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"

Spring is Coming: For Hope is Always Sprouting

“Psalm 23 for This Moment” by Kevin Tarsa Psalm 23 re-cast in the language of Love

May I remember
in this tender moment
that Love is my guide,
always,
shepherding me toward ways of openness and compassion.

I have what I need, really,
with Love at my side,
above me, below me, in front of me, behind me,
inside every cell of me,
Love infused everywhere!

Just when the weight of the world I inhabit
threatens to drop me in place
and press my hope down into the ground beneath me
Love invites me to rest for a gentle while,
and leads the center of my soul to the quiet, still,
restoring waters nearby that,
somehow,
I had not noticed.

And so, Love,
quietly,
sets me once again on its tender and demanding path.

Even when the walls close around me
and the cries of death echo through untold corners,
gripping my heart with fear and sadness,
I know...
I know
that all will be well,
that I will be well,
when Love whispers
near to me,
glints at the corner of my eye,
rests with gentle and persistent invitation upon my shoulders.

Yes, Love blesses me,
Even as the sources and symbols of my pain look on.
Love blesses me from its infinite well,
And I turn
and notice...
that goodness and kindness and grace,
follow me everywhere,
everywhere I go.

I live in a house of Love,
Love that will not let me go.

I live in a house of love,
And always will.

A rather lovely re-casting of the 23rd Psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd”

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!

So wrote Robert Browning in his poem “Home Thoughts, from Abroad” published in 1845.

My friend pointed out that this was the song I could hear as I sat in silent meditation with others as the sun came up on Tuesday morning. It was the first time I had heard the bird song for a while. I thought to myself that it was perhaps a sign of Spring that is beckoning, that is singing. I am pleased I was able to hear it.

It has felt like a long winter and I yearn for spring. I have had some health issues, which is rare for me and there has been much grief. Every week it seems someone has left the circle of life. It has weighed heavy at times. So, it was beautiful to hear the song of the thrush that cold Tuesday morning. It reminded me that all is well, that the song of life is always singing.

I was full of song myself that morning as I had enjoyed a wonderful night singing with the choir I have joined. Despite the weather there was a sense of spring about to come. Despite the troubles in the world around me and the wider world, there was a sense of Hope and renewal within me.

“In the spring time of the year, silver buds of hope appear.”

Imbolc Sunday 1st of February is traditionally considered the beginning of Spring. There are signs all around us. Monday 2nd of February is “Candlemass”, officially the end of the Christmas Season. Traditionally this was always the end of Christmas and not Epiphany, the 12th day of Christmas. 

There have been other signs of hope too this week, suggesting the end of winter and the beginning of a new spring. Wednesday was the most beautiful day, the weather wasn’t so bad either. There are new shoots coming through. The snow drops are everywhere. The snowdrop is considered a symbol of hope. Legend has it that they appeared as such after Adam and Even were expelled from Eden. Eve was about to give up hope that the winter would never end, but an angel appeared and transformed some snowflakes into the flower snowdrop, showing that the winter will eventually come to an end. The flower is linked to the purification associated with “Candlemass” as the old rhyme goes:

“The Snowdrop, in purest white array, first rears her head in “Candlemass” day.

The 2nd of February is also “Groundhog Day” another sign of the measure of how long the winter is going to be. I will keep my eye out to see if the Groundhog sees his shadow. If it does it means six more weeks of winter. If not then spring is here. Not scientific I know, but a nice bit of mid-winter fun. If you have never seen the film, I strongly recommend it. It is one of most spiritual ever made as it symbolises the cycle of life and the possibility of redemption. There is always possibility, there is endless hope.

3rd of February is “Elmo’s” birthday, that simple and loveable character from Sesame Street. I love Elmo’s simple philosophy of life. As he says “Elmo thinks it’s important to be kind because if you’re kind to somebody, then they’ll be kind to somebody, and it goes on and on and on.” We should all be more like Elmo. The world needs more of us to plant such seeds everywhere we go.

There are many flowers and buds appearing and I have seen a few gifts of flowers too. Last Sunday when I arrived at Queens Road there was a beautiful array of tulips left in a vase. No one seemed to know who had left them there. I did not notice at first a simple note that was left with them. I only noticed it when I mentioned them as the service began. The note read “For Derek A Special Man who was loved by all who knew him”. The flowers were left by Gwyneth Hare who runs the dance school at Queens Road.

I have been thinking a lot of Derek this week. He meant so much to the wider Urmston community as well as his family and we at Queens Road. Derek had a wonderful friendly and natural welcoming quality. The kind of person who put you at ease. We talked many times over the years and he could not have been more supportive and or encouraging of me and my ministry. The last time we spoke one to one he thanked me for my worship. What he said was that it always felt relatable, that it spoke to him personally. That the stories I told had the capacity to reach into the heart. He was helping and encouraging me right to end. He was the kind of person that brought hope in the winter time. Just like the words of his favourite hymn “And I’ll bring you hope, when hope is hard to find and I’ll bring a song of love and a rose in the winter time.”

I recently conducted the funeral of a friend, Karla. Someone I have known 20 years. A wonderful woman who like Derek was a symbol of hope, love and service. I went to see her at the hospice the night before she died, just as I had seen Derek the day before he died. I did not know that this would be their final night when I saw them. My friend had called me to see her to make plans for her funeral, although before we discussed things she has one or two important matters to attend to for others. She didn’t want to leave any loose ends before she died. Her service was deeply moving and spoke of her spirit. Yes, she gave so much to many, whilst also enjoying her life to the fullest. She was a woman of great courage and an inspiration to many. Several of the women that she helped over the years will pass on her legacy to many more. They will continue to plant the seeds of hope that she helped to bring to flower in them.

Karla and Derek will not get to see this Spring time, but the seeds that they shared in their time will be planted and many of them will grow.

“Will they blossom? Will they grow? We who plant the seed must know.”

We never know the impact that we make upon the lives of others. We can begin chain of reactions in the hearts and minds of others. That is why I say everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every interaction. It may not take seed immediately. It may not go anywhere, but some will and in time.

These later days of winter will eventually turn to spring, even if the groundhog claims we have six more weeks, eventually it will turn to spring and the seeds we plant will grow. Look around you for the seeds of hope that will become the new shoots all around us. Hope springs eternal and we do not seem too far from spring. The seeds are there planted beneath the earth, waiting to give birth.

Maybe there are lessons that we can learn from the patience of seeds. They lay there buried, surrendered to the process that is yet to come, when they will flower and flourish for all to share. Like those seeds there is so much buried within us waiting to be born, maybe not today but some day. There are signs of hope though, may we nurture them.

This brings to mind a favourite little gem I first came across a few years ago it is taken from “Dwellings. A Spiritual History of the Living World” by Linda Hogan,

"Seed. There are so many beginnings. In Japan, I recall, there were wildflowers that grew in the far, cool region of mountains. The bricks of Hiroshima, down below, were formed of clay from these mountains, and so the walls of houses and shops held the dormant trumpet flower seeds. But after one group of humans killed another with the explosive power of life’s smallest elements split wide apart, the mountain flowers began to grow. Out of destruction and bomb heat and the falling of walls, the seeds opened up and grew. What a horrible beauty, the world going its own way, growing without us. But perhaps this, too, speaks of survival, of hope beyond our time."

