Tell me your story and I will tell you mine: Good speech, Godsibb and Gossip

Last Monday 2^nd February was “Groundhog Day”. Sorry, but it is bad news, “Punxsutawney Phil” saw his shadow. This means 6 more weeks of winter. Do not worry this is Pennsylvania, so it may not apply to we in the North West of England. We shall see.

Last Monday morning was a bit like Groundhog Day the movie as I went through many usual Monday activities. There was a slight twist as I met with a couple who are getting married at Dunham Road. We talked through the service, which is fairly traditional with one or two twists, just to make it personal. It was a wonderful conversation, getting to know these two wonderful people, there was much humour shared. I also went through one or two or my usual Monday rituals. After catching up with emails and posting my blog etc I took Molly out into Altrincham and through to the park. On the way Molly insisted on calling into Café Nero. She loves the place and obviously knows I need a coffee before walking round the park. I had a fascinating conversation with the manager their Keiran. He is a breeder of exotic fish, a growing business for him. He told me he has 1,000 fish tanks now. He also tried to play a trick on me telling me they were having a minutes silence. I know he is a joker so I didn’t fall for it. I told him that we do not have a minutes silence for “Groundhog Day”. We then talked about “Groundhog Day”. He expressed a hope that winter would soon be over.

We then headed to the park and saw the same people I often see when I go there. We nod and say hello and sometimes talk. I got into a conversation with a woman who is there every day and who I rarely get into a conversation with. Whenever we do it is as if we are speaking for the first time, symptomatic of something I am growing familiar with. She told me about her family, her son and grandchildren, all high achievers. We talked about her dog who is the same breed and as my sister’s dog Brian. She then started calling Molly Brian and then she wandered off after I had given her dog and Molly a treat. By the way we also talked about the weather and the desire for Spring. I told her it was “Groundhog Day” , at which point she looked at me like I was mad. As we continued to wander I got chatting to a man and his dog. We always talk when we meet one another. He has a grand dog named Ruby who is a labradoodle. We chatted about our dogs and the weather. I then said it is “Groundhog Day” and we will find out if winter is ending or whether we have six more weeks of it. I then said but it doesn’t really apply as we don’t live in Pennsylvania. He told me his parents used to live there and the winters were never too bad, except for a couple of weeks. They now live in Quebec he told me where the winters are far more extreme. He then showed me a conversation he had with his mother talking about the weather. He asked me if I was always there at this time and I said I come at varied times. I chuckled as I walked off and thought well maybe it isn’t Groundhog Day.

On the way home I bumped into a couple of friends. Both of whom told me about concerns for friends who are being treated for cancer. One seems hopeful the other not so much. I have had several such conversations all week long. Some of which sound like a long winter ahead and others showing signs of spring.

I have been thinking of conversations all week long. Conversations and how our lives are made up of the stories we tell. The stories we tell about ourselves and our lives. On Wednesday I conducted the funeral of Jim Hill. The Hill family have been a part of the Queens Road congregation for several generations. Afterwards I talked with folk who I have known for many years now. We shared our stories and our concerns I also saw several children whose Child blessing service I have conducted. I thought of their stories and their familys stories. I also remembered Alison, Jim’s sister telling the story, on a Zoom service during Covid, when we were joined by Rev Peter Godfrey who had been minister to the congregation in 1950’s and 60’s. I will never forget the delight in her voice and on her face as she saw Peter and reminded him that she was the first child he had Baptised. This is one of those stories I love to tell. The circle of life and of love.

Another friend told me of her ex-partner had being diagnosed with cancer this week. This brought me back to the formation story that led me into ministry. A story of sorrow that I have to tell when folk ask me why I became a minister. He and his family have been in my heart and prayers ever since.

The stories of live. Stories of love, of life and of death. The circle of life.

Our lives are made up of all kinds of stories, that tell us who we are. We connect with one another through the telling of these stories. We all have our stories and we love to hear stories. I was reminded this week of a character I created during “lockdown” Cap’N Dan. Everyday I told a classic tale and recorded it on camera. Many people watched the stories, both young and old. The stories helped people through a difficult time, both children and adults. A friend told me that the stories both entertained and fed both him and his children. His children would probably be embarrassed now, as they are 5 or 6 years older. That said these stories are a part of their life. They helped to both feed and connect them and others.

Our lives are made up of stories.

The author Phillip Pulman has said of stories “After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” I would suggest that in some ways stories give us nourishment, shelter and companionship in a none material sense.

Anthony DeMello wrote...

The Master gave his teaching in parables and stories, which his disciples listened to with pleasure — and occasional frustration, for they longed for something deeper.

The Master was unmoved. To all their objections he would say, "You have yet to understand, my dears, that the shortest distance between a human being and Truth is a story."

We all have our stories and no doubt those that know us have stories to tell about us. It’s interesting that when a person tells a story about you their perception and memory will reveal something of how they see you and know you. It reveals as much about the storyteller as the person they are telling the story about.

I have been thinking of stories, the ones we share when we meet and speak with each other. Whether they be strangers, close friends and or folk you see from time to time. I wonder what stories they will tell of us.

It matters the stories we tell of one another. We all speak of one another we share our tales. It matters the tales that we tell. The words we share. The way we gossip about one another and life.

Gossip is one of those words that has changed in meaning over time. There can be good gossip and bad gossip. It not so much the way we speak about one another but it’s intent, it’s meaning. It matters how we speak about others and how we listen to what others say to us about people. Malicious gossip can be very destructive. That said sharing concern for others and singing their praises can add to the loving creation.

The word “gossip” is derived from words for God and sibling. It originally meant “akin to God”. “God-Sibb” describing a person you were connected to in spiritual kinship, either a sponsor or God parent. When we share stories of one another in such a spirit we are connecting together in shared love and concern. I have shared a week of being engaged mostly in “God-Sibb”, although not always I have occasionally spoken unskilfully, not from this spirit.

Like a lot of words sadly the word gossip only has negative connotations. In fact, it means the exact opposite to its original meaning. It seems more akin to separation than connection. Gossip as we understand it these days is often deeply destructive.

The way we speak with and of one another can connect us, but it can also separate us; words are incredibly powerful things. Words can begin to bring deep healing or can be deeply destructive. What matters is the intention behind them. What seems to matter is the condition of our heart and soul as we speak what we must speak. It is the meaning behind the words that seems to matter the most.

Words are powerful they can be either destructive or creative. Perhaps an example of “words” creative power comes at the beginning of John’s Gospel and the following lines:

'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God.
All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.'

