Monday, 26 October 2026

A friend of mine recently recommended watching the Netflix Mini-Series “East of Eden”. It is based on the novel by the Same name by John Steinbeck. It is a decent adaptation, although of course it is selective in what parts it explores and misses out. East of Eden is a kind a re-telling of the Biblical tale of Cain and Abel. It is set over two generations and two sets of brothers. It is never entirely clear which of the first pair of brothers is the father of the second pair who are twins.

My friend had binge watched it with his mum. He cares and lives with her as she enters the last few months of her life. These are precious moments and brings much to their hearts and minds as they share time together. There were many scenes in the series that capture the imagination and explore its basic themes. The final scene seems to encapsulate the ethic at the heart of the novel and Steinbeck’s view of humanity. He said of “East of Eden”, that everything he had written up to this point was in preparation for writing the novel.

The story concludes with a deathbed scene. The father Adam is dying having suffered another stroke having heard the news that his son Abra has died at war. The other son Caleb (Cal) is carrying the guilt and shame for driving his brother to go to war, having brought him to see their mother, Kate or Cathy. She is a character depicted as pure evil. Cal believes he is like his mother in nature. The final scene is a moment when his father could leave his son with generational guilt, that he would carry this on into the next generation. Adam himself had carried guilt from his own brother’s death earlier in the book. The family’s servant and primary care giver Lee encourages Cal to go to his father and for his father to choose to offer his surviving son forgiveness. Adam, barely able to speak says to Cal “Timshel” meaning “Thou Mayest”.

In saying “Timshel”, Adam is finally offering his less favoured son Cal the love he has withheld from him. He is also offering forgiveness and the opportunity to live a new life free from the generational trauma and guilt. He is offered a different path should he so choose it. It is up to him. Nothing is inevitable, nothing is fated. He does not have follow the path of those before him. He is not his mother, who is the monstrous character at the heart of the story, nor to remain bitter and broken like his father, cut off from all human emotion. After his father blesses him Cal hugs his father for the first time and lies with him. These last moments are the first moments of their true connection.

Watching those moments brought back powerful feelings of being at the deathbed of my own father and paternal grandfather. These are powerful feelings and memories. I also looked at my own response and those final conversations. I also thought of my friend and the final months he is spending with his mother. Now we do not know what happened to Cal after his father died. That was down to his response to life as it happened. What is clear is that he is set free to live his life, free from ancestral guilt. It was down to the choices he makes in the future. This is powerful, if only we could hold to the truth. It is something that I have held in me heart these last few weeks as I have been away from work and off and an adventure in Prague with the word “Timshel” and Steinbeck’s interpretation in his great novel “Thou Mayest” singing in my heart.

Now Steinbeck’s interpretation of “Timshel” is disputed. Technically the Hebrew word from Genesis Ch 4 v 7 should be spelled “Timshol”. Some translate it is as “Thou shalt rule” or “Thou wilt rule”. The 1917 Jewish publication society translates it as “Thou mayest rule over.” Steinbeck chose “Timshel” and it is the essence of the novel and his view of humanity. That nothing was sealed, nothing was fated, we can make our own decisions.

“Timshel” first appears in the middle of Steinbeck’s novel and is the central theme and ethic at the heart of this epic. It appears during a conversation between Adam Trask, Lee and Samuel Hamilton. Adam is a kind but flawed man who keeps on making bad decisions at crucial times in his life. Perhaps his biggest flaw being that he can be too trusting when it is obvious that a particular person’s motives are not well intentioned. Lee who is the family servant of Chinese origin living at a time of overt racism towards the Chinese community is California. Lee claims to have discovered “Timshel” which he sees as the most important word in Hebrew. The final character is Samuel Hamilton. He is based on Steinbeck’s own grandfather. He is a man who is respected and admired by all who know him. He has a sharp and inquiring mind and deep love for reading.

I cannot share the whole extract but will share a crucial passage that follows.

“After two years we felt that we could approach your sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis. My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too—‘Thou shalt’ and ‘Do thou.’ And this was the gold from our mining: ‘Thou mayest.’ ‘Thou mayest rule over sin.’ The old gentlemen smiled and nodded and felt the years were well spent. It brought them out of their Chinese shells too, and right now they are studying Greek.”

Samuel said, “It’s a fantastic story. And I’ve tried to follow and maybe I’ve missed somewhere. Why is this word so important?”

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?”

“Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph.

Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?”

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there. And do you know, those old gentlemen who were sliding gently down to death are too interested to die now?”

Adam said, “Do you mean these Chinese men believe the Old Testament?”