Yes, there are seeds of hope waiting to be born and there are shoots already showing. There are many dark days to come through, of course there are, but there is hope beyond this time, in the not too distant future. The Hope has to be there growing in our hearts and souls or we won’t plant those seeds. It does not mean there is not horror and destruction in our lives now, but nor does that horror in the present moment stop us seeing that there is goodness in our time and place. There is so much goodness and amazing work going on all around us. Look for the examples. Look at those who give their lives for others, those who live from their hearts.

“Tender shoots thirst for the sun, surging with each day begun. Banish darkness, hate and fear; golden fruit will soon appear. Banish darkness, hate and fear; golden fruit will soon appear.

There is great tragedy in life, there is hate and suffering, but that is not all that there is. There is a great deal of quiet goodness, which we rarely celebrate, it certainly gets little publicity. As they say they rarely print the good news. Why are only negative things called radical, what about radical decency, radical goodness, even radical ok-ness. You know I once heard a wonderful speech on “radical ok-ness” It was given by the father of the bride at my nephew Joe’s wedding. I remember when I heard it how it caught me in that place deep in the soul of me. I remember him talking about the joys and sorrows of life and the pains and struggles we all go through and then he talked about an abiding love that is present in life that can hold us and sustain us in all of this. He named it “Radical Ok-ness”. This phrase really caught the heart of me and awakened the soul of me. I thought yes that’s it and in my mind I began to sing a song I once heard based on words by Julian of Norwich, the words were “All will be well, all will be well, all manner of things, they will be well.”

By the way the woman who wrote that song Meg Barnhouse died in the last week or so. She was a singer song writer and a Unitarian Universalist minister. I first heard the song at Summer School 16 years ago. It was played by Jean Mason to some young people who were struggling with anxiety. There was Jean passing on love, giving from her heart to others. Another person who gave so much to others and who left a beautiful legacy behind. That moment has stayed with me all these years, although Jean sadly died many years ago.

All will be well by Meg Barnhouse

It is easy to look at the world through eyes of despair and say that it is not ok, there is something rotten in life. There is much that is not ok. I am sure we could all make a long list of all that is wrong with life and particularly humanity. So yes it is easy to say that nothing is ok; it is easy to fall into the Hobbesian nightmare and believe has he said “And the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short” or in the words of the confession in the Book of common Prayer that “there is no health in us”. Human beings do some terrible things to one another and yet on the whole what I see is goodness and in the end goodness seems to prevail. I do see an ok-ness in life, when we choose it. When we bring it to life. This begins I believe by first of all seeing this, by bearing witness to this ok-ness. I suspect that radical ok-ness is about bringing this goodness to life, in our very lives. When we do we bring the “Kin-dom” of Love to life. I see this every day all around me in the lives of ordinary people living their lives.

We need to live in and through hope, we need to be hope, we need to say yes to life. Just because there are problems and suffering in life it does not mean we should turn away from life and lose all hope, make despair the orientation of our heart. What kills us is cynicism, giving up on the possibility of what we can make things in life.

A lack of cynicism is something I saw so powerfully in both my friend Karla and Derek, they lived with an enthusiasm for life and others. Yes, they had lived through challenges and troubles, but both lived in and by hope and certainly without cynicism.

We need to say yes to life, to possibility, to the Hope in our hearts. We need to keep on planting seeds. Let us follow the example of those who lived by and through hope. For hope is, as Elizabeth Barrette wrote in “Origami Emotion”

“Origami Emotion” by Elizabeth Barrette

Hope is
Folding paper cranes
Even when your hands get cramped
And your eyes tired,
Working past blisters and paper cuts,
Simply because something in you
Insists on
Opening its wings.

Yes, it’s a long cold winter and we are not through it yet. That said there are signs of hope all around us and there is something beautiful within us, waiting to be born, to be given birth to, in our hearts and hearths. Let us nurture them and share them with each other, encourage each other to do so. Let us become symbols of hope to one another. Just like the song thrush I heard on Tuesday morning, or the simple gifts of Tulips left on the table at Queens Road, or the loving example of Derek and Karla and or the natural beauty waiting to come alive all around us. Let us live by the spirit of hope, let us plant those seeds. It matters you know it really does. For everything is sacred, everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every word and every deed.

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

The Shyness of Spring: Beauty Awakens Slowly, But Surely

“Beauty Is Our Birthright” by Rebekah Savage

Sometimes we awake in the morning with a heaviness in our chest.
Sometimes we awake in the morning with the endless to-do list rattling through our thoughts, the nagging reminders of what was left undone yesterday,
and the pangs of “I have to do it all again today?” pinching at our insides.
Sometimes we awake in the morning, and we’d rather go back to sleep,
We would rather escape under the covers, a rock, the bottom of the closet.

And then,
The first sliver of sunshine may dance across our face. Beautiful.
And then,
The wafting scent of a new day may glide over us. Beautiful.
And then,
Signs of life blossom around us, to include inside of us. Beautiful.

Beauty is our birthright. Just as we are born in love, through love To love;
To nurture beauty is to return to our essence,
To touch, taste and experience creation as beautiful,
As the fragile, wonderful and wild interdependence with the Spirit of Life,
that which is so much greater than ourselves.

May beauty wrap and delight us, and guide our way.
May beauty be yours now and forever.

Amen and ashe.

As is often the case I woke up on Monday morning feeling tired. I could see a busy week ahead. On top of that I was wondering what to explore this week. It is a familiar feeling. Sunday does take a lot from me. I arose on Monday engaged in my usual morning rituals and stepped out into the world, and headed for the park with Molly. We walked around and took in the natural beauty. It was a beautiful blue morning. The blue sky and the green grass are good for the human soul, it awakens us, or maybe it awakens something within us. I felt it deeply that morning. As Molly played and we wandered round I noticed the other colours of the Spring flowers emerging. They emerge slowly almost one after the other, new colours each new week.

“One thing I love about Spring is its shyness. How the new life slowly emerges. How it allows us to adjust to its beauty. Every day something new to discover. A sight, a sound, a colour. An awakening feast for the senses. May you open to it slowly, but surely.”

As I returned home I typed those words as a morning blessing to friends. Why do we call this time Spring? It doesn’t just suddenly spring to life. Yes, I know it comes from an old English word “Springan”, which meant to leap, or burst forth, fly up, spread or grow. Think of water bursting forth from a spring. The season and the awakening fo the new flowers and life during spring time, doesn’t just burst froth though and suddenly appear, it comes slowly and surely, it comes faithfully. Most folk are impatient for it to burst forth, but it pays no attention to our cries. It does come though. It has being doing so all week. The blue sky, the green grass and all the new colours, bringing forth life and blessing us with its beauty. All we have to do is open our eyes to it.

By the way a friend responded to my question by stating “It doesn’t sound right if we rename it creeping”. She does have a point.

I have been enjoying the emerging beauty of spring all week. This is not to say I am ignoring what is troubled within me, my community and my world. I am not closing my senses to anything, I am just ensuring my senses are also open to what is good and beautiful. I am living with open eyes and an open heart and an open soul. “Let beauty awake, for beauty’s sake.”

Spring begins tentatively, but it advances with tenacity. All the new life touches me deeply. No matter how small and delicate the roots are they insist on coming to life; they insist on their way as they press up through ground that looked, only a few weeks earlier, as if it would never grow anything again. The crocuses and snowdrops don’t bloom for long. But their mere appearance, however brief, is always a harbinger of hope and from those small beginnings, hope grows at a geometric rate. The days get longer, the winds get warmer, and the world grows green again. Followed by a feast of flowers and blossoms.

