surprisingly, then, home has a powerful place in our cultural and spiritual psyche; in most great stories, the hero must leave home, to undergo an epic, transformational journey. Frodo leaves the Shire. Dorothy leaves Kansas City. Abram leaves Ur. It often takes leaving home to find out just what home must truly mean for us.
When Jesus went into the desert, he helped to embody the kind of “hero’s journey” which strips away all home comforts. In fact, this was the point, at the start of his public life, when he left home behind him, never to return. “Foxes have holes, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head,” he was to say, famously . Yet he, like no other, also knew precisely where home could be found, in the end: in closeness with God.
Perhaps that’s why Richard Rohr describes home, mysteriously, as “both the beginning and the end. Home is not a sentimental concept at all,” he continues, “but an inner compass and a North Star. It is a metaphor for the soul.”
Could that explain why, sometimes, then, we might feel strangely homesick, even when “at home”? And why the road “home” can lead us away, at significant moments in our life, from all that is too familiar?
* * *
Action point:
* This morning, why not meditate on a well-known prayer from the Anglican Church: “Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home.” Try saying it over and over, slowly, for five minutes.
Where is home? What does home mean to you? How might it be a “metaphor for the soul”, as Richard Rohr describes it? Spend a few minutes today sitting in a room at home you don’t normally sit in, so that you can see it from a slightly different angle - and reflect on what this home has taught you about what it means to be at home.
* For another take on home, have a look at this. The photographer and film-maker Yann Arthus-Betrand has created a visually stunning movie called Home, showing breath-taking views of the Earth from above. He has made it available on Youtube, here: http://www.youtube.com/homeproject
* “I think I saw it as a challenge... I would learn to stay still, I would learn to be alone... I wanted to know just how little I needed in order to lead a fulfilling life.” Read about the author Neil Ansell’s five-year stint living on his own in a completely isolated Welsh cottage in the woods in this week’s Observer. My life as a hermit.
* * *
rsvp:
“I was talking to a friend yesterday and he pointed out that the value of a question is that it metaphorically makes you take a step back and see the issue in a wider perspective. Which to me served to remind me of how we have to live the questions.” John
“There are so many facets to our life these days and yesterday I re-read Mother Teresa’s ‘sayings’ on Life to remind me that whilst there are many degrees of light & shade in a complete life, in order to recognise these elements we have to react to them. The last line, is, for me, the most poignant: especially in the context of my comfortable life in a leafy corner of a developed country.... even my blessed life isn’t meant to be sedentary, passive & latent & whilst it isn’t always wonderful, neither is it always awful. Perhaps the (simple !?) key for me to remember is that I must fully take part in my own life, thereby allowing God to work and (hopefully !) create in me what he intends me to be ... eventually...
Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is a promise, fulfil it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.” Alison
“For this I came: to serve. To support, show compassion, encourage; to stand beside hurting broken people; to try and make a difference in others’ lives if possible. I never felt I knew my purpose until a few years ago. I sort of fought against the lowliness of ‘just looking after and caring for people’, of never having a ‘proper career’. Of putting myself last, which I was brainwashed to do as a child. Looking back over 65 odd years, this has been the theme. I eventually realised this was/is God's plan and purpose for my life. I do finally understand the privilege it is to be trusted by other hurting, broken struggling human beings, and use my gifts to help make life a bit easier for them, especially through the blessings God has showered on me over the years.” Heather
* * *
May you be home from home, today.
Go well!
Brian
home
There is no place like home. It’s where you can know, and be most fully known. Behind the scenes of your life, it’s the place you return for sanctuary, warmth, food, love... And it’s where you can offer hospitality, such a sacred gift to bestow.
Not surprisingly, then, home has a powerful place in our cultural and spiritual psyche; in most great stories, the hero must leave home, to undergo an epic, transformational journey. Frodo leaves the Shire. Dorothy leaves Kansas City. Abram leaves Ur. It often takes leaving home to find out just what home must truly mean for us.
When Jesus went into the desert, he helped to embody the kind of “hero’s journey” which strips away all home comforts. In fact, this was the point, at the start of his public life, when he left home behind him, never to return. “Foxes have holes, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head,” he was to say, famously . Yet he, like no other, also knew precisely where home could be found, in the end: in closeness with God.
Perhaps that’s why Richard Rohr describes home, mysteriously, as “both the beginning and the end. Home is not a sentimental concept at all,” he continues, “but an inner compass and a North Star. It is a metaphor for the soul.”
Could that explain why, sometimes, then, we might feel strangely homesick, even when “at home”? And why the road “home” can lead us away, at significant moments in our life, from all that is too familiar?
* * *
Action point:
* This morning, why not meditate on a well-known prayer from the Anglican Church: “Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home.” Try saying it over and over, slowly, for five minutes.
Where is home? What does home mean to you? How might it be a “metaphor for the soul”, as Richard Rohr describes it? Spend a few minutes today sitting in a room at home you don’t normally sit in, so that you can see it from a slightly different angle - and reflect on what this home has taught you about what it means to be at home.
* For another take on home, have a look at this. The photographer and film-maker Yann Arthus-Betrand has created a visually stunning movie called Home, showing breath-taking views of the Earth from above. He has made it available on Youtube, here: http://www.youtube.com/homeproject
* “I think I saw it as a challenge... I would learn to stay still, I would learn to be alone... I wanted to know just how little I needed in order to lead a fulfilling life.” Read about the author Neil Ansell’s five-year stint living on his own in a completely isolated Welsh cottage in the woods in this week’s Observer. My life as a hermit.
* * *
rsvp:
“I was talking to a friend yesterday and he pointed out that the value of a question is that it metaphorically makes you take a step back and see the issue in a wider perspective. Which to me served to remind me of how we have to live the questions.” John
“There are so many facets to our life these days and yesterday I re-read Mother Teresa’s ‘sayings’ on Life to remind me that whilst there are many degrees of light & shade in a complete life, in order to recognise these elements we have to react to them. The last line, is, for me, the most poignant: especially in the context of my comfortable life in a leafy corner of a developed country.... even my blessed life isn’t meant to be sedentary, passive & latent & whilst it isn’t always wonderful, neither is it always awful. Perhaps the (simple !?) key for me to remember is that I must fully take part in my own life, thereby allowing God to work and (hopefully !) create in me what he intends me to be ... eventually...
Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is a promise, fulfil it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.” Alison
“For this I came: to serve. To support, show compassion, encourage; to stand beside hurting broken people; to try and make a difference in others’ lives if possible. I never felt I knew my purpose until a few years ago. I sort of fought against the lowliness of ‘just looking after and caring for people’, of never having a ‘proper career’. Of putting myself last, which I was brainwashed to do as a child. Looking back over 65 odd years, this has been the theme. I eventually realised this was/is God's plan and purpose for my life. I do finally understand the privilege it is to be trusted by other hurting, broken struggling human beings, and use my gifts to help make life a bit easier for them, especially through the blessings God has showered on me over the years.” Heather
* * *
May you be home from home, today.
Go well!
Brian
Monday, 28 March 2011
The Appreciative Inquiry
simplicity // 17
the Appreciative Inquiry
I don’t know about you, but if I have an important piece of work to do, or a trip to prepare for, or even (sometimes) just an ordinary day to live, I tend to brace myself and ask, “What could go wrong?”
Now, it’s not a bad thing to prepare for the eventualities. But what happens if we focus most of our attention on them? For a start, we’ll waste our energy (which is finite) contemplating, and trying to avert, the domesday scenarios (which rarely happen anyway). And second, we won’t channel that energy into the things we could do really well. Which seems crazy.
According to the ‘Appreciative Inquiry’ philosophy - as championed by David Cooperrider, a professor of organisational behaviour - humans and their systems grow in the direction of what they persistently ask questions about.
He writes: “I have found that it does not help, in the long run, to begin my inquiries from the standpoint of the world as a problem to be solved. I am more effective, quite simply, as long as I can retain the spirit of inquiry of the everlasting beginner...” It’s a lovely phrase. Just think what it could mean.
For me personally, I have to respond by reversing my usual line of inquiry. And so... Ahem... What can go right, today?
When you stop to think of it, what can’t? I could inspire those around me. I could achieve a goal. I could choose to answer life’s questions with grace, inspired by Victor Frankl. I could open my own eyes to the beauty around me. I could do something daring. I could make a stranger smile. I could savour a journey, instead of wishing my time away. I could unleash my pent-up creativity on the world. I could stop to be silent. I could listen to someone’s story. I could persevere and show courage in adversity. I could laugh. A meeting could go well. I could draw deeply from the well-spring. I could be genuinely curious about the day ahead, the colours, the smells, the textures, the traces of God, the presence of others... I could make someone’s day. I could act in love...
And I could make this a habit.
* * *
action point:
Ask yourself what could go right, today. Identify three things in particular. Write them down. And see where your inquiry leads you.
Try, too, to ask a few additional, “appreciative” questions about each thing. So if, for instance, you decide that you will make someone’s day, try asking yourself positively about that decision. Whose day will you make? What could you do? What will you do? How could it affect them, for good? How could your attitude extend to others, as well? &c...
* * *
rsvp:
(The Answer) “Victor Frankl's thinking about life questioning us makes sense to me. When things are tough it feels we’re being questioned on how we’ll react - how strong are we? How flexibly can we turn a bad thing into a chance to reflect and learn? Equally, when things are great in our lives the questions become - can we accept this happiness with joy and gratitude? How generous can we be in our good fortune?” Kirstan
(The Well-spring) “I went yesterday to Duiske (meaning dark water) Abbey in Kilkenny, a Cistercian abbey first built in the 13th century and which subsequently changed hands across religious denominations across the centuries before ending back with the Catholic church today. What a prayer-filled and peaceful place; my thought is that it does not matter what the denomination is – it’s the collective power of prayer that creates a holy and sacred place.” Ciaran
“My favourite place to which I return all the time is our bedroom; my space at my bedside, I named it ‘my Solitude’. As a child, I regarded my bedroom as sacred – where I was able to study, pray, cry, laugh at my parents and siblings in secret, dance and share jokes with my best friend. Even in adulthood, it is still the only place I can be naked before God, listen for His voice and like Hagar in the Bible say, ‘You’re the God who sees me!’” Nikky
(The Simple Question) “Why ambush the promise of so many good todays, by constantly re-visiting and re-living those painful yesterdays. What does it achieve?” Heather
(The Child’s View) “In Milestones by Hilary Faith Jones, she has a story called The Dance, in which she imagines Jesus dancing with the children when the grown-ups try to shoo them away. It is so infectious! And in terms of sunflowers – a friend gave me a bucket, compost and sunflower seeds. After my holiday I plan to be creative and plant them. I will be remembering lent well into the summer!” Rosalind
“Seems like life is a journey, but how are we travelling? Are we driving in rush hour, foot on the accelerator and hands gripping the wheel in sheer determination? On Friday I got the train to York with a photography group, the journey took 2.5 hours. We enjoyed conversation and the beautiful views out the window. It was as enjoyable as the few hours we spent in York. Sometimes we focus all our attention on the destination asking God, “How long must we wait?” I have found through my own life that God is often more interested in how we learn and grow on the journey - it is here that he tends and cares for us through the frustration, pain, anger, joy and sorrow. The destination at the end is our reward for sticking with Him along the way.” Kirsty
* * *
May your questions help to bring you to life, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Appreciative Inquiry
I don’t know about you, but if I have an important piece of work to do, or a trip to prepare for, or even (sometimes) just an ordinary day to live, I tend to brace myself and ask, “What could go wrong?”
Now, it’s not a bad thing to prepare for the eventualities. But what happens if we focus most of our attention on them? For a start, we’ll waste our energy (which is finite) contemplating, and trying to avert, the domesday scenarios (which rarely happen anyway). And second, we won’t channel that energy into the things we could do really well. Which seems crazy.
According to the ‘Appreciative Inquiry’ philosophy - as championed by David Cooperrider, a professor of organisational behaviour - humans and their systems grow in the direction of what they persistently ask questions about.
He writes: “I have found that it does not help, in the long run, to begin my inquiries from the standpoint of the world as a problem to be solved. I am more effective, quite simply, as long as I can retain the spirit of inquiry of the everlasting beginner...” It’s a lovely phrase. Just think what it could mean.
For me personally, I have to respond by reversing my usual line of inquiry. And so... Ahem... What can go right, today?
When you stop to think of it, what can’t? I could inspire those around me. I could achieve a goal. I could choose to answer life’s questions with grace, inspired by Victor Frankl. I could open my own eyes to the beauty around me. I could do something daring. I could make a stranger smile. I could savour a journey, instead of wishing my time away. I could unleash my pent-up creativity on the world. I could stop to be silent. I could listen to someone’s story. I could persevere and show courage in adversity. I could laugh. A meeting could go well. I could draw deeply from the well-spring. I could be genuinely curious about the day ahead, the colours, the smells, the textures, the traces of God, the presence of others... I could make someone’s day. I could act in love...
And I could make this a habit.
* * *
action point:
Ask yourself what could go right, today. Identify three things in particular. Write them down. And see where your inquiry leads you.
Try, too, to ask a few additional, “appreciative” questions about each thing. So if, for instance, you decide that you will make someone’s day, try asking yourself positively about that decision. Whose day will you make? What could you do? What will you do? How could it affect them, for good? How could your attitude extend to others, as well? &c...
