Winter & Wellbeing: Finding Comfort in the Spirit of Hygge

Monday 12th of January has become one of those days that have been marked out on the yearly calendar. Not an official public holiday, there isn’t one until Easter. That said it is still a day we mark. It is known as “Blue Monday”, no I don’t mean the song by New Order. “Blue Monday” has become regarded as the hardest day of the year, after all the Christmas spirit has all gone and we are right in depths of winter. It is dark, it is cold and there is little light around, Spring seems so far away. The day light hours will increase over the coming weeks but still we must face winter. January and February can be difficult as we feel stuck in the cold on these dark winter evenings.

Last Monday morning I felt somewhat exhausted and little blue myself. It seems Blue Monday came a week early for me. Now there are good reasons for this I was not fully over the virus that struck me down over Christmas. Despite this feeling I went out into the snowy day with Molly and bumped into people and connected and chatted away. Folk wishing each other Happy New Year and talking about their Christmases. Molly enjoyed the snow, she loved it, that said she didn’t like the cold and wet. She was happy to get home and curl up in the comfort of her bed and warmth of the house. She slept much of the day.

I got on with some work and then took down my tree and decorations. As I did I felt some sadness, especially as I packed away all the gifts I had bought and wrapped for family, but was unable to give, as I was too unwell to travel at the time. So, my mood was low. I was feeling fatigued, my throat was sore too, which was troubling. I also had my share of concerns for folk in my life, particularly two friends who are struggling, the two communities I serve that have their challenges and the wider world in which we all live. Nothing new here. The choir I have joined and loved joining was getting back together that night. I considered not going and then thought to myself no you will enjoy it, have a little faith.

Thank goodness I did. It was lovely to catch up with folk who I hadn’t seen for a while; it was wonderful to connect and share our tales and of course to sing. I found comfort, connection, community and joy. I got right into what I was doing. I really got into it. In fact, the choir leader said at one point. “I don’t want to single anyone out, but what I am looking for from you all is the energy that Danny is putting into this.” Apparently, I was giving it the appropriate amount of “sass”. This led to much laughter. It was just what I needed. I needed the joy of singing and the comfort of community. My soul needed it and gave me a wonderful sense of well-being.

This got me thinking of the importance of well-being, especially at this time of year. I know my physical, mental and spiritual well-being are interconnected. If one is out of sync, then they can all be. I have noticed this again over the last few weeks.

Often at the beginning of the year we resolve to live more healthily, gym membership sores at this time of the year in an attempt to improve our physical lives. I know I would certainly benefit from getting physically healthier. Physical well-being is of course on many of our minds this winter too, there does seem to have been more than the average number of nasty viruses about that have ruined one or two of our Christmases.

So yes physical well-being is definitely on our minds at this time of the year.

Now while there is a great deal of talk of improving our physical well-being, which is of course vital, there seems to be less talk of taking care of our spiritual well-being, which actually may well be more vital. If I have learnt anything in life I know that my emotional, mental and physical well-being rests on my spiritual health.

I remember a wise man saying to me twenty or more years ago, “If you are spiritually well, the rest will be taken care of.” How true this is. I learnt many years ago not to put the horse before the cart, a lesson I have never forgotten.

Spiritual well-being is vital. How do I know this? Well for many years it was something I lacked and as a result my life was devoid of all meaning and connection. I was just an empty vessel blown about in the storms of life. I was lonely, I was lost and I was ruled by fear of pretty much everything. This is no longer the case and the reason for this is that I found both and anchor and rudder as well as the ability to set my sails accordingly when the winds really blow. The key to this is spiritual well-being.

Medical practioners are increasingly recognising the potential benefits that spiritual well-being can bring. A spiritually healthy person tends to be at ease with themselves and comfortable in their own skin and surroundings, they have a developing awareness of themselves and those around them, they tend to act with patience, honesty, kindness, hope, wisdom, joy and creativity. They have a healthy relationships with the people they share their lives with as well as a hope filled view of life and a sense of inner peace and acceptance of problems we face in life. While their recovery from both illness and bereavement tend to be less problematic.

Spiritual well-being is vital to a life of meaning and purpose and yet so many people in our increasing secularised age neglect this. Yes, many folks may have a near perfect buffed body and a sharp mind and yet they can still feel empty, lonely and utterly disconnected.

Why is this? Well I suspect it is because increasingly we neglect our souls.

Now one sign of healthy well-being in my own being is the quality of my humour. I noticed last Monday morning I was in a deeply serious mood. This though was not the case by the end of the day. I was feeling well again, I was in good humour. Being out in life and community and set me free from myself and restored my well-being.

"Life is far too serious a business to be taken too seriously. I remember at school an old biology teacher telling me that a man who cannot laugh at himself will always struggle. It is something else I have never forgotten. I hated him for it at the time, because I knew I took myself far too seriously and just couldn’t free myself from this blight. I just took everything so personally. Thankfully I learnt a long time ago that if ever I want a good laugh I just have to listen to myself.

More and more I see clearly that one of the key barometers of my spiritual well-being is the health of my humour. When I am in good humour I find that I am in good health.

As you know I am not alone in this, it’s an ancient idea. As I have shared many times before, to be in good humour is to enjoy good health. The word “Humour” is derived from a medieval medical term for fluids of the human body. It has its roots in the ‘old’ French word ‘humor’, derived from the Latin ‘umere’. Physicians of the day believed that we had four different types of internal fluids that they called ‘humors’ and it was these that determined our physical and mental health. Therefore, if a person became ill it was believed that their humors were out of balance. So, to be in good humour is to literally be in good health, or at least that’s what it used to mean.

Now of course this isn’t why I and others have suffered some horrible winter viruses. That said I suspect that good humour might just help us through the winter blues.

Everyone knows I love language; I love the roots and meaning of words, humour being a classic example. I especially love how words, like humour, have either changed in meaning, or somehow got lost or disappeared. New words, or at least new words to our culture are also of interest to me. One word that has come into prominence in recent years is Hygge (pronounced hew-geh). It is a word of Scandinavian origin, primarily Danish but also Norwegian. According to Louisa Thomson Brits in “The Book of Hygge” Hygge is defined as “a quality of presence and an experience of belonging and togetherness. It is a feeling of being warm, safe, comforted and sheltered. Hygge is an experience of selfhood and communion with people and places that anchors and affirms us, gives us courage and consolation”. This is a feeling I felt powerfully when back with the choir last Monday. It is something I find in spiritual community too. It gives me a sense of well-being. Interestingly last Autumn the choir recorded a version of “Park-Life”, originally by Blur. We also created a video, it’s aim being to help promote the Oyez art collective now based at the town hall where the choir practices. The cry throughout being “Get some community”. It got me thinking about a line in the original “Parklife” “It gives me a sense of enormous well-being”. This is something we all strive for. This is at the heart of Hygge. I feel that there is much that we can learn from Hygge, that can help us to improve our well-being as individuals and community.

Hygge (hew-geh) helps Danes imagine who they are and how they should be together, there is something of collective and not merely individual about it. Hygge began to come to prominence globally due to an increase in fascination with the Scandinavian countries ever since the launch of the UN World Happiness Report in 2012, in which both Denmark and Norway have never been out of the top three with regards to levels of happiness amongst their population. Could it be down to this concept of Hygge? Maybe!

So where does Hygge come from? There are various theories as to the origin of Hygge. It appears to be rooted in the nineteenth century. Some trace it back to the Biedermeier movement, which developed as a reaction to the early nineteenth century revolutionary passion, throughout Europe. During this period artists and designers returned to the home and developed their private lives as a reaction against the public pretentions of the upper class. Another theory suggests that it was influenced by what was considered to be a more liberal guilt free Protestantism that developed in Denmark in comparison to their Scandinavian neighbours, which was established by the theologian N.F.S Grudtvig. It also developed under the social democratic and egalitarian values of the Danish people.

The central concept of the “Hygge Life”, according to Louisa Thomsen Britts in “The Book of Hygge”, is “a quality of presence and a feeling of belongness and togetherness. It is a feeling of being warm, safe, comforted and sheltered.” It is a state of being, a way of being and living in the world and not something that you can possess. It is a quality of hominess, of being, of welcome and hospitable, of being warm, safe and sheltered and enables the other to feel that way in your company. It is not a uniquely Danish quality and the Danes themselves do not consider it to be so, it is a quality that you will find at the core of the great religious and spiritual traditions, it is hospitality in its most basic form. Something that has perhaps become lost in our individualistic and fast paced lives.