According to John the spoken word can literally create life, in fact all life. Now of course in the original Greek, which these opening words were written in, the word for “Word” was “Logos”, which roughly translated actually does not mean merely a “word,” but also “speech,” “principle,” “meaning” or “thought.” In Greek philosophy, it is also referred to as Divine Reason or the Mind of God. So, it could mean God speaking life into being, linking it to the first verses from Genesis when God is said to have breathed life into being, remembering always that he saw this creation as “Good”. So “word” here means, in my view at least, that life is the meaning coming into being and Jesus is the example of this in human form. An example we can all aspire to. For we can all incarnate Love, we can all be a part of the Divine creation. It begins in our words and how we say these words for they are an expression of our meaning. It also begins in how we listen to others. Our ability for each to share, an open loving invitation. This is Divine activity. This space between us is the Kin-dom of Love. Conversation can be a Divine activity; the sharing of stories can be Divine activity, if engaged in in a loving spirit.

When we speak we are not merely flapping our lips, vibrating air we are engaged in Divine activity we are creating or destroying life. It is the same with listening. If we listen with ears of heart we are creating sacred space, thus creating the Kin-dom of Love.

So, it is not just about what we say, the words we use, but the meaning behind them. This brings a whole deeper meaning to the phrase “The word (Logos, meaning the Meaning), became flesh and dwelt amongst us.” We embody our meaning through the words we use and how we use these words.

What we say and the meaning behind our language really matters. Our words are our meaning. It is not just about the words we use, but the meaning behind them. It can be deeply creative or destructive.

Ursula K Le Guin the great 20^th century novelist wrote:

“Words are events, they do things, change things. They transform both speaker and hearer; they feed energy back and forth and amplify it. They feed understanding or emotion back and forth and amplify it,”

Words express our meaning and they amplify the meaning of our society and culture. This is why the meaning of words change over time. Remember Logos meant both word and meaning and yet in the English translation of the Bible it is always translated as word and not meaning.

It matters the words we use and the meaning behind them. It matters how we engage with one another. It matters the conversations that we have with each other and ourselves. It matters the stories we tell of one another and of life. It matters.

The way we speak with and of one another can connect us, but it can also separate us; words are incredibly powerful things. Words can begin to bring deep healing or can be deeply destructive. What matters is the intention behind them. What matters is the condition of our heart and soul as we speak what we must speak. It is the meaning behind the words that seems to matter the most. Do we speak as siblings that connect or enemies that separate.

It matters you know, it really does.

Below is 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"

Tell All the Truth, But Tell it Slant: May it Dazzle Gradually, so that No One is Left Blind

A long time ago, the king of a small country wanted to pay tribute to the emperor of China, so he sent his envoy with a gift of three golden statues. These golden statues were magnificent, and the emperor was very excited. The king requested the emperor figure out which statue was the most valuable.

The emperor thought of various ways including asking a jeweller to check these statues which were identical in every way - appearance, weight, design, and workmanship. The emperor did not know what to do next. The envoy was waiting outside for an answer.

A big country like China had no way to figure this out, how embarrassing!

Finally, an old minister said he knew how to determine which one would be the most valuable. The emperor invited the minister and the envoy into the hall. The old minister confidently took out three straws. He put one straw into a statue’s ear; the straw came out the other ear. Then he put the straw into a second statue’s ear, and the straw came out its mouth. When the minister put the straw into the third statue’s ear, the straw fell into its stomach. The minister then said that the third statue was the most valuable.

The envoy went silent...for the minister had discovered the correct answer.

Can anyone tell me why the third statue was the most valuable?

Well the first statue symbolises that what is heard goes into one ear and out of the other.

The second statue symbolises that what is heard is simply regurgitated without being digested by the hearer; therefore no lesson is learnt.

The third statue symbolises someone who listens intently to what is being said and it is then absorbed into his stomach and therefore into the core of his being, before being passed on.

It is important that we all realise that we are given two ears and one mouth for a reason.

Here’s a poem, by Emily Dickinson, “Tell all the truth but tell it slant”

“Tell all the truth but tell it slant” by Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

I felt the need to speak to someone the other day, I was concerned about something and it was one of the moments when I thought it was best not to keep silent. It was the right thing to do. The mistake was that I was a little too direct and the person got very defensive, and as a result what I was trying to express did not reach them. It was one of those moments when the truth told would have been better spoken from an angle. It is always important to be considerate of who is receiving truth when you are speaking it. Sometimes the truth can dazzle a little took quickly and leave everyone blind.

There have been times in my life when truth has been spoken to me, life saving and transforming truth actually, when I was able to take it in, and it has set me free. That said there has been times when people have spoken their truth in terribly unhelpful ways. I think consideration of others is always key to living the spiritual life. You need to be in a place where you can hear the truth and absorb it yourself and then come to your own conclusions about it. There are times when you will hear it and it will just pass right through you. There are times when you will hear it but not take it into yourself and just repeat it, you will not make it a part of you. Then there are those times when you will hear the truth, absorb, and make sense of it and then bring your own truth from it. Sometimes the way to help a person hear such truth, to truly hear and absorb the truth, it is to tell it slant. This takes, time, it takes understanding and it takes deep love.

It is also important to understand that truth needs to be absorbed carefully, as Dickinson pointed out it must dazzle gradually or it can be blinding and overwhelming. Consideration and understanding is vital when revealing truth. Our senses need time to adjust. It is important to understand for some people more consideration is needed than for others. We must learnt to walk in the shoes of others at times.

This brings to mind a rather wonderful cautionary tale told by Anthony Demello from “The Song Bird” on the price of truth:

THE TRUTH SHOP.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the name of the shop: THE TRUTH SHOP. They sold truth here.

The salesgirl was very polite: What type of truth did I wish to purchase, partial or whole truth? The whole truth, of course. No deceptions for me, no defences, no rationalizations.
I wanted my truth plain and unadulterated. She waved me on to another side of the store where the whole truth was sold.
The salesman there looked at me compassionately and pointed to the price tag. “The price is very high, sir,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked, determined to get the whole truth, no matter what it cost. “Your security, sir,” ‘If you take this,' he said, ‘you will pay for it by losing all repose for the rest of your life'.
I walked sadly out of the store. I had thought I could have the whole truth at little cost. I am still not ready for Truth. I crave for peace and rest every now and then. I still need to deceive myself a little with my defences and rationalizations. I still seek the shelter of my unquestioned beliefs.

If I have learnt anything about the spiritual life I have learnt how important consideration is. I need to consider where the person is coming from and what they are ready for when communicating with them. This is a lesson we could all do we with heading, particularly at this time. It is not always helpful to be like the “Yorkshireman” form “The Harry Enfield Show” “I say what I like and I like what I ruddy well say”. Certainly something I must take head of as a minister of religion.

Honesty, speaking truth in love is vital, but so is consideration. It is important to understand when expressing truth that it might just be opinion and no one ever has the whole truth, our truths and opinions may well be conflicted and certainly biased. Truth like the three golden statues is a gift, but only if given in the right way. Too often they truth can end up been divisive and hurtful, because it is not told in the right way. I am reminded here of the Buddhist concept of "Right Speech", or “Samma Vacca”

This brings to mind an incident in the life of Suzuki Roshi during his days as a temple priest in Japan. One day he was outside his temple with another priest when a workman called down to them from the roof, where he was making repairs. "There you go, a couple of lazy priests who don't work for a living. What good are you to anyone?" Suzuki looked up at the roofer without saying anything for a while. At last, he called out to the roofer, "That temple next door has a beautiful roof."