This brings to my heart the wonderful poem “Metamorphosis” by May Sarton; a poem about transformation during springtime.

“Metamorphosis” by May Sarton

Always it happens when we are not there —
The tree leaps up alive in the air,
Small open parasols of Chinese green
Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always manages to get there first.

Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stirring in the empty air,
Look up one day through a dissolving screen
To find no star, but this multiplied green,
Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.
Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!

On Sunday mornings, as soon as I arrive at Urmston, I always take Molly out for a walk. As we did this Sunday I noticed my first Cherry Blossom of the year. I took a picture. I always notice the Cherry Blossom in Urmston before I do so in Altrincham. Is there anything more beautiful. Their beauty in many ways comes from how short lived their blooming is. The cherry blossom is at its most beautiful about a week after its full bloom, when half of the pink snow covers the ground. The beauty of the Cherry blossom is in both its impermanence and imperfection; at its most beautiful when their season is half complete, or at least in the eye of this beholder.

I posted the picture and began my yearly ritual of inviting friends to share their pictures of the Cherry blossom with me and other friends. I was obviously distracted as I dropped my glasses case. I realised later and thought I must have lost it forever. Well not so. I returned to Urmston the on Tuesday, walked Molly round the block and just as I was putting her poo bag in the bin, there was my glasses case lying there in the ground. I’m glad my eyes were open on Tuesday morning. I then returned to the church and engaged in a beautiful conversation with some of the congregation in our “Common Search for Meaning” group.

I returned back to Altrincham, Molly me went for a walk, and this time I noticed the cherry Blossom in Stamford park. We walked, Molly played and I engaged in some beautiful conversations, some of joy and a couple of grief and sadness. I walked with open and eyes, an open heart and open senses, including the sixth sense.

Here is a link to "Spring Watch" episode on "Cherry Blossom" and it's beauty in Japan. it is an annual festival, spiritual in nature. It is incredible Springwatch in Japan: Cherry Blossom Time  

It is important to recognise the beauty in the world, despite the very real troubles of our personal lives, our community and the wider world. There is so much that is beautiful in this world, in this life, in each other and it is important to notice it and to share what you see. This is why I love poetry; I love the way that gifted poets see what is beautiful, capture it with words and share in such a beautiful way that it awakens something in our hearts.

Here is a lovely example; here William Stafford beautifully depicts that the world is more that the troubles we see. that there is a very real world of nature that stretches from the cells of all our bodies to all forms of life that surrounds us, that we are part of this incredible thing that is life.

“Time for Serenity, Anyone?” by William Stafford

I like to live in the sound of water,
in the feel of mountain air. A sharp
reminder hits me: this world still is alive;
it stretches out there shivering toward its own
creation, and I’m part of it. Even my breathing
enters into the elaborate give-and-take,
this bowing to sun and moon, day or night,
winter, summer, storm, still—this tranquil
chaos that seems to be going somewhere.
This wilderness with a great peacefulness in it.
This motionless turmoil, this everything dance.

As I walk in beauty I take in the natural world all around me. I remember that “this world is still alive” and it is alive in me and I need to feel this aliveness, in order to live fully in this world. It is one way that I connect to the beautiful power that I call God, it is not the only way, but is one way. As I look at the blooming flowers and the cherry blossom I am reminded of its impermanence, that it does not last for ever, but is part of the ever changing cycle of life and existence. Yes, this world can be difficult and painful at times, but that even these troubles do not last forever. I live in, by and through hope. I walk in hope as well as beauty. I know that the better world I dream of is possible, if I didn’t I wouldn’t be a minister of faith. I may not always see the fruits, but I do from time to time. As I walk in beauty and hope I see beauty and new life all around me. If lifts my heart and inspires my soul.

We have just past the Spring Equinox, last Thursday 20th, the day when light and dark are in balance. It happens twice a year both in Autumn and Spring. Equinox means “equal night”. So now there will be more light than dark, may our eyes be open to it. May we live with open eyes.

Anyone can walk around pointing out what is wrong and ugly in the world; anyone can walk around pointing what is life denying. That is easy, it takes no effort. That said to become keenly and consistently aware of what is good, true and beautiful demands effort, consistent effort, it takes work. To do so we must open our hearts, our senses and our souls and we must keep them open. You must live with open eyes. Sometimes all you have to do is look up at the blossom above and all around you, or the little dogs playing in the park and you awaken to what is beautiful and holy. For all ground is holy ground. Shake off your shoes, shed them like Moses at the burning bush. Shed the scales from your eyes and live with open eyes. See the beauty around you, the beauty you walk in. Be inspired by it, walk in beauty, absorb it, let it fill my soul, and share it with all you meet.

When you recognise the beauty in life, you will recognise it in yourself and the people in this world. Yes, there is much wrong in this world, but there is much that is right. If you recognise this, you will walk in beauty.

I am going to end this morning with some Mary Oliver. Here is “Mindful”

“Mindful” by Mary Oliver

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for --
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world --
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant --
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these --
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

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

Get the Balance Right: See Saw Margery Daw

I recently had the pleasure of meeting a new born baby, Eileen. Yes I did sing the song. In fact I sang a few songs. I have sang several since, you know the usual nursery rhymes, like “rockabye baby”, “all the pretty little horses”, “Frerer Jaques”, “Twinkle, twinkle”, “The cradle song”. I Spent a bit of time this week recording them on voice notes, I have enjoyed it immensely. I have also bumped into Eloise Williamson, who grew up at Dunham Road, a few times these last couple of weeks, out and about with her twin daughters. She tells me they are 6 months old now. They have already developed unique personalities. She pushes them around in a double pram, one on top of the other, like a mobile bunk bed. I have noticed that the top child is always happy and smiling, while the baby below always seems to be crying. I have also noticed that as soon as I talk to her she seems happy again, especially if I sing. I have always been a bit of a baby whisperer, apparently my voice is calming, soporific some say, I hope you manage to stay away during this sermon. It is fascinating to see these two personalities developing, I wonder what their lives will be like. They seem an interesting balance of a happy jolly child and another that always seems to be crying. Why this is it is hard to know, I don’t think it is anything do with the position in the pram. I suspect that it is just that some of us need more soothing than others. I am told I cried a lot as a baby.

It all got me pondering as life always does.

On Tuesday morning I was out with Molly in the park. I was enjoying Molly’s joy, although I was interrupted many times by phone calls. As I walked passed the play area I noticed the see-saw which brought me back to those children’s songs. I found myself singing the classic “See saw”, I have been singing all week.

See Saw Margery Daw,
Johnny shall have a new master;
He shall earn but a penny a day,
Because he can't work any faster,

I thought about the joy of the see saw. It’s a game that you can’t play alone. You need someone else to play the game. It’s a game that is about moving constantly from one side to another. It’s a game in which equilibrium, perfect balance, is never reached. It’s a game of energy, weight and motion. When was the last time you played on one?

It is a strange kind of nursery rhyme, when you think about it. It is thought that the rhyme has its origins as a sawyer’s work song, as they would work in pairs and would therefore encourage the other to work faster, thus mimicking the see-saw. It is thought that “daw” was a lazy person, think of the “Daw Mouse”, always sleeping in Alice in Wonderland. So it wasn’t really a nursery rhyme at all, more a kind of work song. Instilling the classic protestant work ethic.

