It was a week away and yet I could not completely escape my present or
my past. Thankfully, Sue has got used to the fact that I cannot go anywhere without
bumping into someone I know. We often joke about who we are likely to bump into
or meet up with wherever we go. Well, it seems that to some degree or other the
whole of my life was tapping me on the shoulder last week. I had gone to soak
up and experience the gift of the present moment, but the past was always with
me, following like headlights on my tail. During the week I also relived many
childhood memories, some of which were seemingly long lost and yet came to life
during our time away. Many old ghosts seemingly came out to greet me, some
unexpectedly. Some were beautiful, others painful, but all were meaningful.
"Headlights" by New Model Army (Live)
On the first day we wandered round Scarborough, witnessing everything beginning to open up again, as we retraced many of my childhood steps. I was somewhat surprised at how familiar it all was. The town is perhaps not as beautiful as it once was, but its spirit is still there and it did bring to life some powerful memories. While we were there I received a phone call from a fellowship friend who was going to be in Bridlington the next day with his mother. We decided to go there and meet up with them. We also visited Flamborough Head. The next day we met up with my auntie Catherine in Filey and talked and talked. She showed me some letters I had written to her many years ago, they were the first steps in healing family rifts, it was strangely beautiful reading them. We also talked of old family holidays as we walked around the town, including one in Filey. It was a beautiful but emotional day as so much of my past came alive in that moment. There was a deeper sense of healing going on, it felt like the whole of my life was alive in the moment, the past, the present and the future. The next day we took the steam train from Pickering to Whitby on the “North Yorkshire Moors Railway” as we were boarding I swore I saw a retired colleague Rev Dr Vernon Marshall walk down the platform. It was a beautiful journey through the countryside but the day in Whitby was spoilt by the weather. It was wild but we kept on we fulfilled several “Whitby Rites of Passage”. We walking on and out to the edge of the Jetty, as the rain came down and waves crashed over and we walked up to the Abbey and old church up the 199 steps. We couldn’t go to the Abby as it was closed due to filming. Now as we approached the 199 steps I saw the man again who had boarded the steam train we travelled on, it was indeed Vernon Marshall. I called out to him and we talked for a while, he was with his family on a break too. He didn’t recognize me at first, as it has been a few years since we last spoke. Over the next couple of days we took in many of the cultural sights of the area, just beautiful. We had joined English heritage for the year at Scarborough Castle, we reckon it will get us out and about this summer, when we have the time. On the final day we decided to drive up to Robin Hoods Bay and Staithes, we actually had time to go back to Whitby too and enjoy it in more pleasant weather. It was a beautiful day and one when I kept on meeting ghosts from my past. Whilst walking to the beach at Robin Hoods Bay I saw a face I recognised, they recognised me too and after taking a double perhaps triple take we approached each other and spoke. It was a guy called Andy Butterworth who I have not seen since 1988 and Batley Grammar school. His partner took a picture of us, I did not, but my mind and heart captured the memory. Later that day, in Whitby, we passed my nephew “Our Paul” who was out with his wife and friends on a drinking weekend. We talked for a while before moving on. It was quite a week, enjoying the present, while re-feeling the past and looking forward to an unknown future. So many snap shot moments, that have awakened so much deep in the soul of me.
Last week I experienced “Retrouvaille” (pronounced reh-troo-vahy-uh),
which is the joy that comes from seeing someone again after a very long time.
It was a kind of reunion and certainly a rediscovery and it reawakened so much deep in my soul.
One thing we noticed at the weekend was that there were many other
people visiting these beautiful places for very different reasons to us. You
could see all the characters from “Viz” descending on Whitby over the weekend
and from what my friend Oliver has told me Scarborough was madness too. That
said these places mean different things to each of us. For me is about my past,
my present and future coming together, for others it was something completely
different. I tried to take in as much of the experience as I possible could, to
truly live in the present. I tried to keep my homiletic consciousness quiet
too, to try not to think too much about what I was going to write afterwards. I
allowed by senses to awaken, to drink it all up and enjoy our time together
away from the stresses and strains of our lives, but you can never do so
completely, and as you can see my past is always tapping me on the shoulder. As Sue says, “we cannot go anywhere”.
The week brought to my mind the following:
“In the Present” by Robert
Walsh taken from “Stone Blessings”
"On a sunny day, I walked
alone in a broad valley in Nepal, through an old forest with vines and
flowering trees and intermittent vistas of the snow-covered Himalayas. I came
upon a clearing in the woods, and saw there a holy man – a monk in an orange
robe, head shaved, back bent with age – chopping wood.
I had conflicting
impulses. I wanted to ask him questions. What was his name? Where did he live?
What was his life like? I wanted his blessing, and I wanted to give mine. And I
wanted to pass by invisibly, noiselessly, doing nothing that would disturb him.
Instead, I took out my
camera and took a picture of him. I tried to be discreet as possible about it;
I waited until he was not looking in my direction. I don’t know whether he
heard the sound. Then I put the camera away and moved on down the trail.
I took the picture because
I wanted to tell you the story. Now I have a small, still, two-dimensional
memento of that moment. We can look at it. It will last for a while. The actual
moment completely surrounded me. It had sounds and smells and movement, and it
was only real for a moment. Now it’s gone, and it will never happen again.