* * *
rsvp:
(The Answer) “Victor Frankl's thinking about life questioning us makes sense to me. When things are tough it feels we’re being questioned on how we’ll react - how strong are we? How flexibly can we turn a bad thing into a chance to reflect and learn? Equally, when things are great in our lives the questions become - can we accept this happiness with joy and gratitude? How generous can we be in our good fortune?” Kirstan
(The Well-spring) “I went yesterday to Duiske (meaning dark water) Abbey in Kilkenny, a Cistercian abbey first built in the 13th century and which subsequently changed hands across religious denominations across the centuries before ending back with the Catholic church today. What a prayer-filled and peaceful place; my thought is that it does not matter what the denomination is – it’s the collective power of prayer that creates a holy and sacred place.” Ciaran
“My favourite place to which I return all the time is our bedroom; my space at my bedside, I named it ‘my Solitude’. As a child, I regarded my bedroom as sacred – where I was able to study, pray, cry, laugh at my parents and siblings in secret, dance and share jokes with my best friend. Even in adulthood, it is still the only place I can be naked before God, listen for His voice and like Hagar in the Bible say, ‘You’re the God who sees me!’” Nikky
(The Simple Question) “Why ambush the promise of so many good todays, by constantly re-visiting and re-living those painful yesterdays. What does it achieve?” Heather
(The Child’s View) “In Milestones by Hilary Faith Jones, she has a story called The Dance, in which she imagines Jesus dancing with the children when the grown-ups try to shoo them away. It is so infectious! And in terms of sunflowers – a friend gave me a bucket, compost and sunflower seeds. After my holiday I plan to be creative and plant them. I will be remembering lent well into the summer!” Rosalind
“Seems like life is a journey, but how are we travelling? Are we driving in rush hour, foot on the accelerator and hands gripping the wheel in sheer determination? On Friday I got the train to York with a photography group, the journey took 2.5 hours. We enjoyed conversation and the beautiful views out the window. It was as enjoyable as the few hours we spent in York. Sometimes we focus all our attention on the destination asking God, “How long must we wait?” I have found through my own life that God is often more interested in how we learn and grow on the journey - it is here that he tends and cares for us through the frustration, pain, anger, joy and sorrow. The destination at the end is our reward for sticking with Him along the way.” Kirsty
* * *
May your questions help to bring you to life, today.
Go well!
Brian
Saturday, 26 March 2011
The Answer
simplicity // 16
the Answer
Yesterday, we thought about “living the questions of the soul”. Here’s another, complementary way of looking at it.
Victor Frankl, the psychologist who survived Auschwitz and wrote the hugely influential book Man’s Search for Meaning as a result, made a radical discovery within the darkest days of his internment.
“We needed to stop asking ourselves about the meaning of life,” he records, “and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life - daily and hourly...”
In such light, I wonder: what will life ask of you, today, and how will you choose to be the answer?
* * *
action point:
At 8.30pm tonight, across the world, millions of people will be turning their lights off. It’s a very special event called Earth Hour, a statement of solidarity and commitment to living simply and sustainably. This is what the website says:
“Last year, 128 countries and territories joined the global display of climate action. Iconic buildings and landmarks from Asia Pacific to Europe and Africa to the Americas switched off. People across the world from all walks of life turned off their lights and came together in celebration and contemplation of the one thing we all have in common – our planet.
“Earth Hour 2011 will take place on Saturday 26 March at 8.30PM (local time). This Earth Hour we want you to go beyond the hour, so after the lights go back on think about what else you can do to make a difference. Together our actions add up.”
Indeed they do. So why not invite some people round, light some candles, turn off the lights, turn off the TV, and do something different: sing some songs, read your favourite poems, play a board game, tell your story, read an extract from a classic book, or take the opportunity to sit in silence and practice some contemplation together! You could call it a POWER-CUT PARTY, as we did in the Lent 40 two years ago. It’s a lovely, lovely way to spend the evening...
There are other ideas on the Earth Hour website. http://www.earthhour.org
* * *
rsvp:
“’The Well-spring’ reminded me of my favourite R S Thomas poem, 'The Gift':
Some ask the world
and are diminished
in the receiving
of it. You gave me
only this small pool
that the more I drink
from, the more overflows
me with sourceless light.
And I'm currently turning over in my head the thought that if something’s a gift, then it's not a given...” Claire
(The Simple Question) “Why must we always self destruct?” George
“How long Lord, how long?” Pete
“My simple question, the question I am living now (not rushing and seeking), is: What's in the box?” Nick
“This resonates! Seeking paid employment, I realised after recently applying unsuccessfully for a position that seemed like a good ‘match’ with my background and experience, that my disappointment was not so much ‘I longed to be doing that work, and now cannot’ as ‘I have to wait still longer to know’. Or in other words ‘Hurry up, God.’ I’ll keep Rilke’s glorious advice. And thank you for bringing us Hopkins’ the Kingfisher, new to me and so very descriptive (in his inimitable way) of the essence of purpose/calling.” Julian
“The quotation from Rilke, which I have read and copied into my journal before, is a beautiful, timely reassurance to me. I have much fewer answers than I used to have. And when I try to live in the questions (what do you want me to do? am I here now because I lack courage or because this is where you have led me?), I find myself assailed by all the old answers I was once taught... I like answers and decisions and so for me it is a huge struggle to embrace living in the questions...but I think, I hope, it is a good and free place...” Jenny
“This one is easy: ‘What do you really want to do?’ – a question I have always found nearly impossible to answer, and therefore one I have had to live with despite the deep frustration of not being able to answer it.” Tim
(The Well-spring) “I stepped inside the top gate for just five minutes. As the atmospheric garden aroma encompassed me, the cares of the world dissolved and I welcomed the familiar embrace. Trees, pregnant with rising sap, beckoned me onwards; yellow-tipped buds of daffodils darted joyful beacons among the soft greening-grass and birds rehearsed their spring-song repertoire. Absorbing the vibrancy of life like the uncrumpling wings of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, my soul-strings stretched - redeemed, restored, revived.” Sandra
(The Child’s View) “I just want you to know that your life won't always be like this... Inside you there is a cute little person, like a song bird who needs to be let out sometimes to sing, lie in the sun, run in the soft grass with no shoes on, play with friends in the fields, jump in big puddles and get really dirty and most of all to cry when you hurt... Be kind and caring to others but most of all be kind to yourself because you are special and God loves you so much and wants the very best for you.” Heather
(The Sunflower) “My children planted a sunflower and we have a fantastic unplanned photograph of them looking up at it in wonder, one pointing to it and the other looking. We took it with a zoom feature from our own bedroom window so they didn't know. It was a moment that has stayed with me and I often think about it when I open my curtains to the same (now usually sunflower-less) view of the garden each morning. Perhaps we'll grow another this year, now!” Paula
* * *
May you answer well, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Answer
Yesterday, we thought about “living the questions of the soul”. Here’s another, complementary way of looking at it.
Victor Frankl, the psychologist who survived Auschwitz and wrote the hugely influential book Man’s Search for Meaning as a result, made a radical discovery within the darkest days of his internment.
“We needed to stop asking ourselves about the meaning of life,” he records, “and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life - daily and hourly...”
In such light, I wonder: what will life ask of you, today, and how will you choose to be the answer?
* * *
action point:
At 8.30pm tonight, across the world, millions of people will be turning their lights off. It’s a very special event called Earth Hour, a statement of solidarity and commitment to living simply and sustainably. This is what the website says:
“Last year, 128 countries and territories joined the global display of climate action. Iconic buildings and landmarks from Asia Pacific to Europe and Africa to the Americas switched off. People across the world from all walks of life turned off their lights and came together in celebration and contemplation of the one thing we all have in common – our planet.
“Earth Hour 2011 will take place on Saturday 26 March at 8.30PM (local time). This Earth Hour we want you to go beyond the hour, so after the lights go back on think about what else you can do to make a difference. Together our actions add up.”
Indeed they do. So why not invite some people round, light some candles, turn off the lights, turn off the TV, and do something different: sing some songs, read your favourite poems, play a board game, tell your story, read an extract from a classic book, or take the opportunity to sit in silence and practice some contemplation together! You could call it a POWER-CUT PARTY, as we did in the Lent 40 two years ago. It’s a lovely, lovely way to spend the evening...
There are other ideas on the Earth Hour website. http://www.earthhour.org
* * *
rsvp:
“’The Well-spring’ reminded me of my favourite R S Thomas poem, 'The Gift':
Some ask the world
and are diminished
in the receiving
of it. You gave me
only this small pool
that the more I drink
from, the more overflows
me with sourceless light.
And I'm currently turning over in my head the thought that if something’s a gift, then it's not a given...” Claire
(The Simple Question) “Why must we always self destruct?” George
“How long Lord, how long?” Pete
“My simple question, the question I am living now (not rushing and seeking), is: What's in the box?” Nick
“This resonates! Seeking paid employment, I realised after recently applying unsuccessfully for a position that seemed like a good ‘match’ with my background and experience, that my disappointment was not so much ‘I longed to be doing that work, and now cannot’ as ‘I have to wait still longer to know’. Or in other words ‘Hurry up, God.’ I’ll keep Rilke’s glorious advice. And thank you for bringing us Hopkins’ the Kingfisher, new to me and so very descriptive (in his inimitable way) of the essence of purpose/calling.” Julian
“The quotation from Rilke, which I have read and copied into my journal before, is a beautiful, timely reassurance to me. I have much fewer answers than I used to have. And when I try to live in the questions (what do you want me to do? am I here now because I lack courage or because this is where you have led me?), I find myself assailed by all the old answers I was once taught... I like answers and decisions and so for me it is a huge struggle to embrace living in the questions...but I think, I hope, it is a good and free place...” Jenny
“This one is easy: ‘What do you really want to do?’ – a question I have always found nearly impossible to answer, and therefore one I have had to live with despite the deep frustration of not being able to answer it.” Tim
(The Well-spring) “I stepped inside the top gate for just five minutes. As the atmospheric garden aroma encompassed me, the cares of the world dissolved and I welcomed the familiar embrace. Trees, pregnant with rising sap, beckoned me onwards; yellow-tipped buds of daffodils darted joyful beacons among the soft greening-grass and birds rehearsed their spring-song repertoire. Absorbing the vibrancy of life like the uncrumpling wings of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, my soul-strings stretched - redeemed, restored, revived.” Sandra
(The Child’s View) “I just want you to know that your life won't always be like this... Inside you there is a cute little person, like a song bird who needs to be let out sometimes to sing, lie in the sun, run in the soft grass with no shoes on, play with friends in the fields, jump in big puddles and get really dirty and most of all to cry when you hurt... Be kind and caring to others but most of all be kind to yourself because you are special and God loves you so much and wants the very best for you.” Heather
(The Sunflower) “My children planted a sunflower and we have a fantastic unplanned photograph of them looking up at it in wonder, one pointing to it and the other looking. We took it with a zoom feature from our own bedroom window so they didn't know. It was a moment that has stayed with me and I often think about it when I open my curtains to the same (now usually sunflower-less) view of the garden each morning. Perhaps we'll grow another this year, now!” Paula
* * *
May you answer well, today.
Go well!
Brian
Friday, 25 March 2011
The Simple Question
simplicity // 15
the Simple Question
Rainer Maria Rilke once advised a younger fellow poet to “live the questions of the soul”. No one else, he suggested, was better placed to answer his questions, and so he would have to wait, before he could answer them for himself.
He wrote, “I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
Questions can give us direction in life; they set our course. So we should take careful note of those which arise from within us, and hold them gently, and carefully, and not rush to make an answer fit. If Rilke is right, the answer will emerge, in good time - not necessarily like an e-mail to the brain, but as a consequence of the way we’ve lived when we didn’t have the answers...
* * *
action point:
If you were to identify one, simple question today – to hold gently, carefully, and to “live” - then what would it be?
You might, alternatively, ask yourself which question ‘resonates’ with you from the Bible... or from a great work of literature, or art... Otherwise, think of a question you have been asked recently which really hit home. Please share any of the above with us.
* * *
rsvp:
“The thought of finding deep pools to replenish has been helpful. In God we find all the resources that we will ever need. At a time when we are encouraged to do more with less and are running on empty we may not notice or find the time for our God.” Ian
“I cannot go to my well spring today. But if I close my eyes and surround myself with that space that we've learned to create, I am there. In the mountains, where I can marvel at God’s genius and beauty, I feel so small and insignificant, yet loved - cretaed with care and beauty, and destined to achieve greatness if I choose to listen... That place gives me the right positioning. Thanks for reminding me.” Emmanuelle
“My well-spring is a comfy chair in my living room in the quietness of the early morning before the rest of the house hold is stirring. There, I connect with God the Father in glorious intimacy as I talk and listen. This centering event in my day often also gives me marching orders for actions which should be taken or points to bring out in conversations with others, later. It doesn't get better for me than this.” Paul
“I am hugely grateful for this Lent series. In summary of where I find myself: Trying to put the series so far together in to some sort of arrangement in my mind. Trying to be patient. Trying to take time; both for God and the family. Trying to sit quietly and wait for God Then there's the speed and beauty of the Kingfisher and all of God’s amazing creation. All the time trying to appreciate where I/we are at... But like many people trying to follow Christ we/I have to persevere at all of these things, because it's not easy... For a sad old bloke - the challenges never cease...” David
“Wow - this is such a wonderful journey we all have when we open our eyes. My lovely sister lost her life to cancer at 42 and being with her at her last breath was a celebration... and this has just dawned on me! Chalice wells is a special place to me where the waters run deep and healing begins when you see the flowers growing. My screen saver is of sunflower taken in Belgium on a WW1 battlefield.” Cheryl
* * *
May you live the question, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Simple Question
Rainer Maria Rilke once advised a younger fellow poet to “live the questions of the soul”. No one else, he suggested, was better placed to answer his questions, and so he would have to wait, before he could answer them for himself.
He wrote, “I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
Questions can give us direction in life; they set our course. So we should take careful note of those which arise from within us, and hold them gently, and carefully, and not rush to make an answer fit. If Rilke is right, the answer will emerge, in good time - not necessarily like an e-mail to the brain, but as a consequence of the way we’ve lived when we didn’t have the answers...
* * *
action point:
If you were to identify one, simple question today – to hold gently, carefully, and to “live” - then what would it be?
You might, alternatively, ask yourself which question ‘resonates’ with you from the Bible... or from a great work of literature, or art... Otherwise, think of a question you have been asked recently which really hit home. Please share any of the above with us.
