The Atrium, Camberley

What does the model's expression say to you?

This advertising poster amuses me.  The expression on the model's face looks like she's totally fed up about something - her experience of The Atrium, perhaps?

The Strongest Link

Is Compassion the strongest link?

My current employment is in the voluntary sector working on the Community Innovations Team, a Hampshire County-wide initiative aiming through early intervention and prevention to reduce the number and severity of hospital admissions for elderly people, and to assist them to retain their independence for longer.

My role has been to identify and map the existing services and activities for older people in the area and to communicate with the Social Worker, Occupational Therapist and Community Support Worker to ensure they are able to signpost their clients appropriately.

I share an office with the Dial-a-Ride drivers and their co-ordinator.  Today one of the Dial-a-Ride drivers asked if anyone happened to have a spare shopping trolley - one of his regular passengers, an elderly lady, had recently had a fall and broken her arm and was now struggling to carry her shopping. I suggested we might find one for her through the Freecycle website, and promptly posted a 'Wanted' ad.  Towards the end of the day, I checked my mail and discovered a Freecycler had responded, offering a shopping trolley his parents no longer needed.  I picked it up on my way home from work and dropped it off at a colleague's home - I'm not going into the office tomorrow, and she had agreed to take it in and give it to the Dial-a-Ride driver who would deliver it to the passenger.

This evening I was watching the quiz show, "The Weakest Link", and the contestants banked a nice pot of money with an unbroken chain of 9 correct answers.  (In fact they could have banked even more as the next two answers were also correct).

It occurred to me that the story of the shopping trolley was a little similar - a chain of people each putting their small willingness and ability into the pot in order to bring a little joy into an elderly lady's life when she receives a timely gift  from the friendly Dial-a-Ride drivers who treat their customers like extended family.

Postscript:  After writing this blog post, I read the 'Word for Today' which concluded:

Leon Nacson says, 'Always anticipate the best outcome for yourself and others, because when what you expect is just more of the same, that's what you get!' Remember, '...Faith is being sure of what... we do not see' (Hebrews 11:1 NIV). So even when you can't 'see' it, trust God to work on your behalf, to arrange for you to be in the right place at the right time, and for others to go out of their way to help you - and watch God work.

Spiritual Journeying: Food for Thought

Regular readers may know that I help facilitate monthly meetings for people who sometimes find life difficult.  The group is called 'Spiritual Journeying' and offers themed conversation.

Today's Spiritual Journeying session was on 'Food for Thought' and was an especially upbeat one in many ways, with plenty of laughter and some deep moments.  The good news of the trapped miners in Chile being rescued led on to other spiritually uplifting thoughts.

When I got home I lit a candle and spent some time in meditation.  At one point I realised my body was warm (I'd wrapped a blanket around my shoulders) but my hands felt cold, then even as I acknowledged that, I became aware of a sensation of energy flowing into my hands, as though they were crackling with power.  I contemplated the idea it might be a flow of healing power, so I brought to mind some friends and prayed for their healing.

I then recalled something I'd heard recently, about seeking God's face rather than his hands - in other words, seeking a relationship with God rather than what he can do for us.  Before guilt could cloud the moment, I received the assurance that it's ok to ask for what I want, that my loving Heavenly Father delights in giving.  The phrase:  "A gift given and received in love blesses both the giver and receiver"  came to mind, and I was moved to tears by an overwhelming sense of being loved and enjoyed.

My prayer for you today is that you, too, will know that deep sense of being loved and enjoyed, and that you will freely accept the blessings and gifts our loving Heavenly Father longs to shower on you.

Massaging those Vital Statistics?

Only this week I noticed that blogger now provide stats showing how many times your blog has been viewed.  It seems there are a lot more visitors than I knew:  stealth browsers slipping under the radar of Statcounter.  I was puzzled by a trend - the most visited post (averaging around 7 visitors a day) was 'House Guest', posted on 12 August 2009.  At first I thought there were a lot of dog-lovers out there. It wasn't until I read through the journal entry I realised which word was probably pulling in all the interest ... can you spot which one?


I guess the photo of an elderly cocker spaniel is a big disappointment to the majority of lascivious readers! 

Ulverston

I promised more on the weekend in Cumbria.

Ulverston is the birthplace of Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame. There is a museum dedicated to them, plus this statue.

The walk to Ulverston from Swarthmoor Hall takes you on a pretty route across this beautifully clear stream. It really was a delight given the summerlike weather of the weekend.

Just to help set the context for the weekend, regular readers may remember that I have a daily habit of reading 'The Word for Today'. Friday's reading helpfully suggested having a 'not-to-do' list, that Jesus wants us to enjoy a rich, satisfying life without getting bogged down in things that don't add value or meaning. Saturday's reading was about being fruitful, with the promise:

'whether you've fallen into the dirt or just settled for living beneath your potential, God won't throw you away. He will lift you, cleanse you and help you to flourish again.'

Both readings seemed relevant to where my life is 'at'.