Of course being stuck in anything is no way to live, there is something wonderful and beautiful in rhythmical movement, in it we flow with life. Also there is something in moving with another. We awaken something in each other, like singing to a baby, there is such joy in it for the singer and the baby too, as the baby responds to the song.

Movement enables balance it seems, it brings us to life, that said there is also time for rest, for joy, to be dormant. There is something that can be corrosive to our humanity in just working. As the old saying goes, “All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy.” This is why I love singing to folk so much, it is playful to me, but also encouraging. It is hard to get the balance right though in any aspect of life.

I wonder if there is ever perfect balance, equilibrium in life? It seems to me that everything is always moving, perfect balance is never achieved. Perhaps it is better that way. You can never “get the balance right”, to quote another 80’s pop song. They are great lyrics by the way, by good old “Depeche Mode”.

This time of celestial and seasonal balance is a perfect one to check out the balance in our own lives. Where are the extremes in our own lives that need balancing out? How do we see ourselves and each other? Is this in balance? Do we have a balanced view of life? When looking at ourselves do we have a balanced and honest view? How are our “umeres”, as the ancient physicians used to call them, are all four of these fluids in balance? How is your health, your physical, your emotional, your mental and your spiritual health? These four could well be our present day “umeres”. Physicians no longer believe we have four fluids that need to be in balance, that said our well being still needs stability and balance.

“Get the balance right.”

A balanced life is considered a good life. We are told that we need to balance the books, in the home and in the community. A balanced diet is vital to healthy living. Power needs to be balanced in the public sphere, too much power in any individual or even groups hand is dangerous. Balance is vital to performing physical activities. Most athletes are admired for their balance as much as for their strength and speed.

Balance is seen as vital by virtually all spiritual and philosophical traditions, extremes in any sense lead to danger and destruction. As Robert Fulghum advises “Be aware of wonder. Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.” The philosopher John Locke wrote “An excellent man, like precious metal, is in every way invariable; A villain, like the beams of a balance, is always varying, upwards and downwards.”

This coming Wednesday 20th March is the Spring Equinox, the day when light and dark are in balance. This happens twice a year both in Autumn and Spring. Equinox means “equal night”

The March Equinox is known as the Vernal Equinox, meaning new, as it marks the beginning of spring. In the northern hemisphere as we tilt towards the sun the days grow longer and sunnier. The September Equinox is called the Autumn Equinox, marking the beginning of this season. In the southern hemisphere these seasons are at opposites ends of the year.

Now it is said that there are magical properties to the Equinox. Many stories, in a variety cultures, speak of this. One such comes from China. Does anyone know what it might be?

Well according to Chinese legend, for an hour before and after the Equinox on Li Chun (the day when Spring Begins), it becomes possible to balance things that otherwise it would not be possible to do so. On this day it said that for a short time you can even balance an egg, due to gravity balancing itself. Now apparently this mythos received a great deal of publicity in the 1940’s, even Einstein commented on it. It is said that in the city of Chongqing many such egg standings took place around this time. Now it seems that this wasn’t just a trick, an illusion. The truth is with the right egg on the right surface you can stand an egg on its end on any day of the year.

This time of year is about eggs, new life, fertility, new babies, new beginnings. I was talking about eggs on Tuesday morning. How much I love poached eggs. How do you like yours? The best I ever had was at the Ritz a few years ago, when I won a night in a suite there.

This got me thinking about yoke and balance, the image of eggs standing up and their life sustaining centres. References to Yoke (A different kind of yoke I know) in the Bible is about balance; about balance as we work through life; it is about teamwork, cooperation, discipleship. One of the meanings of the word yoke in yoga is union, derived from the Sanskrit word yuj, which means 'to yoke'. When oxen are yoked, they must work together for a common purpose. In contemporary yoga, the union is often described as “a process of integrating the body, mind and spirit. This reminds me of those “umeres “of medieval medicine and getting the balance right.

“Get the balance right”

Yoke also got me thinking about parenting qualities and new born babies and how equilibrium is so vital to this. When I think of the “Yoke of Jesus”, it is this that comes to mind. A love that is gentle and humble, it is close to the ground, the earth, the ground of being. Tender like the love of a mother for her child, a father with the babe in his arms, a grandparent or close friend. It’s a love that comes alive in relationship. A baby needs to find rest, comfort, care, protection and light-heartedness. Don’t we all though, not just babies.

A friend called me on Tuesday, while I was out with Molly, talking about the stresses of caring for his mother who is in her nineties. He said it was his turn as his mother had always been there for him. Particularly a time twenty years when she went to great lengths travelling half way down the country to keep him alive. She was the light in the dark of his life and now it was his time as she enters the twilight of hers. There is a beautiful balance here too. I wonder if he sings her songs around her hospital bed.

Life naturally balances itself out, but it requires us to play the see-saw game, to play our role in getting the balance right. Balance is hard to achieve, it is never perfect. It isn’t a constant, static, state of being. We live like a seesaw constantly moving from one end to the other, attempting to get the balance right.

Maybe this is something to think of as we enter spring and move towards Easter, to develop a new kind of equinox; perhaps this is what we need to be give birth to this Spring time. That would be the perfect Easter egg when the day of re-birth, of new beginnings comes. This time of celestial and seasonal balance is a perfect one to check out the balance in our own lives. Where are the extremes in our own lives that need balancing out? How are our “umeres”, as the ancient physicians use to call them, are all four in balance? How is your health, your physical, your emotional, your mental and your spiritual health? These four could well be our present day “umeres”. Have we got the balance right in our lives?

Aristotle proposed that the key to authentic happiness and not mere momentary satisfaction or pleasure arose from living a life of “Virtue” and that this could be achieved by the “Doctrine of the Golden Mean”, by living a life centred on a sort of dampened equilibrium. That virtue lays in avoiding excess. He saw courage as lying somewhere between cowardice and recklessness.

One of the great Greek myths illustrates this perfectly. Icarus was advised by Daedalus to fly somewhere between the sun and the sea, but he flew too close to the sun. Centuries later didn’t Goldilocks rejected the porridge that was too hot and too cold for the one that was just right, she chose the middle way, thus following the virtuous life.

The key to living in balance and harmony is about relationship with life, with each other, with ourselves and with God, another four modern day “Umeres” if you like.

Isn’t this what life is built upon, our relationships. I suspect above everything that this is the key. To ensure that our lives are in balance in these four aspects of our lives. That are relationship “Umeres” are inbalance. So how are your relationship “Umeres”? Are they imbalanced? Have you got the balance right?

Perhaps that is something to check, in this season of balance. How are you in relation to your inner self, the people you share your life with, life itself and your God, however you understand God? Have you got the balance right?

Relationships and trust are so vital to babies and the most vulnerable amongst us. We need to trust those who love and care for us. They need to feel that they can rest easy in our yoke. We need to trust in those who care for us too. Love and care needs to be in balance too. This is never static it is constantly moving back and forth. It needs to rock back and forth. A bit like another nursey rhyme I’ve been thinking of this week. I recorded it for Eileen the other day.

Rock a bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

Lets step forward into Spring, gently and lovingly, caring and being cared for. With our love gentle and balanced, moving forward sustained by an ever loving yoke. Let us rest together in the yoke of life, that life sustaining love.