Hygge has been described as the art of creating intimacy, cosy togetherness and taking pleasure in the presence of soothing things. Although it is often developed through cosy material things it is more about creating a particular atmosphere or to shape an experience. Hyyge is about creating a communal atmosphere of simplicity and presence, it is about living by soulful presence. It is about how to be with each other and nurturing those relationship so as to build respect, goodwill to all and hope, with all your heart, with all your mind and with all your soul. It is about being good neighbours to all; it is about creating a quiet space, in the rush and push of life to enable our soulfulness to come out of hiding and express itself fully in life, thus inviting the other to do so too. In so doing we will truly be enabled to love our neighbours as ourselves. We need such places as we live in and through the storms of life. There are many storms in life, both literally and figuratively.

Hygge is about a love and appreciation of the simple, close to hand things in life. It encourages gratitude for the everyday moments in life. It is about equality and egality, about working together. It has deeply spiritual qualities, but earthy real ones. It recognises the worth of each person, it desires peace and harmony, equality for all, a heartfelt appreciation of the natural world. It builds trust and connection between people; it is about harmonious living. It celebrates the simple pleasure of being alive wherever you find yourself, encouraging soulful presence. To me this is the essence of spiritual living. By living this way, you encourage others to come and join with you, to come as you are, exactly as you are. Hygge is about creating intentional intimacy, intimacy with ourselves, with God, with each other and with all life. It is about living by the Divine commandment, to love God and to love our neighbours as ourselves.

Hygge draws meaning from the fabric of ordinary living. It's a way of acknowledging the sacred in the secular, of giving something ordinary a special context, spirit, and warmth, and taking time to make it extraordinary. I invite us to adopt an attitude of Hygge, now and in the days yet to come. It can begin in the midst of winter, perhaps tomorrow on Blue Monday. It will enable us to touch those deeper aspects of our own humanity and help hold one another in a communal spiritual hug. It will give us all an enormous sense of well-being and don’t we all want to be well.

May we all be well, may we live by well-being.

Let us live in and by the spirit of Hygge.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this piece

So here we stand together at the beginning of a new year, none of us knowing what the future will hold, it truly is unwritten. The book of life is an open book waiting for us to mark it with our stories and when it is written to look back on it and give it whatever meaning we find.

Yes, the pages truly are blank and for some this can appear a scary proposition, but should we fear the unknown? Surely the excitement and the energy of life is in the unknown and the unknowing. We know what the past has been, or at least we have our perspective on it. Whatever we may have thought of the last year, we have all lived it. I wonder what will go into the book in 2026.

I have been thinking of books a lot recently. How they tell a story of something. We have our own tales to tell. I have enjoyed the mini public library outside the town hall in Altrincham, part of the OYEZ art collective that have taken over the place. I have placed books there myself, some of which have been taken. I wonder what these books say about those who lend and borrow them. I believe that sharing the books we read is a wonderful and beautiful way of sharing ourselves.

This year has been designated the “National Year of Reading”. People in the UK are invited to rediscover the joy of reading. I would say more than enjoy, but to share what they are reading. I read a lot, but I rarely read fiction, something I should do more oof. Maybe re-disover the joy of it.

Of course we all have our own libraries, our personal, our inner libraries. There is a very beautiful French term for this “blibliotheque interieure”, which means your “inner library”, this invisible shelf that we carry inside ourselves. A shelf filled with every story that has shaped our lives. What are the stories that have shaped our lives this last year?

This “inner library” contains every book that you have read that has touched your heart and soul. All the heartbreaks and struggles you have survived and grown through. Every quote remembered and everything you have heard said that has shaped your soul. All those memories that have made you who you are. All these experiences are there alive in our inner library. They sing the song that tells who we are and what we have lived through, what has shaped us. These stories remind us of who we are and where we have been on this journey of life. Remembering always that a journey is what we do in a day. We have lived through another 365 journeys this last year and have already begun to embark on another 365.

So, as the new year begins it is vital to look back and recognise what is on the shelf of our inner library. There have been tough times, I have had my share. There have been incredible things too. So now we get to begin a new book, one that is yet unwritten. We have been blessed with another year, we can now place last years on the shelf.

I know that my life grows richer by the year, even though I am not often aware of this, well not until I share my story. This is the key you know, we are not isolated beings, we do not journey alone. We are here to lend our personal libraries to one another, just like that little box outside the town hall in Altrincham, that little lending library. In sharing our stories we encourage one another to journey on together. Yes, we share our struggles, but also our joy and laughter of lives well lived. It is so vital to remind each other who we truly are. So, let’s begin by sharing our inner libraries with one another. For our stories truly are our life’s blessings.

We carry our stories with us through impermanence and ever changing nature of life. Impermanence is the beauty and the energy of life. Life is forever changing and transforming and turning into something new. Nothing ever stays exactly the same and nothing is ever repeated in exactly the same way again. This was wonderfully expressed by the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus some 2,500 years ago. Who said, among many other things, “Everything flows, nothing stands still.” “No one ever steps into the same river twice.” And “Nothing endures but change.” He was saying that the only constant in life was and is change, that life was constantly in flux and that everything is impermanent.

As I look back at the year that has passed so much seems so different and yet if truth be told much is still the same. I have a few more scars no doubt and experienced unexpected blessings. I have stories to share, often with a glint of humour.

As I look around at the world in which I live I witness much that disturbs me. Division and fear does seem to be on the increase as does instability. People do seem anxious, are living with fear of what might be. And yet as I walk around the town in which I live every day, life is much the same. People are much the same as they have always been. Yes, everything changes and yet somehow everything still seems much the same. People are the same as they have always, let us not become victims of our own bad dreams.

On Monday I was feeling a little better after being ill over Christmas. I took Molly out in the morning and later in the afternoon and bumped into many of the people I usually do in the two local parks. There was much conversation and sharing of concern, there was also an awful lot of laughter. It lifted my spirits and showed me I was once again that my health was returning. I in better health, certainly good humour. Thank goodness. All the people I met had passed through their own Christmasses and were now on the other side, about to step into a New Year. Some things had changed and yet everything was much as it always was. Sadly the last couple of days I’ve been feeling a little under the weather again.

Life is constantly changing, nothing ever stays exactly the same and no moment is exactly like any other. We all experience these moments differently too; we each bring our pasts with us into each moment and this always impacts on the present.

That said despite the changing nature of our material lives there are things that do seem permanent, that do not change. There are some things that hold us and sustain us despite the constant changing nature of life. The last twenty odd years of my life has proven this to me, there have been three unchanging things that have held and sustained me and kept me open to life despite its uncertainty. Things that have held me even during some deeply painful experiences. The three are faith, hope and love. Much of what I place on my inner library are tales about these three. Yes they are tales of faith, of hope and of love.

It was Paul of Tarsus, in the 13th Chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians who named these three that have held me and led these last 20 odd years. I have seen many others held by them too, through many storms in their lives. There is something eternal about, something universal and they were at work long before he wrote about them. We can rely upon these three, but only if we nurture and strengthen them. We can depend upon these three faith, hope and love. But what do these three mean?

Faith is about trusting in life itself; it is about living as openly and honestly as possible; it is about accepting that there is pain in life, but that there is also so much joy; it is realising that the mere fact that we exist at all is life’s greatest gift. This allows us to sing the joy of living, in all its mystery. It is also about seeing that we are all in this together, that we all live in the one lifeboat. We need to connect as much as possible to the boat of life in which we share. We need to ensure that our lifelines are secure and not worn or frayed at the edges. This is something we need to hold onto and not let go of. Why, you may well ask? Well because it sustains us through the vicissitudes of life. Life does not offer much certainty, but we need not despair at this, or at least not stay in despair. There are many stories off faith that have been placed on the shelf of my inner library this year.

Hope is the second of those eternal, universal truths. Hope is rooted in despair; it grows from the same place. To live in hope is to believe that if we live with conviction and compassion that we can effect positive change in our world, even if we ourselves do not get see to see its full fruition. Hope is about planting those seeds when and where ever we can.

To live with hope is to live with the attitude that the future is genuinely open. The God of my understanding works with us and guides us but leaves life open, it is not pre-ordained. “The Lure of Divine Love” draws us out of ourselves, but it also allows life to develop freely. I accept that the past does have power, I have a strong sense of history, this is very important. That said I do not believe that the past defines the future, not everything is inevitable. The future is unwritten. There are many more books of life waiting to be written by our living and being. Our inner shelves can hold so much more.