It was recommended that to get the most out of the workshops, attendees read Rex Ambler's 'Light to Live By', and I was able to borrow this from the local Quaker meeting's library. The book details the author's own journey of discovery. Rex explains his seeking became very insistent when he reached a place in his life where he was experiencing two troubling issues, including personal difficulties with a close relationship.

He began researching the early Quaker movement, recognising there had been something very real there that had enabled those Friends to overcome difficult circumstances retaining their deep inner peace and calm in the face of persecution - much as the early New Testament church grew despite persecution. Sifting through historical documents, he became aware that references to 'the light' were key to understanding this power.

Meanwhile he came across psychologist Gendlin's 'focusing' therapy. Putting the two together, Ambler formulated a way of accessing the inner light through meditation.

The Experiment with Light workshop was about preparing us for a deep personal encounter with the 'inner light', sometimes referred to as 'that which is of god within us'. The light meditation itself is to lead us to the voice of Truth that lights our conscience. For me it seemed the theme I sensed within was gentle correction and of being heard/accepted. I felt I received an invitation to 'come as you are' - possibly in response to my own thoughts regretting recent lack of discipline in relation to diet/eating. Looking back, I recognised a feeling of irritation when someone demonstrated a lack of listening - and I thought back to my childhood feeling that my mother never totally accepted me as I was, but also that perhaps that's what I've inadvertently done to others, bringing my own experience of imperfect conditional love to the people around me. A friend from college days came to mind, but rather than allow the light to show me why, I found myself rationalising that this was because my friend had never felt totally accepted by me, had felt I was trying to change her all the time.

My notes record 'The fear of doing things wrong' - I recall during the meditation wondering if I was 'doing it right', and felt that this was answered by some song lyrics that came to mind, including the phrase 'if it's my all, it is enough'.

Afterwards I realised I had been relaxed enough during the meditation to be unaware of bodily sensations for a while.

We had been advised that sometimes something is begun during the meditation that will continue later, and sure enough that night as I lay in bed I had a vivid mental picture of a clay fountain/well with a clay water vessel, then images of a clear river and looking down into the water, seeing the green fronds, then either a 'white water' river or possibly the same river under different light conditions now reflecting the white of the sky. In my mind I asked what it meant. It seemed to be about taking words of encouragement and refreshment from within. Next morning in the shower I spontaneously began to thank God for water to drink, water to wash with and water to irrigate crops. Afterwards I linked this to the previous night's images.

The promise in Sunday's 'Word for the Day': if your response to the pruning process is right, you'll begin to move from barrenness to blessing.

Welcome Summer Weather

I made the most of yesterday's sunshine by getting the potatoes and climbing bean plants in and sowing two rows of parsnip seeds. Whilst I was over the allotment I received a call to my mobile. A couple of weeks ago I interviewed for a secretarial position at a small company, and it was the director letting me know my application was unsuccessful. Once again I received some very positive feedback - my CV was great and laid out well, etc. etc. - it's just the fact I've not been in paid employment for three years now and being a small company they weren't quite willing to take a chance on me, but they will keep my details on file in case their appointee fails to perform to expectation.

Today I went down the gym. It's been a while.

The gym has a large car park: a few spaces immediately alongside near the front entrance, many more at the back of the building. Years ago you could use the back door to enter the building from the rear car park but these days that door is out of general use with a big sign on it "No Exit! This door is alarmed". If you park in the rear car park, you've a walk of about 100m, maybe a little more, to the front entrance.

So I'm going to the gym. I'm going there to get some exercise. Where do I want to park? Well, in one of those spaces near the entrance of course, to save myself the 100 metre walk. But hey, I'm not alone! Some people are so keen to save themselves that extra walk that they'll abandon the car on the pavement rather than drive round the back and park in a legitimate space. Now where is the logic in this? It's the sort of human foible I can imagine Michael Mcintyre poking fun at.

Ok, today I drive past all those illegally parked cars feeling a little smug because I'm going to do the logical thing and ENJOY that 100 metre walk in the glorious sunshine. Aren't I the smart one!

Once you've gone in the main entrance, you then walk all the way through the building to the back where the members' changing rooms are located. The ladies' changing room has lockers round three sides, two cloakroom/changing benches in the middle and a mirror and shelf along one wall with three hairdryers.

I don't know what it's like in the gents' changing room - in my mind's eye, I picture men strutting round naked all but doing Mr Universe poses and wearing signs round their necks proudly pointing down at their tackle - but on the whole, us ladies tend to be a modest lot. In fact one acquaintance who came with me for her first visit last year took one look at the communal changing room and never set foot in it again! Normally you'll find we're fully dressed when standing at the mirrors drying our hair - hence my surprise today to find a scene like a lingerie advert: a very shapely lady drying her beautiful long dark hair wearing only sexy red underwear. I suppose if I had her figure (and underwear!), I might feel inclined to expose myself too.

Back home the postman brought yet another rejection letter. The jobhunt continues.

Through a glass darkly

I'll come back to the title shortly. First I want to talk about synchronicity. I had an email from (son) Dave about my last blog post. Seems on the day I was writing about Douglas Adams and the quantum computer of life, he'd been thinking on the exact same topic. I love it when that happens.