Now it is true that the temple next door had a beautiful roof, it was famous for it. That such a response seems irrelevant in the context of such a conversation. The roofer had insulted Roshi and his work after all. So it seems irrelevant and even evasive, unless you see that the point of his remark was that Suzuki Roshi was attempting to introduce into the conversation something that he and the roofer could agree on, regardless of the roofer's opinion of priests or of him personally. I think that this is something that is so needed in our time, when loud opinion seems to be ever more dividing and divisive; forms of communication who’s purpose seems to be to make others different, to divide and to take sides, thus increasing conflict and make it ever harder to hear what others are saying, let alone to take in absorb their truth.

It matters how we speak and hear truth, context is never irrelevant.

It is important to consider who is listening when speaking our truth, to do so in love, and at times to offer it slant. As Emily Dickinson said “The truth must dazzle gradually”. It can shine brightly if we allow folks eyes and ears to adjust to it. It must also be as Dickinson wrote told “with explanation kind” or it will not be absorbed.

If told in such a way it will encourage folk to open to the truth that is all around us, the truth spoke shinning and dazzling in every little thing, if our sense are open to it. Truth revealed in love ought not to be divisive.

This brings to mind the following extract from “Old Turtle and the Broken Truth” by Douglas Wood, a beautiful story about love, acceptance and the nature of truth.

Here it is:

" 'First, my child,' said Old Turtle, 'remember that there are truths all around us, and within us. They twinkle in the night sky and bloom upon the earth. They fall upon us every day, silent as the snow and gentle as the rain. The people, clutching their one truth, forget that it is a part of all the small and lovely truths of life. They no longer see these truths, no longer hear them.'

" 'But . . . perhaps, Little One, you can . . .'

" 'I — I'll try,' said the Little Girl."

As the saying goes A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing…You can wear a crown, it doesn’t make you king, beware the trinkets that we bring…For all that glitters is not gold…Beware the dangers of shiny things…perhaps the most dangerous being the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…

The truth, if narrow told, is often misheard or misunderstood. Beware anyone offering easy answer to life’s complex questions. The truth has a way of revealing itself if allowed to do so and if our sense are open to it.

The Buddha reputedly said “Three things cannot be long hidden, the sun, the moon and the truth”. Now while these things are not long hidden we never see the whole of the moon, despite what the “Waterboys” sang, the whole of the sun and certainly not the whole of the truth.

None of us know the whole truth, we can only get a glimpse of it and even the small aspect that we get to glimpse upon we do not see directly. Any bit of the light we gaze upon is refracted. As Paul said in his famous words on love we only see into the glass dimly. No one sees the whole truth. It is important to remember this and it ought to breed humility. This ought to encourage to be open more to one another, for perhaps if we do we may reveal together more of the truth.

One of the biggest barriers to truth seeking are our biases, sometimes unconscious ones. How easy it I to act and speak as if we know the whole, as if we have gained some special knowledge and that those who see through the glass differently must be deluded fools.

We all of course have our preferences, the things we like and the way we like them. This is a good thing to know ourselves. Sadly, though sometimes we can become slaves to these preferences, and they can quickly become biases. Our biases can blind us, close us off to others and their point of view. They trap us in ignorance, deception and illusion. When we are stuck behind them no amount of reasoning and discussion will break through them. It seems that the only way to do so is to break down the walls of our own biases. Such biases can be so strong that instead of being open to new ideas we seek ideas that confirm whatever we believe. There is actually a name for this “confirmation bias”. It is easy to seek out people and things that will agree with us and confirm our biases rather than be around people who will disagree with us and wrestle with our own truth and or that or others. It is just more comfortable and far less painful. It is no way to grow though. Growth seems to always come through pain and struggle, it is not easy. Who though said that life is meant to be easy and or pain free? There is a price to pay for truth as DeMello’s story taught.

“Truth” itself is an interesting word. It comes from a Germanic root which also gives rise to another word “troth” as the vow of old "I pledge thee my troth." A word used as people enter a covenant with one another, as Parker J Palmer put it “a pledge to engage in mutually accountable and transforming relationship...to know in truth is to become betrothed, to engage the known with one's whole self...to know in truth is to be known as well.”

Truth is a pledge made between people, it is relational in nature, a covenant of trust.

Truth seeking and speaking should thus be relational and not divisive. It is not about arguing and proving the other wrong, it I about listening to and listening with, with open hearts, minds and souls. It is about understanding who is listening and being considerate of that person, finding ways to communicate with them. Yes it is about speaking the whole truth, but sometimes slant and from and angle, always remembering that we all have more in common than what divides us, that we are all formed from the same flesh and spirit, maintaining each others worth and dignity, speaking and listening to truth in love.

So let’s tell all the truth, but do slant at times. Lets speak with consideration. Let’s speak the language of love, with explanation kind. Let’s open our hearts in love to one another, let’s listen with the ears of our hearts, for the language of the heart is truly universal it will gently break down any barriers built by inconsideration. May the light of truth be revealed gradually so that one of us will be blind to it. May it dazzle gradually so that not one of us will remain blind.

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

The falling leaf game: How to live spiritually alive

I will begin with a story “Tired of Clinging” by Richard Bach

“Tired of Clinging” by Richard Bach

Once there lived a village of creatures along the bottom of a great crystal river. The current of the river swept silently over them all - young and old, rich and poor, good and evil, the current going its own way, knowing only its own crystal self.

Each creature in its own manner clung tightly to the twigs and rocks at the river bottom, for clinging was their way of life, and resisting the current was what each had learned from birth.

But one creature said at last, 'I am tired of clinging. Though I cannot see it with my eyes, I trust that the current knows where it is going. I shall let go, and let it take me where it will. Clinging, I shall die of boredom.'

The other creatures laughed and said, 'Fool! Let go, and that current you worship will throw you tumbled and smashed across the rocks, and you shall die quicker than boredom!'

But the one heeded them not, and taking a breath did let go, and at once was tumbled and smashed by the current across the rocks.

Yet in time, as the creature refused to cling again, the current lifted him free from the bottom, and he was bruised and hurt no more.

And the creatures downstream, to whom he was a stranger, cried, 'See a miracle! A creature like ourselves, yet he flies! See the Messiah, come to save us all!'

And the one carried in the current said, 'I am no more Messiah than you. The river delights to lift us free, if only we dare let go. Our true work is this voyage, this adventure.'

But they cried the more, 'Saviour!' all the while clinging to the rocks, and when they looked again he was gone, and they were left alone making legends of a Saviour.