* * *
rsvp:
“The thought of finding deep pools to replenish has been helpful. In God we find all the resources that we will ever need. At a time when we are encouraged to do more with less and are running on empty we may not notice or find the time for our God.” Ian
“I cannot go to my well spring today. But if I close my eyes and surround myself with that space that we've learned to create, I am there. In the mountains, where I can marvel at God’s genius and beauty, I feel so small and insignificant, yet loved - cretaed with care and beauty, and destined to achieve greatness if I choose to listen... That place gives me the right positioning. Thanks for reminding me.” Emmanuelle
“My well-spring is a comfy chair in my living room in the quietness of the early morning before the rest of the house hold is stirring. There, I connect with God the Father in glorious intimacy as I talk and listen. This centering event in my day often also gives me marching orders for actions which should be taken or points to bring out in conversations with others, later. It doesn't get better for me than this.” Paul
“I am hugely grateful for this Lent series. In summary of where I find myself: Trying to put the series so far together in to some sort of arrangement in my mind. Trying to be patient. Trying to take time; both for God and the family. Trying to sit quietly and wait for God Then there's the speed and beauty of the Kingfisher and all of God’s amazing creation. All the time trying to appreciate where I/we are at... But like many people trying to follow Christ we/I have to persevere at all of these things, because it's not easy... For a sad old bloke - the challenges never cease...” David
“Wow - this is such a wonderful journey we all have when we open our eyes. My lovely sister lost her life to cancer at 42 and being with her at her last breath was a celebration... and this has just dawned on me! Chalice wells is a special place to me where the waters run deep and healing begins when you see the flowers growing. My screen saver is of sunflower taken in Belgium on a WW1 battlefield.” Cheryl
* * *
May you live the question, today.
Go well!
Brian
Thursday, 24 March 2011
The Well-Spring
simplicity // 14
the Well-spring
There’s a lovely old house in Hampshire called Mottisfont, owned today by the National Trust. You may have heard of its famous walled rose garden, which is sublime in June. Although the house was most recently a private, grand place, it was originally an abbey. And the monks chose this spot to live, because very close by, there is a well-spring.
It is a simple pool, about two metres across, and three deep, and it looks as if the water is still, as a mirror. Yet flowing out from it is a channel of water, which gathers pace as it heads downhill to become a fast-flowing, wide stream.
In Saxon times, elders would summon their people to meetings (“moots”) at the well. It’s humbling to stand quietly at the spot where, a millennium before, these people gathered. You can sense the ancient human presence connecting with streams of refreshment from deep within the Earth.
The overflowing well became the principle source of water for a local village, and for the monastery, and also for the house. And for as long as anyone can remember, it has never been known to run dry. It has drawn people to it, and they have, in turn, drawn from it.
There is a proverb in the Bible that says, “Many words rush along like rivers in flood, but deep wisdom flows up from artesian springs.” It flows up from somewhere deep, deep down, and keeps flowing. Just like the pool. Living water.
Another says, “Knowing what is right is like deep water in the heart, and a wise person draws from the well within.” It need not be complicated. And so I wonder: what is your well within, and what helps you to draw from it, and how often do you return there, for sustenance?
* * *
action point:
Perhaps you have a favourite place to which you return, which helps you to re-charge and draw deep. If so, try to go there, if you can; or spend a few minutes today imagining you are there. How does this place connect you with your ‘hidden depths’? How does it affect you? And how can you let its benefits – like the overflowing water at Mottisfont – flow through you and out to others, today?
* * *
rsvp:
The Sunflower “Only one response to this truth: grab them seeds and let’s get planting!” Tristan
“This time my wife had tears in her eyes; she lost her mother to cancer when she was 18. She is thinking of giving sun-flower seeds as presents.” John
“I had just come back from a hectic overseas business trip and arrived back home at lunch time and was working from home for the rest of the day. I had just read the poignant mail about Kate when my wife and children came back from school and college in the late afternoon and was just struck by the beautiful ‘ordinariness’ of them coming through the door and saying ‘Hi Dad, great to see you, missed you,’ and so on. We will plant a sunflower together this weekend.” Daniel
“Growing a sunflower is a lovely idea! Every year about this time, I am truly, genuinely, gob-smacked that things are growing again in our (much loved, but very neglected) garden. Re-creation and renewal, literally in our backyard. Perfect. And a sunflower is so utterly astonishing – such vigour and growth and drama and beauty from such an unpromising start. Metaphor-tastic! Who could fail to be moved, and then to teach the kids in earnest tones about the ‘dream in the acorn’ (thanks, Helen) that God has planted in each of their hearts?!” Jenni
“By surprising coincidence on the day I finished reading The Sunflower by Simon Wiesenthal, the lent meditation was on sunflowers. Wiesenthal sees sunflowers growing on the graves of Nazi soldiers and later in the story his encounter with a dying SS officer shockingly forces us to consider the 'possibilities and limits of forgiveness'. Forgiving another can be a hard journey; but we don't want 'cheap grace, a casual people, or a forgotten victim'. Without resources within us to truly forgive, we need to be like sunflowers, turning our faces toward the son. ‘Forgiving and being forgiven are experiences that let us be free for a new day.’” Maggie
“Mixing much of the last few days into a simple thought... ‘Go out into the garden and play – I will call you when it is time for tea.’” Mark
The Child’s View “I had a busy day on Monday and read the reflection in the morning but decided to go back to it in the afternoon. When I was out and about in the morning, I needed to put a reminder on my phone for something I had to do later. I opened the ‘note app’ on the phone to discover, not a message to my 7-year-old self, but one from my 9-year-old daughter who had been playing with my phone the previous day. ‘Smile, because you are alive,’ it said.” Sheena
“It will be OK, and there will be many friends and exciting experiences on the way. You will be successful and gain confidence in the next place and stay there for much longer, making some very close and loyal friendships. This move will enable you to meet people and get on with them more easily as an adult and you will adapt well to different situations.” Paula
“You are a very special little girl. You have a loving family and a good home. I hope there will be lots of good times in your life ahead. There will probably also be some times when you feel lonely or rejected or a failure, or that you simply can’t get things right or work things out. This happens to all of us. It never means God has gone away, but it does mean we have to work harder at praying...” Sandra
“The Child's View” and “the Kingfisher” unveiled memories and thoughts that had been buried from my childhood. We had a series of large books in our home, and in one there was a page with colour pictures of six birds - a blue tit, a green finch, an eagle, a falcon, a robin, and yes, a kingfisher (I’m amazed I can remember them all). I loved to trace them, or try to draw and colour them in. Most special to me were the kingfisher and the falcon. I thought kingfishers were huge birds and was shocked as an adult when I saw how small it seemed. Perhaps like that child, I need to see again how BIG and wonderful the ‘little’ things really are. How big the moon really is, it only looks small! How big are the things that I've allowed to become little, how little are the things that I've allowed to become big. How big is the greatest love story that we’ve condensed into two-hour movies or 15 minute nativities, how big is the creator God and how little I still really know about his beautiful creation and gigantic love.” Paul
* * *
May you draw deep, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Well-spring
There’s a lovely old house in Hampshire called Mottisfont, owned today by the National Trust. You may have heard of its famous walled rose garden, which is sublime in June. Although the house was most recently a private, grand place, it was originally an abbey. And the monks chose this spot to live, because very close by, there is a well-spring.
It is a simple pool, about two metres across, and three deep, and it looks as if the water is still, as a mirror. Yet flowing out from it is a channel of water, which gathers pace as it heads downhill to become a fast-flowing, wide stream.
In Saxon times, elders would summon their people to meetings (“moots”) at the well. It’s humbling to stand quietly at the spot where, a millennium before, these people gathered. You can sense the ancient human presence connecting with streams of refreshment from deep within the Earth.
The overflowing well became the principle source of water for a local village, and for the monastery, and also for the house. And for as long as anyone can remember, it has never been known to run dry. It has drawn people to it, and they have, in turn, drawn from it.
There is a proverb in the Bible that says, “Many words rush along like rivers in flood, but deep wisdom flows up from artesian springs.” It flows up from somewhere deep, deep down, and keeps flowing. Just like the pool. Living water.
Another says, “Knowing what is right is like deep water in the heart, and a wise person draws from the well within.” It need not be complicated. And so I wonder: what is your well within, and what helps you to draw from it, and how often do you return there, for sustenance?
* * *
action point:
Perhaps you have a favourite place to which you return, which helps you to re-charge and draw deep. If so, try to go there, if you can; or spend a few minutes today imagining you are there. How does this place connect you with your ‘hidden depths’? How does it affect you? And how can you let its benefits – like the overflowing water at Mottisfont – flow through you and out to others, today?
* * *
rsvp:
The Sunflower “Only one response to this truth: grab them seeds and let’s get planting!” Tristan
“This time my wife had tears in her eyes; she lost her mother to cancer when she was 18. She is thinking of giving sun-flower seeds as presents.” John
“I had just come back from a hectic overseas business trip and arrived back home at lunch time and was working from home for the rest of the day. I had just read the poignant mail about Kate when my wife and children came back from school and college in the late afternoon and was just struck by the beautiful ‘ordinariness’ of them coming through the door and saying ‘Hi Dad, great to see you, missed you,’ and so on. We will plant a sunflower together this weekend.” Daniel
“Growing a sunflower is a lovely idea! Every year about this time, I am truly, genuinely, gob-smacked that things are growing again in our (much loved, but very neglected) garden. Re-creation and renewal, literally in our backyard. Perfect. And a sunflower is so utterly astonishing – such vigour and growth and drama and beauty from such an unpromising start. Metaphor-tastic! Who could fail to be moved, and then to teach the kids in earnest tones about the ‘dream in the acorn’ (thanks, Helen) that God has planted in each of their hearts?!” Jenni
“By surprising coincidence on the day I finished reading The Sunflower by Simon Wiesenthal, the lent meditation was on sunflowers. Wiesenthal sees sunflowers growing on the graves of Nazi soldiers and later in the story his encounter with a dying SS officer shockingly forces us to consider the 'possibilities and limits of forgiveness'. Forgiving another can be a hard journey; but we don't want 'cheap grace, a casual people, or a forgotten victim'. Without resources within us to truly forgive, we need to be like sunflowers, turning our faces toward the son. ‘Forgiving and being forgiven are experiences that let us be free for a new day.’” Maggie
“Mixing much of the last few days into a simple thought... ‘Go out into the garden and play – I will call you when it is time for tea.’” Mark
The Child’s View “I had a busy day on Monday and read the reflection in the morning but decided to go back to it in the afternoon. When I was out and about in the morning, I needed to put a reminder on my phone for something I had to do later. I opened the ‘note app’ on the phone to discover, not a message to my 7-year-old self, but one from my 9-year-old daughter who had been playing with my phone the previous day. ‘Smile, because you are alive,’ it said.” Sheena
“It will be OK, and there will be many friends and exciting experiences on the way. You will be successful and gain confidence in the next place and stay there for much longer, making some very close and loyal friendships. This move will enable you to meet people and get on with them more easily as an adult and you will adapt well to different situations.” Paula
“You are a very special little girl. You have a loving family and a good home. I hope there will be lots of good times in your life ahead. There will probably also be some times when you feel lonely or rejected or a failure, or that you simply can’t get things right or work things out. This happens to all of us. It never means God has gone away, but it does mean we have to work harder at praying...” Sandra
“The Child's View” and “the Kingfisher” unveiled memories and thoughts that had been buried from my childhood. We had a series of large books in our home, and in one there was a page with colour pictures of six birds - a blue tit, a green finch, an eagle, a falcon, a robin, and yes, a kingfisher (I’m amazed I can remember them all). I loved to trace them, or try to draw and colour them in. Most special to me were the kingfisher and the falcon. I thought kingfishers were huge birds and was shocked as an adult when I saw how small it seemed. Perhaps like that child, I need to see again how BIG and wonderful the ‘little’ things really are. How big the moon really is, it only looks small! How big are the things that I've allowed to become little, how little are the things that I've allowed to become big. How big is the greatest love story that we’ve condensed into two-hour movies or 15 minute nativities, how big is the creator God and how little I still really know about his beautiful creation and gigantic love.” Paul
* * *
May you draw deep, today.
Go well!
Brian
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
The Sunflower
simplicity // 13
the Sunflower
Last year, the media reported the story of Kate Greene, who died from cancer, having been first diagnosed in 2008.
One night, she awoke at around 4am, fearing that she wouldn’t make it through till daybreak, and so she asked her husband urgently to fetch her a pen and paper, and she began to write down her thoughts. She compiled what turned out to be a list for her husband and two young boys of a hundred simple points of common sense, advice, principle and wonder.
“Always kiss the boys goodbye and goodnight,” she wrote.
“Teach them to be on time, and to mean what they say.”
“Try to eat together.”
“Teach them to respect women, and never double date.”
“Never leave more than a week before making up – life is too short.”
In the face of her own mortality, Mrs Greene drew deep – and her searing clarity makes you ask whether life must really be so complex after all. She distilled the essence of what she loved to do, and wished she could have done, for the sake of her children. “Mummy,” she wrote, “would have loved to have hand-fed a wild robin, like she used to feed the squirrels.”
For most of us, hopefully, there is still time for such inspiring things. Her list certainly makes you wonder, and wonder is good for the soul.
“Grow a sunflower now and again,” she wrote. I think that’s my favourite, for its simplicity and creativity and boldness. And there is something about a sunflower…
The best time to grow one is after the last frost in spring. So why not do so, as a fitting memorial both to Kate Greene, and to her simple idea; to engage in a creative act that could help us to search ourselves, and to ask what truly matters, in the end.
* * *
action point:
Grow a sunflower.
Or, compile your own note of simple wisdom – for someone you love, or even just for us...