On Thursday evening I went to a Quaker Study Session based on Rex Ambler's work considering the origins of the Quaker movement. We looked at Words of Sarah Jones (as published in "Light's Appearance in the Truth", 1650). Sarah advises that we rest in 'the eternal word', rather than in any manifestations proceeding from the word; to live in the purity and simplicity of truth which has power rather than holding onto the 'form'.

This teaching fits very well with the other works I'm reading: "The Miracle of Mindfulness" by Thich Nhat Hanh and "A Course in Miracles", both of which encourage he who seeks peace on earth to recognise that the peace dwells within and when we seek that inner peace, we can look beyond the world manifested by ego and see reality... which leads me to the title of this article. 'Through a glass darkly' comes from a biblical quote: 1 Corinthians 13 (King James Version), 'For now we see through a glass, darkly'. The Message version suggests 'We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist'. "A Course in Miracles" teaches that my grievances obscure the light; obscure the miracles that the world would offer if set free (through my forgiveness) to do so. In other words, when I look at the world through the distorting lens of my perception, I'm not seeing the true picture, but something akin to Plato's shadows on a cave wall. Recently I read Betty Eadie's book, 'Embraced by the Light' which also speaks of the earthly world as reflecting our thoughts, and the freedom to see the full and true beauty of reality once released from the prison of the body.

At the study evening, one of the questions for discussion was: are there pros and cons of using words, internally or as vocal ministry? We happened to have three physicists in the room, all of them familiar with Stephen Hawking's book, "A Brief History of Time" (in a room of 9 people - how unrepresentative is that of the population?). One of these worthy gentlemen likened the structure of 'self' to the structure of a black hole as described by Hawking: the majority of our being is non-verbal and highly responsive to all that surrounds it, this response mediated by the 'crust' of our 'chattering verbal self - the ego', thus words effectively forming the 'event horizon' of self (if I've understood correctly).

The study evening included this quote (from Quaker writings, 1659):

Let us in the simplicity of truth abide and dwell... that we be not again led back into the errors of those who went before us, who left the power and got into the form ... but that all they (the ones who come after) may be directed and left to the truth, in it to live and walk, and by it guided ... Wherefore, in love and tenderness ... may (we) all in the unity of the Spirit dwell in the pure wisdom, that none may exercise lordship or dominion over another, nor the person of any be set apart, but as they continue in the power of truth, that truth itself in the body may reign, not persons nor forms ... that our path may be as the way of a ship in the sea, which no deceit can follow or imitate.

Further synchronicity: with that image of the ship in my mind, the next morning I came to the reading from 'The Word for Today': When men first learned to navigate the seas by using the stars, a whole new world opened up to them. A common saying in those days was, 'He who is a slave to the compass enjoys the freedom of the open sea.' The devotional went on to encourage readers to let Christ be our compass in life.

Qubits, agnostics and the quantum computer of life

Apologies to those of you who were disappointed that my last blog post, 'Is religious belief rational?', didn't actually address the title question. Some of you may have noticed that I left out the agnostic position. It wasn't that I didn't think about it. At the time I was thinking that perhaps religious belief is a dimension with agnostics sitting somewhere in between the two extremes. Since then I've read an essay which mentions qubits. It set me thinking.

To explain a little, a computer uses binary logic - a 'bit' is a unit of information, either 0 or 1 (like a switch either off or on). A qubit has many more possible states: 0, 1, or anywhere in between simultaneously.

If we were looking for a way to represent belief as it is expressed in a population, that would fit the bill so much better than binary logic, don't you think?

I'm not sure how you pronounce qubits but I've been making it rhyme with cubits, the favoured unit of measurement for Noah's ark-construction efforts. Since scientists began mapping genomes, I've often thought that the biblical story of Noah's ark doesn't belong in the kind of reality generally ascribed to our historical notions, that it fits better in an alternative version of reality (or maybe our 'future'), with Noah being an organisation dedicated to preserving the genome of every living species on the planet by computer mapping so that the species can be recreated at whim.

But that's going off at a tangent. Back to the thread of this post: qubits, agnostics and the quantum computer of life.

I got to thinking about how each individual is an expression of ancestral genes on a physical level and an expression of thoughts/feelings/choices on a consciousness level. What if Douglas Adams wasn't so far out, and we are a quantum computer?

I suppose that still begs the question: who is at the keyboard?

Is religious belief rational?

I've had a couple of appointments in town this week and with the balmy weather it's been pleasant to walk down (a distance of 1.7 miles). On the way I pass one of those trendy hair-stylists with arty portraits of extreme hairstyles. To amuse myself, I give them names so here's a little game for you - I'll give you my name for the style and you guess what it looks like!

'Blindside'

'Time up'

'Painting by numbers'

How did you get on? Have you got some vivid images in your head?