Life is definitely a journey worth taking, even during its toughest moments. Yes we all despair at times and we all live with uncertainty, but the beacon of hope is always there. The writer of the book of proverbs reminds us “Where there is no vision (no hope) the people perish.” Hope is a vital lifeline it both holds and sustains us. It is an eternal and universal principle and one that also requires nurture. There are many stories off hope that have been placed on the shelf of my inner library this year.

What about love? How can it sustain us? By the way I am not talking of romance here, I am talking of spiritual love. Spiritual love is that power that connects us to our true selves, one another, the life we share and whatever it is that connects all life. What I myself call God; that power that is greater than all and yet present in each. It is love that powers the lifeboat, that puts wind in its sails. Love is about caring deeply and passionately about life itself. This of course requires attention; it is a life line that requires nurture. Love reminds me that we do not live for ourselves alone or by ourselves alone. “no man is an island” or as Kurt Vonnegut once put it “one human being is no human being”. The universal and eternal truth is that we need the love, the care, the companionship of others in order to fully experience what it is to be alive. By ourselves we are never fully alive. There are many stories off love that have been placed on the shelf of my inner library this year.

If we live by these three faith, hope and love we will know what it means to truly live and experience the joy of living, even in the dark days.

The beginning of a new year is a time for new beginnings, a time for hope of what might be and a time to reflect on what has been before us. It is a time to take stock of our inner libraries, the resources that carry us through life, our stories of faith, hope and love that will sustain us through struggle and inspire us to write and share stories both new and old.

So, let’s look forward with new eyes, with fresh eyes. Let’s look back and learn from our pasts and commit to live more faithfully, hopefully and lovingly from them. Let’s learn to live with increased sense of faith, hope and love.

Whatever this year brings us, let us resolve as individuals and as a community to build a home of faith, hope and love.

Let’s begin again this day and every day, lets begin again in love.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

Feeling the Presence (or Presents) of Christmas

We are well and truly into the Advent season; we are making our way to that moment of magic that is Christmas day. It is so close and yet feels so far away. Our bodies, our minds, our hearts and our souls are making the journey, just as the holy family did in the Christmas mythos. These are the days of waiting of preparation. The music is playing, we can hear all the familiar songs in every shop as we no doubt begin the process of selecting presents for our loved ones.

This is the season for giving and forgetting, but not just one of wanton consumerism, is not just about giving and getting things. It is a time set aside to forgive and forget, to heal old wounds, surely this is the spirit of the season ahead. Sadly, though the spirit of the season is so often lost.

A classic example of missing out on the spirit and just getting lost in the pure materialism of the season is the “Black Friday” phenomenon that has come to our culture in recent years. It is another example of us partially importing and acquiring culture from our friends in America. Sadly though we have only taken on board the material aspects. Yes, we have “Black Friday” or more accurately “Black Fortnight” but without the spiritual element that accompanies it. “Thanksgiving”, a festival of coming together in love and an offering of thanks for the gifts that life has offered to us we have not acquired…Oh we do live in such a reductionist age, we have squeezed the spirit out of everything. In so doing we run the risk of reducing our lives to nothingness, to meaninglessness. This is a dangerous game. In reducing everything to a purely material level we reduce everything eventually to nothing, until life itself becomes nothing but a meaningless soulless activity.

We need to find the spirit and soul of everything, to sanctify life once again…We need to rediscover the spirit of the seasons, to once again find the religion in the ribbons and the wrapping paper. We need to be wrapped, to be enveloped in this spirit, in our bodies and souls. We need to feel the spirit of the season, we need to embody that love.

Strangely enough we can begin to discover the spirit of the season in those very gifts as we select them for our loved ones and wrap them up with our care and attention. These are acts of connection and thanks giving in and of themselves. This is the spirit coming alive, oh yes there is true religion in the ribbons and wrapping paper and the time we take to select and prepare the gifts. Through such simple acts we can begin once again to sanctify life. As we wrap those gifts we envelop them with love. The love is incarnated as we write and place those card in envelopes, as we do the love at the heart of the season envelopes us.

Perhaps the greatest gift we can give is simply our time and our love. We can sanctify this season by giving one another perhaps the greatest present of them all, our true presence. We just need to spend time listening and paying attention to one another. Our time is the most priceless commodity of them all. We embody this love by giving them the present of our loving presence.

Brings to mind an old joke I heard told one Christmas time by Rev Hammer

It’s a scene that was cut from “The Return of the Jedi” episode VI in the battle between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker when Darth Vader said Luke:

"Luke, I know what you're getting for Christmas."

To which Luke Skywalker replied: "How could you possibly know?"

To which Darth Vader answered: "I have felt your presents."

I will get my coat.

There are other ways that we can embody love, that we can share our gifts our presents. Modern social media does have its good points. A lovely friend of mine sent me the gift of a “meme”, that expresses the priceless commodity of time. It is by Thich Naht Hanh, who said:

“Every morning, when we wake up, we have twenty four brand new hours to live. What a precious gift! We have the capacity to live in a way that these twenty four hours will bring Peace, Joy and Happiness to ourselves and others.”

What a precious gift we have been given. The gift of life, the gift of our presence. Let’s not waste it. Let’s sanctify life with our presence with our life. Let’s become the gift we have all been waiting for.

May we feel one another’s loving presence and may that universal and eternal love come to life through human being and loving.

You may recall some of the words of the prayer shared from last week’s Advent service:

Now is the moment of magic,

and here's a blessing:
we already possess all the gifts we need;
we've already received our presents:
ears to hear music,
eyes to behold lights,
hands to build true peace on earth
and to hold each other tight in love.

You see we’ve already received the greatest gifts we could ever have been given, the gift of life itself. It is up to us what we do with this gift. Let’s not waste them; let’s make the most of them; let’s make the most of our lives. In so doing we will encourage others to do the same and we will sanctify life with our presence. What a present we then become to life itself. Remember that life is indeed the greatest gift of them all. Life is the ultimate Grace. We did absolutely nothing to deserve it. It was freely given to us without any effort on our part.

Mariah Carey sang “All I want for Christmas is You”. Let us wrap ourselves in love and give our loving presence.

Last week I shared the experience of the loving hug offered by Floella Benjamin. Something so deeply loving and beautiful, something I will never forget because of the purity of it. A love I believe we all possess.

It brings to my mind the following wonderful poem “The Hug” by Tess Gallagher

“THE HUG” by Tess Gallagher

A woman is reading a poem on the street and another woman stops to listen.
We stop too, with our arms around each other.
The poem is being read and listened to out here in the open.

Behind us no one is entering or leaving the houses.

Suddenly a hug comes over me and I am giving it to you,
like a variable star shooting light off to make itself comfortable, then subsiding.
I finish but keep on holding you.
A man walks up to us and we know he has not come out of nowhere, but if he could, he would have.

He looks homeless because of how he needs.
“Can I have one of those?’ he asks you, and I feel you nod.
I am surprised, surprised you don’t tell him how it is – that I am yours, only yours, etc., exclusive as a nose to its face.

Love - that’s what we’re talking about.
Love that nabs you with “for me only” and holds on.
So I walk over to him and put my arms around him and try to hug him like I mean it.
He’s got an overcoat on so thick I can’t feel him past it. I’m starting the hug and thinking.
“How big a hug is this supposed to be? How long shall I hold this hug?”
Already we could be eternal, His arms falling over my shoulders,
my hands not meeting behind his back, he is so big!

I put my head into his chest and snuggle in.
I lean into him. I lean my blood and my wishes into him.
He stands for it. This is his and he’s starting to give it back so well I know he’s getting it.
This Hug. So truly, so tenderly, we stop having arms and I don’t know if my lover has walked away
Or what, or if the woman is still reading the poem, or the houses - what about them? - the houses.

Clearly, a little permission is a dangerous thing.
But when you hug someone you want it to be a masterpiece of connection, the way the button on his coat will leave the imprint of a planet in my cheek when I walk away.
When I try to find some place to go back to.

This poem possesses such an enveloping love. It’s beauty lays in its universality. I’m sure that most of us can identify with both characters; I’m sure that most us have experienced that sense of emptiness and that feeling of being utterly devoid of love that the homeless man feels, so desperate that you would ask a stranger to hold you; I’m sure all of us have felt too afraid to give our love away, as it is only for your beloved. And comes that moment of magic as you give in and you become transformed by giving your love away.

This to me is the heart of the incarnation of love in the Christmas mythos. Maybe it’s all there in the hug. Oh hug, a simple but. How though do we describe a hug? Do we give a hug? Do we have a hug? Do we get a hug? Maybe all three. I think that the love at the heart of Christmas is found in a hug, it’s about being enveloped in love.