By Richard Bach, from "Illusions"

I was hit by a falling conker the other day whilst out in the park. Do not worry I didn’t think that the sky was falling in. That said neither did I make any life changing scientific discoveries either. It was neither a moment of terror, nor was it discovery. I was though transported back to childhood and fun autumnal games that we often played. Games folk all over the land and in others played, as they did in previous and current generations too. I enjoyed watching a group of children with parents and grandparents collecting conkers the other day.

I have been watching autumn these last few weeks, watching the leaves fall from the trees. I was out the other day when I and a friend noticed a what looked like a school teacher taking notes of the trees in the park. We wondered what he was doing. A few days later we saw a group of school children doing the same thing. I never asked them exactly what they were doing, but I did enjoy the attention the paid to the trees in the park. It has helped me pay closer attention the nature of the park that Molly and I enjoy every day.

Living spiritually alive is very much about paying attention. Last week I mentioned that Simone Weil saw attention as a contemplative practice, through which we reap life’s deepest rewards. She saw attention as the rarest form of generosity. It is through attention that we open up to Grace. Attention as she saw it is something way beyond the mere will, which she saw as graceless. For Weil attention is an opening, like prayer, that is full of Grace. It is through attention that we are touched by the majesty and beauty of life, it is how we live spiritually alive.

I am someone who attempts to practise what they preach. Yes of course I do not do this perfectly but I do at least try. As I have said before in order to live spiritually alive we need to increase our sensitivity to life. This begins by paying attention, being alive to everything, fully embracing everything and giving yourself fully to it.

As I said I was reminded of autumnal games the other. One such being “The falling leaf game”.

The game goes something like this; you look at the trees and watch for when the leaves begin to fall. As you see one falling you attempt to catch the leaf before it hits the ground. This is no easy task, although it doesn’t sound too challenging. After all it’s just a leaf, it has no mind of its own and gravity should surely bring it down safely into your hands. Well apparently not. It seems that there are other forces at work, namely the wind. It is virtually impossible to catch the leaves as they fall because they are constantly blown off course by sudden and unpredictable gusts of wind.

Isn’t life like this, beautiful but unpredictable. The leaves rarely fall directly into our hands. How often are they blown off course just as we are about to catch them.

The falling leaves can teach us so much about the spiritual life and spiritual living. They remind me of another mistake we often make. Yes, we often want to rush through things and wish they were over therefore failing to truly experience the gift of the moment. That said we can often do something which inhibits the moment equally. How many of us want to cling on to what we are experiencing right now. David Bumbaugh captures this beautifully in the following meditative poem “Dancing in the wind”

“Dancing in the wind” David Bumbaugh

Except for a few stubborn holdouts
The tree outside my window
Is bare of leaves.
The wind,
This October morning,
Worries those few remaining leaves,
Pulling them this way,
twisting them that way,
tugging at them
until, one by one,
exhausted by the ceaseless effort to hang on,
they go dancing in the wind.
As they waltz past my window,
The stubbornness has left them
And they are finally free.
What is it about living things
That we expend so much energy resisting the inevitable,
Hanging on to what is already gone,
Hoping to sustain a season
Into times that are unreasonable,
Clinging to old habits
Despite the pain and discomfort?
Why are we so afraid to dance in the wind?

Why are we so afraid to dance in the wind? It’s a good question. By clinging to things, whether that be people, possessions, seasons, situations, prestige, appearance, beliefs, disbeliefs, feelings, we fail to experience life fully. We block ourselves from experiencing the full gift of life. We become like the creatures in the story we heard earlier, clinging on but not fully experiencing life. They would rather die of boredom than risk letting go and trust in the current. And then one brave one lets go and they simply mock it as it crashes against the rocks and suffers the pain of freedom until it learns the dance of the current. Still, they are afraid though to let go and experience the freedom themselves. They want their messiah to do it for them or they merely want to spin stories of his journey rather than seeing him as the example and letting go themselves and experiencing the freedom of the current.

The spiritual life, living spiritually alive, is about increasing our sensitivity to reality. This begins by simply paying attention. By lingering for a moment, the imperfect, unfinished moment, and just as importantly let the moment linger in you. To badly paraphrase Whitman, every leaf is a love letter from God. You can pick one up for a moment, but then you must leave it so someone else to find

It is the same with all of life, if we truly pay attention and increase our sensitivity to it. All life can teach us to be all that we can be. We can even learn from the leaves as they fall freely and dance in the wind.

Here’s an extract from Whitman’s Book “Leaves of Grass” from the chapter “Song of Myself” 48th Stanza, that I just badly paraphrased, pay attention the last few lines.

I have said that the soul is not more than the body,
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul,
And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one’s self is,
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud,
And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth,
And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds the learning of all times,
And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero,
And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel’d universe,
And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.

And I say to mankind, Be not curious about God,
For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,
(No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death.)

I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass,
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign’d by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe’er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever.

Pay attention to all that is alive around you, we do not need to cling to anything, be open, live spiritually alive. Why do so many of us cling to things and will not let go? Why do we want to live with the illusion of control? Or on the other hand why do we want to rush through things and not experience the moment we are in? Why are we always wishing for the end of things? What are we afraid of? Why do we not want to fully experience life?

I had several conversations with people last week. Some I have known all my life and others I’ve known for only a short time. In each conversation there was a constant theme. The theme was fear. Fear I believe is at the core the two autumn themes I’ve been speaking of…to either wish days away or to cling to something that is over. These are the fears symbolic of autumn. It is fear that is at the root of the need to cling on and or control and it is fear that causes this desire to wish certain feelings away.

I’m no different myself by the way. I can want to wish certain experiences away, especially if they are uncomfortable, even painful. I noticed myself doing it the other day when I working out in the gym. I don’t always want to go through the pain of it, I just want the results that would come from doing so, but still I stuck at it. I have learnt to develop faith. I’ve also clung onto comfortable things and painful and destructive things at times in my life, for the fear of what might be if I just let go and let the wind of life take hold. It was fear that stopped me.

But what causes the fear, what causes this lack of trust. Well I think that it is lack of faith. Faith in life itself. It comes from a belief that life is hostile, against us and something that cannot be trusted. This is why we cling to things and will not let go. The antidote is faith. Faith in life itself, but this of course is a risk. It is a risk worth taking though and certainly beats the boredom of clinging to those rocks we heard about in the earlier story. We need to learn to let go and trust in the current and trust in the wind and to trust in the ever changing nature of life.

We need to learn to dance too, to play those autumnal games, conkers, catching leaves, hey maybe try kite flying. There is a joy in the ungovernable wind.

This brings to mind a lovely excerpt from Anthony Demello’s “The song of the Bird” it goes by the title “Don’t Change”

"I was neurotic for years. I was anxious and depressed and selfish. Everyone kept telling me to change. I resented them and I agreed with them, and I wanted to change, but simply couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. Then one day someone said to me, Don't change. I love you just as you are. Those words were music to my ears: Don't change, Don't change. Don't change . . . I love you as you are. I relaxed. I came alive. And suddenly I changed!