* * *
rsvp:
“(re: “the Kingfisher”) In The Nine faces of God, Peter Hannan talks about “the dream in the acorn” which directs its growth to become a unique oak tree. He says that our lives, too, are directed by a dream God has built into us, but we differ from the oak tree in that the fulfilment of our dream is not automatic. We have to get in touch with it and decide to take responsibility for its realisation. In 70 years of life, I have seen God's dream for me constantly unfolding in all he has called me to do; teaching, marriage and children, ordination. For this I came, to fulfil the inbuilt dream God has for me. In retirement, what next, Lord?” Diana
“For this I came: Myself it speaks and spells, ‘SINGING’. What I do is me: for that I came. ‘When I sing, I feel His pleasure...’” Stuart
“For these I came: (1) a table crafted, also some sketches and a painted scene or (2) and jottings prose and poetry, (as Job), (3) daughters, one hundred thousand conversations, and a sheep-fence in a Devon wood.” Julian
“For this I came: how can one finish this without sounding arrogant or conceited? I grew up being constantly told that I was a failure and would not achieve; when someone tells you this often enough, anything that follows that is good in your life, like when you receive a lovely compliment, you find it hard to accept that anyone really means it. Who me? But at this time, in this space, this moment, I am filled with God’s comforting and loving Holy Spirit... I have moved forward in God’s love, with fellowship and sharing, leading prayer at church, reading scripture for the minister on Sundays, running a Lent course, so, if ‘for this I came’ then that is enough in itself and I am content. May God’s wonderful peace and love be with all who might read this.” Sue
“I had tears in my eyes as I read “the Child’s View”, thinking about the simplicity, honesty and liveliness of my children when they were younger, and your suggestion that that’s how our faith/Christian walk should be.” John
“At the weekend I met with all my cousins and sister. Among the photos from the past was one of me when I was – yes, you guessed it – 7 years old! ‘What’s with your hair, Daphne?’ was the cry of one of my cousins. A standard British basin cut for all to see! I think I need to write a letter reminding myself not to listen to my mother, who used to say, ‘Never get in to the grips of a hairdresser – they’ll fleece you.’” Daphne
* * *
May you stand tall, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Sunflower
Last year, the media reported the story of Kate Greene, who died from cancer, having been first diagnosed in 2008.
One night, she awoke at around 4am, fearing that she wouldn’t make it through till daybreak, and so she asked her husband urgently to fetch her a pen and paper, and she began to write down her thoughts. She compiled what turned out to be a list for her husband and two young boys of a hundred simple points of common sense, advice, principle and wonder.
“Always kiss the boys goodbye and goodnight,” she wrote.
“Teach them to be on time, and to mean what they say.”
“Try to eat together.”
“Teach them to respect women, and never double date.”
“Never leave more than a week before making up – life is too short.”
In the face of her own mortality, Mrs Greene drew deep – and her searing clarity makes you ask whether life must really be so complex after all. She distilled the essence of what she loved to do, and wished she could have done, for the sake of her children. “Mummy,” she wrote, “would have loved to have hand-fed a wild robin, like she used to feed the squirrels.”
For most of us, hopefully, there is still time for such inspiring things. Her list certainly makes you wonder, and wonder is good for the soul.
“Grow a sunflower now and again,” she wrote. I think that’s my favourite, for its simplicity and creativity and boldness. And there is something about a sunflower…
The best time to grow one is after the last frost in spring. So why not do so, as a fitting memorial both to Kate Greene, and to her simple idea; to engage in a creative act that could help us to search ourselves, and to ask what truly matters, in the end.
* * *
action point:
Grow a sunflower.
Or, compile your own note of simple wisdom – for someone you love, or even just for us...
* * *
rsvp:
“(re: “the Kingfisher”) In The Nine faces of God, Peter Hannan talks about “the dream in the acorn” which directs its growth to become a unique oak tree. He says that our lives, too, are directed by a dream God has built into us, but we differ from the oak tree in that the fulfilment of our dream is not automatic. We have to get in touch with it and decide to take responsibility for its realisation. In 70 years of life, I have seen God's dream for me constantly unfolding in all he has called me to do; teaching, marriage and children, ordination. For this I came, to fulfil the inbuilt dream God has for me. In retirement, what next, Lord?” Diana
“For this I came: Myself it speaks and spells, ‘SINGING’. What I do is me: for that I came. ‘When I sing, I feel His pleasure...’” Stuart
“For these I came: (1) a table crafted, also some sketches and a painted scene or (2) and jottings prose and poetry, (as Job), (3) daughters, one hundred thousand conversations, and a sheep-fence in a Devon wood.” Julian
“For this I came: how can one finish this without sounding arrogant or conceited? I grew up being constantly told that I was a failure and would not achieve; when someone tells you this often enough, anything that follows that is good in your life, like when you receive a lovely compliment, you find it hard to accept that anyone really means it. Who me? But at this time, in this space, this moment, I am filled with God’s comforting and loving Holy Spirit... I have moved forward in God’s love, with fellowship and sharing, leading prayer at church, reading scripture for the minister on Sundays, running a Lent course, so, if ‘for this I came’ then that is enough in itself and I am content. May God’s wonderful peace and love be with all who might read this.” Sue
“I had tears in my eyes as I read “the Child’s View”, thinking about the simplicity, honesty and liveliness of my children when they were younger, and your suggestion that that’s how our faith/Christian walk should be.” John
“At the weekend I met with all my cousins and sister. Among the photos from the past was one of me when I was – yes, you guessed it – 7 years old! ‘What’s with your hair, Daphne?’ was the cry of one of my cousins. A standard British basin cut for all to see! I think I need to write a letter reminding myself not to listen to my mother, who used to say, ‘Never get in to the grips of a hairdresser – they’ll fleece you.’” Daphne
* * *
May you stand tall, today.
Go well!
Brian
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
The Kingfisher
simplicity // 12
the Kingfisher
As kingfishers catch fire,
dragonflies draw flame...
Myself it speaks and spells,
Crying, “What I do is me: for that I came.”
It’s one of my favourite sights in the world, the arrow of neon iridescent blue as the kingfisher darts along the river. It’s gone in a flash, but the image stays with me. In fact, for me, it represents the Spirit of God. And that’s not necessarily a heretical thought.
“Christ”, as Gerard Manley Hopkins puts it in his poem about the kingfisher, “plays in ten thousand places” - in the kingfisher, in the dragonfly, and also “through the features of [our] faces”. But he plays most clearly when we are doing what we came to do; when we can truly say, “What I do is me.”
That’s not an egotistical statement; it’s not saying, “What I do is for me.” In fact, it’s the opposite. Our ego strives to make more of us than it needs. It seeks restlessly to establish an identity that will remain indestructible, bullet-proof. It stops us being able to say, with utter simplicity, “for this I came”.
So today, may we take encouragement from the kingfisher, who simply “is”; or the dragonfly, or the stone, or the bell, for that matter. We are all “lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes to the Father”.
* * *
action point:
Try reading the whole of the poem, and allow your self some time to reflect on it.
How would you complete the following - “For this I came: ...” Reflect. Pray. Wait. Listen. Muse. Act. But please let us know.
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying, What I do is me: for that I came.
Í say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.
GM Hopkins
* * *
“I would say this to my seven-year-old self (“the Child’s View”): Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. Your mum and dad really love you – trust me. You’ve got a great brother. You live in a safe part of the world and you have nothing to worry about. School is a tricky place, and people learn to find their place in life and it can be tough. But you will discover great things. You will discover music, poetry, literature, places; great friends will find you, and you will find them; you will grow in wonder at the wonderful world. But please don’t rush, because it will all happen soon enough. For now, make the most of every day you play football with your friends and walk with your family in the woods and go swimming and enjoy camping trips... Because everything is OK, and all will be well, and you will know and be known.” John
“When I look back to being seven, I see a little girl, alone and scared. I was evacuated from the city, because of expected air raids and bombing. I was on a farm in the countryside (never having seen a cow or sheep, except in picture books), with strangers, who were kind, but casual. I had been carefully sheltered in a Christian home and now was among folk who had no thought of Christ. As I look back at myself, I see a brave wee girl, who knew that she had to face this new life and that her mum and dad were praying for her. Now, in a way, I am back there, on my own and a bit scared. It's good to remember how I endured, with God's help; and I trust again, with God’s help, to go on with confidence and even joy.” Helen
“Note to a 7 year old me: Remember to always enjoy what you’re doing and always look for the good in others, and you'll find God in you! Don’t be in too much of a hurry to grow up, it will come soon enough and there is no going back. Reply: Where me and my gang play, if you don’t like it, you're out... and if I can’t go back, what’s the point of growing up? I'm never growing up and anyway, God’s always with me. Why do 7-year-olds always have the answers?” Keith
“Maybe there are others like me who at seven already knew that the world was a terrible place and there was no one you could trust. Somehow God has brought me through to my 40s. I reassure myself daily with the word’s “It’s OK”, and allow myself to live childish moments now when I run to the swings in a park or get excited when I see an ice cream shop...” Kirsty
“I watched the moon with my 9 year old son. Usually it is hidden behind the cottage opposite, but on Saturday, it was large and bright and yellow, nestled low in the space between the two cottages on the other side of the road. Its light silhouetted the hillside and the winter trees as we stood and looked, silently. In that time I was awakened to that which is precious. The closeness and contentment of being with someone I love, and who loves me, unconditionally and mutually. I forgot, just for those few moments, the demands of 21st century living. We could have been any mother and son, at any time in history, enjoying the moment of being together and appreciating nature.” Paula
* * *
May you do that for which you came, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Kingfisher
As kingfishers catch fire,
dragonflies draw flame...
Myself it speaks and spells,
Crying, “What I do is me: for that I came.”
It’s one of my favourite sights in the world, the arrow of neon iridescent blue as the kingfisher darts along the river. It’s gone in a flash, but the image stays with me. In fact, for me, it represents the Spirit of God. And that’s not necessarily a heretical thought.
“Christ”, as Gerard Manley Hopkins puts it in his poem about the kingfisher, “plays in ten thousand places” - in the kingfisher, in the dragonfly, and also “through the features of [our] faces”. But he plays most clearly when we are doing what we came to do; when we can truly say, “What I do is me.”
That’s not an egotistical statement; it’s not saying, “What I do is for me.” In fact, it’s the opposite. Our ego strives to make more of us than it needs. It seeks restlessly to establish an identity that will remain indestructible, bullet-proof. It stops us being able to say, with utter simplicity, “for this I came”.
So today, may we take encouragement from the kingfisher, who simply “is”; or the dragonfly, or the stone, or the bell, for that matter. We are all “lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes to the Father”.
* * *
action point:
Try reading the whole of the poem, and allow your self some time to reflect on it.
How would you complete the following - “For this I came: ...” Reflect. Pray. Wait. Listen. Muse. Act. But please let us know.
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying, What I do is me: for that I came.
Í say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.
GM Hopkins
* * *
“I would say this to my seven-year-old self (“the Child’s View”): Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. Your mum and dad really love you – trust me. You’ve got a great brother. You live in a safe part of the world and you have nothing to worry about. School is a tricky place, and people learn to find their place in life and it can be tough. But you will discover great things. You will discover music, poetry, literature, places; great friends will find you, and you will find them; you will grow in wonder at the wonderful world. But please don’t rush, because it will all happen soon enough. For now, make the most of every day you play football with your friends and walk with your family in the woods and go swimming and enjoy camping trips... Because everything is OK, and all will be well, and you will know and be known.” John
“When I look back to being seven, I see a little girl, alone and scared. I was evacuated from the city, because of expected air raids and bombing. I was on a farm in the countryside (never having seen a cow or sheep, except in picture books), with strangers, who were kind, but casual. I had been carefully sheltered in a Christian home and now was among folk who had no thought of Christ. As I look back at myself, I see a brave wee girl, who knew that she had to face this new life and that her mum and dad were praying for her. Now, in a way, I am back there, on my own and a bit scared. It's good to remember how I endured, with God's help; and I trust again, with God’s help, to go on with confidence and even joy.” Helen
“Note to a 7 year old me: Remember to always enjoy what you’re doing and always look for the good in others, and you'll find God in you! Don’t be in too much of a hurry to grow up, it will come soon enough and there is no going back. Reply: Where me and my gang play, if you don’t like it, you're out... and if I can’t go back, what’s the point of growing up? I'm never growing up and anyway, God’s always with me. Why do 7-year-olds always have the answers?” Keith
“Maybe there are others like me who at seven already knew that the world was a terrible place and there was no one you could trust. Somehow God has brought me through to my 40s. I reassure myself daily with the word’s “It’s OK”, and allow myself to live childish moments now when I run to the swings in a park or get excited when I see an ice cream shop...” Kirsty
“I watched the moon with my 9 year old son. Usually it is hidden behind the cottage opposite, but on Saturday, it was large and bright and yellow, nestled low in the space between the two cottages on the other side of the road. Its light silhouetted the hillside and the winter trees as we stood and looked, silently. In that time I was awakened to that which is precious. The closeness and contentment of being with someone I love, and who loves me, unconditionally and mutually. I forgot, just for those few moments, the demands of 21st century living. We could have been any mother and son, at any time in history, enjoying the moment of being together and appreciating nature.” Paula
* * *
May you do that for which you came, today.
Go well!
Brian
Monday, 21 March 2011
The Child's View
simplicity // 11
the Child’s View
Wasn’t the moon stunning? I climbed a nearby hill with my friend Rob, and we took my two eldest children (7 and 5) and Alice, his four-year-old. Just as we got to the top, we noticed a glowing spot on the horizon, and the magic began, as this balloon-like celestial body started to float up and away from the ground.
And it would have been a near-perfectly choreographed spiritual moment for us, had it not been for the kids. They’d taken a quick look but chose, instead of musing deeply, to hare around in the darkness like dervishes, making the most of every second of later-night freedom to shout, scream, play, jump, roll, laugh and have a “bundle”.
At one point, they crashed like a three-carriage train wreck into our sacred space and gasped for breath. Rob seized his moment. “Hey guys, where do you think God is, tonight?”. It caught them off guard for a second. “In a mud hut?” replied one. “With the poor!” said another, searching for the right answer. “Healing the blind!” said my girl, “like on Comic Relief.” At which point they lurched once more into the darkness.
Maybe “the little children” who wanted to come to Jesus were haring, too, when the disciples tried to stop them. You can almost imagine the kids shouting, “Blessed are the cheese makers!” before collapsing in hilarity.
“Unless you become like one of these,” Jesus said,”you will not enter the kingdom...” I’m not sure he was talking about entering heaven, so much as gaining life here on Earth, as it is in heaven. Joy. Abandon. Energy. Humour. Not taking things too seriously. Qualities we tend to leave frozen in the photos of our youth.