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

Attention without feeling is only a report

I have a friend who pays attention, who notices everything. It is a wonderful quality, although it can be somewhat exhausting for them at times. I empathise and am both blessed and cursed by this aspect of humanity. I notice things.

My friend hosted a dinner party at the weekend. It was a wonderful evening. I paid attention to them as they paid attention to the needs of those present. The food was incredible and the company equally so. Each persona needs were fed, each was served in a loving and attentive way and the conversations were listened to with an attentive ear. It was wonderful to observe someone giving their full attention to others. It was a person offering what they had to others in a deeply loving way, it was a joy to behold. It was deep devotion, prayer in action if I have ever witnessed it. My friend reminded me of both Mary and Martha in a passage from Luke’s Gospel.

I saw a similar example last Tuesday morning going for coffee with friends. It was my turn to pay and I was mesmerised by the young woman behind the counter, called Mars, who knew the orders of all 12 of us. Now we are regulars at this place, but I didn’t have a clue what each of us drink. Whereas Mars clearly pays attention to each of her customers, she is devoted to her work and those she dutifully serves. She also pays attention to us as individuals, she listens and shares as we listen to her. I often take time in conversation, I notice when something isn’t right with her and of course we talk. My gift it seems to many.

Mars told me a few days later that generally she has a terrible memory. She is diagnosed with “Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder” (ADHD). So generally she can struggle with paying attention. Yet her love and dedication to her work seems to focus her attention.

Attention is about love. It is love in its most basic form. When we pay attention to one another, when we notice each other’s needs, we are living by love. By paying attention to another’s needs we are loving them and accepting them as they are. This to me is the love that is spoken of in the great spiritual traditions. It is more than passively observing in a mindful way. It is also more than empathy, feeling with another, true attention leads to devoted action. It is form of deep generous love. When we are generous we give our whole hearts to life and one another.

It is said that whenever the Buddha would teach he would always begin with lessons on generosity. He did this because it brings with it joy and self respect and therefore it is a platform from which to look at all our life experiences, including the very painful ones and thus not become overwhelmed by them. It is thought that the Buddha always began talking about generosity because he believed that we all have something to give. Our gifts might not be material in nature.

Giving begins with attention, in one form or another. It might be by offering a listening ear, enabling another to be comfortable in an uncomfortable situation, I have another friend who is wonderful at this. Generosity is a kind of hospitality it welcomes the other, the stranger as they are, exactly as they are. Attention is the ultimate welcome and act of generosity. Something I saw in my friend at the dinner party and Mars in the coffee shop, something I see in many others too. It brings me back also to the welcome of Mary and Martha.

The visit of Jesus to Mary and Martha’s is a fascination to me. It comes at the end of chapter 10 in Luke’s Gospel immediately after “The Parable of the Good Samaritan”, suggesting to me that it is teaching something about how we should offer loving hospitality. To me this is all about paying attention. Something I witnessed with my friend and in Mars at Café Nero, for example. They were both Mary and Martha it seems. Generally Mary’s Way, that of prayerful devotion is seen as the better way. Love though is also about service, both are acts of attention. Remember the visit follows the story of the Good Samaritan. A parable of loving attention and devoted service, a story of love wherever it is needed. Isn’t this the essence of the spiritual life, this is faith and works. The story of Mary and Martha seems to me to be an invitation; an invitation to everyone to decide how we use our attention; to explore how we pay attention and to whom. It is about love in its highest form. For what we give our attention to we love. Attention is true love; attention is the most basic form of love. When we give our attention to someone or something we bless and in turn we are blessed by our love. My friend and Mars both exemplified this love, they incarnated the Love spoken of throughout the Gospels.

It matters what we pay attention to in life. Yes it is vital to the spiritual life, but also the physical life too. Actually, I tend not to separate the two. Attention is the key to problem solving, creativity, and civilization in general. Our lives depend on what we pay attention to. This is why everything competes for our attention. We are so saturated by information these days, that it can be difficult just to pay attention to the life we inhabit. Yet our lives depend upon it. We need to pay attention; we need to pay attention to what really matters.

Unitarian Universalist minister Rev Victoria Safford in her sermon “An Ethics of Attention” said:

“Pay attention, say the mystics and the poets, and the little kids tugging on our legs. Pay attention, says the sunset and the ice-cold morning, and the person telling you their story. Pay attention, say the good friends at the barbecue, and the good food, and the voices in your head and heart. Only that day dawns to which we are awake.”

It matters what we pay attention to; it matters also how we pay attention; it matters not only what we look at, but how we look at life. Attention may well be our most precious resource we have. Remember it is how we love; remember it is how we both feel and express our love. The Stoic philosopher Epictetus is reported to have said “You become what you give your attention to. If you don’t choose what thoughts and images you expose yourself to, someone else will.” Attention is not a passive act, it is deliberate, an ethical act. For if we do not choose our attention will be put upon us by all this information that we are constantly drowned by. It matters what we pay attention to and how we pay attention, it shapes our very lives.

The twentieth century French philosopher Simone Weil viewed attention as a moral virtue, just like justice and courage. She differentiated it from concentration. It is not just about focussing on minutiae, it is more than mindfulness. As she observed: Concentration constricts. Attention expands — concentration tires. Attention rejuvenates. Concentration is focused thinking. Attention is thinking suspended.

For Weil attention ought to be seen as the rarest and purest form of generosity. She saw attention as the pathway to transformation, far superior to our human will. In “First and Last Notebooks” she wrote “We have to try to cure our faults by attention and not by will.” She believed that the will alone constricts the spirit while attention is about expanding it. Attention opens us up to so much more.

Weil equated attention to prayer. Love and service to me is highest form of prayer. It makes me think of the attention of my friend. Weil wrote “Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love.” This brings me back to both Mary and Martha, Mars in the coffee shop and my friend hosting that dinner party, with such love care and attention.

Simone Weil saw a deep connection between our capacity for paying attention and our capacity for prayer. “Prayer consists of attention,” she said, “It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God. The quality of attention counts for much in the quality of the prayer.”

Now of course paying attention will affect us, it should affect us and deeply. As Mary Oliver wrote “Attention without feeling is only a report”. Everything touched Mary deeply, it affected her and she didn’t merely report what she saw. Her attention was the ultimate prayer and her poetry was devotion itself. As she said “Attention is the beginning of devotion” This is beautifully exemplified in the poem “Spring”, which I will end this morning’s service with. It is a poem about spring, which is on the horizon, but it is also a poem about how we should live our lives. We should live like the black bear coming down the mountain as it awakens from hibernation, showing her “perfect love”. Mary asked the question how should we live our lives? Well attentively, loving the world, living our lives like a prayer. As Mary wrote “There is only one question: how to love the world”. Loving the world means simply paying attention to the life that we are surrounded by, loving it by devoting our selves fully to it, being touched and affected by it. Just like my friend who hosted her dinner party and Mars in the coffee shop on Tuesday morning. They served from their hearts and they paid attention to everyone’s needs without discrimination. They showed me how to simply love the world, it is not that difficult. All you have to do is pay attention, but to do so with feeling.

Here's the poem, I invite you to pay attention to it.

"Spring" by Mary Oliver

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her—
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.