Lee said, “These old men believe a true story, and they know a true story when they hear it. They are critics of truth. They know that these sixteen verses are a history of humankind in any age or culture or race. They do not believe a man writes fifteen and three-quarter verses of truth and tells a lie with one verb. Confucius tells men how they should live to have good and successful lives. But this—this is a ladder to climb to the stars.” Lee’s eyes shone. “You can never lose that. It cuts the feet from under weakness and cowardliness and laziness.”

“Timshel”, “Thou Mayest” is the theme at the heart of the story. That we have the freedom to make choices and decisions, even if we have got it wrong many times before, nothing is predetermined. We aren’t the only force at work of course. We can only choose within the confines of the world in which we find ourselves.

These thoughts were singing in my heart as I wandered round Prague and spent time in conversations with people from different parts of the world. People from different cultures with vastly different histories, but who at the heart was a tradition that believed in human capacity. I listened to three histories of Unitarianism from a Czech, Transylvania and American perspective and shared from a British perspective myself. I walked round a city that a little over forty years ago was under Communist rule, freedom was limited in ways I cannot even begin to imagine. I shared in some beautiful conversations, it is amazing what people will share with you. I spoke with a mother of two teenage children who shared that freedom came at the age her children were now and how she cannot even begin to convey to them what that was like then. I had an incredible conversation with a man who shared about his upbringing in a culture he felt was alien to him, one that they consider the ultimate in freedom, but is fraught with danger. He shared of the decisions he had made and some of his regrets as well as those of his family, especially his son who made a terrible decision, one which has led to his loss of liberty and the guilt he feels for perhaps not always being there for his son. He himself is embarking on a new career and the privilege and challenges of making these choices. It was a week rich in conversation and experience. One which will feed me for months no doubt. I am grateful that you allowed me to go.

As I was wandering sometimes getting lost, actuakly taking the same wrong turn several times I was reminded of a wonderful piece that I always relate too,

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters – Portia Nelson

I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
but, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V
I walk down another street.

by Portia Nelson

As I wandered around the beautiful city one day and thought of the decisions we make and of course the limits of those decisions. The mistakes me make and the opportunities we have to put things right or fail to put them right. I remembered a wonderful and funny anecdote from Steinbeck’s life. Apparently his puppy ate half the original manuscript for Of Mice and Men. Steinbeck said ‘I was pretty mad, but the poor little fellow may have been acting critically’." Now I wish I'd known this when we read “Of Mice and Men” at school. Could've used it as an excuse for not handing in my homework.

This reminded me of the work of Viktor Frankl. That when he was imprisoned in a Nazi death camp not only was his liberty taken from him, but also his work. Of course it was his determination to continue his work and the love of his wife that helped him find the meaning that kept him alive in this hell hole. Frankl could have escaped the Nazi death camps, but chose to remain with his family. In 1941 he was offered an American visa that could save his life. But his elderly parents couldn't come with him. Viktor struggled with the decision of personal freedom while leaving his family to face their fate.

One day while visiting his parents home he noticed a small piece of marble lying on a table. His father explained that he had recovered it from the ruins of a synagogue destroyed by the Nazis. The fragment came from a representation of the Ten Commandments. Just one gilded Hebrew letter remained. It referred to a commandment Viktor knew well. “Honor thy father and thy mother.” Viktor made his decision, he stayed, and his Visa expired. Later that year, he married a nurse named Tilly Grosser. The whole family were deported to the Theresienstadt ghetto. His father Gabriel died there from starvation and pneumonia. Viktor and Tilly were sent to Auschwitz. For years, Viktor had been writing a book about the human search for meaning. He had hidden the manuscript inside the lining of his coat. At Auschwitz, the guards took his belongings, his clothes, his coat and the manuscript he had spent years writing, everything was lost. Everything but the one thing that was at the heart of his work. In those horrific conditions where millions were brutalised and murdered he remembered a line from Friederich Nietzsche “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” Frankl began his search for his own reason. He imagined standing in a lecture hall after the war, explaining what he had witnessed. He began rebuilding his lost manuscript in his mind.

Whenever possible, he wrote ideas on scraps of paper. He also thought about Tilly. He imagined conversations with her, pictured her face, remembered the life they shared together. He also turned his thoughts and actions to helping others, helped them find their own meaning, for something in the future. In April 27, 1945 he and others were liberated. He was the only member of his family to survive who had stayed behind. His sister Stella who had escaped to Australia and was still living. Frankl returned to Vienna and continued his work, he also reconstructed his lost manuscript and published it as “The Doctor and the Soul”. He began writing another book. This one was about what he had experienced inside the concentration camps. He dictated it in just nine days. In 1946 “Man's Search for Meaning” was published. It’s central message stating People cannot always choose their circumstances. Yet even in extreme suffering, they may retain some freedom in how they respond.

As he said "everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." That even in conditions of absolute horror, a person's inner reaction is still a personal choice. Not an easy one though.