I recently discovered something about the Nativity found in Luke’s Gospel. It is found in a French translation of those old familiar words, that I heard on “On: Being”:

“The angel of the Lord came to them and the glory of the Lord shone all around them.” And “You will find a newborn wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger,”

Now what is fascinating about the French translation is that it describes the wrapping of love as being a kind of enveloping, in both phrases. The glory of the Lord “les enveloppa”, is wrapped around them. And the child was “envelope” — wrapped around — in clothes.

Could this be what is truly at the heart of the Christmas mythos. Maybe this love is an enveloping love, symbolised in the hug. In this ordinary birth of an extraordinary man, the love is incarnated that it envelopes us and that we bring this love to life when we love in the same way. Our presence can bring this love alive once again. Maybe we all can give such love and in so doing we receive too.

I will do my utmost to give this love away beginning this Advent and moving on into Christmas and beyond. This to me is Love coming alive, Love incarnating in human form. A love that comes alive by simply giving our presence. This is what we are here for. To use the gifts we have been given, not only for ourselves but for the good of all and to share with all, therefore encouraging others to do the same. It begins by simply sharing the most precious gift of all, my time, my presence, isn’t this the ultimate present. Oh how I wish I had more of this priceless commodity to give. Oh how I wish there was more of this precious commodity for giving and for getting.

This is what I’d like us all to focus on this Advent season, this giving of our true presence, the ultimate present. I’m not saying you need to go hug everyone, but you can incarnate love and envelop them with your loving presence. It begins right here right now in this season of selecting and wrapping presents. We can begin to bring the sacred alive in what appears to be wanton materialism. We can sanctify life with our presence in the selecting and wrapping of presents, we can begin to bring the spirit of the season alive in these most simple acts, we can unwrap the religion in the ribbons. We can also bless one another with our presence by simply spending time with one another mindfully and lovingly, simply sharing our time and listening to one another. In so doing we will both give and receive love.

It really is that simple. We can bring the spirit of the season alive once again. We can bring Christmas alive in the presence of each and every day. We can become the greatest gift that anyone could wish for.

We no longer have to wish it could be Christmas every day, we can make it Christmas every day. By simply blessing each day with our presence.

I know what you have got for Christmas, I’ve felt your presence.

Please find below a video Devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

Advent: Plant Yourself at the Gates of Hope

"The Sun Versus the Moon"

What do you think is most valuable to us the sun or the moon?

Well interestingly the wise fool Nasrudin was once asked this question and this was his reply.

Nasrudin: “Well, the sun is out during the daytime when there is light. The moon, on the other hand, provides light during the night when it’s dark. Thus, the moon is obviously much more valuable.”

Good old Nasrudin the holy fool the bringer of un-common sense. Now I know some of you are thinking what a ridiculous thing to say but please do look beyond the obvious here. Please put aside your literal faculties. There is a deep truth here. Light is a priceless commodity during times of darkness but of far less value when it is already light.

“Under the cover of darkness the moon was laughing at the sun, you can’t outshine me here”

A single flame, a simple light is of immense value in the dark, but is of no use when the light of the world is shinning oh so bright. One single light has to capacity to illuminate darkness, for a light shone in the dark and the darkness did not overcome it. We need more light, more hope in the winter time, winter is here.

“And I’ll give you hope, when hope is hard to find and I’ll bring a song of love and a rose in the winter time.”

I fell in love with this hymn many years ago, it was at the time that our oldest brother, our Allen was dying. Our Mandy told me that she had visited him in the hospice and as she left she saw a single rose in the garden. I reckon it was a peace rose from her description as it is hardy rose that can survive anything, including winter. There it was offering her hope in the winter both seasonally and the heart of our family. I shared the hymn “Rose in the Winter Time” with her, it has given us great meaning ever since, deep hope. I share it with many folk in times of despair, when they need a little light in the dark times. You don’t really need it when you are walking, even dancing in the sunlight of the spirit. I like to plant a rose, plant myself at the gates of hope. It helps to keep us through the night.

In another piece from Victoria Safford on hope she related being told by a psychiatrist at college who had recently lost a woman to suicide humbly admitting “You know I cannot save them. I am not here to save anybody or to save the world. All I can do — what I am called to do — is to plant myself at the gates of Hope. Sometimes they come in; sometimes they walk by. But I stand there every day and I call out till my lungs are sore with calling, and beckon and urge them in toward beautiful life and love…”

We are here to plant ourselves at the gates of hope. To shine some light in the dark places of this our world.

Have you ever met someone who has just powerfully affected you, to the core of their being, a person who just exudes pure love. A person who shone like the brightest of light. I have met a few people in my life who just had this profound effect on me. Some I met just briefly, others I knew for periods of time, some decades. I have been thinking of a few of those souls in recent months. I have been remembering many souls who have touched my life. The last 18 months seem to have been one of constant grief. I have lost so many folk, from all aspects of my life. It has weighed heavy on me at times. These last few weeks this has led me to think of the lives that have touched me, especially those who planted themselves at the gates of hope. Those that lit the flame of hope by just being themselves. Those lights that shone in the darkness and the darkness and the darkness did not overcome them

Now I could talk of ordinary examples and there are many, but I would like to tell you about a better known one. I have spoken of her before. She is one from my childhood, who I met a few years ago. This is Baroness Floella Benjamin. I fell in love with her as little boy in the 1970’s as she took us through the windows of “Playschool”. For those younger than me “Playschool” was a children’s television program in the 1970’s. Floella has lived an incredible life and was made a life peer a few years ago. I met her when I was asked to attend a parliamentary forum on “Men’s Health”. She listened intently as I spoke and then she approached me and asked if she could hug me. I of course obliged. It was the most incredibly loving experience I have ever known. It was pure love. She exudes this incredible spirit. She is famous for her hugs and I now know why. Floella Benjamin is someone who plants herself at the gates of hope. She lifts people. There is nothing cynical about her. She embodies what it means to live as we are capable of living. She encourages others to be the same. She embodies those famous words of Albert Schweitzer

“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”

“oh come you now unto the flame, keep it through the night. Shelter and embrace it’s warmth and keep it’s precious light.”

She is one of those people that lights the flame of hope in others. Is there anything more beautiful in this world. Is there anything more needed in these darkening times. It is certainly true that we are living through dark times. It is winter and we need to find those lights of hope to guide us through. It reminds of those by Victoria Safford that Parker J. Palmer shared in the earlier reading. Rev Victoria Safford serves the White Bear Unitarian Universalist Church in Saint Paul, Minnesota, USA. She said:

“Our mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of hope — not the prudent gates of Optimism, which are somewhat narrower; nor the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense; nor the strident gates of self-righteousness, which creak on shrill and angry hinges; nor the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of “Everything is gonna be all right,” but a very different, sometimes very lonely place, the place of truth-telling, about your own soul first of all and its condition, the place of resistance and defiance, the piece of ground from which you see the world both as it is and as it could be, as it might be, as it will be; the place from which you glimpse not only struggle, but joy in the struggle — and we stand there, beckoning and calling, telling people what we are seeing, asking people what they see.

Of all the virtues, “hope” is one of the most-needed in our time. When people ask me how I stay hopeful in an era of widespread darkness, I answer simply: “Hope keeps me alive and creatively engaged with the world.”

It keeps me alive and fully engaged too. It draws me on and beyond myself to live alive in this world.

To quote Vaclav Havel “Hope is an orientation of the spirit”, it is something that holds us and sustains us right here right now. It does more than that though, it draws us on, even if at times its light seems dim. It draws me out beyond myself. It helps me, plant myself at the gates of Hope.

It is “Hope” that points towards what we can do, it leads the way. Rather than just sitting there shinning light on all that is ugly and unpleasant, pointing out all that is wrong and riling up ever more anger, hate, division and blame. It saves me from slinging mud at the world. Our world does not need any more of this, not this winter.

I was reminded recently of a couple of friends who I used to name “Statler and Waldorf”. One of them is no longer in my life sadly, the other though is. To some degree I gave them the name in jest, but there is a serious point to all of this.

Now for those who don’t know “Statler and Waldorf” are two characters from Jim Henson’s “The Muppet Show”. The pair don’t really participate in the show and instead sit on the balcony heckling the rest of the characters who are trying to create the show. They are archetypes for all of us who sit back, pour scorn and criticise the efforts of others to do the best that they can. It’s so easy to do this is it not; it is so easy to just to sit back and criticise the best efforts of others while doing nothing ourselves.