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

Sauntering Along Together: The Holiest of Holy walks

“Walking” by Henry David Thoreau

"I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks — who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering, which word is beautifully derived “from idle people who roved about the country, in the Middle Ages, and asked charity, under pretense of going a la Sainte Terre, to the Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, “There goes a Sainte-Terrer,” a Saunterer, a Holy-Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea."

One of my favourite things is to walk and talk side by side with folk, with Molly of course. I probably journey with several folk a week like this. It is always fascinating what comes, what is shared. I suspect I notice and experience far more in conversation with someone, than I do alone. The sum of our parts is far more than our individual units it seems. I was out with a friend and Molly the other day for several hours. We walked much further and longer than we had intended and to places we had not planned to go. We shared a great deal together as the three of us sauntered on, despite the wetness of the air. It was an absolute joy, filled with many blessing, including towards the end seeing the first snow drops of the year. Spring is near it feels and the snow drops are always a sign.

Friday just gone was traditionally considered the beginning of Spring; 2nd of February was traditionally the end of the Christmas Season marked with Candlemass and not Epiphany, the 12th day of Christmas. The snowdrops being a beautiful symbol of the new spring coming, a symbol of hope. Legend has it that they appeared as such symbols after Adam and Even were expelled from Eden. Eve was about to give up hope that the winter would never end, but an angel appeared and transformed some snowflakes into the flower snowdrop, showing that the winter will eventually come to an end. The flower is linked to the purification associated with “Candlemass” as the old rhyme goes:

“The Snowdrop, in purest white array, first rears her head in “Candlemass” day.

It felt this on that walk with a friend and Molly the other day. We stopped and paused and admired the snowdrop, that caught our eye. The first any of us had seen this year. Molly blessed them by sniffing and we sauntered off to find something to eat. I love to saunter with others. It matters not where we go, but how we go and it matters the company you keep on the journey. In some ways life is really about who you travel with, not where you travel too. I love to saunter along.

Now “Saunter” is one of those interesting words of disputed origin. There is a popular Meme floating around the internet. It is a quote, of disputed origin, on hiking or more accurately “sauntering” by John Muir. The quote cannot be found in his writing. It can be found in book written Albert Palmer “The Mountain Trail and its Message” and is reported as something Muir said while they were walking together, sauntering together perhaps.

Here is the quote:

by John Muir on hiking, titled “Sauntering”.

"Hiking - I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, "A la sainte terre,' 'To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them."

It seems that no one knows the exact origin of the word saunter but many have suggested it is connected to some kind of pilgrimage to the “Holy Land”. Henry David Thoreau regarded “Sauntering” as making any journey and true walk (from “Walking”) as a Holy Pilgrimage, where a person is at home wherever they find themselves and that the two walking together make the walk a holy pilgrimage, this is a true companion.

I’m with Thoreau, I love such walks, because when you return from them, you feel that you have been enhanced as a person and have enhanced who you have journeyed with, some spirit has come to life in this holy journey together. Now whether the true origin of the word “Saunter” is linked to travellers on a journey to the Holy land or not doesn’t matter to me. I certainly see a lot of truth in both Muir’s reported thoughts on it and that of Thoreau’s.

For Thoreau walking wasn’t a utilitarian activity. It wasn’t purely about exercise. He wasn’t trying to reach at least 10,000 steps in a day. No, he consider it primarily a spiritual activity. I have found this to be true whether walking alone, with Molly and or with those people who I connect with in those special ways. As he said:

“The walking of which I speak has nothing in it akin to taking exercise, as it is called, as the sick take medicine at stated hours — as the Swinging of dumb-bells or chairs; but is itself the enterprise and adventure of the day. If you would get exercise, go in search of the springs of life. Think of a man’s swinging dumbbells for his health, when those springs are bubbling up in far-off pastures unsought by him!”

I was out with another friend on Tuesday morning. It was short walk in distance, just an hour around the park and King George V pond. We got talking about spiritual matters. We talked about a lost Biblical word, found in John’s Gospel, the word Paraclete, which meant comforter, companion, advocate, but not in a human form, more a spiritual form. In Christianity, it is what is understood as the Holy Spirit. I suspect that if we walk with others in that spirit and understanding then we are truly living spiritually alive. Maybe this is what it means to truly saunter together.

Jean Varnier in “Drawn into The Mystery of Jesus” catches the meaning nearly perfectly:

The word "paraclete" is one of those rich Greek words
that are difficult to translate completely.
A paraclete is someone who defends and comforts,
and speaks up for and helps a weak person.
So the word "paraclete" can be translated as "advocate," as well as
"comforter," "consoler," or "helper."
Etymologically, the word "paraclete" means
"the one who answers the call."
What a beautiful name!
God is the one who answers the cry of the weak and those in need.
A mother is a "paraclete" for her child
when she answers the cry of her little one,
hold and loves him or her.
Every time we look after a person in need and answer their cry,
we become paracletes.
Jesus was a paraclete for his disciples.

The Paraclete is given
to those who are lonely and need the presence of a friend,
to those who are lost and poor in spirit
and who cry out for God.

Perhaps to saunter with another is what it truly means to be a friend, to truly live spiritually alive. Perhaps this is what we are truly here for. To be a Paraclete to one another.

To saunter together, is to be a true friend, a companion. To walk with a friend is to improve both your lives, to bring a greater spirit to life. Such friendship is a key component of Buddhism. Beautifully illustrated in the following tale.

One day while the Buddha was out walking with his attendant Ananda, who declared, “Teacher, to have companions and comrades on the great way is so amazing! I have come to realise that friendship is fully half of an authentic spiritual life.” They continued walking in silence when eventually the Buddha responded. “No, dear one. Without companions and comrades, no one can live into the deep, finding the true harmonies of life, to achieve authentic wisdom. To say it simply, friendship is the whole of the spiritual life.”

Could this be true? Is friendship the whole of the spiritual life?

Well I would say in such relationships, as we saunter together that greater spirit comes to life. This is the key. To be a good friend and companion, to journey on side by side together. To saunter on sharing yourself and in so doing a greater spirit comes to life which blesses your life and the lives of those you come into contact with.

I shared the picture of the snow drop with many people. I know it helped one in particular who finds January a real struggle. It showed them that Spring is nearly here, it lifted their spirit as so many friends have done with me at times.

Something so simple, but so easy to miss. It was by journeying together that we were able to notice those tiny snow drops in Dunham Massey as Molly, a friend and myself sauntered on together on our little Holy Journey together side by side.

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

Spring: Is it here? Belum: Not quite yet?

“In the springtime of our year, silver buds of hope appear.”

I was struggling to get going on Monday. There had been a lot going on over the last few days and there was much heavy with me this week. There was grief in the air and in my heart. It was a grey grim day too. The weather forecast for the few days ahead was not good. February had fooled me. I had been seduced by the belief that Spring was here, or nearly here, but the weather this week has had other ideas. Spring will come, but not in my time.

Despite how I was feeling on Monday morning, I got on with my day, I managed to get quite a lot of work done in the morning. Then after taking Molly for a long walk I headed to the gym, wondering what we might explore in worship this week. I started on the cross trainer, facing out of the window, looking at the bus station across the road, watching the world pass by. I saw several folk I knew, including from the congregation. I saw Helen and David Copley and then Barbara Thackery, how it lifted my spirits. I had a seen a video of Barbara in the Altrincham Matters Facebook group. It had been of her happy smiling face running the Trafford 10k on what was her 85 birthday, raising money for St Anne’s Hospice . Barbara has become a bit of a local inspiration, a celebrity dare I say. Seeing her pass by certainly lifted my spirits and I found myself singing the lyrics “In the spring time of our year, silver buds of hope appear.” Such inspiration and hope can come in so many forms. As I continued on I thought to myself, ok it still feels quite wintery, but spring and new life and new hope will soon be here. We are heading in the right direction.