Now I know that I couldn’t really change until I found someone who would love me whether I changed or not.

Is this how you love me, God?"

Here lays both the problem and the solution. This is why I believe we cling to things or simply wish them away. This is why so many of us are afraid to fully experience the life we are experiencing right here right now. We don’t trust in life. We believe that life is untrustworthy. We fail to experience that love that is so present in life. We feel unacceptable as we are. Certainly this was my problem for so long. Thank God it is no longer the case. I do, I do, I do…every day…

You can see it in the leaves, in the trees in the folk and dogs in the park, in everything. All you have to do is pay attention, give yourself wholeheartedly to it.

This is how we learn to love life, to be a part of life? It begins by paying attention. By increasing our sensitivity to life. It begins perhaps by being like those falling leaves. By falling like those autumnal leaves, by not wishing away our experiences and by not clinging on…It begins by simply letting go and by learning to dance in the wind…

Let’s all learn to dance in the wind…Lets all become like falling leaves…Let’s all learn to dance the impermanence dance…Don’t pick them up though, leave them where you find them, for someone else to see.

So, let’s live more spiritually alive. Let’s increase our sensitivity to life. May our lives become our prayer.

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

The impermanence if truth: Vanity, vanity, all is vanity

I recently visited my sister Liz. She owns the tenancy of a bar and microbrewery in Wakefield. She has worked in the “ale trade” for many years and is quite an expert on all aspects of it. It was wonderful to watch her in operation, talking with a variety of customers, real ale types, about all kinds of different beers etc. It was fun to watch her both pacify occasional “mansplaining” and from time to time correcting the misinformed. They obviously respect her as they took her word for things, there was not too much defensiveness of positions. This is not always the case of course and I know that she does have a run in from time to time with individuals with strong views and opinions, who do not like to have their positions questioned, let alone corrected.

This of course happens in all areas of life, particularly about things we are passionate about, those that mean something to us. We all have strong held views, we all have our truth, and no one likes to have such truths questioned. To have such views, truths and opinions questioned can at times feel like a personal affront. Now of course this is ok so long as we can agree to disagree in love. Sadly, in our current climate this seems to be harder and harder for people. We live in such divisive times.

It is important for a person to own their truth, to speak their truth, but not to be closed off to others and the truth of others by such strong held beliefs. It is equally important not to dismiss others just because they come to different conclusions to us. This seems as important in the pubs of this land, with the CAMRA guys and the craft beer types, as it in the political and other arenas. Yes it is important to know our truths, but not to become slaves to them. Humility is always key in life, for it is this that will keeps us open to new truth, to grow in both understanding and effectiveness in life. We need to be able to change our lives.

As Katherine Hepburn uttered in “The Philadelphia Story”.

“The time to make up your mind about other people is never!”

Life is fluid and so are people, nothing ever really stays exactly the same. I suspect that it is the same with truth. My truth today is not exactly as it was a few years ago. How about yours? Do you see things today exactly as you always have, or have some things changed? Perhaps the only constant about personal truth, is its impermanence.

This brings to mind the Buddhist concept of “Dukkha”. "Dukkha is one of those words that is hard to explain in English. It is often translated as suffering that "all life is suffering". This is not an entirely accurate translation, in the sense that suffering is understood in the west. What I believe it is trying to teach is that suffering is a part of life that nothing ever lasts for ever. That nothing stays exactly as it in its current state. Impermanence is central to the Buddhist path; the path to enlightenment is to accept that nothing ever lasts forever. This speaks powerfully to me, especially when I think about truth. I have certainly noticed, over the years, the impermanence of truth.

So many problems in life seemingly come from our struggle against impermanence. How often do we try to grab for the seeming safety of absolutes, for certainty, instead of opening to the freedom that comes with accepting that nothing is permanent, including how we see life and one another.

Accepting impermanence helps in the search for truth; it helps us to see the freedom that comes with changing our point of view about things. If you think about it if nothing ever stays the same, then surely our point of view ought to be ever changing too. Life is always teaching us something new if we would but stay open up to it.

That’s why “The time to make up your mind about other people is never!” People change, nothing and no one stays exactly the same for ever. Nothing is permanent, the leopard is capable of changing his spots. Or at least from time to time, those spots appear to be get re-arranged. It is the same with truth, that of our own or others. We must never become slaves to what we perceive to be true.

This brings to mind a favourite little snippet from Anthony DeMello’s “One Minute Wisdom”

"To a visitor who described himself as a seeker after Truth, the teacher said: “If what you seek is Truth, there is one thing you must have above all else.” “I know,” answered the student, “an overwhelming passion for it.” “No,” said the teacher, “an unremitting readiness to admit you may be wrong.”

To seek the truth, one needs humility and openness and enough self-esteem to see that we are wrong sometimes and of course the capacity to admit to this. If we cannot, we will not be able to see the truth, even when it is right in front of us. It is so easy to become blinded by what we think we know. We need the openness that comes with true humility, it is a truth that will set us free.

One of the biggest barriers to truth seeking are our biases, sometimes unconscious ones. I was thinking of this as I reflected on my sisters conversation with the real ale types and the craft ale ones too, they both have their separate section along her bar. How both sides were so certain as to what was superior to the other. Apparently rarely do each side ever meet and concede to the other, some do, but not many. The conversation I listened to reminded me of what it must have been like for many in the British folk scene when Dylan went electric at the Manchester “Free Trade Hall”, how they saw this as such a betrayal.

We all of course have our preferences, the things we like and the way we like them. This is a good thing to know ourselves. Sadly, though sometimes we can become slaves to these preferences, and they can quickly become biases. Our biases can blind us, close us off to others and their point of view. They trap us in ignorance, deception and illusion. When we are stuck behind them no amount of reasoning and discussion will break through them. It seems that the only way to do so is to break down the walls of our own biases. Such biases can be so strong that instead of being open to new ideas we seek ideas that confirm whatever we believe. There is actually a name for this “confirmation bias”. It is easy to seek out people and things that will agree with us and confirm our biases rather than be around people who will disagree with us and wrestle with our own truth and or that or others. It is just more comfortable and far less painful. It is no way to grow though. Growth seems to always come through pain and struggle, it is not easy. Who though said that life is meant to be easy and or pain free?

Truth is neither pain free nor is it permanent. It requires humility and openness, there is no place for vanity. This brings me to the Book of Ecclesiates. The first chapter of which begins with the writer stating that all is vanity. We humans demand to know the answers to everything. Even if we could discover the answers to everything, I’m not convinced it would help. Would it make life safe? Would it guarantee immunity from pain and suffering? Of course it would not, they are part of life.