Last night I went to a public lecture organised by the Chaplaincy at Reading University titled 'Is religious belief rational?' by John Cottingham, Professor Emeritus of Philosophy. Influenced by the lively, creative Royal Institution Christmas lectures that are aired on TV, I'd anticipated something rather different to the somewhat dry, academic nature of the evening and a lot of it went over my head, particularly the questions afterwards. Do you ever get the feeling that the people who love to ask questions at events like that are really doing it to draw attention to themselves rather than because they have been paying close attention to the lecture and are curious about something that has been said? No? Just me, then. Anyway, back to the lecture. My understanding is that Mr Cottingham was saying whilst he couldn't offer cast-iron proof of God's existence, the alternative view ('there is no God') was downright uncomfortable and irrational.

It struck me as being oppositional thinking (with the Richard Dawkins' supporters on the opposing team) rather than being, shall we say, 'Zenlike' or thinking influenced by the Peace that transcends all understanding. Maybe I missed the point.

Thinking about it in the shower this morning, it seems to me that what we can say for sure is some people believe in God and some don't. I thought about switches - light on, light off (or even dimmer switches), and thought what an interesting area of exploration it would be to take two populations of people - those who do believe in a benevolent, omnipotent, omnipresent God and those who have a profound belief that there is no such Being - and without judgment explore what the differences are between the two populations to try and locate where that difference arises and how it affects outcomes between the two populations. Maybe that has been done - I'm not sure I'd know how to go about finding out whether the data already exists.

What do you think?

And how about those hairstyles?

'Blindside' - a dense curtain of hair completely obscuring one eye

'Time up' - it genuinely looked half-finished - raggedy short on one side, long and sleek the other

'Painting by Numbers' - different coloured highlights giving a kind of stripey effect

Impulse Buying

A few weeks ago I bought some rye flour on impulse, intending to make some bread (all because a friend once told me he liked the rye bread a local baker sells).

I went to a seminar many years ago on 'Stress' and out of all the words spoken there, the concept that stuck with me was "It's not the things we do that cause stress, it's the things we leave undone".

So the rye flour sits in the cupboard for a while ...

Finally the day comes when that niggling thought has gathered such strength that I get around to looking through my cookbooks for a suitable recipe and pulling the rye flour out of the larder (hey! I bought TWO bags of this stuff! What was I THINKING?!?). A kid from next door pops round with her friend - it's a pleasant distraction for a few minutes. They go. I'm left with my big intentions.

So I make the bread - in the end it's kind of experimental, not adhering to any particular recipe. I add soya flour and a bit of rice flour and a bit of cornflour, some honey, some olive oil. I guess at the amount of liquid then add some more, and take it out of the oven when it looks done. The result is very tasty but still doughy in the middle - whether because the dough was too wet, or because I didn't bake it long enough I don't know.

That was Sunday. This morning there is still half a loaf sitting there uneaten. I've thrown a slice out for the birds and they've turned up their beaks at it. Whatever the recipe was for the rye bread my friend used to buy from the bakers, I don't think I've quite stumbled upon it. But you know I've got lots of rye flour left to play with ... lots. Lucky me.

That same friend isn't a professing Christian but today sent me a link to Bocelli singing The Lord's Prayer with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. He used the word 'sensational'. I watched it and for some unknown reason, it didn't do a lot for me. I tried to work up a sense of reverence, a deep emotional response that I'm guessing had I been there in person, I would have felt. Nothing. At best I could appreciate my friend's gesture, appreciate the connection between us that prompted him to send me the link believing it would move me. Contrast this with a link a Christian friend recently sent me: Glee: 'Imagine'. That held so much appeal I now watch the series on TV.

Anyway, back with the subject of this post: impulse buying.

I've been asked to make some cakes for a meeting tomorrow night. I went shopping for ingredients yesterday. I'm aiming to do a chocolate cream cake and a fruit cake. Used to be I bought sultanas for the fruit cake, until I discovered another friend likes bran loaf made with luxury dried fruit mix. As I stood in front of the shelf of dried fruit, I felt a gentle inner prompting to buy the sultanas rather than the luxury fruit mix. I heard it but ignored it, thinking I knew better, that any dried fruit not used for the cake will come in handy next time I make a bran loaf.

Today as I looked at the remains of the rye loaf, this idea popped into my head: why not make a bread and butter pudding with it?

As I stood there trying to pick out the sultanas from the luxury fruit mix, I thought back to that inner prompting yesterday. If only I had listened.

Cautionary Tales

On Sunday I visited the local church. One of the readings was from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 11 v37-52; to put it in context, Jesus had just been talking to a large crowd. A Pharisee (a Jew who was so well versed in the Old Testament he was recognised as a practitioner and teacher of law) invited Jesus to come and eat with him. Jesus accepted the invitation, went in and 'reclined at the table' with the Pharisees' guests. The Pharisee is surprised when Jesus doesn't wash before the meal as was the Jewish custom.

