“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"