Increasingly we seem intent on fault finding and discovering the imperfections in one another. Why do we do this? Do we believe it will help us feel better about ourselves if we pour scorn on the imperfections of others? Maybe, maybe not?!? It is easy to be the critic and shine light on what is wrong, anyone can do that. It is much harder to shine some light in the darkness and show a different way.

The critic is someone who stands at the side taking pot shots at the people who have the courage to stand above the parapet and give themselves to life, to plant themselves at the gates of Hope.

In “The Heart of the Enlightened” Anthony De Mello tells the following story.

“A woman complained to a visiting friend that her neighbour was a poor housekeeper. “You should see how dirty her children are – and her house. It is almost a disgrace to be living in the same neighbourhood as her. Take a look at those clothes she has hung out on the line. See the black streaks on the sheets and towels!”

The friend walked up to the window and said, “I think the clothes are quite clean, my dear. The streaks are on your window.”

This story brings to mind a passage from Matthew’s Gospel (ch 7 vv 1- 12) “Why do you see the speck in your neighbours eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye.” It easy to pass judgement and to find fault in others but is that what our task is? To tear apart everyone else and to point out where they are going wrong? Or is it to make the most of who we are not only for ourselves but for the good of all. Is our task to be the critic who picks apart what others do or is it to contribute to life in whatever ways we can? I for one no longer wish to choose the path of lazy cynicism and criticism. I’d much rather do what I can and risk getting shot down. I would much rather plant myself at the gates of Hope.

It is easy to sling mud, to be a cynic, to highlight all that is wrong. It is harder to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope. To lift others up, to encourage, to live wholly from love. To live like Floella Benjamin.

As you probably know I love dogs. My little dog Molly teaches me so much. Now what you might not know is that there is a school of ancient Greek philosophy named after dogs. Do you know which one? Well, it might surprise you to hear that it was the cynics. How and why? You may well ask? Dogs do not appear to be cynical animals at all. Well, cynicism aint what is used to be.

The best known of cynics was Diogenes. Many of his habits certainly resembled an undomesticated dog. He loved basking naked on the lawn while his fellow philosophers talked on the porch. As they debated the mysteries of the cosmos, Diogenes preferred to soak up some rays.

Diogenes could be found wandering through the streets in the mid-day sun squinting and holding a lantern to find his way, claiming he was “looking for an honest man” He lived in a hollowed out half barrel which he wheeled through the streets. This was his only possession except for a wooden bowl which he destroyed in protest at the fakeness of society after seeing a boy slave drinking water with his cupped hands.

Those ancient cynics protested against society and attempted to mitigate the dangers of hubris. They believed “virtue” was the only good and that self-control was the only means of achieving it. They rejected what they saw as the falseness of the time. They rejected the luxury of home living and personal hygiene and they believed that the best way to get their message across to the general public was to verbally abuse them and expel bodily fluids on them as they went about their daily business. I suspect that the phrase “mud slinging” may have its origins in the original cynics.

The ancient Greeks “cynics” were the critics of their time and place. They pointed out what was wrong. The original “cynics” had a way of bringing the greatest down to the truly humble level, they were an antidote to the hubris of the day. Yes, they had their plus points. That said there were negatives too, it certainly was not a pathway to friendship and community building. It seemed to me to be the ultimate in isolation and individualism. Anyone can be critical of what others are doing, but what about doing something yourself? The cynics never entered the arena, no they slung mud and criticised those who did.

It is easy to be the critic who sneers and throws mud at the person who gives life an honest go, who dares to step into the arena to do good, to do what they can. It says something of our age that one of the worst things a person can be today is a so called “Do-gooder”. Since when is doing good a negative thing? Well in this cynical age it seems.

There is no real satisfaction in sneering at life, just slinging dirt or pointing out the dirt on someone else’s washing or missing the plank in your own eye for the speck in your neighbours. It is easy to be a critic. It is harder to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope. What the world needs right now is less critics and more constructors. That is not to say that we should not be critical. Any healthy society needs those who point ought what can be done better. We need to shine light in the dark places of light. The key is how we do this.

We need to bring hope, when hope is hard to find. To shine some light in darkness of winter. Of all the virtues, “hope” is one of the most-needed in our time. It is Hope that, to quote Parker J. Palmer “keeps me alive and creatively engaged with the world.” When we choose despair and cynicism over hope it is a reflection on the state of our own souls, more than a reflection on the state of the world. It serves no one and it destroys our own souls.

We need to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope.

I look for the examples, for those who shone some light, all those beautiful souls that have touched my soul, many who have gone now, many who are still here, many I have yet to meet. I remember how they lit the flame, how they lit up my heart and soul. How they planted themselves at the gates of Hope and I try and do the same.

So what are you going to do with this one marvelous life you have been given. Are you going to pour scorn, point out all that is wrong, sling dirt, or are you going to plant yourselves at the gates of Hope.

It is up to you, it up us to us all. Our lives depend upon it.

We need to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope.

This Advent season may we plant ourselves like seeds of Hope in the mangers of all our hearts. Let us nurture this this hope and when the moment of magic comes, as it always does on Christmas morning, may we give birth to that love here and now.

Let us shine light on the darkness, let us plant ourselves at the gates of hope.

Please find below a devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

“If the Earth were only a few feet in diameter.” By Joe Miller

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­If the Earth were only a few feet in diameter, floating a few feet above a field somewhere, people would come from everywhere to marvel at it. People would walk around it marvelling at its big pools of water, its little pools and the water flowing between. People would marvel at the bumps on it and the holes in it. They would marvel at the very thin layer of gas surrounding it and the water suspended in the gas. The people would marvel at all the creatures walking around the surface of the ball and at the creatures in the water. The people would declare it as sacred, because it was the only one, and they would protect it so that it would not be hurt. The ball would be the greatest wonder known, and people would come to pray to it, to be healed, to gain knowledge, to know beauty and to wonder how it could be. People would love it and defend it with their lives because they would somehow know that their lives could be nothing without it.

If the Earth were only a few feet in diameter.

Eureka! I’ve got it! I’ve discovered the key to it all! Hard to believe I know. I heard it several times this week. I have the answer to it all. Do you know what it is? Can you guess?

The answer is “Humidity”

Yes, I know it doesn’t sound right, but it came from two of the oracles I know.

One is my friend Robbie’s son Rew. He is a gifted footballer and has recently signed junior forms for Stoke City. His dad asked him how he felt about this and he said he felt “humid”. A strange response you might think. What he meant was humbled.

I was involved in a wonderful conversation on Monday on the subject of humility. How in so many ways it is the key to living spiritually alive. It keeps us grounded, reminds us of finiteness. A friend shared something deeply humble about a struggle she had experienced a few days early. She showed her humanity in her vulnerability. She expressed a deep faith. She also said that that she too sometimes confused the word humility with humidity. She is a wonderful and funny human being, an example to those of us who think we are oh so clever.

I have enjoyed some fascinating and wonderful conversations with a variety of human beings all week. Funny ones too. It has lifted my heart and my spirits at times. Needed too as I heard of the loss of another old friend from back home. It seems to be every week at the moment. Despite what is sometimes said of us, we are a marvel we human beings.

It is an incredible thing to be human, we are fascinating creatures. Even the word human itself is a fascination, or at least it is to me. The word human is formed from the same root as humility, possibily humanity’s greatest attribute. Did you also know that it is closely related to humus and exhume. It makes sense if you think about it.

The root for all of these words is “hum” which originally referred to the earth or dirt. Our earliest forbears perceived that we humans originated from the soil – you would think that this would keep us grounded, but seemingly not - this is made clear in the second creation story found in Genesis II which reads “And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” Adam itself is closely related to the word “toadamah” which means soil or earth. There are other ancient creation stories too which associate the origin of humankind with soil or ground. Such as the Sumerian myth of Marduk who created people by killing Qingu and mixing his blood with clay. Or the Greek myths of Decallion and Pyrrha who by throwing rocks over their shoulders created man and woman.

Now while each of us is formed from the same substance we are also all unique. We all have our own unique characteristics. We each of us have our own personalities, our own finger prints, our own DNA. We also have our own faces. No two faces are exactly alike.

Even identical twins can begin to look different over time as life has its impact on us. They are exactly the same and yet they are unique individuals.

I love what Abraham Joshua Heschel said about “A Face”

“A human being has not only a body but also a face. A face cannot be grafted or interchanged. A face is a message, a face speaks, often unbeknown to the person. Is not the human face a living mixture of mystery and meaning? We are all able to see it, and are all unable to describe it. Is it not a strange marvel that among so many hundreds of millions of faces, no two faces are alike? And that no face remains quite the same for more than one instant? The most exposed part of the body, it is the least describable, a synonym for an incarnation of uniqueness. Can we look at a face as if it were a commonplace?”