After all the lunacy, we decided it was time to go. The moon disappeared behind cloud, and it went very dark. As we eked out a closing reflection on the joys of being reconnected to God’s Creation, this, too, was shattered with brilliant finality by Alice, who shouted at the top of her voice into the deepest darkness of Hampshire: “THAT WAS THE BEST MOON-FIGHT I EVER HAD!”
Perhaps - to answer Rob’s earlier question - God had been there, moon-fighting with them, from the very start.
* * *
action point
What does it mean for you to positively become like a child? Who were you, before the layers of ego began to settle like sediment, before you began to identify with the roles you played and the things you were good and bad at? Who were you before other people shaped you with their own expectations?
Why not write a short note of appreciation to your 7-year-old self, thanking them for who they are, affirming their energy and life, and giving them a gentle word of wisdom from your present self. What would you say to them? And what might they say to you, in return?
* * *
action point
“I used to go out with a guy in the Midlands and though our meetings were fortnightly, we used to look at the moon together from our respective homes. Looking at the moon is still a treasured sign of love for me - and now you've added Jesus to that. Wahoo! Can't wait for my walk tonight. Thank you!”
Daphne
“I am so pleased that we live in Australia because I just saw the moon! You are in for a treat later! Enjoy!” Helen
“I'm heading towards the tender age of 40, my waistline is beginning to roll, my hair thin a little, my teeth require ever more expensive dental treatment to maintain my Hollywood looks... and then came a quiet moment when I read the Benedictine meditation and I was reminded of a hymn that I haven't sung in a long time ('Like a river glorious'):
‘Hidden in the hollow of His blessed hand,
Never foe can follow, never traitor stand;
Not a surge of worry, not a shade of care,
Not a blast of hurry touch the spirit there.
Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blest
Finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.’” Matt
“The Wait: ‘Is this a sign? Is that a sign?’ How those words often echo my own state. In a world where decisions must be made and action must be taken; in a job where the work must be planned and the clock must be followed; in a family where clubs must be attended and homework must be completed, it is sometimes so hard just to wait. How hard, when a prayer has been spoken, not to be impatient for 'the answer'. How do we really know when a reply has been offered? How can we hope to find it if we don't seek it out and try to make sense of our world, our experiences and our opportunities? Just wait? What a challenge. How long do we wait? When does waiting become apathy? When does waiting bypass potential? My word changed through the day from 'wait' to 'trust'.” Paula
* * *
May you shout, scream, play, jump, roll, laugh or at least try to have a “bundle” today...
Go well!
Brian
the Child’s View
Wasn’t the moon stunning? I climbed a nearby hill with my friend Rob, and we took my two eldest children (7 and 5) and Alice, his four-year-old. Just as we got to the top, we noticed a glowing spot on the horizon, and the magic began, as this balloon-like celestial body started to float up and away from the ground.
And it would have been a near-perfectly choreographed spiritual moment for us, had it not been for the kids. They’d taken a quick look but chose, instead of musing deeply, to hare around in the darkness like dervishes, making the most of every second of later-night freedom to shout, scream, play, jump, roll, laugh and have a “bundle”.
At one point, they crashed like a three-carriage train wreck into our sacred space and gasped for breath. Rob seized his moment. “Hey guys, where do you think God is, tonight?”. It caught them off guard for a second. “In a mud hut?” replied one. “With the poor!” said another, searching for the right answer. “Healing the blind!” said my girl, “like on Comic Relief.” At which point they lurched once more into the darkness.
Maybe “the little children” who wanted to come to Jesus were haring, too, when the disciples tried to stop them. You can almost imagine the kids shouting, “Blessed are the cheese makers!” before collapsing in hilarity.
“Unless you become like one of these,” Jesus said,”you will not enter the kingdom...” I’m not sure he was talking about entering heaven, so much as gaining life here on Earth, as it is in heaven. Joy. Abandon. Energy. Humour. Not taking things too seriously. Qualities we tend to leave frozen in the photos of our youth.
After all the lunacy, we decided it was time to go. The moon disappeared behind cloud, and it went very dark. As we eked out a closing reflection on the joys of being reconnected to God’s Creation, this, too, was shattered with brilliant finality by Alice, who shouted at the top of her voice into the deepest darkness of Hampshire: “THAT WAS THE BEST MOON-FIGHT I EVER HAD!”
Perhaps - to answer Rob’s earlier question - God had been there, moon-fighting with them, from the very start.
* * *
action point
What does it mean for you to positively become like a child? Who were you, before the layers of ego began to settle like sediment, before you began to identify with the roles you played and the things you were good and bad at? Who were you before other people shaped you with their own expectations?
Why not write a short note of appreciation to your 7-year-old self, thanking them for who they are, affirming their energy and life, and giving them a gentle word of wisdom from your present self. What would you say to them? And what might they say to you, in return?
* * *
action point
“I used to go out with a guy in the Midlands and though our meetings were fortnightly, we used to look at the moon together from our respective homes. Looking at the moon is still a treasured sign of love for me - and now you've added Jesus to that. Wahoo! Can't wait for my walk tonight. Thank you!”
Daphne
“I am so pleased that we live in Australia because I just saw the moon! You are in for a treat later! Enjoy!” Helen
“I'm heading towards the tender age of 40, my waistline is beginning to roll, my hair thin a little, my teeth require ever more expensive dental treatment to maintain my Hollywood looks... and then came a quiet moment when I read the Benedictine meditation and I was reminded of a hymn that I haven't sung in a long time ('Like a river glorious'):
‘Hidden in the hollow of His blessed hand,
Never foe can follow, never traitor stand;
Not a surge of worry, not a shade of care,
Not a blast of hurry touch the spirit there.
Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blest
Finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.’” Matt
“The Wait: ‘Is this a sign? Is that a sign?’ How those words often echo my own state. In a world where decisions must be made and action must be taken; in a job where the work must be planned and the clock must be followed; in a family where clubs must be attended and homework must be completed, it is sometimes so hard just to wait. How hard, when a prayer has been spoken, not to be impatient for 'the answer'. How do we really know when a reply has been offered? How can we hope to find it if we don't seek it out and try to make sense of our world, our experiences and our opportunities? Just wait? What a challenge. How long do we wait? When does waiting become apathy? When does waiting bypass potential? My word changed through the day from 'wait' to 'trust'.” Paula
* * *
May you shout, scream, play, jump, roll, laugh or at least try to have a “bundle” today...
Go well!
Brian
Saturday, 19 March 2011
The Super Moon
simplicity // 10
the Super Moon
In some respects, it was a different world when Jesus walked the Earth. Life was simpler. He didn’t have to cope with e-mail overkill, binge drinkers, calls from the boss in the holidays, Prozac, traffic congestion, global warming, iPad envy, Katie Price, radiation leaks, the derivatives market or spam.
But in another way, his world was hardly that different. What he saw and experienced was intrinsic to the human condition, including his temptations in the desert. He was tempted to cheat on his mission, shattering its integrity; he was tempted to sell his soul for some fleeting earthly power and dominion; he was tempted to use his calling simply to prove his own worth...
Don’t say you haven’t been tempted, too.
But Jesus was deadly serious about taking the time, and the time out, to confront himself and to align himself and to attune himself to the rhythms of God’s reality.
When you look up at the moon tonight – and it’s a ‘super’ moon, by the way, which means that it’s closer than it has been for 18 years, and it’s full! - why not remember that it’s exactly the same moon that Jesus must have looked up at, night after night, as he sat, on his own, in the desert. In this way, it’s a great point of connection. Jesus, the man, would have seen a full moon within that period, and would surely have contemplated its role and rhythms - shepherding sunlight into the darkness – even as he contemplated his own.
The moon connects us even further back, too; to the very beginning, when “the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” as St John wrote so powerfully at the start of his Gospel. Had Jesus talked with John about his own dawning connections with the creation of time, and life, and light? “He was with God in the beginning,” wrote John. “Through him all things were made... In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind...
“The light shines in the darkness,” John wrote, “and the darkness has not overcome it.”
Shine on.
* * *
action point
Take to the hills. Watch the moonrise. Have a walk. Wonder.
* * *
rsvp
“I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning." (Psalm 130.6) Tears every day when I wait - trust it will wash away the deep tiredness and lift the weight on my shoulders. More than watchmen...” Marijke
“After reading ‘the Wait’ this morning I went to switch off my computer before hurrying off to work. Suddenly the words of the last command hit me – SHUT DOWN. That’s what I needed to do. So at lunchtime I left the stress of the office, went to the nearby river and sat on one of the benches. There in the warm sunshine I closed my eyes and mentally hit my internal command button in order to ‘shut down’. There was no blinding revelation, no overwhelming sense of God’s presence. But as I waited I experienced a precious moment of oasis as the busyness of the workplace was replaced with stillness, calm and peace. To be continued...” Dylan
“As a Quaker I experience God in the silence but... by Day 5 I realised that I was (and had been for some time) on 'automatic pilot', being caught up working through lists of my own making. Always saying to myself 'should' instead of 'could'. When you wrote of contriving desert experiences, the light bulb went on! I realise that I've been mentally listing the time between 10.30am and 11.30 on a Sunday as the slot when I would be available to listen to God. What a cheek! This lovely, lovely Benedictine meditation will be a great help.” Ann
‘The Wait – I read this just as I was about to set out on a long walk today... thank you.” Gill
“Not managed the rhythm of the breastplate or the stilted silence. Yesterday; not a good day, preoccupied with trying to gain employment. My prayer of lament is at the forefront of my mind.... Give me peace Lord.” Keith
“Nice story. But I'm wary of the power of the mind to edit, sift, filter and even downright imagine things. So you saw a shepherd. Well, on the other hand, my friend died and parts of Japan have been destroyed, there's no lasting peace between Israel/Palestine, the church is being horribly persecuted in many part of the worlds and I have a headache. ‘World is crazier and more of it than we think, / Incorrigibly plural. [ . . . .] world / Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes.’(MacNeice). Lean Lenten blessings. Oliver
“When we wait for God, we get to see Him do the business. When Jesus fed the crowds, the raw materials were ludicrously small - just a few fish sandwiches. But as the disciples followed his instructions, so the miracle happened... Waiting for God is not passive, it is the wisest course of action if we are to be used to make a difference.” John
“A beautiful St Patrick’s day thanks to the breastplate mediation which gave me an extra spring in my step. I sent it to all fellow spiritually awake Irish folk in my life in the hope of further empowering and nourishing their souls.” Claire
“Taking break from studies and took your advice - sitting on Killiney Hill overlooking a bay like Sorrento in Italy. Listening to seabirds - and the wind!!! Beautiful clear day with sun shining and sea like a pond...” Ciaran
“I am thankful to be part of this Lent 40 group and to be thinking about these things at this time. Somehow, the entire universe around me seems full of connections which sum up my being here right now.” Sandra
“I am trying to still my mind and wait on God, but it keeps filling up with images of the devastation in Japan. How lucky we are to have the privilege be still. But surely God is everywhere - in the stillness, in the messiness of our lives, when things go according to plan, when they don't, even in Japan..?” Kate
“This last week or so has been tough. I don't necessarily find it hard to find the time and the stillness to rest and think and reflect, but I do find it hard to fully trust in God when things are difficult or not as I would have them be. My desert experience thus far has shown me how little I give things over to God, and brought home how frustrated and weak I often am. It's discomforting to have your failings presented to you, but it's also pride shattering, which is surely a good thing. I've had to choose a few times to keep going, to stick with God on this, or perhaps He's sticking with me. Here's to finding the time just to wait and listen, to receive in a world that is all about 'getting'.” Jonathan
“How do you not think? I tried this today and stood quiet and still half way up a hill in the rain and I couldn't not think. I don't think my brain has an off switch. The closest I could come was just talking to God and wanting his presence.” Jemma
“I loved yesterday’s. Checked out the full translation. This part stood out as a reminder of the vastness and variety of the power Patrick drew on, also available to me:
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.” Wendy
* * *
May you shine, today...
Go well!
Brian
the Super Moon
In some respects, it was a different world when Jesus walked the Earth. Life was simpler. He didn’t have to cope with e-mail overkill, binge drinkers, calls from the boss in the holidays, Prozac, traffic congestion, global warming, iPad envy, Katie Price, radiation leaks, the derivatives market or spam.
But in another way, his world was hardly that different. What he saw and experienced was intrinsic to the human condition, including his temptations in the desert. He was tempted to cheat on his mission, shattering its integrity; he was tempted to sell his soul for some fleeting earthly power and dominion; he was tempted to use his calling simply to prove his own worth...
Don’t say you haven’t been tempted, too.
But Jesus was deadly serious about taking the time, and the time out, to confront himself and to align himself and to attune himself to the rhythms of God’s reality.
When you look up at the moon tonight – and it’s a ‘super’ moon, by the way, which means that it’s closer than it has been for 18 years, and it’s full! - why not remember that it’s exactly the same moon that Jesus must have looked up at, night after night, as he sat, on his own, in the desert. In this way, it’s a great point of connection. Jesus, the man, would have seen a full moon within that period, and would surely have contemplated its role and rhythms - shepherding sunlight into the darkness – even as he contemplated his own.
The moon connects us even further back, too; to the very beginning, when “the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” as St John wrote so powerfully at the start of his Gospel. Had Jesus talked with John about his own dawning connections with the creation of time, and life, and light? “He was with God in the beginning,” wrote John. “Through him all things were made... In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind...
“The light shines in the darkness,” John wrote, “and the darkness has not overcome it.”
Shine on.
* * *
action point
Take to the hills. Watch the moonrise. Have a walk. Wonder.