I moved through the
experience with my attention alternating between the present moment and a
future time, when I would be back home, telling the story. It’s what preachers
call homiletic consciousness, which
means going through life thinking, Can I
use this in a sermon? But it’s not just preachers who do it. I imagine a
painter would do the same. Or a poet. Or a novelist, teacher, composer, or a
storyteller – anyone who uses the experiences of life in order to give
something to someone else.
But the more we stay in
the future, thinking about telling the story, the less we are open to the power
of the experience itself. The more we put a frame around the picture, the more
it becomes only a picture and not a real event. Instead of living life each
day, we are busy getting ready for life.
Yet if were not for story
tellers and photographers, I would never have gone to Nepal.
So I will try to find a
balance between being fully in the moment and being present to the whole of
life – past, present, and future, here and there. That I may live this day
today, and also tell the story tomorrow."
I love how Robert Walsh describes trying to balance the power of the moment he was experiencing, observing a holy man in Nepal, whilst also struggling with ideas of wanting to know him and also tell him all about himself, to almost justify his presence. Instead, he took a snapshot, hoping perhaps that by taking a picture you would capture the essence of an experience that would help him tell the tale later. Of course, taking a picture does not capture the power and beauty of any moment or experience, but it does perhaps help one to remember. I spent my week surrendering to the experience of the Yorkshire, with past flowing through, whilst trying to share this with Sue. Yes, I knew I would talk about them later, but I tried to suppress the rationalising in the moment, and just allow my senses to take it all in. That wasn’t the difficult challenge, this came from the past as it kept on constantly creeping up on me and tapping me on the shoulder.
During our week on the Yorkshire coast we shared many magic moments,
beautiful moments, that will live in my heart. Those moments also brought to
life that fed into the wonder of it all.
There was another
interesting tie that helped to link together the past, present and future. Sue
and I stayed at a place named “Gallows Hill” in Brompton by Sawdon, which is
half way between Scarborough and Pickering. It is run by a lovely couple who
are originally from Birmingham but have lived in North Yorkshire for forty years.
I highly recommend it, just beautiful. “Gallows Hill” was the family home of
William Wordsworth’s wife Mary Hutchinson. Wordsworth came into my mind on and
off all week as I enjoyed the experiences we were sharing, in the moment,
whilst also being transported to so many moments from past, some beautiful and
others heartbreakingly painful. The beautiful moments whether in the present or
past brought to my heart and mind “Spots of Time” from The Prelude (Book XI, ls
258-278) by Wordsworth
That with distinct
pre-eminence retain
A renovating virtue,
whence–depressed
By false opinion and
contentious thought,
Or aught of heavier or
more deadly weight,
In trivial occupations,
and the round
Of ordinary
intercourse–our minds
Are nourished and
invisibly repaired;
A virtue, by which
pleasure is enhanced,
That penetrates, enables
us to mount,
When high, more high, and
lifts us up when fallen.”
William Wordsworth, The Prelude (Book XI, ls
258-278)
Don’t we all experience
such magic moments, these “spots of time” when life not only feeds but truly
nourishes us on a deep, deep level, deeper than the marrow of our bones;
moments when the common becomes uncommon,; moments when the veils we create
ourselves seem to slip away; moments when we seemingly see beyond the ordinary,
when we experience reality on a deeper level. Gosh there were so many last
week.
These “spots of time” are
sacred moments that are made holy by their mysterious ability to nourish us and
perhaps even repair us in body, mind, heart and spirit. These moments are a
kind of grace; they seemingly come to us, from a place somewhere beyond
ourselves. They cannot be forced; I do not believe that we can just simply
create them for ourselves, although we do of course play a vital role in their
creation and in the way that they are experienced.
These moments can happen
anywhere. For Wordsworth these “spots of time” occurred primarily in nature. We
all experience them in different ways, in different states and in different
settings. Those moments when time seemingly stands still; those moments that
touch us at the core of our being; those moments that transform our lives;
those magic moments. Time seemingly becomes compressed or concentrated in these
moments when the senses become heightened, when life seemingly has a deeper
meaning. These are not necessarily supernatural moments by the way; no, they
are firmly grounded in reality.
In these moments time
appears to be slowing down, although obviously it does not. Time does not so
much stop as become compressed, the moment becomes concentrated. There just
seems to be more of life in that moment, but it lasts just as long. Maybe the
moment is deeper, not longer. Time is time after all. Some call this Kairos
time, or God’s time.
I
experienced some such moments last week and I was reminded of many others from
my past too. I was reminded by the places we visited as well as the people I
bumped into, that brought to mind so many other moments in my life. Wonder
filled moments indeed, moments that have shaped me as a human being, but never
painlessly, sometimes deeply painfully. Haven’t we all known such moments in
our lives.
Last week was beautiful,
it also taught me a valuable lesson about life. The lesson was about how
important it is to balance time in our lives. It reminded me how vital it is
that we practice not only living in the moment that we find ourselves, but to
truly bring that moment to life. To allow your whole life to fully
inhabit that space, to bring it with you into the moment, without allowing it
to dominate, whilst at the same time allowing that moment to prepare you for an
unknown future. A future that is truly unwritten. For none of us know what is
coming.
May we all find the
balance between being fully in the moment and being present to the whole of
life, past, present, and future, here and there and everywhere, whereever we
find ourselves. If you are anything like me you cannot get away from either your
past or present, because it will just appear right there in front of you. That
said do we ever need to? No, we just need to be awake, fully present and the
moment will work its magic.
So let us all live this
day, fully alive today and let us live well enough to tell the story tomorrow,
because tomorrow always comes.
Please find below a video based on the material in this "blogspot"
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