This does not stop us asking the question that we have asked since time began; it does not stop us asking the ultimate question of them all, what is the meaning of life? The author of Ecclesiates tells us that he spent quite some time himself not only asking this very question, but really striving for the answer. He tells us that he first sought pleasure, he spared himself no sensual delights; Yet he found these pleasure hollow and meaningless, it was as if he were “chasing after wind”. He then threw himself into working hard and he succeeded, but discovered he received no greater reward for his labours than those who did little. Hard work alone failed to make him happy, nor did it give him a sense of accomplishment. So, he devoted himself to righteousness, hoping that God would reward him for this, but soon discovered he was no better off than those who had robbed and cheated and stole from their neighbours. So, he sought and won unimaginable power and what happened? Well that brought him little satisfaction too. Finally, he concluded that all of this striving for rewards was meaningless and without substance; he concludes that it was all vanity; that once we see all that we gain, it just vanishes into the air. It’s all vanity, all is vanity.

Vanity all is vanity. This was Narcissus’ s problem he was consumed by his own vanity. He stared into his own reflection and became consumed by his own love for himself and as a result he withered away and died. Maybe this is the problem. In our search for truth, meaning and happiness we become consumed by ourselves and our own reflection. In so doing we become cut off from one another, from life and from God. Maybe the pursuit becomes so addictive and all-consuming that we fail to experience life and therefore fail to experience the love that is already here. Chasing after truth, happiness and meaning is like chasing after the wind. Well, the wind is a wild and untameable beast. She doesn’t need taming; she just needs to be felt and or experienced and delighted in. The gift is life itself and yet we spend so much time failing to truly experience it, because we get lost in the why’s and wherefore’s, in our own reflection, in our own vanity.

Isn’t it the same with truth? With how we see our truth. With the way we defend our truth against the truth claims of others. How can we, when the truth is that over our lives we have changed our minds about our own truth. Maybe our vanity is at its height when it comes to our claims about truth.

According to Forrest Church:

“The word vain carries two complementary connotations: puffed up and empty (or impossible). To elevate ourselves above others is vanity, because from dust we all come and to dust we shall return; and attempting to do what cannot be done or to know what cannot be known is a vain, or impossible, endeavour. In common parlance, vanity is pride. We cannot form saving connections when we permit pride to distance us from others. And when we tether our hopes to a vain object, our lifelines will not hold. On the other hand, compassion unites us with others, and humility concedes our human limitations.”

Vanity, all is vanity...

Sadly though our truth claims and thus our dismissal of the claims of others can separate us, whether that is in the field of music, craft beer and real ale, football, politics and health matters. The truth should set us free, open us up, lead to deeper connections and not barriers, besides which surely for our truths to be true they must be impermanent, subject to change.

After all all is Dukkha, vanity, vanity, all is vanity…

I like the way that Ecclesiastes critiques humanities vanity that said it does appear overly pessimistic at times and for me this does need to be questioned. There is great meaning to be unearthed in life. Maybe this is where our search for truth ought to really lead, to follow Frankl’s truth and search out own meaning in whatever situation we find ourselves in, to discover our own truth and share it with others, not as a barrier to theirs, but as a way to encourage them to seek their own.

The time to permanently make up our minds about anything is never. We must always remain open to one another, to life, to truth. We must never let our truth claims become barriers to others. That is not to say we ought to bow to others, or not question theirs, the key though is to remain open, to not become vain about our claims, to remain open to something new and to always respect the humanity of another.

Remember nothing in life is permanent, everything changes, life is Dukkha…From dust we born and to dust we shall return…

It’s all vanity, its vanity, as we try to have control. It’s vanity, its all vanity, chaos rules it all…

Below is a video devotion based

on the material in this "blogspot"

The Stray Dog Philosophers Dare to Enter the Arena

 

Everywhere I go I seem to be surrounded by dogs, they are everywhere. They come in so many shapes and sizes and are just adorable. There was a giant New Found Land outside Café Nero the other day. He got up as I went to greet him and almost knocked over the table, spilling coffee everywhere. He was a friendly fella and very big boy. Altrincham is full of puppies and all kinds of house dogs. They all bring a smile to my face as I walk around. Now I know a lot of folk got dog’s during lockdown. They have become an increasingly expensive commodity. There is concern that as we continue to return to some kind of normality that some will struggle to keep them. I do hope not.

Did you know that there is a school of ancient Greek philosophy named after dogs. Do you know which one? Well it was the cynics. How and why? You may well ask? Dogs do not appear to be cynical animals at all. Well the cynicism aint what is use to be.

The word “cynic” comes from the ancient Greek word “kynicos” meaning “dog-like”, churlish. Although some suggest that the word “kun” actually takes its origin from “Kunosarges” which was the gymnasium where the early cynics were taught by Antisthenes and those who followed him were considered his “faithful hounds” Whatever the true origins of the world the cynics became known as “The Stray Dog Philosophers”

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. One morning, the great philosopher Plato had a stroke of insight. He caught everyone’s attention, gathered a crowd around him, and announced his deduction: “Man is defined as a hairless, featherless, two-legged animal!” Whereupon Diogenes abruptly leaped up from the lawn, dashed off to the marketplace, and burst back onto the porch carrying a plucked chicken - which he held aloft and shouted, “Behold: I give you... Man!” I am sure a real dog would have been more interested in scoffing the chicken.

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 were known as the “Stray dog philosophers”, so not the domesticated dogs we see on nice leads wandering around town. 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. Is that dog like? I suspect that the phrase “mud slinging” may have its origins in the original cynics.

The “cynics” became celebrities of a sort in Ancient Greece, even Alexander the Great was fascinated by Diogenes. Several stories are told of their encounters. It is said that one day Diogenes was philosophising to great crowds and Alexander demanded a private audience with him. Diogenes was not very impressed and ignored his request. Eventually Alexander found him sunbathing. Alexander asked him what he could do for him and Diogenese simply asked him to move a little to right as he was blocking the sun. Another version of story claims that when Alexander found Diogenes he was sifting through bones in a graveyard. Alexander asked what he was doing to which Diogenes replied “I am looking for the bones of your father, but cannot differentiate them from the bones of slaves.

Alexander was greatly humbled by Diogenes and said “if he wasn’t Alexander, he’d want to be Diogenes.”

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 but 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, know they slung mud and criticised those who did.

Diogenes and the other “cynics” remind me a little bit of “Statler and Waldorf” from Jim Henson’s “The Muppet Show”. They don’t step into the arena, they don’t participate in the show. They just sit on the balcony heckling the rest of the characters who are trying to create the show. They are archetypes of so many of us who sit back, pour scorn and criticise the efforts of others who are actually doing something. Those who have the courage to step into the arena and do what they can. Anyone can be a critic, it is so easy to just to sit back and criticise the best efforts of others while doing nothing yourself. I’m with Marge Piercy myself. The people I love the best jump into life headfirst. Instead of slinging mud, they do the work that is as common as mud. They participate rather than criticise the work of others.