“Can we look at a face as if it were a commonplace?”

I’ve never been a good liar, never had a poker face. There are advantages and disadvantages to this. My face hides nothing. A person can tell exactly how I am feeling by looking at my face, but then you already know this don’t you. I remember once being asked if I was comedian. I said no to which the man said “Well you have a comedians face.” In fact it has been said again this week. I’m not sure what he meant by this, but I take it as a compliment. I think, apparently I looked like a les Dawson character. I know I have a very descriptive face.

Now going back to etymology and the word human. It has often been incorrectly believed that word humour also shares its root with humanity and humility. Now it would be great if it was, but alas this is not true.

As I’ve pointed out before humour is actually derived from a medieval medical term for fluids of the human body. It is has its roots the ‘old’ French word ‘umere”. Physicians of the day believed that we had four different types of internal fluids that they called ‘humors’ and it was these that determined our physical and mental health. Therefore, if a person became ill it was believed that their “humors” were out of balance. I do so love etymology; language has had such a fascinating journey.

This though doesn’t sound particularly funny though does it?

I do so wish that humour, humility, humus and humanity were etymologically linked. Why? Well because in so many ways one of humanities greatest attributes is our sense of humour. It helps us deal with the pain and suffering that accompany life. It is very difficult to take yourself too seriously when you are laughing at yourself. There was a period in my life when I lost the ability to laugh. It was a sure sign that I had got lost in myself, had begun to reject life. These days I laugh often.

We humans, we creatures formed from the earth, cannot live without humour, just as a plant cannot grow from the soil without the essential ingredient of water.

There a few classic gold moments last Sunday evening when Rob, Robbie and myself went to see New Model Army. Some of which I can’t repeat here. There was even a bit of a “Only Fools and Horses” moment as the three of us ran for the tram. We were laughing at ourselves afterwards. We were in good humour, in good health. Although we are not actually it seems. Not by the state of us after running for the tram.

I’ve been full of songs all week, been great for my soul as I’ve connected with a love. It’s also connected me to old friends, many who are no longer with us.

I’ve been filled with awe at it all, of life itself. Of the generally giftedness of being here at all. It’s been an awful week, in the sense it has been filled with awe. I’ve been thinking of an old New Model Army song “Space” from the album “Purity” It paints a picture of being out lost in the wilds. There are Biblical references in the song, of Moses receiving instructions in the wilderness, the 40 years of being lost in the desert and Jesus’ temptations following his baptism and his 40 days in the desert. At the heart of the song is this image of looking down at the world from a great height, remote and separate but in utter awe. Towards the end of the song is a spoken word segment. They are well known words from the astronaut Thomas Stafford as he looked down at the earth while orbiting from space:

"The white twisted clouds and the endless shades of blue in the ocean
make the hum of the spacecraft systems, the radio chatter, even your
own breathing disappear. There is no cold or wind or smell to tell you
that you are connected to Earth.

You have an almost dispassionate platform - remote, Olympian and yet so moving that you can hardly believe how emotionally attached you are to those rough patterns shifting steadily below."

Thomas Stafford Apollo 10.

I can only imagine what Thomas Stafford must have felt as he orbited the earth. Very few of us will ever experience that sense of total physical disconnection from our home, the earth. Yet from this distance Stafford began to appreciate that from which he came. From space he looked on the earth in awe, not wonder, awe. Although he was physically disconnected, his soul appeared completely connected to what he was gazing upon, it shut out all the noises of his spacecraft and even his own breath. Staring down at the earth, took his breath away. It must have been an incredibly beautiful and yet in some sense frightening experience. To me this is worship, this sense of connection that moves way beyond the confines of the physical. It must have humbled him, reminded him that he was human and just a speck of almost nothingness and yet utterly alive. What an awe filled experience.

We often hear about the need to develop a sense of wonder, in order to give life meaning. I do not believe that this is enough. What is required is a reawakening of our sense of awe. Awe and wonder are not exactly the same, although the words do appear to be used interchangeably. They both possess an element of surprise or even astonishment about them; they both grab our attention and focus completely; they both awaken our senses. Awe though is different to wonder, there is more to it, this is because it possesses an element of fear and reverence. It is perhaps best described as revered wonder with a sense of fear or trepidation blended in. Wonder opens the senses, where as awe brings them to a different level of being. There is a greater power in awe, than in wonder. It is almost overpowering, over whelming.

I remember once talking with a mother who described the birth of her daughter as the most awful experience of her life. I was a little taken aback by the use of the phrase awful, it didn’t seem right. Then she explained! At the first sight of her daughter she was just full of awe, not wonder awe! She was blown away, by this tiny presence right before her eyes, that she loved, revered and worshipped. She described the feeling as over powering and to some extent frightening. It was truly awful, it was full of awe. It humbled her too, it changed her humanity. Her life was transformed in that moment.

Isn’t it strange how awful is understood negatively, where as wonderful has only positive connotations. I suspect that this is because we fear that sense of being out of control that accompanies awe. We do not like to experience powerlessness; we like to believe we are masters of our destiny, masters of the universe. We are not, life is fragile. That’s what makes every moment, every experience, potentially awesome.

The last 18 months have really connected me to this is powerful ways. They have humbled me, they have left me in awe. Thankfully humour has restored me to sanity too. I was out with friends the other day just talking through a few things. They were concerned I was ok I think. When I got back one messaged me “ It read that’s what good friends are for “The don’t tell when you flies are down” Now I thought that they were talking about me as I noticed my were down when I got home. No, they were referring to themselves. We all had a good chuckle at this. The humour connected to our humanity, it was awful.

What an awful experience, that once again humbled me, brought a smile to my face and we connected is good humour. I reckon we are both in decent health.

I’m going to end today with a bit of Kurt Vonneghut. There is humour, there humility and humanity and there is awe too in this little tale. It is from “Cat’s Cradle”. It is a play of those old creation stories, I mentioned earlier:

“God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, "Sit up!"
"See all I've made," said God, "the hills, the sea, the
sky, the stars."
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look
around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly
couldn't have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to
think of all the mud that didn't even get to sit up and
look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait...
To find out for certain what my wampeter was...
And who was in my karass...
And all the good things our karass did for you.

Amen.”

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot" 

The Lost and Found Come Knocking at the Door, Looking for a Better Way

There are many varied people that knock on my door. They do so for all kinds of reasons. There have been several this week. People usually do so unannounced. Some seem to have lost something and others appear to have found something.

Last Sunday, after saying goodbye’s to folk after the service, I noticed a water bottle and phone on a seat at the back of chapel. Well actually it was Nigel who spotted it. I quickly realised it belonged to Joe, a young man who is a regular attender. I knew why he had too, we had been speaking for a few days as he had been preparing the eulogy for his grandmother’s funeral. I knew I couldn’t contact him so I took the items home and looked after them. A couple of hours later there was a knock on my door and there was Joe. He had realised what he had done. It took him some time I guess as he is not one of those people who is not constantly on his phone.

We talked for a while about grief and how the mind can be like Swiss Cheese at such times. Memory of simple things goes out of the window. You feel utterly lost and lose things constantly. I remember once leaving my wallet in the post office. Glasses in Tesco’s and another time after taking the service at Styal I realised I couldn’t find my car keys. I search around, but no sign, I retraced by steps from the chapel all the way back up the pathway to the main road, all the while cursing myself for my stupidity. When I got to my car I approached the door to find them there in the door. I had at least locked the door but for some reason, but I did not take them out of the door. I shared one or two other occasions too, like the time I thought I’d lost my car. I hadn’t I’d just parked it elsewhere. There are many occasions when I thought I had lost my mind. It has always been in times of grief. It is very common. So many people share similar experiences when grieving. We feel lost and do not know, to some degree, who we are. Life is unfamiliar, so of course we feel a little lost. Afterwards life is never quite the same again.

A friend told me this morning that she had lost the keys to her house. She had to got to her brother’s to get a spare set before returning home. When she arrived her home there were her keys in the front door. It happens to us all I reckon.