As a Christian I've been accustomed to reading this story from a perspective that says more or less 'Jesus is the perfect shining example of all that is good and can do no wrong'. However, for some reason upon reading it this time I was able to step out of that mindset and see how it would look if I was reading a story about myself as the 'named character'. So I've just been out addressing the crowds and getting my ego stroked by being the centre of attention, and someone important, someone others respect and look up to, compounds that by inviting me to enjoy his hospitality. Wow, am I doing great or what? Accepted into the 'highest' circles! So I go in and I'm familiar with the custom of washing before eating but today I just go to the table and take up my place. Now is that because I'm hungry and can't wait to eat, or because I understand the reason for the rules and have faith that I'm not going to suffer on this occasion through throwing convention to the winds, or because I want to make a point, or some other reason such as being so caught up in what happened outside that I simply forget ... on this point the story is silent. The consequence, however, is that this important person who has just extended me the acceptance of being his equal now finds his notions of equality being challenged. He who has exhibited his adherence to the rules through his outward habits is now faced with someone who seems profoundly 'other'. Where there had been acceptance of the 'we' position, now he is feeling surprised by this glaring difference between us. A simple omission on my part signals the underlying 'me, you' sense of separation as the Pharisee fails to recognise himself in my action. What happens next? Rather than taking some action that will reconcile us, smooth over the awkward moment and switch us back into brotherhood, effectively I emphasise my own sense of the difference, and more: of my sense of being superior to my host and his colleagues. Ungraciously I lambast them about their behaviour. Now here's the point that really caught my attention. In the speech Jesus is quoted as saying:

" Woe to you, because you build tombs for the prophets, and it was your forefathers who killed them.
So you testify that you approve of what your forefathers did; they killed the prophets, and you build their tombs.
Because of this, God in his wisdom said, 'I will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and others they will persecute.'
Therefore this generation will be held responsible for the blood of all the prophets that has been shed since the beginning of the world,
from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah, who was killed between the altar and the sanctuary. Yes, I tell you, this generation will be held responsible for it all."

Lately I've been thinking about quantum physics. A while back I watched Dr Brian Greene's 'The Elegant Universe' and read the book. I watched the TV series 'FlashForward' and when it stopped midway through the series for Christmas, I borrowed the novel from the library and read that. (It draws on quantum physics). I've been watching the extended DVD set, 'What the Bleep do we know? ', learning about 'entanglement' and 'consciousness'. I've been reading books that suggest that the energy we send out comes back to us (also a physical 'law': every action has an equal and opposite reaction). When I look at this tirade and put it in the context of the story of Jesus' life as told in the Gospels, it becomes a cautionary tale reminding me to be careful what I say when I'm in a state of perceiving myself to be separate from others.

The Sunday morning service continued with a reading from Paul's epistle to the Galatians chapter 6 v1-18 which includes the warning: "God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows." Sadly from the Gospel accounts, it would appear Jesus reaped the consequences of his words, dying on a cross bearing the responsibility for the blood of the prophets.

Glorious Sunshine!

At the Quaker meeting I went to this morning one of the Friends spoke of the difficulty we have when something like the terrible earthquake in Haiti happens, in reconciling such cruel events in Nature with a belief in a kind and loving God. She brought a reading from a Quaker scientist which turned to this difficult topic and spoke of how two irreconcilable truths can become the stepping stone to new knowledge. As I contemplated the words, my thoughts turned to how, if we look in a mirror and see a flaw reflected there, we don't blame the mirror or the mirror's maker, rather we use what we see in the reflection to make a decision or take appropriate action. As I thought on the implications of this, I found the question surfacing: but if the created world - if nature - is merely reflecting the face of the observer, whose is that face: God's or humanity's? Rather than an answer, another question arose in my thoughts: what makes you think the two are different? Various bible verses and doctrine came to mind, such as Jesus saying "I am in the Father and the Father is in me", and that Christians are "One in Christ". As these thoughts were busy in my mind, another Friend stood and spoke about Love, the concept that God is Love, and brought the bible reading from Paul's letter to the Corinithians including the verse I had in mind when I named this blog: now we see in a glass darkly ...


After lunch I decided to make the most of the beautiful weather (mild and gloriously sunny with a clear blue sky) to go and begin the task of clearing up the allotment. Regular readers will remember I wrote last month that vandals have burnt down both of the sheds on my plot. It's dirty work but somebody's got to do it, right? It proved more tiring and dis-spiriting than I had ever imagined, disposing of the metal skeletons of gifts from my loving offspring, etc. I had toyed with the idea of hiring a skip but finally dismissed that idea in favour of using cardboard boxes and rubble sacks to cart the stuff down the dump. The past few weeks of inactivity have impacted my fitness level and I'd had enough after barely an hour's work. Then there was a 20 minute queue at the dump. By the time I got home I was nearly in tears with tiredness and despondency over the sad waste of it all - very unusual for me.

The one bright spot on the horizon is that another allotment-holder approached me. It seems she has also recently separated from her husband, and is thinking that the full plot will be more than she can reasonably manage single-handedly along with working full-time. She knew I was thinking of giving up the allotment and she suggested I'd miss it if I gave up totally - how about I take on a spare corner of her plot? At the moment it sounds like an offer too good to refuse (but I'll sleep on it a while to see if it still sounds good when I'm not feeling so down).