* * *
rsvp
“I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning." (Psalm 130.6) Tears every day when I wait - trust it will wash away the deep tiredness and lift the weight on my shoulders. More than watchmen...” Marijke
“After reading ‘the Wait’ this morning I went to switch off my computer before hurrying off to work. Suddenly the words of the last command hit me – SHUT DOWN. That’s what I needed to do. So at lunchtime I left the stress of the office, went to the nearby river and sat on one of the benches. There in the warm sunshine I closed my eyes and mentally hit my internal command button in order to ‘shut down’. There was no blinding revelation, no overwhelming sense of God’s presence. But as I waited I experienced a precious moment of oasis as the busyness of the workplace was replaced with stillness, calm and peace. To be continued...” Dylan
“As a Quaker I experience God in the silence but... by Day 5 I realised that I was (and had been for some time) on 'automatic pilot', being caught up working through lists of my own making. Always saying to myself 'should' instead of 'could'. When you wrote of contriving desert experiences, the light bulb went on! I realise that I've been mentally listing the time between 10.30am and 11.30 on a Sunday as the slot when I would be available to listen to God. What a cheek! This lovely, lovely Benedictine meditation will be a great help.” Ann
‘The Wait – I read this just as I was about to set out on a long walk today... thank you.” Gill
“Not managed the rhythm of the breastplate or the stilted silence. Yesterday; not a good day, preoccupied with trying to gain employment. My prayer of lament is at the forefront of my mind.... Give me peace Lord.” Keith
“Nice story. But I'm wary of the power of the mind to edit, sift, filter and even downright imagine things. So you saw a shepherd. Well, on the other hand, my friend died and parts of Japan have been destroyed, there's no lasting peace between Israel/Palestine, the church is being horribly persecuted in many part of the worlds and I have a headache. ‘World is crazier and more of it than we think, / Incorrigibly plural. [ . . . .] world / Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes.’(MacNeice). Lean Lenten blessings. Oliver
“When we wait for God, we get to see Him do the business. When Jesus fed the crowds, the raw materials were ludicrously small - just a few fish sandwiches. But as the disciples followed his instructions, so the miracle happened... Waiting for God is not passive, it is the wisest course of action if we are to be used to make a difference.” John
“A beautiful St Patrick’s day thanks to the breastplate mediation which gave me an extra spring in my step. I sent it to all fellow spiritually awake Irish folk in my life in the hope of further empowering and nourishing their souls.” Claire
“Taking break from studies and took your advice - sitting on Killiney Hill overlooking a bay like Sorrento in Italy. Listening to seabirds - and the wind!!! Beautiful clear day with sun shining and sea like a pond...” Ciaran
“I am thankful to be part of this Lent 40 group and to be thinking about these things at this time. Somehow, the entire universe around me seems full of connections which sum up my being here right now.” Sandra
“I am trying to still my mind and wait on God, but it keeps filling up with images of the devastation in Japan. How lucky we are to have the privilege be still. But surely God is everywhere - in the stillness, in the messiness of our lives, when things go according to plan, when they don't, even in Japan..?” Kate
“This last week or so has been tough. I don't necessarily find it hard to find the time and the stillness to rest and think and reflect, but I do find it hard to fully trust in God when things are difficult or not as I would have them be. My desert experience thus far has shown me how little I give things over to God, and brought home how frustrated and weak I often am. It's discomforting to have your failings presented to you, but it's also pride shattering, which is surely a good thing. I've had to choose a few times to keep going, to stick with God on this, or perhaps He's sticking with me. Here's to finding the time just to wait and listen, to receive in a world that is all about 'getting'.” Jonathan
“How do you not think? I tried this today and stood quiet and still half way up a hill in the rain and I couldn't not think. I don't think my brain has an off switch. The closest I could come was just talking to God and wanting his presence.” Jemma
“I loved yesterday’s. Checked out the full translation. This part stood out as a reminder of the vastness and variety of the power Patrick drew on, also available to me:
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.” Wendy
* * *
May you shine, today...
Go well!
Brian
Friday, 18 March 2011
The Wait
simplicity // 9
the Wait
Recently, I took myself off for an afternoon’s retreat: a walk by the river, time to reflect, a chance to fast and listen and prepare. It was a microcosm of the Lent experience, in a way. And it started beautifully, as these things often do. Within moments of finding the river, I’d seen a kingfisher, which for me is always a sign of God’s catch-fire presence, and I felt greatly encouraged.
But then, things began to unravel. The divine experience I’d envisaged didn’t materialise. The river path was blocked off by workmen and diverted, across a muddy field and alongside a motorway and a railway line. There was noise on the outside, and noise in my head. This wasn’t meant to happen! Is this a sign? Is that a sign..? What’s the point of making the effort?
The path peeled off, and mentally so did I. A snake of steps led me up and away to the crest of a steep hill, where I stopped, discouraged. My phone beeped – I’d forgotten to turn it off – and up popped an e-mail.
“Here’s the Benedictine meditation I meant to send you weeks ago,” wrote a friend with a god-like sense of timing. This is how the meditation went:
And so, I did just that. Standing on that hillside, I stopped thinking. I stopped asking. I stopped doing. And I started waiting. It’s so easy to contrive these ‘desert experiences’, or to force them, or to feel frustrated when they don’t go to plan. But you can’t force it. You have to wait. Even if it’s for 40 days or more.
And a funny thing happened. From out of the pause, a man appeared, walking along a path in the valley below, and he started calling, loudly. He carried a staff – a crook? - and nothing else. And as he called, sheep emerged from the slopes around me, responding to his voice. I watched, mesmerised, as for five minutes these animals headed purposefully from every direction down the slopes and gathered gently around him. And then they moved off, shepherd and flock, up the path and out of view.
And so did I: not thinking, not asking, not doing, just waiting. Stilled.
* * *
action point:
If you managed to create a rhythm using St Patrick’s Breastplate yesterday, try continuing it today – by using the meditation from my friend. (If you didn’t, give it a try today!) Create three spaces during the day – morning, afternoon and evening – in which you can spend a little time waiting. How could these little ‘windows’ help tp form a positive habit for you?
* * *
rsvp:
“The extract from St Patrick’s Breastplate is now my status on Facebook. I thought it would be good for people to think - as it seems St Patrick's Day has become primarily about Guinness! I truly believe these words - but if Christ is with me, before me, behind me, beneath me, above me, on my right, on my left... then how do I manage to stuff up so often?” Andree
“It just occurred to me that breastplates are there to protect the heart, and thus that which gives life. What apt words to place on something so precious.” Paula
“I'm still thinking about beginnings and endings. I read about a ship's surgeon named John Price, who arrived with his ship 'Minerva' in Sydney Harbour in 1800. He became one of the first Europeans to observe the curious animal known as a Platypus; the bill of of a duck, the fur of an otter and webbed feet. His journal, quoted by David Attenborough in ‘Life Stories’, reveals that: ‘His European prejudices led him to describe this astonishing animal as typical of the 'helpless, deformed and monstrous' creatures that are found in 'remote solitudes'". I imagine that John Price would be even more astounded at Attenborough's own description of the platypus, including the fact that it lays eggs like a bird, out of which hatches a tiny mammal that feeds on a milky secretion from its mother. Interestingly, no modern scientist has yet managed to film the eggs being laid or hatched in the deep burrows of a river bank where the platypus nurtures its young. This illustrates, for me, our prejudices and preconceptions at the beginning of a new discovery or journey. So my prayer is that I can be free from my own past history as I step out into Lent 40.” Sandra
* * *
May you have patience, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Wait
Recently, I took myself off for an afternoon’s retreat: a walk by the river, time to reflect, a chance to fast and listen and prepare. It was a microcosm of the Lent experience, in a way. And it started beautifully, as these things often do. Within moments of finding the river, I’d seen a kingfisher, which for me is always a sign of God’s catch-fire presence, and I felt greatly encouraged.
But then, things began to unravel. The divine experience I’d envisaged didn’t materialise. The river path was blocked off by workmen and diverted, across a muddy field and alongside a motorway and a railway line. There was noise on the outside, and noise in my head. This wasn’t meant to happen! Is this a sign? Is that a sign..? What’s the point of making the effort?
The path peeled off, and mentally so did I. A snake of steps led me up and away to the crest of a steep hill, where I stopped, discouraged. My phone beeped – I’d forgotten to turn it off – and up popped an e-mail.
“Here’s the Benedictine meditation I meant to send you weeks ago,” wrote a friend with a god-like sense of timing. This is how the meditation went:
In the stilled silence
mind, heart and soul
wait upon God
reach out to God
not thinking
not asking
not doing
just waiting
stilled upon God.
And so, I did just that. Standing on that hillside, I stopped thinking. I stopped asking. I stopped doing. And I started waiting. It’s so easy to contrive these ‘desert experiences’, or to force them, or to feel frustrated when they don’t go to plan. But you can’t force it. You have to wait. Even if it’s for 40 days or more.
And a funny thing happened. From out of the pause, a man appeared, walking along a path in the valley below, and he started calling, loudly. He carried a staff – a crook? - and nothing else. And as he called, sheep emerged from the slopes around me, responding to his voice. I watched, mesmerised, as for five minutes these animals headed purposefully from every direction down the slopes and gathered gently around him. And then they moved off, shepherd and flock, up the path and out of view.
And so did I: not thinking, not asking, not doing, just waiting. Stilled.
* * *
action point:
If you managed to create a rhythm using St Patrick’s Breastplate yesterday, try continuing it today – by using the meditation from my friend. (If you didn’t, give it a try today!) Create three spaces during the day – morning, afternoon and evening – in which you can spend a little time waiting. How could these little ‘windows’ help tp form a positive habit for you?
* * *
rsvp:
“The extract from St Patrick’s Breastplate is now my status on Facebook. I thought it would be good for people to think - as it seems St Patrick's Day has become primarily about Guinness! I truly believe these words - but if Christ is with me, before me, behind me, beneath me, above me, on my right, on my left... then how do I manage to stuff up so often?” Andree
“It just occurred to me that breastplates are there to protect the heart, and thus that which gives life. What apt words to place on something so precious.” Paula
“I'm still thinking about beginnings and endings. I read about a ship's surgeon named John Price, who arrived with his ship 'Minerva' in Sydney Harbour in 1800. He became one of the first Europeans to observe the curious animal known as a Platypus; the bill of of a duck, the fur of an otter and webbed feet. His journal, quoted by David Attenborough in ‘Life Stories’, reveals that: ‘His European prejudices led him to describe this astonishing animal as typical of the 'helpless, deformed and monstrous' creatures that are found in 'remote solitudes'". I imagine that John Price would be even more astounded at Attenborough's own description of the platypus, including the fact that it lays eggs like a bird, out of which hatches a tiny mammal that feeds on a milky secretion from its mother. Interestingly, no modern scientist has yet managed to film the eggs being laid or hatched in the deep burrows of a river bank where the platypus nurtures its young. This illustrates, for me, our prejudices and preconceptions at the beginning of a new discovery or journey. So my prayer is that I can be free from my own past history as I step out into Lent 40.” Sandra
* * *
May you have patience, today.
Go well!
Brian
Thursday, 17 March 2011
The Breastplate
simplicity // 8
the Breastplate
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness,
Of the Creator of Creation.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
from St Patrick’s Breastplate prayer.
* * *
action point:
Spend time at the start of today reading the short extract above, in a quiet place, preferably out loud. Try to take each phrase slowly, and carefully.
If possible, why not repeat the act at elevenses or lunch, and in the afternoon or evening, so that you create a very simple rhythm of prayer for St Patrick’s Day. Find a busy place to read the ‘repeat’ in your head, and become conscious of “Christ in every eye that sees me”.
(You can read the whole prayer by clicking here. So alternatively, if you have time, you could read the full version prayerfully from start to finish.)
In addition, you may wish to read from Ephesians 6:10-17 in the Bible. St Patrick’s Breastplate prayer echoes this passage.
* * *
rsvp:
“About the Keepsake: I would take the bookmark that my mother gave me, aged 10, just before she died. It has the well-known poem ‘Footprints in the Sand’ printed on the front and her love written on the back. For those of us who feel that we still have not quite emerged from the desert yet this Lent, remember the final lines of the poem: ‘And the Lord replied, "My son, my precious child/I love you and I would never leave you./During your times of trial and suffering,/when you see only one set of footprints,/it was then that I carried you."’” Kate
“Funny how some 'things' that are important to me are hidden or I have to find them. I left work early yesterday, went home and into the garage. I found my deck chair and took it to the garden. The sun was out and so was my family. My deck chair is very important to me because it represents a chance to relax and be still, and it speaks of an approaching summer. A new season, more light, warmth and time spent outside. As I sat I just closed my eyes and listened. Cars, lawn mower, birds but no people. I was amazed (and even more so given today's email, the Blank Page) by how much time I seem to spend with people saying things. Talking, listening, music, TV, Internet - it has become an overload. A constant need to be communicating or entertained. My deck chair has helped me think about maybe leaving some pages or parts of pages blank...” Ben
“Reflecting on the Alarm was poignant in the wake of the terrible devastation in Japan. I could not remove from my mind the image I had seen on TV the night before of a young woman, completely traumatised by the scene she was witnessing... This has remained with me as a reminder that I don't thank and praise God enough for the blessings that I take so much for granted; life itself, my daily food, my comfortable home, the love of my family and friends. The catastrophe in Japan has emphasised how fragile life is. So, as I revel in the return of spring, my favourite season, I am trying to take time to relish the new life and beauty of creation and the sacrament of the present moment that is so often ignored because of the pace of life. PS Today's meditation, the Blank Page, inspired me to write this e-mail, with more care than I usually take.” Diana
“(The Keepsake) What might be left behind but never forgotten? A small bracelet given to me by my grandparents when I was a baby remains a treasure...Then there’s the old lace handkerchief with its accompanying tale of weddings and not-so weddings, hand-written by my mother. I have a painting, commissioned by my husband, of my favourite garden and another, painted by my father, of the coastal footpath we used to walk when I was a child. I have a collection of 26 wedding anniversary cards from my husband; along with Mother’s Day and birthday cards. I have a pile of paintings from my three children as they grew, and a box of Christmas tree decorations which each tell a story from our family. I have saved our favourite children’s bedtime story books; favourite cuddly toys and a few very tiny new-born baby clothes. By my bed I keep an expanding box of finger puppets presented by my daughter each birthday. Yes, I have enough objects at hand to illustrate my life story, and more. What do these things say about me? The child, the wife, the mother, the story-keeper?” Sandra
“I am struggling this Lent, as I struggled last year. Day 1 – stop – was so hard but that was my best effort at an action point. I have reacted strongly against the notion of today being a blank space. The bit that doesn’t contain meetings contains an out-of-control inbox which must be balanced against the tasks that need doing – some of which will ultimately not get done. Sometimes there are business dinners adding late nights to the early mornings. In short, once Monday morning swings around it feels like a case of running hard until Friday night. And yet I think I get the principle – I will do the white space thing with today’s emails; and I will try to walk between meetings if I can manufacture the time.” Tim
“
“ Nev (The Blank Page)
“I always considered blank pages as a ‘work in progress’ or a task I had to reluctantly complete, and in most cases something to dread. How different to consider it potential. Perhaps my half-full cup has been half empty all this time? Wakey-wakey!” Keith
* * *
May you arise, today, through a mighty strength.