What I have found is that the key to getting through times of grief and loss is to keep on turning faithfully to life. To not hide away for too long, to not fully hibernate. To take care of the basics and to lean on to the folk around you and of course to your God, however you understand that. That which sustains you in the storm of life. In time you will come through this time of loss and feeling lost and come to a new world. Greater meaning and understanding often comes as we walk faithfully through the valley of the shadow of death. Life changes you, but so does loss. It has changed me, throughout my life. Living spiritually alive is not about transcendence, it is about transformation, formation, reformation. The key is to keep a little faith and to keep on turning. It is also vital to remember that we do not journey alone, even though grief can make you feel this way at times. We all get caught up in the storms of life. This is why it is so vital to remember that we do not sail this ship alone, we travel in this ship of love together.

Humour helps too. Sometimes you just have to laugh at your humanity and absurdity. I was reminded this week of some advice I once heard about losing your mind and car. “Do not worry if you lose your car, that isn’t the problem. You are in trouble only when you forget that you have a car.”

There was a lovely moment on Wednesday as I was writing the address this is based on, just before these exact words actually. It was a beautiful reminder of how lovely people can be. There was another knock on my door. It was one of my neighbours Lucy, her daughter has a dog called Molly also and I know them well from Café Nero and just out and about. I had walked into Altrincham with her earlier as she was on her way to a charity shop with a few things. She told me she was concerned that they wouldn’t take them as four had refused her last week. They said they weren’t taking any more things. She is a person with a deep social conscience. She was concerned about distributing unwanted things to those who need them. Anyhow an hour or so later she knocked on my door to tell me that they were taking things and that there is a distribution system in place. I was so deeply touched that she remembered the conversation we had and that she needed to tell me that things were ok. How vital it is in life to remember just how ruddy lovely folk can be. This is something that is so vital in life. It is in mine. I had also that morning had another conversation with a very lost soul who likes to give Molly biscuits. She was so caught up worry about the world. She spends most of her day wandering around lost and struggling to get through the day. We talk most days. I know it lifts her spirits just a little bit to give Molly those biscuits. It is so important to remember these things; how much we all need such things.

I received an email from a person anonymously they had lost something dear to her, vital to their well being. It read:

“Hi there,
I lost my navy bunny soft toy yesterday morning in Stamford square and I’m desperately trying to find her. I really need her back. Would you be able to keep an eye out for her or be able to put up her missing poster somewhere? Thank you ever so much.”

I obviously am not naming the person. This little toy may seem like nothing to most people, but it gives the person support with their social anxiety. I hope that they find what they have lost.

I have felt lost in grief at times these last 18 months. I don’t just mean at the loss of so many folk I know, so many friends as well as congregants. So many folk I have known and love. Also, a sense of loss and bewilderment at the world. We do seem to be living through divisive times. We forget we are all far more human than otherwise, that we are formed from the same flesh and have the same spirit in us.

This is something that no matter what happens in life we must never forget. Our lives, humanity, depends upon it. If we lose that, then we truly are lost.

Memory is a mysterious thing. Memory loss is a serious thing too. Our minds are affected by many things that can interfere with some basic brain functions. There are of course the many and varied forms of dementia which we are seeing and understanding more and more. I see it in folks I know, and I see the affects it has on those who care for folk becoming lost in such worlds.

I sometimes wonder about my own memory too, especially around traumatic times in my life. I was reminded of a peculiar memory recently. My brother’s eldest son Theo has recently begun University They broke their foot trampolining and were obviously struggling. There were some jokes on a family Wattsapp about how lucky they were that my former stepdad wasn’t there as he would have wiggled it about and told him to stop being soft and get on with it. This had happened to my youngest sister when she broke her arm roller skating. I had lived most of my life with a guilt about this. The way I remembered it was that I was the one that did this to her. I remember a few years ago apologising to her for this. She looked at me like I was a complete idiot, in fact she told me so. Telling me this is not what happened at all. That I had cared for her and it was her dad that did this and that I was there as it happened. I witnessed the act, but did not do it. I still struggle with accepting this reality. My mind does not fully remember this at all. I cannot find the whole truth of the memory. It tells me something about the state of my mind and memory at that time in my life. It also teaches me something about how memory so easily gets lost and that the truth can be hard to find especially in times of emotion, loss and trauma. Something we could all do to remember in these times we are living through.

It is also vital to keep a hold of the truth of beautiful memories of moments of deep care and love and attention too. Of what is good and loving and beautiful. Of every tiny bit of humanity. Our lives, our world depends upon it. I have been thinking of these a lot these last couple of weeks as I celebrated an important anniversary recently. I have been remembering so many people that offered so much love and acceptance in darker days. In days when I was very lost.

Now I know that this might sound counter intuitive, but being lost and feeling lost is not always such a terrible thing, especially if it leads us to look for a better way. I reminded here of a mysterious little poem by William Stafford “Cutting Loose”. Here it is:

“Cutting Loose” by William Stafford

Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,
you sing. For no reason, you accept
the way of being lost, cutting loose
from all else and electing a world
where you go where you want to.

Arbitrary, a sound comes, a reminder
that a steady center is holding
all else. If you listen, that sound
will tell you where it is and you
can slide your way past trouble.

Certain twisted monsters
always bar the path—but that’s when
you get going best, glad to be lost,
learning how real it is
here on earth, again and again.

As Parker J. Palmer highlights whilst reflecting on this poem. Maybe “the way of being lost” is important, perhaps even necessary at times, if we are to “cut loose” from business as usual and reach beyond for a far better world. Perhaps what is key is that vital reminder that “a steady center is holding all else,” and if you know where it is, “you can slide your way past trouble.”

It is just as vital to remember that the “twisted monsters” that always bar our path, need not defeat us but can prod us to “get going” amid the complex mix of horror and beauty of which reality is made. As we “get going,” our acceptance of being lost can turn to gratitude for being lost. Because if we didn’t feel lost then we wouldn’t look for a better way.

How vital it is to remember that even when we feel lost that all is not necessarily lost, we just need to find a better way.

I find something deeply reassuring in the fact that “lost and found” are paired together. I love that lost property boxes are often referred to as “The lost and found”. There is something very powerful in the journey of faith here. There is something beautifully paradoxical in all of this. It reminds me that if you want to be found you have to first of all get lost. It is the “Hero’s Journey”.

If I have learnt anything in life it is that the problem isn’t whether or not we will get lost at times, the question is how will we live when we get lost. Now of course the first step towards finding my way again is to recognise first of all that I am lost. This doesn’t necessarily mean literally lost, but lost in myself, whether that is lost in fear, self-doubt, self-pity, basically lost in my own underpants.

When I am lost in myself and find myself truly “lost at sea” I find that what has really happened is that I’ve separated myself once again from what I know to be true, about what is at the heart of me and the heart of life and have blinded myself to the light both within and without and I have once again walled myself in and I begin to feel alone and utterly lost. I have cut myself off from others and the love present in life. In such a state I can really hurt myself, I have done so in the past. I know when I am lost, internally I find myself giving in to guilt, to loneliness and defensiveness. While externally I will begin to blame others for this sense of lostness, resentment grows as does confusion in others. Don’t we all? When I am lost the solution might not be to go back to where I come from, the answer might be to find a better way.

We all feel lost at times. I have re-learnt once more how important that is. It keeps you connected to life and allows you to grow, to be transformed. This is the point of the spiritual life. This year I have re-learnt once again the importance of vulnerability. Everyone of us is vulnerable to the troubles of life. No matter how comfortable life might be at this moment that can be quickly shaken and all can be lost. There could be an unexpected knock at the door, or phone call one cold autumn day with news you don’t want to hear.

The problem isn’t getting lost, we all get lost at times. The problem is in losing faith that you can be found once again. The key is how we live when we find ourselves lost. Do we close down and get lost deeper in our fear, or do we pause and reach out and ask for help from those loving forces that are all around whether visible or invisible. Do we look for the better way.

I’m going to end with one final poem, by my favourite farmer poet Wendell Berry. It’s his “Sabbath Poem II”

Sabbath Poem II (1995) by Wendell Berry

The best reward in going to the woods
Is being lost to other people, and
Lost sometimes to myself. I'm at the end
Of no bespeaking wire to spoil my goods;

I send no letter back I do not bring.
Whoever wants me now must hunt me down
Like something wild, and wild is anything
Beyond the reach of purpose not its own.

Wild is anything that's not at home
In something else's place. This good white oak
Is not an orchard tree, is unbespoke,
And it can live here by its will alone,

Lost to all other wills but Heaven's -- wild.
So where I most am found I'm lost to you,
Presuming friend, and only can be called
Or answered by a certain one, or two.