How expectations can lead to disappointment

As the icicles dangling from the gutter get longer, more snow arrives - another inch or so joining the snow still lying around from last week's blizzard conditions.

Lately I've been thinking about how my own expectations sometimes lead to disappointment. Here's a f'rinstance: when a friend came out of hospital and was open to receiving some practical help, I took round a couple of meals from my freezer. These were home-cooked meals catering to the different dietary requirements of the family, in containers suitable for microwaving, and in addition I supplied baking potatoes (raw). Now normally, when I've supplied meals for friends in need in the past, I've driven round and delivered them at dinner-time already hot and ready to eat. On this occasion with the roads in the condition they are and the fact that I was going out for the evening, it was more convenient to me to walk round whilst it was still light and leave it to my friend and her family to bake the potatoes and reheat the meals. It didn't occur to me until later that this might have disappointed my friend's expectations, and only then because I realised that I had anticipated a text or email thanking me for the meal and complimenting me on my cooking, and been disappointed when no such message arrived. It was interesting observing the way my thoughts went, thinking about the idea of 'non-attachment' and wondering if a gift is given in expectation of receiving gratitude, can it really be considered a gift, or does it become a trade?

PS The message of grateful thanks arrived later, after I'd written this post.

Open Day at the Well-being Centre

This morning I went to the Open Day at the Well-being Centre. I cycled there and was about to leave my bike propped up against the wall of the building when a member of staff came out. “It’s ok to leave it here, isn’t it?” I enquired politely, anticipating she would agree it was fine – not in anybody’s way – but no.
“Oh no, someone might walk off with it if you leave it there – bring it inside, it’ll be safer.”
“Oh, no one’s going to steal it” I told her confidently. It’s an old bike, not in the least bit trendy, and as if that isn’t enough to deter a would-be thief, it has a large wire basket on the back, but she wouldn’t have it. Holding the door open wide, she ushered me and the bike inside. Reluctantly, obediently, I wheeled the bike in and flinched at the look another staff member cast my way. The Well-being centre has narrow corridors and with it being an Open Day, it was already heaving at the seams with people.
“Can she leave the bike indoors so it doesn’t get stolen” asked my usher of the other staff member. Inwardly I sighed – it now sounded as though I was the one concerned the bike would be stolen and wanting special attention. They conferred and decided the best place to put it was in the garden – which meant wheeling it all the way through the building, apologising to the people who had to flatten themselves against the walls, and lifting it round sharp corners until it was safely stowed in the garden. It seemed a lot of unnecessary fuss for a rusty bicycle. Besides, if someone stole it, I’d have a good excuse to buy a new one!

I enjoyed the Open Day, especially the drama presentation by Express Yourself. It provided a foretaste of the group I’ll be joining on Fridays.

In the evening I went to the Midweek church meeting, which was on the subject of service. I did my bit by serving teas and coffees. Unfortunately that meant I was close to the bowl of popcorn and large box of After Eights … which proved irresistible. One of my friends came over and we were chatting about how we both need to lose weight, but ironically even in the midst of that conversation my hand was busily conveying popcorn to my mouth. Go figure!

I’d got a lift to the meeting but it was a nice evening and I planned to get a bit of exercise by walking home. I’ve done that before from Midweek meeting and enjoyed the walk. It’s about a mile and three quarters. The road goes down the hill through the Old Dean forest, and at night when all is quiet you can hear the furtive rustling of nocturnal animals going about their business. At the end of the evening as we were saying goodnight to each other, my friend came over and asked how I was getting home. When I explained I was going to walk, she wouldn’t hear of it. In the end rather than argue my case and hold fast to my decision, I submitted to her suggested compromise and accepted a lift to the bottom of the hill then walked home from there. As I was walking I realised that my frame of mind and thoughts were very different to what I’d anticipated. Instead of feeling peaceful and happy and enjoying the experience moment by moment, I was feeling a bit resentful at my friend’s well-meaning intervention. I knew she meant well – I recognised the love and concern behind the words - but her mothering had seemed smothering. She hadn’t been prepared to respect my first choice as it made her feel uncomfortable – how could she have forgiven herself if something had happened to me taking the risk of walking alone past that spooky forest?

I reflected on the day, remembering the similarity of the episode with the bike. I wondered whether this is something I’m inclined to do too - to express concern over the validity of another adult’s choice, and force my own choice upon them as a way of validating my view of myself as a ‘caring person’. I may feel I’m doing the ‘right thing’, showing my love and concern, but I realise now that when you’re on the receiving end, it can feel quite disempowering.

I’ve just finished reading a novel called ‘The Shack’ by William P Young, and one of the themes of the book is free will. It’s one of those books that once you’ve read it, you want everyone you know to read it too. If you’ve ever wondered about the question of how come, if God is a God of love, there is so much suffering in the world, I can heartily recommend you read this book – it may change your mind big time!

Have a nice day y'all

The day didn't get off to a great start - somewhat overcast, and the meter reader knocked at the door whilst I was still swanning about in my nightclothes. After he'd left I had a bath and refocused, and the day got better.