As I have said many times “Man’s Search for Meaning” is one of the two most important books I have ever read. I see strong parallels between Frankl’s concept of the last of human freedoms, to choose one’s own way and Steinbeck’s Timshel as outlined in “East of Eden”. Both reject the idea that we are merely passive products of our genetics, parenting, or environments. The proclaim each persons ability to choose ones response is not just a simple gift but a heavy ethical burden. For Frankl it is centred around Logotherapy, the idea that human beings are driven primarily by a "will to meaning" rather than pleasure or power. He famously proposed that the United States supplement the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast with a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast, arguing that freedom without responsibility degenerates into arbitrariness. Steinbeck's novel acts as a practical illustration of this idea. Written as a moral paradigm for his sons, East of Eden demonstrates through the generational struggles of the Trask family that true meaning and redemption are found when characters take responsibility for their choices, break cycles of resentment, and actively choose love and goodness over passive victimhood.

Now this all sounds pretty simple. Maybe it is but it is far from easy. I know myself I fall short every day. I make decisions or refuse to make decisions that my heart and soul know are correct. I am far from perfect. That said I strive each and every day and attempt to live free form the regret of I would have if only I could have. Well, these two post war master pieces remind me of what is possible if I keep on turning imperfectly towards what might yet be.

I’m going to end with a final favourite line from “East of Eden” It is spoken by the heart and soul of the story Lee who says to Abra after falling short once again and saying she never felt good enough. He tells her:

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.”

We start where we are and do what we can with what we have, perfectly imperfect children of love, knowing that perfection is the enemy of the good.

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



Monday, 5 October 2026

The Blessing of the Animals: The Soul of Animals

“Come into animal presence”

by Denise Levertov
Come into animal presence
No man is so guileless as
the serpent. The lonely white
rabbit on the roof is a star
twitching its ears at the rain.
The llama intricately
folding its hind legs to be seated
not disdains but mildly
disregards human approval.
What joy when the insouciant
armadillo glances at us and doesn't
quicken his trotting
across the track and into the palm brush.
What is this joy? That no animal
falters, but knows what it must do?
That the snake has no blemish,
that the rabbit inspects his strange surroundings
in white star-silence? The llama
rests in dignity, the armadillo
has some intention to pursue in the palm-forest.
Those who were sacred have remained so,
holiness does not dissolve, it is a presence
of bronze, only the sight that saw it
faltered and turned from it.
An old joy returns in holy presence.

Today we celebrate our fellow animals. Not just our animal friends, I include we who walk on two legs too. It is important to recognise that we too are animals. That the animals who we share this world with are kin. We are formed from the same flesh and I believe have the same spirit animating us. Ok we are not exactly the same, but we are formed from the same earth and are animated by the very same breath of life. In fact it is worth remembering that the word “animal” is formed from the Latin word “animalis”, which actually means having a soul; the word animal shares the same root as the word for breath “animus”. So yes, we are formed from the same earth with the very same spirit within us.

Now somewhere along the way we humans began to think of ourselves as far superior to other animals, somehow separate from them. This though was not always so, in ancient times and in the so-called primitive cultures a few of which still exist today, people lauded the animals as great teachers, purveyors of wisdom, possessors of souls and spiritual qualities. There was a time when humans and animals were more closely connected. Some of we modern rational thinkers tend to look on all this as ignorance. But I wonder. I challenge you to wonder too. Is it possible that they might know something we don’t?

I certainly recognise what I call soul in humans in Molly. She has been such a part of my life these last four years. We have gone through so much together. The Hindu’s talk of the Atman in each of us, I see this in Molly.

Molly has become a part of the lives of so many others; Molly is a bridge between myself and others. She enables me to get closer to people when I am out and about. She led to a conversation the other day which brought healing to a person as she left our company. What began as someone interested in Molly lead to a deep conversation about grief, love and loss. If that is not the soul at work in life, I do not know what is. Molly’s soul became a bridge between two human souls that certainly brought healing. I had a lovely conversation with groomer about her on Monday. She had obviously charmed her in their time together. Unlike some dogs she loves, particularly the personal attention. Molly is deeply intuitive and in tune, she seems to know how to be with different people. Like all of us she is not perfect, she has her characteristics that can annoy too. Don’t we all.

Now of course dogs experience life in their own way. Molly takes in the world sensually, very differently to me. She lives through her nose, as dogs do. She inhales life and then breathes that spirit out blessing it in her own dog like way. This is soulful to me. I sometimes get frustrated at this, especially if I am trying to get somewhere. I later get frustrated with myself for not letting her fully savour every morsel of the journey.

She does not carry shame about her existence as I can at times. She doesn’t doubt her being. She is fully at ease with her own animal body. She belongs wherever she goes. Molly does not complain about her existence she has to just be wherever she finds herself. She might not want to go out in the rain and would like a little more attention at times. The groomer was laughing at how when she stopped grooming for a while Molly asked her why with a little bark and nudge of her nose. She found it so funny. Molly though has no shame or doubt about her existence.