From Wendell Berry’s This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems, Counterpoint, Berkeley 2013: 195.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this post

“The Universal ‘Hum’: Join in the Harmony of the Heart"

You may recall that early last summer I was out with Molly one warm Monday evening. I was walking with one or two troubles they were weighing heavily on my heart and soul. I had heard singing from upstairs at the town hall. We walked around for a while and I bumped into a couple of people I know and we engaged in small talk, beginning with conversations about the weather. One complained and another gave thanks. I was enjoying the evening sunshine. I walked past the town hall a little later and the singing was a beautiful sound, that went with that beautiful early summer evening. I posted about it and a little later a woman who has attended Dunham Road on the odd occasion replied saying that it was her choir and would I be interested in joining. I hadn’t been, but suddenly I was. I had been talking of singing again for quite some time. Well, I did and it has been wonderful being a part of this choir since.

I began, as is my way, quietly and almost shyly. I have in time grown into myself and have found my voice. I am loving it. It is great to sing and to sing with others.

The other day as I was walking through Altrincham when I bumped into the choir leader Rose having lunch with her husband. We began a conversation beginning with her asking questions about Molly. She is my superpower when it comes to engagement. Rose then began to ask about my work. Asking if I was a priest. I began to explain that I was not a priest. I am not set apart as a special kind of person. I am not a holy man, anymore holy than anyone else. I am a minister, which means to serve. I am a humble servant, in the truest sense of the word humble. My role is help others to engage with the holy themselves. Rose then began to talk about her role as the choir leader as being something akin to what I was describing as ministry. That her role is to help facilitate the choir, to help the voices come together and sing. I said something like, yes similar and I thought to myself it sounds like holy work, as what she is doing is bringing the spirit to life. I then felt I had been there too long. Made my apologies and left her and her husband to enjoy their lunch.

I have loved being part of the choir. It is hard work, especially to begin with as they were singing songs unfamiliar to me. Rose and the other choir leader Brooke have been wonderful and accommodating, as have all the others in this wonderful and diverse collective. There are many different social activities too. I have not become a part of them as of yet, as I am there to sing.

I have been thinking about choir singing and how it is a wonderful metaphor of the spiritual life, of free religious living. Singing is about listening, about listening in such a deep attentive way. The only people who can’t sing are the truly tone deaf, for they can’t hear. There aren’t many truly tone death people in this world. To sing with others requires you to listen to the leader, to listen to your section, to be aware of the other section without getting too caught up in what they are doing. You need to focus on your part. It is not merely a mechanical process, it requires heart and soul and breathing. You have to breath in the right way and at the right time too. You have to work together with others, being part of something incredible and wonderful and only works if you play your part. You make something more wonderful in harmony as the music comes together. You need to focus and yet relax at the same time. You cannot be timid and or tentative, you need to let your heart and soul out, while humbly playing your part to create something more wonderful than the individual voices could alone. You may have your moment to shine, but mainly it is about playing your part as piece of the whole. I believe it is a wonderful example of true humility.

I was talking with some friends the other evening. The subject of humility came up. What we mean by humility. We all spoke and listened to one another. The very activity seemed to personify humility to me. Humility to me is about accepting my human limitations. Accepting my finiteness, whilst at the same time being responsible for what is mine. To be humble is to be fully human, finite, from the earth, but with a responsibility for what is mine. A Jewish friend told me of a conversation he once had a with Rabbi about humility. He asked him about how he copes with suffering, how he keeps faith in world with so much suffering. To which the Rabbi answered that each morning he prays “to be the best person he can be.” To me this is to live humbly. It brought to my mind some favourite words from the Book of Micah Ch 6 v 8 that points to a way to live by ethical and spiritual behaviour: "He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God".

The conversation was both beautiful and humble in its nature. We listened to one another, we added from our own hearts and experience and we all gained from the sharing together. It lifted all of our spirits. We sang a beautiful song in harmony together. Not singing the same notes, but our blending together made something beautiful and moving.

The conversation reminded me of singing in a choir together. Singing together with others seems like the spiritual life personified. It is humility in action. Each plays their part and creates a greater whole. Something far greater than they could do alone. Hallelujah.

There are many benefits to singing. It lifts me up when sometimes I feel fallen in heart and soul. 'When you sing, you cannot be sad for long,' a chorister was quoted as saying in a study of singing. This seems to be a universal response. Singing feels great and it's good for you. It decreases feelings of anxiety, loneliness, and depression. Singing is good for the brain, it can counteract the effects of brain aging. In her book The Secret Life of the Grown-Up Brain, Barbara Strauch includes joining a choir as one of the things you can do to enhance neuroplasticity. Music increases gray matter and the number and strength of neural connections in the brain. It connects to others and to the moment, it brings the soul to life. This increases many fold when you sing with others in harmony and not discord.

When I first joined the choir, I mentioned to some folk that I was quiet. There is a shyness in me, which may not seem obvious to folk, when I join something new. So, I slowly and quietly made my steps into the group. They were warm and welcoming and helped me greatly. They were lovely and friendly people. I slowly stepped into my section and the men helped me find my voice. Slowly over time I found my voice and my true personality began to find its voice. My friend Rob told me that this would be the case within a few weeks I would be shinning bright. He was right. It took me a while though. It began by humbly listening, and in time my voice began to give what it had to give. That said it took time and it began by truly listening, with the ears of my heart. This week I helped to welcome a friend into our circle who was joining for the first time. There was a special moment as we began to learn a new piece. Each breaking into their sections, getting close together in a circle, listening to each other, singing our parts and beginning to create something beautiful. It began with listening to one another, adding our voice and slowly raising each other up, raising our voices heavenward.

I feel most alive when singing. I wonder sometimes if what we are made of is music. That music is the heartbeat of life. It’s not we who make music we just let music be made through us and we join in the choir of life. I am not the first to think this way. A couple of years ago I spoke about Pythagoras’ concept of “The Music of the Spheres”, that every celestial body produces in its movement a unique hum determined by its orbit.

Now of course Pythagoras would not have used the word orbit in his day. This was a phrase coined by the German astronomer Joannes Kepler almost 2,000 later. Kepler resurrected Pythagoras lesser known theory in his “Harmony of the World” published in 1619. Kepler believed that the whole universe was singing, that it was reverberating with music that the human ear could not hear. At the time he was thought to be a fool and ridiculed for his beliefs.

Well maybe not. It seems that this hum may have been detected by modern radio telescopes, that were sent out into space and have detected a low-frequency hum that pervades the whole universe. This hum is the product of black holes colliding in the early universe, from the dawn of time. That each creates a different low note and that all these notes “sing” together creating some incredible cosmic hum, it would seem that the universe is singing in harmony.

This blows me away, it blows out my heart and soul. It connects we individual humans to the whole universe. It connects us to eternity. It connects our finite bodies to the beginning of time. Matter comes alive in our bodies and these celestial bodies in creation and destruction. It humbles me and makes me feel tiny but no less important. It reminds me I am mortal. Like the birds sing because they are alive. I believe that this is why we sing too. Singing together in harmony, listening to each others voices creates something even more wonderful and beautiful. We join in the music of the universe. We sing the eternal harmony of belonging.

This is beautifully illustrated in the following poem hymn by Marie Howe, that I came across in a beautiful article published in “The Marginalian” by Maria Popova. I will end with it.

“Hymn” by Maria Howe

It began as an almost inaudible hum,
low and long for the solar winds
and far dim galaxies,

a hymn growing louder, for the moon and the sun,
a song without words for the snow falling,
for snow conceiving snow

conceiving rain, the rivers rushing without shame,
the hum turning again higher — into a riff of ridges
peaks hard as consonants,

summits and praise for the rocky faults and crust and crevices
then down down to the roots and rocks and burrows
the lakes’ skittery surfaces, wells, oceans, breaking

waves, the salt-deep: the warm bodies moving within it:
the cold deep: the deep underneath gleaming: some of us rising
as the planet turned into dawn, some lying down

as it turned into dark; as each of us rested — another woke, standing
among the cast-off cartons and automobiles;
we left the factories and stood in the parking lots,

left the subways and stood on sidewalks, in the bright offices,
in the cluttered yards, in the farmed fields,
in the mud of the shanty towns, breaking into

harmonies we’d not known possible. finding the chords as we
found our true place singing in a million
million keys the human hymn of praise for every

something else there is and ever was and will be:
the song growing louder and rising.
(Listen, I too believed it was a dream.)

Maybe this is the secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, that Leonard Cohen sung of. Is this the voice that is less than a whisper, but more than silence. Maybe it’s the sound in the silence. I don’t know. Maybe if we are still and silent enough, if we listen with the ears of hearts and open our hearts and join in the harmony of life, maybe just maybe we can truly join is singing the great harmony of the heart.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"