It is now March and we have stepped into the season of Lent, but we are still experiencing wintery weather. It even snowed this week. There have been some signs of spring these last few weeks but it is not quite here yet. I know most of us want winter over and the new life of spring. We want Easter and the re-birth of spring to come oh so soon, but first we have to travel through the barren wilderness of March and Lent. Yes, new life will soon be here and we will get to enjoy the full blooming promise of warmer time, including that gorgeous pink snow that comes with the cherry blossom. The new life will soon be with us.

We are now well into the 40 days of Lent; Lent a time of reflection; a time of temptation; a time to observe and find answers; Lent a time of preparation. These forty days or so are meant to be a barren time, where we strip ourselves down of luxuries and distractions to give birth to new treasures that can be symbolically born again at Easter time. Not an easy time and a time to experience a sense of loneliness as we enter our inner wilderness. We may feel a little lost at times, but do not fear we are headed in the right direction.

This is not the end of winter, but maybe it’s the beginning of the end or at least the end of the beginning. There are seeds of hope being planted and there are new shoots all around us. Hope springs eternal and we do not seem too far from spring. The seeds are there planted beneath the earth, waiting to give birth.

Maybe there are lessons that we can learn from the patience of seeds as we wait for the spring of re-birth. They lay there buried, surrendered to the process that is yet to come, when they will flower and flourish for all to share. Like those seeds there is so much buried within us waiting to be born, ok not today, but it is coming soon. There are signs of hope though, may we nurture them.

Spring begins tentatively, but it advances with tenacity. All the new life touches me deeply. No matter how small and delicate the roots are they insist on coming to life; they insist on their way as they press up through ground that looked, only a few weeks earlier, as if it would never grow anything again. The crocuses and snowdrops don’t bloom for long. But their mere appearance, however brief, is always a harbinger of hope — and from those small beginnings, hope grows at a geometric rate. The days get longer, the winds get warmer, and the world grows green again.

This brings to my heart the wonderful poem “Metamorphosis” by May Sarton; a poem about transformation during springtime.

“Metamorphosis” by May Sarton

Always it happens when we are not there —
The tree leaps up alive in the air,
Small open parasols of Chinese green
Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always manages to get there first.

Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stirring in the empty air,
Look up one day through a dissolving screen
To find no star, but this multiplied green,
Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.
Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!

Spring is coming. No it is not here yet, but it is coming. We just need be patient and keep on moving in the right direction. People though are not patient, we want what we want and we want it now. We don’t like uncertainty either. Life though rarely offers such things, especially not with regard to weather in March, certainly not here in the North West of England. The only thing certain about late winter and early spring is how uncertain the weather will be. Tuesday was as blue and beautiful a day as we could wish for and yet by Wednesday it was snowing.

Is spring here? Well it seems not quite yet.

This brings to mind a wonderful bit of wisdom from the American author and Unitarian Universalist minister Robert Fulgham, it is simply titled “Belum”

“Belum” by Robert Fulghum

"Americans, it is observed, prefer definite answers. Let your yea be yea and your nay be nay. Yes or no. No grays, please.

In Indonesia, there is a word in common use that nicely wires around the need for black and white. Belum is the word and it means ‘not quite yet.’ A lovely word implying continuing possibility. “Do you speak English?”

“Belum.” Not quite yet. “Do you have any children?” “Belum.” Do you know the meaning of life?” “Belum.”

It is considered both impolite and cynical to say, “No!” outright. This leads to some funny moments. “Is the house on fire?” “Belum.” Not quite yet.

It’s an attitude kin to that old vaudeville joke: “Do you play the violin?” “I don’t know, I never tried.”

Perhaps. Maybe. Possibly. Not yes or no, but squarely within the realm of what might be. Soft edges are welcome in this great bus ride of human adventure.

Is this the best of all possible worlds? Belum.

Is the world coming to an end? Belum.

Will we live happily ever after? Belum.

Have we learned to live without weapons of mass destruction? Belum.

In some ways, we don’t know. We’ve never tried. Is it hopeless to think that we might someday try? Belum. Not quite yet."

I love this piece of wisdom from Robert Fulghum on Belum, this concept of uncertainty, but a faithful uncertainty, that nothing is ever fully sealed, not yet at least. However hopeless things may feel at the present moment it does not mean that all is despair. Look around you, look into your own heart. There is love and goodness present both within you and in life. There are those around you that can bring inspiration to your being, who have the courage to say yes to life, that have hope lightening and inspiring their hearts. I witnessed this so many times these last few days. Is it spring? Belum, not quite yet. That said if we keep on heading in the right direction, it will soon be here, just not quite yet.

“In the spring time of the year, silver buds of hope appear.” They are appearing all around us. I was talking with Nick and Aled the other day as they were working away in the gardens of the chapel, as the flowers and buds were appearing. Aled said I think that the snow might hold off until tomorrow. We said, it’s in the south and might not reach here. Is it snowing? Belum, not quite yet. For within two hours it was snowing.

Is it spring yet? Belum, not quite yet.

It is coming, we are headed in the right direction. Our task, to keep on planting our own seeds, so that in the spring time of all our years, those silver buds of hope keep on appearing. This is our task, to plant the seeds of hope, and someday they will bear fruit. They may not come to fruit in our time, “belum, not quite yet.”

It is up to us. What are we going to do? Are we going to keep on planting the seeds in our hearts and souls right here right now in this near spring. You never know who you might be inspiring one cold Monday morning when they are struggling to get going.

t’s up to us right here right now. Hope is not something we passively dream of in the future, something beyond this life. It has to be born here right now, in our heart and souls or not at all.

I wish for you the courage to allow the seeds of Hope to form in your hearts and souls. Let’s not give up on our belief in love and life, well at least not quite yet, Belum.

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

 

Snowdrops of Hope Awaken at the Beginning of February

Last Saturday Sue spent time with her women’s circle, on Zoom of course not in person. It is a key aspect of her personal spiritual practice. As a result, on Sunday, she made a whole load “St Brigid’s” crosses. Now traditionally these are green, but she made a blue for me, our colour. Little Charlie, the dog, even got one to chew on. As I left for work on Monday morning, wondering what I might explore in worship this week, she suggested I might want to buy a bunch of daffodils to add to it and brighten up my vestry. Now this may surprise some folk, but I do listen to her and did as suggested.

The “Brigid’s Cross” is a small cross woven from rushes, in this case it was coloured straws. It has four arms and woven into a square in the middle. Last Monday 1^st of February was “St Brigid’s Day” one of the patron saints of Ireland. This festival was formerly the Pagan festival Imbolc and marked the beginning of Spring. Many still celebrate it this way. The Goddess Brigid was originally one of the “Tuatha De Danann” and was adopted by The Christians in Ireland.

So last Monday was traditionally considered the beginning of Spring, there have been some signs of this, although the weather is protesting. Last Tuesday 2^nd of February was officially the end of the Christmas Season with Candlemass. Traditionally this was always the end of Christmas and not Epiphany, the 12^th day of Christmas. The Church of England actually announced that people could keep their decorations up until Candlemass this year in an attempt to keep out the January blues. We are living through unprecedented times after all and I know an awful lot of folk were grateful for this.