Here is Piercy’s wonderful poem

“To be of use” by Marge Piercy
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

“Statler and Waldorf” are achetypes of the critic. They resemble the cynics of ancient Greeks. They sling the mud, they stand apart and just por scorn. Now while there is a role for being critical of those in power, it keeps them humble, grounded, level headed and saves us from the danger of hubris, it does not contribute. it does not encourage folk to truly play their part, to participate in the arena of life. It is easy to be a critic to cynically dissect and pull apart what others do. Social media is full of critics of all types. Critics who have opinions on anything and everything, but without the expertise. We are increasingly living in the age of the anti-expert too. It amazes me how folk can believe that reading a few things on the internet suddenly makes you an expert. Or am I being a bit cynical here myself?

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?

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 those words from Matthews Gospel (ch 7 vv 1- 12) we heard earlier “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 find the last line iin this passage from Matthew fascinating. Here Jesus states the Golden Rule of Compassion, the universal essence found in all the great religious traditions. In verse 12 you find those immortal words ‘In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.”

Here lays both the problem and the solution. In these words we find the reason why people are so harshly critical of others. I suspect that they find fault in others because deep down inside is that insidious voice, finding fault in everything they do. People often do love their neighbour as themselves. The problem being that deep down inside they feel no real love for themselves.

You see the greatest critic of them all, the one that seems to drive all other criticism, is that inner critic that quietly tears our own souls apart. I suspect that we find fault in others so as to deflect from that voice that eats away at everything loving and good within ourselves and our world for that matter.

Cynicism eats away at your soul, until you do nothing and believe in nothing. In such a nihilistic state anything goes, all morality is lost and barbarity rules. Cynicism soon becomes nihilism, the worse form emotional cowardice.

As Caitlin Moran wrote in the novel “How to Build a Girl”:

“Cynicism is, ultimately, fear. Cynicism makes contact with your skin, and a thick black carapace begins to grow — like insect armor. This armor will protect your heart, from disappointment — but it leaves you almost unable to walk. You cannot dance in this armor. Cynicism keeps you pinned to the spot, in the same posture, forever.”

Here she echoes wisdom from “Teddy” Roosevelt a hundred years earlier

On the 23rd April 1910 former US president Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt took to podium at the Sorbonne in Paris and delivered what has been considered one the great speeches. It was titled “Citizenship in a Republic”. Here are a couple extracts from it:

“The poorest way to face life is to face it with a sneer. There are many men who feel a kind of twisted pride in cynicism; there are many who confine themselves to criticism of the way others do what they themselves dare not even attempt. There is no more unhealthy being, no man less worthy of respect, than he who either really holds, or feigns to hold, an attitude of sneering disbelief toward all that is great and lofty, whether in achievement or in that noble effort which, even if it fails, comes to second achievement. A cynical habit of thought and speech, a readiness to criticise work which the critic himself never tries to perform…

… It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat…

The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be a cynic, or fop, or voluptuary. There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of great and generous emotion, of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder.”

Great language don’t you think.

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-gooders”. Since when is doing good a negative thing? Well in this cynical age it seems.

Too often we mistaken critical thinking for sneering cynicism. Critical thinking is vital, but it also needs to be constructive. Today the cynic seems to have an ever more powerful voice than they did in the past. Today they don’t sling mud, instead they just join in forums of the internet and social media and tear apart those who dare put their head above the parapet and step into the arena and do good. Just a decade or so after Roosevelts speech Bertrand Russell asserted “construction and destruction alike satisfy the will to power, but construction as a rule gives more satisfaction to the person who can achieve it.” Those who enter the arena and give things ago, even if they fail will find satisfaction. Those who cynically sneer, sling mud and point out the imperfections will likely live lives where “They get no satisfaction”

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 less easy to step into the arena and actually do something. What the world needs right now is less critics and more constructors as we attempt to build back society. That is not to say that we should not be critical. Any healthy society needs those who point ought what can be done better. The key is how we do this. We need to do so constructively. We need to learn from the original cynics and become folk who enter the arena with hope, ones who offer another way, a better way, rather ones who sit at home, pick up their keyboards and cynically dissect the work of those who dare to step into the arena of life.

So, I am going to leave you with a question. Are you going to be a mud slinger? Or are you going to be encourager or better still a constructor? The choice is yours. What is it going to be?

Below is a devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

Keeping It Real: On WA.I.T.T. & Reality

I remember a few years ago asking a friend what he was doing? He simply answered, “Keeping it real”. I laughed at the time. It was a phrase that was in common usage, almost told as a joke, but actually it has deep meaning. Afterall being real, living real and keeping it real is the only way to live. To live is to inhabit reality and to be fully alive in reality, doing the work we are here to do, for the good of all. To truly live spiritually alive can only occur in the real world, as challenging as it is. Our current life situation can put a strain on this. I know myself I am living an increasingly two dimensional life and this makes creativity difficult. I don’t like it, yes I am having to adjust, but would rather not live this way. That said it is absolutely necessary, only this week we passed the loss of 100,000 souls to this virus in this country alone and over 2million the world over. So we must live this way or God only knows what the death toll would be. We have to live this way, this is life, this is real life.

Life does not work out as you would expect it to, thus we have to constantly adjust and find ways to stay connected fully to reality. We also have to find ways to stay connected to one another. I am growing weary of this situation that we are all living through, but I, well all of us, have to live in this reality; this is our reality and we all have to guard against the danger of attempting to shape it to fit into what we would have it be, just because the world is not working out the way we would like it to be.

I have noticed frustration this week as I have heard some colleagues talk a bit too much about the potentials for growth in this current climate. Yes, there are opportunities to connect with new people. That said let us not pretend that this is not an ideal or even advantages reality. It is not, although it has allowed us to spread our nets a little further, well we could have been doing that anyway. For most of us the pandemic has reduced our experience of reality. We are living through frightening and destructive times. This is the reality of what we are living through. My word I do hope that we are all able to live through it.

So what do we do, we adjust, we adapt. We are doing this as well as we can. It is important to always remember that life rarely works out the way that we expect it to and that this is always the case.

I recently came across the following tale from my favourite Mulla Nasrudin, the holy fool. I love Nasrudin as he has this wonderful way of turning our expectations upside down. Here he acts in an unexpected way, which fools the would be thieves of his slippers.

"Some boys planned to steal Nasrudin's slippers and run away with them. They called to him and pointed to a tree. 'Nobody can climb that tree,' they said.

" 'Any one of you could,' said Nasrudin, 'and I will show you how.'

"He removed his slippers, then tucked them into his belt and began to climb.

" 'Nasrudin,' they cried, 'you won't need your slippers in a tree.'

" 'Why not?' Nasrudin said. 'Be prepared for every emergency, I say. For all I know I might find a road up there.'