Go well!
Brian
the Breastplate
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness,
Of the Creator of Creation.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
from St Patrick’s Breastplate prayer.
* * *
action point:
Spend time at the start of today reading the short extract above, in a quiet place, preferably out loud. Try to take each phrase slowly, and carefully.
If possible, why not repeat the act at elevenses or lunch, and in the afternoon or evening, so that you create a very simple rhythm of prayer for St Patrick’s Day. Find a busy place to read the ‘repeat’ in your head, and become conscious of “Christ in every eye that sees me”.
(You can read the whole prayer by clicking here. So alternatively, if you have time, you could read the full version prayerfully from start to finish.)
In addition, you may wish to read from Ephesians 6:10-17 in the Bible. St Patrick’s Breastplate prayer echoes this passage.
* * *
rsvp:
“About the Keepsake: I would take the bookmark that my mother gave me, aged 10, just before she died. It has the well-known poem ‘Footprints in the Sand’ printed on the front and her love written on the back. For those of us who feel that we still have not quite emerged from the desert yet this Lent, remember the final lines of the poem: ‘And the Lord replied, "My son, my precious child/I love you and I would never leave you./During your times of trial and suffering,/when you see only one set of footprints,/it was then that I carried you."’” Kate
“Funny how some 'things' that are important to me are hidden or I have to find them. I left work early yesterday, went home and into the garage. I found my deck chair and took it to the garden. The sun was out and so was my family. My deck chair is very important to me because it represents a chance to relax and be still, and it speaks of an approaching summer. A new season, more light, warmth and time spent outside. As I sat I just closed my eyes and listened. Cars, lawn mower, birds but no people. I was amazed (and even more so given today's email, the Blank Page) by how much time I seem to spend with people saying things. Talking, listening, music, TV, Internet - it has become an overload. A constant need to be communicating or entertained. My deck chair has helped me think about maybe leaving some pages or parts of pages blank...” Ben
“Reflecting on the Alarm was poignant in the wake of the terrible devastation in Japan. I could not remove from my mind the image I had seen on TV the night before of a young woman, completely traumatised by the scene she was witnessing... This has remained with me as a reminder that I don't thank and praise God enough for the blessings that I take so much for granted; life itself, my daily food, my comfortable home, the love of my family and friends. The catastrophe in Japan has emphasised how fragile life is. So, as I revel in the return of spring, my favourite season, I am trying to take time to relish the new life and beauty of creation and the sacrament of the present moment that is so often ignored because of the pace of life. PS Today's meditation, the Blank Page, inspired me to write this e-mail, with more care than I usually take.” Diana
“(The Keepsake) What might be left behind but never forgotten? A small bracelet given to me by my grandparents when I was a baby remains a treasure...Then there’s the old lace handkerchief with its accompanying tale of weddings and not-so weddings, hand-written by my mother. I have a painting, commissioned by my husband, of my favourite garden and another, painted by my father, of the coastal footpath we used to walk when I was a child. I have a collection of 26 wedding anniversary cards from my husband; along with Mother’s Day and birthday cards. I have a pile of paintings from my three children as they grew, and a box of Christmas tree decorations which each tell a story from our family. I have saved our favourite children’s bedtime story books; favourite cuddly toys and a few very tiny new-born baby clothes. By my bed I keep an expanding box of finger puppets presented by my daughter each birthday. Yes, I have enough objects at hand to illustrate my life story, and more. What do these things say about me? The child, the wife, the mother, the story-keeper?” Sandra
“I am struggling this Lent, as I struggled last year. Day 1 – stop – was so hard but that was my best effort at an action point. I have reacted strongly against the notion of today being a blank space. The bit that doesn’t contain meetings contains an out-of-control inbox which must be balanced against the tasks that need doing – some of which will ultimately not get done. Sometimes there are business dinners adding late nights to the early mornings. In short, once Monday morning swings around it feels like a case of running hard until Friday night. And yet I think I get the principle – I will do the white space thing with today’s emails; and I will try to walk between meetings if I can manufacture the time.” Tim
“
“ Nev (The Blank Page)
“I always considered blank pages as a ‘work in progress’ or a task I had to reluctantly complete, and in most cases something to dread. How different to consider it potential. Perhaps my half-full cup has been half empty all this time? Wakey-wakey!” Keith
* * *
May you arise, today, through a mighty strength.
Go well!
Brian
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
The Blank Page
simplicity // 7
the Blank Page
The blank page? It can fill the writer with dread, let me tell you. And as a result, he (or she) can freeze in terror; or spew words across the void, until the void is no more.
Yet the blank page, the white sheet, the empty space, represents such promise. It is an invitation to speak. An opportunity to express something uniquely of who you are. A chance to tell your story, somehow. Without it, you would not be heard, and neither would I.
And while we’re not all writers, in a way, we are. For a start, few of us, today, will not send an e-mail. Each time you press ‘new message’, you are confronted with the blank page, and it is up to you to use it well; to consider what you will say, and to craft it with care, and with love. And if you’re really on fire, perhaps with artistry, and precision, and quality, too.
As for writing, so, too, for life: today itself is a blank page, offered. We may, in our fear of blankness, already (months before!) have scrawled meetings and appointments all over this virgin day. Even so, try to notice the white space in between the activity. Look for the gaps, for they may contain the real substance.
And if you don’t have too much to do today, why not contemplate the blankness itself? Listen to what’s happening around you. Notice what unfolds. And touch the world with your presence only when you’re ready - in such a way that it demonstrates care, and love. (And if you’re really on fire: artistry, and precision, and quality, too...)
“Let your words be few,” suggests the writer of Ecclesiastes. “He who holds his tongue is wise,” says the ancient proverb. Choose your words carefully, says I, who’ll stop, now, to wonder (finally) what it must have been like on that first day, when God, who saw the Earth formless and empty, spoke words, and life, into being, saying “Let there be light,” and creation began.
* * *
action point:
Before you respond to an e-mail today, spend a few minutes contemplating the blank page onto which you will write. Think about the person you are writing to. Think of how you will make your presence felt. Think of how many words you need to use. And proceed, finally, with greater love and care than usual.
Even better, if you’re not writing any e-mails, why not resolve to write a letter to someone today. But before you write on the page, contemplate the blankness, and notice your reaction to it. Give yourself some time to really feel the blankness of the page, if you can, and all its potential.
* * *
rsvp:
“The Keepsake? My grandfather’s dog tag from WW1 when he was in the Royal Army Medical Corp - a man of principle, not willing to fight but to try and mend broken bodies and souls. I still miss his guidance...” Jane
“You're right - I couldn't think of anything in my flat I'd feel the need to rescue, except my husband. But when you mentioned your reshaped penny, I remembered my 'special box' which I hadn't thought about in months. I looked through it this evening and it turns out almost everything in it is a letter or a card from someone. There's a card from my mum saying she's proud of me (something she'd never say out loud). A card from a friend saying things are going to be alright. A letter telling me I'd done a good job. The first card my husband sent me. That's what I'd rescue. I know I'd still have all those relationships, but sometimes I need something physical that reminds me what we've walked together, & that I've been loved...” Jenny
“I made myself sit and do a virtual walk round all the rooms of the house - picking up the things that I would want to save if I had to get out of the house forever. I thought the list would be really long, but what surprised me was how little I would take: the usual photos, family jewellery and this little cup from Lisbon, bought in a tiny shop with our last few coins on a precious shopping trip with my late mum. The cup has been tucked in a display cabinet, very safe and never looked at. What a waste! And all the expensive stuff - leave it behind, it means nothing!” Andree
“Much harder today as my thoughts were interrupted and saddened by the thousands in Japan who no longer have shelter, breath or life... But, some successes: I have deleted unhelpful 'favourites' from my PC and laptop, I have been much more consciously positive in my interpersonal relationships and am still making significantly more time for contemplation and reflection in each day. The latter two are beginning to feel as though they may become habitual - here's hoping...
“...And strangely, although I am taking more time out to be with people and to find personal stillness, there seems to be more time in my day. I have begun tasks I 'haven't yet had time for', and completed small challenges I have set myself. All this and I feel far less stressed.” Paula
“One thing I treasure most is the gift of a mock silver, moulded angel, with the inscription on the wings, ‘God Bless Grandmothers’, given to me by my granddaughter one Christmas. It conjures that wonderful warmth of unconditional deep love for a child that completely embraces one’s soul... This awesome love that I have for her - a feeling that my heart will explode - must be only a portion of the love that God has for us. It is mind-blowing.” Sue
“The last 12 months have been tough, I’m staying at my mum's with just a few clothes, toiletries, lap-top and phone. I haven't really missed any of my possessions, even the sentimental ones, which I find quite strange. So your question is easier for me to answer. I would take my glasses so I can see the people and world around me and my phone so I can speak to the ones I love. I am finding that one of the good things that God has given me is a caring nature for others and that seems more important than all the things I own.” Kirsty
* * *
May you speak with care, and write with joy, and act in love, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Blank Page
The blank page? It can fill the writer with dread, let me tell you. And as a result, he (or she) can freeze in terror; or spew words across the void, until the void is no more.
Yet the blank page, the white sheet, the empty space, represents such promise. It is an invitation to speak. An opportunity to express something uniquely of who you are. A chance to tell your story, somehow. Without it, you would not be heard, and neither would I.
And while we’re not all writers, in a way, we are. For a start, few of us, today, will not send an e-mail. Each time you press ‘new message’, you are confronted with the blank page, and it is up to you to use it well; to consider what you will say, and to craft it with care, and with love. And if you’re really on fire, perhaps with artistry, and precision, and quality, too.
As for writing, so, too, for life: today itself is a blank page, offered. We may, in our fear of blankness, already (months before!) have scrawled meetings and appointments all over this virgin day. Even so, try to notice the white space in between the activity. Look for the gaps, for they may contain the real substance.
And if you don’t have too much to do today, why not contemplate the blankness itself? Listen to what’s happening around you. Notice what unfolds. And touch the world with your presence only when you’re ready - in such a way that it demonstrates care, and love. (And if you’re really on fire: artistry, and precision, and quality, too...)
“Let your words be few,” suggests the writer of Ecclesiastes. “He who holds his tongue is wise,” says the ancient proverb. Choose your words carefully, says I, who’ll stop, now, to wonder (finally) what it must have been like on that first day, when God, who saw the Earth formless and empty, spoke words, and life, into being, saying “Let there be light,” and creation began.
* * *
action point:
Before you respond to an e-mail today, spend a few minutes contemplating the blank page onto which you will write. Think about the person you are writing to. Think of how you will make your presence felt. Think of how many words you need to use. And proceed, finally, with greater love and care than usual.
Even better, if you’re not writing any e-mails, why not resolve to write a letter to someone today. But before you write on the page, contemplate the blankness, and notice your reaction to it. Give yourself some time to really feel the blankness of the page, if you can, and all its potential.
* * *
rsvp:
“The Keepsake? My grandfather’s dog tag from WW1 when he was in the Royal Army Medical Corp - a man of principle, not willing to fight but to try and mend broken bodies and souls. I still miss his guidance...” Jane
“You're right - I couldn't think of anything in my flat I'd feel the need to rescue, except my husband. But when you mentioned your reshaped penny, I remembered my 'special box' which I hadn't thought about in months. I looked through it this evening and it turns out almost everything in it is a letter or a card from someone. There's a card from my mum saying she's proud of me (something she'd never say out loud). A card from a friend saying things are going to be alright. A letter telling me I'd done a good job. The first card my husband sent me. That's what I'd rescue. I know I'd still have all those relationships, but sometimes I need something physical that reminds me what we've walked together, & that I've been loved...” Jenny
“I made myself sit and do a virtual walk round all the rooms of the house - picking up the things that I would want to save if I had to get out of the house forever. I thought the list would be really long, but what surprised me was how little I would take: the usual photos, family jewellery and this little cup from Lisbon, bought in a tiny shop with our last few coins on a precious shopping trip with my late mum. The cup has been tucked in a display cabinet, very safe and never looked at. What a waste! And all the expensive stuff - leave it behind, it means nothing!” Andree
“Much harder today as my thoughts were interrupted and saddened by the thousands in Japan who no longer have shelter, breath or life... But, some successes: I have deleted unhelpful 'favourites' from my PC and laptop, I have been much more consciously positive in my interpersonal relationships and am still making significantly more time for contemplation and reflection in each day. The latter two are beginning to feel as though they may become habitual - here's hoping...
“...And strangely, although I am taking more time out to be with people and to find personal stillness, there seems to be more time in my day. I have begun tasks I 'haven't yet had time for', and completed small challenges I have set myself. All this and I feel far less stressed.” Paula
“One thing I treasure most is the gift of a mock silver, moulded angel, with the inscription on the wings, ‘God Bless Grandmothers’, given to me by my granddaughter one Christmas. It conjures that wonderful warmth of unconditional deep love for a child that completely embraces one’s soul... This awesome love that I have for her - a feeling that my heart will explode - must be only a portion of the love that God has for us. It is mind-blowing.” Sue
“The last 12 months have been tough, I’m staying at my mum's with just a few clothes, toiletries, lap-top and phone. I haven't really missed any of my possessions, even the sentimental ones, which I find quite strange. So your question is easier for me to answer. I would take my glasses so I can see the people and world around me and my phone so I can speak to the ones I love. I am finding that one of the good things that God has given me is a caring nature for others and that seems more important than all the things I own.” Kirsty
* * *
May you speak with care, and write with joy, and act in love, today.
Go well!