The mild, dry weather tempted me over the allotment where I had a nice chat with one of the regulars. I'd heard he'd been very poorly, and it was good to see him looking fit and well. I pulled some leeks, picked some sprouts and some gorgeous purple sprouting broccoli, did a little weeding and then began to walk home for lunch. In town I found a debit card lying in the street, took it into the issuing bank and approached a young man in a suit. "Do you work here?" I asked him. "I try to" he said. Smiling at his disarmingly modest response, I handed him the card, explained how I'd come by it and asked if he could contact the cardholder to let her know it was safe. He thanked me and assured me he would be very glad to do so. I carried on my way feeling in a very mellow, peaceful mood, glad when I resisted the temptation to pick up a KFC.

Further along my way, a little out of town a lady stopped me and asked about the Spiritualist Church - she had seen a sign pointing to it and had walked down the road but not found it, and wondered what it was. I explained that the Spiritualist Church is about speaking with those who have 'passed over' via a medium. Was that what she was looking for? From her expression I could clearly see it wasn't, so I spoke about being a christian and hearing from God in church, and that we'd love to have her in our church. She asked about the church - she works in the local nursing home on Sundays and was wondering if there were church meetings at other times. I told her about our midweek meetings in each other's houses and gave her my phone number. She explained she is church of England and I was able to tell her where the local C of E church is. As we parted she said, "You've made my day!" I felt really good after the encounter - it made my day, too! My only regret was that I hadn't done the obvious: I had neither asked her name nor asked for her telephone number.

I walked on and as I was about to enter the street where I live, a car drew up alongside me and the young lady driving asked me for directions to the local doctor's surgery. Again I was able to help. Doesn't that feel good, when we are in the right place at the right time with the right information to be able to help someone!

Politeness -v- Personal Responsibility for Choices

A friend dropped round today to bring me some flowers and to borrow the net connection briefly. I’d had lunch early, but as it was around lunchtime and I had some home-made soup to offer, I offered both coffee and soup. It led to one of those conversations which seem like hard work for such an easy question.

“Would you like some coffee?”
“Are you having some?”
“Yes, it’s already made” (I’d made it when I got the phone call priming me to expect the visit).
“Yes please, then”
“How would you like it, black or white?”
“I don’t mind” (this gave me pause for thought, seeming like a re-run of what happened on Sunday when I’d asked Vic about when the freecyclers should come round and he’d said ‘I don’t mind’, then not been happy when I arranged it for later in the day).

To add to the confusion, I made the offer of the soup.
“Or I could just have a banana” suggested my visitor, spotting the enormous pile of bananas.
“Yes – which would you prefer, soup or a banana? Or you could have both!”
"Whichever is easiest for you" came the answer.

Aaaargh! It was very difficult to ascertain from the overly polite responses my visitor’s honest preferences – which set me thinking. Are there times when I have been reluctant to take responsibility for making my own choices? Why do we consider it is more polite to say “I don’t mind” when we really do have a preference?

Have you ever had an exasperating conversation like this, where someone won't voice their preference? How do you deal with situations like that? Please feel free to use the comments link (below) to respond, or drop me an email.

Chrome

Had an appointment with Dr Y (the psychiatrist currently responsible for my treatment) today. He has referred me for psychotherapy and asked if I’d heard from the Consultant Psychotherapist yet. Nope – still waiting.

I took along the DVLA’s letter refusing to renew my driving licence and showed it to him. Dr Y encouraged me to re-apply. He will support my application. Came home and got onto that straight away.

Today I’ve been thinking about agents for change. There was a TV programme recently where an archaeologist was talking about the Iron Age and demonstrated a method of extracting metal ore, smelting it in a clay pot and casting it. The final piece was flawed and he went on to say that the techniques used by Iron Age man were vastly superior to anything he had managed. He couldn’t replicate the quality of their work. It set me thinking about the early days of apprenticeships – how knowledge and experience were passed on in the days before reading and writing were commonplace. Later another interesting snippet caught my eye from an advert for Dyson vacuum cleaners where it was demonstrated that a typical vacuum cleaner with a fixed four-wheel system was ok if you want to move the hoover backwards and forwards, but was rubbish at cornering. Dyson had stepped back and looked at the design and innovated a new design feature using a ball to carry the cleaning head. His ball design permits greater manoeuvrability.

I thought about this and the paradoxical needs – when you first enter a field of endeavour it seems to make sense to explore what’s already known, perhaps to serve an apprenticeship to an established master in that field – but then it takes energy/intention to step back and review that knowledge, spot an area ripe for improvement and be an agent for change. It seems to me there is evidence of us having moved on as a race, in that whereas in the past it was perceived that knowledge = power, and men working at the forefront of their field often cloaked their work in secrecy, there is more openness these days. As George Bernard Shaw said, “If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples then you and I will still each have one apple. But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas." It’s great to hear of examples of collaboration, for example Google acknowledge open source programming projects have contributed much to the development of their new web browser, Chrome. Have you tried it yet, by the way? I’m struggling to find my way around the new-look Facebook so I haven’t risked switching browsers, tempting though it sounds.