Of course Nasrudin sounds ridiculous here. Of course, he won’t find a road up in the tree, even if he expects it could happen. Now while the story teaches that we can find our way in life in unexpected ways, there is a larger point being made. This is that reality is not your enemy, but it certainly can become the enemy of your expectations.

Yes, life often does not work out the way that we expect it to and this can lead to disappointment. The truth is that often life brings experiences that contradict the way we believe it ought to work out. Now when this happens fear can begin to take a hold and this it would appear is what leads to the rejection of reality for some kind of fantasy. It is not reality that is causing the problem, but our expectations about how reality should work out. Why should life work out the way that you and I expect it to?

Life is a constant conversation; we all live by what David Whyte has named “The Conversational Nature of Reality”. Life does work out exactly as we expect it to and we do act in exactly the way that the world expects us to. Reality exists in that conversation, which is never how we expect to be, that goes on between ourselves and one another. To keep it real it requires us to live there, often in the discomfort of reality, where life is rarely how we expect to be. While realising that we are living in this same reality.

Reality is the only place to live. The problem it seems is that for some in order to do so, reality has to be rejected for some other distorted view of life. This it appears to have been an increase in this these last few months, which has led to more and more folk falling down the rabbit holes of all kinds of “conspiracy theories”. These are a distortion of reality into something else, as if there was some kind of plot against the world. It is claimed that reality is not what we are experiencing, that we all living in some kind of Matrix or some other science fiction film. That reality is not real at all. I suspect that the fact that we are living ever increasingly two dimensional lives has helped to fuel this, we are not able to connect as we would like to and for good reason. This can lead to a sense that we are not all in this together.

It is true we often create worlds in our heads, that differ from the world of reality. It is a child like coping mechanism. This though can stop us living the life we are here to live, to do the work for the good of all. This alternative reality can at times turn vicious and deadly, and can lead to all kinds of scapegoating, as it has done throughout human history, when one group or other is blamed for all of life’s troubles, QAnon is just the latest example of this. There have been many others throughout the ages. They are taking on more prominence in our time due in no small part to this general sense of physical separation that we are having to live through. We have to live this way, of course we do, but there are many detrimental consequences of this.

This brings to mind a tale from Anthony DeMello’s “One Minute Wisdom”

"The Master claimed that the world most people see is not the world of Reality, but a world their head creates.

"When a scholar came to dispute this, the Master set two sticks on the floor in the form of the letter T and asked, 'What do you see here?'

" 'The letter T,' said the scholar.

" 'Just as I thought,' said the Master. 'There's no such things as a letter T; that's a symbol in your head. What you have here is two broken branches in the form of sticks.' "

Sometimes all we see are symbols. We look at the symbols and fail to see the reality.

Reality is a deeply sacred thing; we need to live in reality. This is where faith comes alive, where we can do our good works for the good of all. We need to love and respect reality and thus bring the spirit to life through it.

In “An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith” Barbara Brown Taylor writes: 

“What is saving my life now is the conviction that there is no spiritual treasure to be found apart from the bodily experiences of human life on earth. My life depends on engaging the most ordinary physical activities with the most exquisite attention I can give them. My life depends on ignoring all touted distinctions between the secular and the sacred, the physical and the spiritual, the body and the soul. What is saving my life now is becoming more fully human, trusting that there is no way to God apart from real life in the real world.”

I am missing three-dimensional connection. I am missing the physicality of interaction and the gritty reality of live entertainment. Yes, there is much we can connect with and there is truly high quality music and theatrical performances being created through modern technology. Zoom is great in helping us to stay connected but none of it is quite the same as living breathing flesh and holistic connection. I miss the feel of being with people of enjoying live entertainment, of seeing the whole of a person, it is tiring making do with reductionist experiences. I miss the physical nature of live entertainment. I miss the vibrations that shake through your body from live music, seeing the spittle as actors spit out there words, I am also missing the smell of everything. Life is too sanitised, I miss the grime and dirt, where so much of life grows and nurtures.

This week I remembered a concert, many years ago, at Cross street Chapel. It was the beautiful physicality of two East Asian musicians that had a powerful effect on me. The flautist moved me particularly watching this tiny body working over time to control the beautiful sound she was creating, as the vibrations moved through my body. I remember thinking of the years of practice that must have gone into creating this beautiful work of art that I was not just experiencing with my ears, but my whole humanity and with others too.

It brought to my mind those wonderful words of Wendell Berry from his poem “How to be a poet”, the second stanza

Breathe with unconditional breath   

the unconditioned air.   

Shun electric wire.   

Communicate slowly. Live   

a three-dimensioned life;   

stay away from screens.   

Stay away from anything   

that obscures the place it is in.   

There are no unsacred places;   

there are only sacred places   

and desecrated places.   

Yes, two-dimensional activity is wonderful, it allows folk to connect and to enjoy so many things that they would be utterly cut off from without it. I am grateful for this and I am fully engaged and conversing with it, but it is not real in the trustiest sense. It does not involve me wholly, it does not touch my spirit in exactly the same way. It is enough for now and must remain so for quite some time, it has to be, but it is not a replacement for the reality of the three-dimensional life.

To live spiritually alive, requires us to engage fully with reality. This is why I have never liked the following phrase by the twentieth century French Jesuit Priest and Philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin who claimed that “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”It is often heard by folk who like to call themselves “spiritual but not religious”. Now while I think I know what people mean by it; it bothers me greatly. The reason is that in my view it appears to diminish the human, the physical life. It seems to suggest that the physical life is of lesser importance, merely a home for the spirit. That what comes before and perhaps follows our physical life is somehow more important than this life. That somehow our human experiences are less than sacred. I am not convinced; dualism has always troubled me. I personally do not see a separation between body and spirit. This disembodied spirituality troubles me. The reason is that if we see the body as somehow less than spirit, or on the other hand see nothing sacred at all in our humanity this can lead to all kinds of troubles. I personally see the body as deeply sacred indeed. For me the body is a beautiful expression of the spirit come to life. Life is a sacred thing.

Life is a sacred thing, and we are all in this together. Something that two-dimensional living can sometimes lead us to lose sight of. We are in this together, we must not forget this, if we do we will be able to do the work we are here to do, for the good of all.

We need to remember W.A.I.T.T. it needs to become the acronym of our time, it may well be the acronym of the last twelve months; “W.A,I.T.T” “We Are In This Together”, “W.A.I.T.T.” We are bound to each other and this planet, our bodily home, across races, ethnicities, gender identities, economic status and nationality. Every person matters, everything matters and yet at times, due to our physical separation we can lose sight of this, it can seem like a fantasy, something that is not real and two-dimensional living can exacerbate this.

We must not lose this sense of “W.A.I.T.T.”, we need to embody this reality and find ways to build ties to one another and widen our circles of concern. This is the work of faith, this is faithful living. This is not easy, it is hard work and our current situation make it even more difficult.