There was some sadness in this land as we heard the news that Captain Sir Tom Moor had sadly died. Now he certainly was wonderful symbol of hope in deeply challenging times and I am sure that his spirit of love and service will live on, despite the loss of his physical life. That though is up to us.

There have been other signs of hope too this week, suggesting the end of winter and the beginning of a new spring. On Monday morning Stephen Lingwood, minister in Cardiff, posted on “Twitter” “February will be better than January. March will be better than February”. I had the same feeling that morning too. There are small signs of hope around. There are new shoots coming through. The snow drops are everywhere. The snowdrop is considered a symbol of hope. Legend has it that they appeared as such after Adam and Even were expelled from Eden. Eve was about to give up hope that the winter would never end, but an angel appeared and transformed some snowflakes into the flower snowdrop, showing that the winter will eventually come to an end. The flower is linked to the purification associated with “Candlemass” as the old rhyme goes:

“The Snowdrop, in purest white array, first rears her head in “Candlemass” day.

There are other signs of hope too, in the middle of this long winter of life. The vaccines continue to be rolled out. So many have received theirs now. We are not at the end of this, of course we are not, but maybe there are signs of coming towards the beginning of the end. The 2nd of February is also “Groundhog Day” another sign of the measure of how long the winter is going to be. Yes I know that most of us feel like we have been living through a version of that classic movie this last 10 months. Remember of course that eventually that day does come to end and Bill Murray, in the form of the character Phil Connors is transformed and even gets the girl Andie McDowell. There are signs of hope all around us.

Sadly bad news on the Punxsutawney Phil front, the groundhog, he saw his shadow. This, according to the tradition, means six more weeks of winter. So, winter might be a little longer this year.

I had my own “Groundhog Day” experience on Tuesday as I had to make my journey to the chapel twice. Not great driving up the Washway Road twice. I arrived at my vestry and realised I didn’t have my mobile phone. I thought I must have put it down as I brought the milk in. I drove home cursing my brain and then looked around the house but couldn’t find it. I then went back to my car and there it was at the side of my seat, it had fallen out of my pocket. I laughed at my own madness and then got on with my day, filled with February thoughts of inspiration.

On Wednesday I woke up to news that made me smile broadly, it balanced out the sadness of hearing of the death of Captain Tom. The 3^rd of February is “Elmo” that loveable character from Sesame Street’s birthday. It put a broad smile on my face and as Elmo’s says “Elmo thinks it’s important to be kind because if you’re kind to somebody, then they’ll be kind to somebody, and it goes on and on and on.” We should all be more like Elmo and more like captain Tom.

This is not the end of winter, but maybe it’s the beginning of the end or at least the end of the beginning. There are seeds of hope being planted and there are new shoots all around us. Hope springs eternal and we do not seem too far from spring. The seeds are there planted beneath the earth, waiting to give birth.

Maybe there are lessons that we can learn from the patience of seeds as we wait for the spring of re-birth from this awful virus. They lay there buried, surrendered to the process that is yet to come, when they will flower and flourish for all to share. Like those seeds there is so much buried within us waiting to be born, but not today. There are signs of hope though, may we nurture them.

This brings to mind a little gem I first came across a few years ago it is taken from “Dwellings. A Spiritual History of the Living World” by Linda Hogan,

"Seed. There are so many beginnings. In Japan, I recall, there were wildflowers that grew in the far, cool region of mountains. The bricks of Hiroshima, down below, were formed of clay from these mountains, and so the walls of houses and shops held the dormant trumpet flower seeds. But after one group of humans killed another with the explosive power of life’s smallest elements split wide apart, the mountain flowers began to grow. Out of destruction and bomb heat and the falling of walls, the seeds opened up and grew. What a horrible beauty, the world going its own way, growing without us. But perhaps this, too, speaks of survival, of hope beyond our time."

Yes there are seeds of hope waiting to be born and there are shoots already showing. There are many dark days to come through, of course there are, but there is hope beyond this time, in the not too distant future. The Hope has to be there growing in our hearts and souls or we won’t plant those seeds. It does not mean there is not horror and destruction in our lives now, but nor does that horror in the present moment stop us seeing that there is goodness in our time and place. There is so much goodness and amazing work going on all around us.

We need to live in and through hope, we need to be hope, we need to say yes to life. Just because there are problems and suffering in life it does not mean we should turn away from life and lose all hope, make despair the orientation of our heart. What kills us is cynicism, giving up on the possibility of what we can make things in life.

This brings to life a quotation from Stephen Colbert a rather wonderful late night American television host of “The Late Show”, who during the presidency of Donald Trump suffered a deal of great despair at the state of his nation, but continued to live in and through Hope and humour. He said:

“Remember, you cannot be both young and wise. Young people who pretend to be wise to the ways of the world are mostly just cynics. Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the farthest thing from it. Because cynics don't learn anything. Because cynicism is a self-imposed blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt us or disappoint us. Cynics always say "no". But saying "yes" begins things. Saying "yes" is how things grow. Saying "yes" leads to knowledge. "Yes" is for young people. So for as long as you have the strength to, say "yes".”

So I say yes to life, to possibility, to the Hope in my heart. So I keep on planting seeds, despite those who tell me there is no point. For hope is, as Elizabeth Barrette says in “Origami Emotion”

“Origami Emotion” by Elizabeth Barrette

Hope is
Folding paper cranes
Even when your hands get cramped
And your eyes tired,
Working past blisters and paper cuts,
Simply because something in you
Insists on
Opening its wings.

I was thinking of this as I looked at the lovely “Brigid’s Cross” Sue and gifted to me and so many other friends and family. She had done something similar with the crystals she had given as gifts to friends and family at Christmas. Those crystals that made little rainbows from light in their homes. Rainbows of course are another symbol of hope.  Life is tough right now, yes it does feel like “Groundhog day” at times, there is much suffering, but that is not all that life is. We do not live in a state of total despair, there is much hope, I am seeing it in this February’s nature. February is better than January and March will be better than February, Stephen is correct, but we have to make it so. 

This brings to mind those final words from the film “Groundhog Day” as Phil Connors (Played by Bill Murray) finally got released from that repeated long winters Day

“When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long lustrous winter.”

There is so much that can be given birth to when we come through this long winter of all our lives. We do not have to trudge through it either. It doesn’t have to be a long slog, with heads down just repeating the same old day. It doesn’t have to be a tough old hike through life. This brings to mind a rather wonderful piece I recently came across by John Muir on hiking, titled “Sauntering”.

"Hiking - I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, "A la sainte terre,' 'To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them."

Maybe this is a spirit that we can take into our daily lives as we keep on going through this winter. Instead of slogging through, perhaps we could saunter, as if on a journey through the holy lands of life and maybe when this is all over the seeds we plant along the way may give birth to something wonderful and beautiful. It will also most certainly help us get through the winter.

Yes, it’s a long cold winter and we are not through it yet. That said there are signs of hope all around us and there is something beautiful within us, waiting to be born, to be given birth to, in our hearts and hearths. Let us nurture them and share them with each other, encourage each other to keep on our little pilgrimages to our own Holy Lands, remembering that the holy land is the land beneath each of our feet. For everything is sacred, everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every word and every deed.