Brian
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
The Keepsake
simplicity // 6
the Keepsake
What would you save, if you awoke in the night to find your house burning down?
After people and pets, you can probably think of one or maybe two things that would really be worth trying to save. Some old letters, perhaps, or a family Bible, or a photo album, or a keepsake. It’s funny, when you stop to think about it, but you probably wouldn’t want to save the biggest or most expensive consumer durables first. There are other, humbler items which maintain a much higher value altogether.
One of my most precious possessions is a tiny piece of copper given to me by my grandfather. It used to be an old penny – that’s how much it was “worth”! - but it was whittled into the shape of a Spitfire by a German prisoner of war, and given to grandpa as an act of friendship and reconciliation. He then passed it on to me – the best kind of hand-me-down you could hope for, rich in symbolism and human significance. I have often imagined the first time it fell into my grandfather’s hands, and here it is, now, in mine.
It challenges me to ask: why, if most of the stuff around me is so ephemeral, do I gather so much of it to me? For here is something of true worth. It is tiny, and takes up no space, yet I will treasure it always. Until that is, I pass it on, too.
I wonder, how much of what we “own” in life is of real worth? And how much of the rest of our stuff owns us?
* * *
action point
Make an inventory of the things that are truly of value to you. Your dearest objects. What do they say about what’s best about you? Look them out, today, and spend a little time enjoying them. Tell someone the story behind them - and please tell us, if you will...
* * *
rsvp
“Lent, for me, is about the love of God, so... I will make space by pausing daily. I am moving towards the love of God, ‘passing it on’ as I discover Him more. I will become more fully present as I go by learning to listen.” Mark
“As I cut my apple (‘the Melon and the Knife’), I thought about the potential the seeds hold for new life and new beginnings and that, if planted, as the seedling grew, it would face many hazards along the way, but would one day grow into a strong and beautiful tree. Something I had never seen before held such promise and so many possibilities. I have kept one of the seeds and stuck it in my journal to remind me.” Paula
“The alarm is both a wake-up call from slumber and a warning. The chilling tones of the tsunami warning sirens in Japan, and the sight of the facemasks being worn by so many, have caused me to give thanks for each breath of fresh, chill, (relatively) clean air that I can breathe. We take it far too much for granted.” Mark
“Not taking things for granted: this is one of the things I am learning from life here in Malawi – when people don’t have so much they may truly appreciate what they do have. At a friend’s 40th birthday party recently he thanked God that he was alive, having seen three of his brothers and two sisters die before reaching this age. It’s a perspective to hold onto.” Jane
“I have struggled to get into this journey, as it’s evening here in Australia when I get your e-mails! I told myself yesterday to stop worrying; God meets me where I am. Today I went with my family to a gorge just 15 minutes away from our home; we had no idea that we lived so close to such beautiful places when we bought our home. The silence was breathtaking. I can't wait to return, as it felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders as I stood still and listened to the new sounds of wildlife and watched kangaroos hop into the shade. I sometimes have to tell myself “Stop, look and listen!” Today, I stopped, looked & listened and enjoyed the peace. What a great journey this Lent is now proving to be.” Helen
“I encourage Eve and others to persist in trying to find the quiet space. As soon as we sit, all kinds of things rush into our head. Finding the quiet space within ourselves can be like clearing out a dirty drain - you have to remove the dead leaves and bits that have collected there before the water can flow freely again. If you are sitting and hoping for stillness, wait until the point you feel it’s not working, then continue to remain still and you may find in those extra moments that God helps you to find the inner self and the spirit will flow again. It worked for me this morning.” Kirsty
“Oh the paradox of simplicity. As a mother of four boys and a vicar's wife to boot, I seem to live in a house full of clutter - the clutter of people's expectations (including my own of myself), the clutter of the Internet (can I go on the computer mummy?) and middle-class family life in the affluent West. I will make space by only checking emails once in the morning and once in the evening and turning the computer off in between. It's about discipline. It is so good to know that others are in the desert too, hidden from sight by a sand dune, but there, nonetheless.” Jemma
“The awareness of breath helps me to come into a space inside of joy. I am alive, even after the trauma of a breakdown of marriage of 25 years and all that has been unravelled and endured. I am clearing a space to listen, think and feel out of my pain, by taking the time to breathe.” Cheryl
“Just finished breakfast, failed so far in our/my fast. Today is the first day of the rest of my life: it’s the only 14th March 2011 I will ever have. Lord bless this day...’ Keith
“I always knew that it was all or nothing between me and God, for what could it mean to love and trust God except for that to be everything? What else might suffice? Of course, the nothing was never just nothing, it contained a longing that could only be filled by it becoming everything, which it now has.” Ian
* * *
May you savour the small things today.
Go well!
Brian
Monday, 14 March 2011
The Alarm
simplicity // 5
the Alarm
“The alarm sounds and we climb out of bed and begin to trudge through another day,” writes Andrew Bienowski, the Polish psychologist who, as a five-year-old, was exiled to Siberia with his family, and who knows the meaning of suffering. “But think, for a moment, about a day in which we wake and remember what we already have, the blessings that we have already been given, the things that we have already earned, the love that we have already found.”
We are more prone, he observes, to focus usually on our “wants” instead of our “haves”. But we could, alternatively, awake thinking, “I have breath! I have life! I have shelter! I am here...”
These things are to be celebrated, of course – not taken for granted. And if we do take anything for granted, let us remember, today, a few very simple words of wisdom from the man who started life by losing the little he had, including his grandfather, who starved himself so that his grandson could eat his meagre rations:
“If you are in a position to take things for granted, you are already blessed beyond your needs.”
* * *
action point
Spend five minutes today sitting very still, and very quietly, repeating, thankfully, the sentence:
“I have breath. I have life. I have shelter. I am here...”
To find out more about Andrew Bienowski, and his recent book One Life to Give, visit http://www.onelifetogive.net
* * *
rsvp
“On Saturday your reflection was about simplicity not being a pain-free life. Recently I have been unwell, which has necessitated cutting my commitments - a painful experience. Perhaps, for me, this is one interpretation of what cutting the melon could represent. I thought to myself, “If I had a melon I would give this symbolism a go.” Within a few hours I’d received a gift of a basket of fruit. In the basket was a splendid melon. Extraordinary. God provides.” Paul
“I myself have never really ‘subscribed’ to Lent, never thought much about it , but as I sit and read through these daily thoughts and insights and rsvps, the passion of the people involved really does resonate. So what will I do? I don’t know... I will make space this Lent by... going to bed earlier, watch less TV into the small hours and thus feel less tired more of the time. I am moving towards... becoming a better person - nicer, kinder, more tolerant, less dismissive, less selfish - better. I will become more fully present as I go by trying to enjoy/appreciate every second of every minute of every hour of each day. Are these just clichés? I'm not sure. To be continued...” Gary
“I lined up for the marathon, good intentions... blinding me to the reality of my lack of fitness... Everyone else seemed to set off at a cracking pace while I was still at the starting line adjusting my shoelaces. On the evening of day 3, I found myself having to do all the first three days again to catch up. I placed a vase of flowers from my garden in the yellow glow of the table lamp beside me and relaxed and gazed at their beauty for a while. And God, graciously forgiving (yet again) my distracted behaviour, spoke to me, softly, gently, lovingly. At the end of which he just said, "Smile." And I did.” Chris
“I will makes space by... giving up breaking the speed limit (and slowing down in general) thus relinquishing the attitude and behaviour that my time is more important than everyone else’s; I am moving towards... living a less busied, frantic life for these 40 days and still my soul towards a greater God awareness; I will become more fully present as I go by trying to fully listen when others (including God) are speaking to me.” Paul
“’The Melon and the knife brings to mind two quotes: Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler’ (Albert Einstein) and ‘Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana’ (Groucho Marx)”. Tim
“After reading 'The Plan', John Lennon's line came to mind: ‘Life is what happens to you, while you're busy making other plans.’” Paula
* * *
May you remember that you have breath, you have life, you have shelter and you are here, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Alarm
“The alarm sounds and we climb out of bed and begin to trudge through another day,” writes Andrew Bienowski, the Polish psychologist who, as a five-year-old, was exiled to Siberia with his family, and who knows the meaning of suffering. “But think, for a moment, about a day in which we wake and remember what we already have, the blessings that we have already been given, the things that we have already earned, the love that we have already found.”
We are more prone, he observes, to focus usually on our “wants” instead of our “haves”. But we could, alternatively, awake thinking, “I have breath! I have life! I have shelter! I am here...”
These things are to be celebrated, of course – not taken for granted. And if we do take anything for granted, let us remember, today, a few very simple words of wisdom from the man who started life by losing the little he had, including his grandfather, who starved himself so that his grandson could eat his meagre rations:
“If you are in a position to take things for granted, you are already blessed beyond your needs.”
* * *
action point
Spend five minutes today sitting very still, and very quietly, repeating, thankfully, the sentence:
“I have breath. I have life. I have shelter. I am here...”
To find out more about Andrew Bienowski, and his recent book One Life to Give, visit http://www.onelifetogive.net
* * *
rsvp
“On Saturday your reflection was about simplicity not being a pain-free life. Recently I have been unwell, which has necessitated cutting my commitments - a painful experience. Perhaps, for me, this is one interpretation of what cutting the melon could represent. I thought to myself, “If I had a melon I would give this symbolism a go.” Within a few hours I’d received a gift of a basket of fruit. In the basket was a splendid melon. Extraordinary. God provides.” Paul
“I myself have never really ‘subscribed’ to Lent, never thought much about it , but as I sit and read through these daily thoughts and insights and rsvps, the passion of the people involved really does resonate. So what will I do? I don’t know... I will make space this Lent by... going to bed earlier, watch less TV into the small hours and thus feel less tired more of the time. I am moving towards... becoming a better person - nicer, kinder, more tolerant, less dismissive, less selfish - better. I will become more fully present as I go by trying to enjoy/appreciate every second of every minute of every hour of each day. Are these just clichés? I'm not sure. To be continued...” Gary
“I lined up for the marathon, good intentions... blinding me to the reality of my lack of fitness... Everyone else seemed to set off at a cracking pace while I was still at the starting line adjusting my shoelaces. On the evening of day 3, I found myself having to do all the first three days again to catch up. I placed a vase of flowers from my garden in the yellow glow of the table lamp beside me and relaxed and gazed at their beauty for a while. And God, graciously forgiving (yet again) my distracted behaviour, spoke to me, softly, gently, lovingly. At the end of which he just said, "Smile." And I did.” Chris
“I will makes space by... giving up breaking the speed limit (and slowing down in general) thus relinquishing the attitude and behaviour that my time is more important than everyone else’s; I am moving towards... living a less busied, frantic life for these 40 days and still my soul towards a greater God awareness; I will become more fully present as I go by trying to fully listen when others (including God) are speaking to me.” Paul
“’The Melon and the knife brings to mind two quotes: Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler’ (Albert Einstein) and ‘Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana’ (Groucho Marx)”. Tim
“After reading 'The Plan', John Lennon's line came to mind: ‘Life is what happens to you, while you're busy making other plans.’” Paula
* * *
May you remember that you have breath, you have life, you have shelter and you are here, today.
Go well!
Brian
Saturday, 12 March 2011
The Melon and the Knife
simplicity // 4
the Melon and the Knife
As we turn our attention towards simplicity, let’s beware searching nostalgically for a time that never was. As the book of Ecclesiastes (7.10) puts it, ‘Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions.’
Neither should we mistake simplicity for a pain-free life. It can hurt, sometimes, if we have to let go, or make space, or downsize, or be still...
And so, this morning, it’s worth considering a sharp challenge from the poet Mary Oliver not to over-simplify matters, even as we seek to live a little more simply. Allow me to leave this powerful image of hers with you, for the rest of the day:
“ ...for each of us, there is the daily life.
Let us live it, gesture by gesture.
When we cut the ripe melon, should we not give it thanks?
And should we not thank the knife, also?
We do not live in a simple world.”
(taken from ‘At the River Clarion’)
* * *
action point
Why not get some fresh fruit today – melon, if possible! – and, taking a sharp knife, thank the fruit, and thank the knife, and eat the fruit, and thank God for bringing you this far on your journey of life and faith. What might the fruit symbolise, for you? And the knife? What might it mean to live simply, in a world that is not so simple?
* * *
rsvp
“I will make space, this Lent, by... giving up addiction.
I am moving towards... the back garden.
I will become more fully present as I go, by... embracing the moment.” Nev
“I will make space, this Lent, by... leaving the computer alone in the evening.
I am moving towards... something entirely unknown and uncontrollable that asks of me my creativity and courage...
I will become more fully present as I go, by... trying to let go of the rest of the day/week/month's plans and rejoicing in the gift of now.” Jenny
“I will make space this Lent by... being less driven to be available to everyone.
I am moving towards... a more open and sharing life with my wife.
I will become more fully present as I go by... focusing on the person/task I am engaged in. No more multi-tasking!” Pete
“So impressed at everyone’s seeming ability to do this… don’t know if it makes it better or worse! The quiet space has so far been elusive, but it’s in there in my head somewhere. Thank you for these lovely daily moments, which is so much better than no moment at all.” Eve
“Thanks for the honest footnote in Day 3. It strikes me that even an interrupted honest, good and well-intentioned plan is better than no plan today; better than than an unrealistic perfect plan for tomorrow; and certainly better than giving up because of failed plans in the past. I pray this Lent that, as we give space in our hearts to the Lover of our Souls, we’ll discover a new heartbeat and a life that will lead us away from all that breaks in to hinder and destroy.” Tony
“Another good saying: ‘perfect is the enemy of the good’. In other words, achieving perfection at something mean others things will suffer... I took my mid-morning cup of tea outside yesterday due to your encouragement. The sun came out so it was a nice moment of reflection. Difficult to reach calmness, though, in the midst of a busy work schedule!” Michael
“I have given up Sudoku and crossword puzzles to release more time for God and I am trying hard to give up PROCRASTINATING! This has been a lifelong battle but I sense that this is the time to hand it over to God as we journey together. A new start - listening and following where He leads, immediately!” Isobel
* * *
Have a wonderful weekend.
Go well!
Brian
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)