Walt Whitman observed this about the animals.

“They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, they do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things.”

Whitman the poet of the body and the soul, holds up a mirror to we creatures, who inhabit an animal body complicated by our human being. We see the soul, as an organ of want and worry, which we invented to explain why we make art, why we fall in love, why we yearn to converse with reality in prayers and postulates. The animal though perhaps is the true being of soul as they experience life and bless life through soulful expression. This is what I see through Molly however she interacts with life. She truly lives on the frontier living through the conversational nature of life, although she has no words.

I think sometimes our words, the limits of our language, get in the way our living soulfully alive being blessed and blessing this life. Something two of my favourite poets Walt Whitman and David Whyte often spoke of. I see something of Whitman in the writing of Melanie Challenger who wrote in “How to Be Animal: A New History of What It Means to Be Human”

She wrote:

We live behind a hidden membrane through which — at any moment — one of us may tumble to find ourselves on the other side. Opening our eyes, we face the truth of what we are, a thinking and feeling colony of energy and matter wrapped in precious flesh that prickles when it’s cold or in love. We are a creature of organic substance and electricity that can be eaten, injured and dissipated back into the enigmatic physics of the universe. The truth is that being human is being animal. This is a difficult thing to admit if we are raised on a belief in our distinction.

We are though animal, we have a soul. Maybe we are a soul. We should sing the joy of being an animal. Do as Mary Oliver instructed. “Let the soft animal of our body love what it loves.”

Molly and me went for a walk in the woods the other day. As we were walking I thought to myself, you know sometimes even the woods need cheering up. So, I thought to myself, do you know what I’m going to tell this joke. And you know what happened? Nobody laughed. So, I thought to myself, If you tell a joke in the woods and nobody laughs, is it really a joke?

Apologies for the terrible joke, but I am mocking that old expression “That if a tree falls in a wood and nobody is around to hear it, can we say for certain that it actually fell? I realise it is just a thought experiment, but it one that is part of the problem. Life does not need human witness for it to be so. It also diminishes the spirit of the tree that has no meaning unless we humans give it to the tree. Yes I realise that this claim could be made about this very address. It brings to mind this wonderful poem by Wendell Berry, To the Unseeable Animal”

“To The Unseeable Animal” by Wendell Berry

My daughter: "I hope there's an animal

somewhere that nobody has ever seen.
And I hope nobody ever sees it."

Being, whose flesh dissolves
at our glance, knower
of the secret sums and measures,
you are always here,
dwelling in the oldest sycamores,
visiting the faithful springs
when they are dark and the foxes
have crept to their edges.
I have come upon pools
in streams, places overgrown
with the woods' shadow,
where I knew you had rested,
watching the little fish
hang still in the flow;
as I approached they seemed

particles of your clear mind
disappearing among the rocks.
I have waked deep in the woods
in the early morning, sure
that while I slept
your gaze passed over me.
That we do not know you
is your perfection
and our hope. The darkness
keeps us near you.

As I observe Molly blessing and being blessed by life through her inquisitive nose I wonder how much I deny and filter out in life. How much I don’t know and or don’t want to know. Know it or not life goes on regardless of me. We are too often afraid of the unknown, that we need to know. It is not living, in fear of what might not be. In this poem Wendell Berry beautiful offers a hopeful view of the unknown. That the elements of life that we haven’t yet discovered are just as likely, if not more likely, to contain beauty and promise as they are to spell doom. “That we do not know you,” Berry writes, “is your perfection and our hope.” The things out there in the dark are to be revered and respected, even celebrated, rather than feared.

Our souls need to be enthused with respair, with a new and fresh hope. We need to carry this in our solus so as to receive the blessings of living and to bless all we meet with our joy filled presence.

It is in watching Molly and living in nature itself that enables me to do this. In so doing I am being taught how to not fear my nature and to be wholly true to it. It helps me see myself as I truly am As a part of life, as part of the nature of everything. So many of our human problems stem from our sense of separation, that we are not a part of everything. By observing the animals we can once again see that we are a part of everything and that we belong here and that there is nothing really wrong with us. We just forget who we are from time to time.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “The Secret Garden” said:

“How it is that animals understand things I do not know, but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words, and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without even making a sound, to another soul.”

We can learn so much from our brothers and sisters the animals, they can teach us once again what it is to be fully human and a part of life.

We just need to remember to let the soft animal of its body, love what it loves. If you want to know just go outside and observes the birds in the air and or the dogs in the park. Listen to them fly and sing or watch them at play. All souls need to let the soft animal of their bodies love what they love.

It seems right to end with Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese”

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

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