Blue Eye Shadow

I’d arranged to join a friend (J_) in town for coffee this morning. As I was walking, a memory from my early teen years suddenly came back to me:

The 14 year-old me had put some bright blue eye shadow on and walked across the commons to see a school friend who lived on the other side. Unexpectedly as I had emerged onto the pavement my father was just driving past. He took one look at me, stopped and insisted I get in the car to go home and ‘wash that muck’ off my face, and that I looked like a trollop.

As I thought about this memory, I was thinking how often I have been told I don’t need make-up, and how that reassuring message has set me free to choose. I’d watched a TV programme recently where one mother castigated another for bringing up her girls with the belief that they needed to paint a mask on their faces in order to have confidence to face the world.

Such was the trend of my thoughts as I arrived at the meeting point and waited for J_. When I saw her coming towards me, the first thing I noticed with surprise was her bright blue eye shadow! I made no comment, and we fell into conversation then after a while J_ brought the subject up and explained that she had been upset because Zoom Airline going bankrupt leaves her out of pocket (she had a Zoom return flight to Bermuda booked and paid for). A former work colleague had once told her she needed to brighten herself up a bit by wearing make up – recalling that memory this morning had led to her putting rouge on her cheeks and the blue eye shadow to try and make herself feel brighter.

At the time I made space and listened, trying not to crowd her with my own thoughts and feelings, but later on I was thinking about the synchronicity of the recollection coming to me just before I met her wearing blue eye shadow. That kind of synchronicity seems like a powerful affirmation to me of the concept of Universal Consciousness, of us all being connected. Thinking about how reassuring it has been to me to be told I don’t need make up, I sent J_ an email in which I wrote:

What [former work colleague] told you wasn’t true – you don’t ‘need’ to put on make up to ‘brighten yourself up’. You have a beauty that shines from 'your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight' to quote from 1 Peter chapter 3. I've been reading a book by Eckhart Tolle: 'A New Earth', where he explains the difference between the ego within us and what he terms 'Presence'. It seems that [former work colleague] may have been speaking from Ego rather than from 'Presence' (or holiness/love). It's not to say you can't wear make up if you want to - that choice is yours to make - but to affirm to you that there is a natural beauty within that wants to shine out of you, to be the natural radiance in your face and eyes and life.

If you’re a woman with low self-esteem reading this today, these words are for you, too.

Panty Pad

I’m wearing a panty pad in my bra. This is not, I hasten to assure you, a sign of advancing senility. No, indeed. I do know where panty pads are supposed to be applied (I understand the clue in the name), but this was an inspired improvisation. Where the wound and the bra strap have been coming into contact, it has left small bloodstains on the fabric. I was reluctant to apply an adhesive dressing, so I turned the problem around and applied the adhesive panty pad to the bra instead. It is, after all, hygienic and fit for purpose. Errr… apologies to anyone if this happens by chance to be the very first entry you read in this blog … this subject matter isn’t fully representative of the whole. At least, I don’t think so. Nor am I proposing to post a photo to support this entry. Moving swiftly on…

A friend once shared that lack of feedback was her reason for giving up blogging – she felt that had she received some evidence that her words were being read and appreciated by a wider audience than the two of us, she would have been encouraged to continue. Sometimes when I feel discouraged, her comment comes back to me. When I’m feeling insignificant, when I’m not receiving the affirmations I crave, when it feels like I’m giving and giving and not receiving, I question again my own motives in writing.

Recently I’ve either read or heard it said that when we are at peace with ourselves, there is silence; it is when we lack peace within that we begin to emit sound. If I could find where I came across that, I’d like to check it out again, to hold my own thoughts on the subject up against it and see how they compare. I wonder how writing fits in – I have to admit that sometimes I prefer to write first drafts with a pen on paper, that intimate acquaintance with the words somehow creating the relationship that enables the writing to flow.

If the world exists to help us recognise who we are … as I try to finish that sentence, follow that train of thought, it pulls out of the station and chugs gently away from me leaving me to try and pull the threads together and create some kind of article that isn’t rags and tatters. What exactly am I trying to say, and to whom? Answers on a panty pad, if you like.

Getting back to my friend's comment, it would have been easy to feel discounted by her remark. I was reading and commenting on her blog entries – was that not enough? Were my words insufficient encouragement? Instead I recognised that she was unconsciously offering me an honest mirror in which I was able to check my own attitude and if I didn’t like what I saw, to find the greater truth that would be more beautiful to behold. I come back and re-read my own words from time to time. Perhaps it reassures me in some way, tells me like the L’Oreal advert, “You’re worth it!” Maybe that’s what this is about.

In ‘A Course in Miracles’ which I’ve been working my way through, I’ve reached Part II which begins with the sentence: ‘Words will mean little now.’ It goes on to explain that from now we will be looking for the periods of wordless deep experience that will follow our waiting in quiet expectation of encountering truth.