All is Well: A Journey in Contemplation

g Reality

It may seem like a strange question, but: what is reality?  It seems to me that in the clamour of modern life we have lost our hold on what reality is.  Many of us know this through our experiences of social media.  We scroll through posts and know that, whilst we can touch base with people, much of what we see is not ‘real’.  More than ever before, we have the opportunity to curate our own lives and to portray a life that is not real.  We can reach across the ether and ‘hold hands’ with a friend – give them a virtual hug – but this can come at the price of not living in the present: not interacting with the people on our doorstep and the environment in which we live.

Human beings are amazing creatures and the exponential rise of technology means that many of us – especially in developed nations – live lives that are insulated from what it means to be alive.  We don’t have direct contact with the source of the things that enable us to live: our water comes from taps; our food comes from shops; our heating comes through radiators.  We take for granted: shelter; full stomachs; clean water and warmth.  And in the same way that we have lost contact with the physical sources of life, so too have we lost touch with the spiritual source of life.  God/Love gets lost in all the superficial things we hold onto and we seek solace through various forms of addiction – to food, drugs, alcohol, pleasure.  Always seeking more, bigger, better.  Trying to hold on to youth and beauty instead of seeking the inner wisdom that comes from a life in touch with reality.

This is not to say that life is easy.  Life trips us up all the time.  It throws ‘curve balls’ at us that knock us off balance.  And sometimes that fall is exactly what we need.  Sometimes that fall takes us face-to-face with reality and we are able to let go of the things that have blinded us.

It is a hard message to hear, but a true one.  We need to spend some time in darkness, and we need to recognise our current trajectory given our lack of care for our planet.  Human beings are amazing creatures, and yet despite all our knowledge and scientific discoveries we too often run away from the truth.  When there is bad news there is only so much we can take and then we seek comfort – comfort that is often taken at the expense of others who are far away enough for us to ignore.

I struggle with this.  I struggle to live in a world where I know that other people suffer, where the planet is being exploited and destroyed, where it seems that too many of us – and in that I include myself – are too lethargic, or scared, or selfish to act in love for the whole of humanity and the planet.  It is all too much – the problems seem too big to even conceptualise, so I disappear back into my comfort zone.

I believe that God wants us to live in reality.  To face the darkness and, indeed, to dwell in it sometimes.  It is there that we can escape the clamour of the world: we can find God and God can find us.  It seems counterintuitive in many ways and yet it is the pattern of nature - life leads to death and death to life – the very pattern that Christ as a man lived out in his time on earth.  He did not turn his back on the realities of life – he reached out in love and when death sought him out he absorbed the hatred that put him there and accepted his path.  In accepting his path, he found life.

In many ways it seems crazy to be writing these thoughts and ideas under the title of ‘All is well’ when our world is such a mess.  But I honestly believe that when we face the reality and ugliness of our world and ourselves, it is then that God/Love enters us with the reassurance that ‘all is well’, and we become aware of a bigger reality.  A reality that is cosmic and beyond our understanding. We gain a peace that we don’t understand and yet is more real than any we have previously experienced.

Meditation has been described as ‘practising dying’.  In meditation I sit in silence and I let go of all that is inside me: I just sit.  The way of contemplation is a ‘letting go’ not just of the physical, but also of the ego – a letting go of myself.  Jesus taught us to give up our lives and take up our crosses.  Why such a tough request?  Because that is the way of life and peace.  God does not come to punish us in this, he comes to us in Love and wants us to find the Love that he planted in our souls at the very beginning; that he planted in the whole of his creation.

The darkness we experience is sometimes an unknowing.  Whilst I am energised to understand more about how our universe functions, I am conscious that there are always more questions.  Whilst I love to find out more about how people work and to find empathy, I am always faced with people and situations that surprise me and that I don’t understand.  Sometimes I need to let go of the desire to understand and sit in the mystery of it all.  God/Love is mystery and sometimes our journey is a road of un-knowing.  Sometimes we need to unpick what we thought we knew and trust the falling; trust the mystery; trust the darkness.  Let go of our need to be in control and trust that God/Love will always catch us.

Through darkness we find light.  Fighting for justice and peace, valuing our planet and every human life, is not something we can do without this inner journey.  We will burn out; we will lose hope.  We need to do the inner work that takes us to the real reality; that affirms that ‘all is well’.  Then we will live in hope and faith, and love will be our source and our guide.

 

Musing#8: Love is everywhere: Love is mystery

There are three pictures of Love that I find helpful.

The first is Love as water.  The nature of water: the way that it flows; the way that it can reach into the smallest of places; the way it is absorbed.  That reminds me of Love.  Jesus talks of a spring of water that is inside us – that gushes up and brings life and joy.  And then there is the image of the water in the marshes – it rises up from the ground unseen, but when we switch on our awareness to it we find that it is growing and doing its work.

The second is Love as light.  Light helps people to see.  The smallest light in a dark place will have an impact: the blindness the dark brings is broken as grey edges are revealed.  Light brings clarity, warmth and comfort. That reminds me of Love.  And then there is the way that light reveals beauty: whether it be in the sunrise; as it shines through a stained-glass window; as it brings the colour in the natural world alive. 

The third is Love as breath.  The very air we breathe.  Keeping us alive and enabling us to do all that we do.  There are times when we find ourselves literally gasping for air.  There are other times when the gentle rhythm of breathing can lull us into a spiritual moment: from the sleeping child, to the ‘dying’ breaths of a loved one.  That reminds me of Love.  Jesus appeared to his followers and breathed on them, saying, “peace be with you”.  Our breath can teach us about Love.

Then one day, musing on these pictures of Love, a realisation.  How had I not thought of this before? Love is so much bigger, so much more present, than these pictures can portray, because…

Love is not only found in water but also in the desert; in the parched places.  In the book of Genesis we find the story of Hagar who runs away to the wilderness where there is no water.  In this place Love finds Hagar: sees her, recognises her and sustains her.  In our ‘desert places’ Love finds us: sees us; recognises us and sustains us.  She finds us where there is no water to refresh us and gives us what we need.

Love is not only found in light but also in darkness.  Darkness is often used as a metaphor for times when Love seems absent.  These times can feel ‘dark’: it can be difficult to see the way forward. Things come crashing down on us and we feel alone.  The writer of Psalm 40 describes this as being in a pit. But Love is present in this darkness – in the pit: she has not gone anywhere.

And – this is a gut feeling – Love is not only found in breath but in the lack of it.  Something in me feels sure that in the literal nothingness of a vacuum we will find the essence of Love.  And when our loved one takes their final breath, that is not only the end of something but also a beginning: a step into something new.  Love is there in her own absence.

And so these words in Psalm 139 make complete sense:

Where can I go from your spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

And the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you;

The night will shine like day,

For darkness is as light to you.

Love is everywhere and in everything.  That is what Love longs for us to know, so that she can reach out to us and into us.

Then another question; another realisation.

Is Love the water? No.  Is she the light or the breath? No.  Is she the desert, the darkness or the nothingness? No, no, no.

All these are metaphor.  They help us to understand and perceive Love, yet Love is beyond our understanding and our ability to perceive.  We get snatches; we catch glimpses, but Love is mystery.  She stays beyond our control; outside of our boxes; free from taglines and soundbites.  Closer to us than we are to ourselves; infinite and infinitesimal; beckoning to us in silence.

Love is the mystery that holds us, and whose only requirement of us is that we let ourselves be held.

Photo by Karolina Kolodziejczak on Unsplash

 

Musing#8: God is everywhere: God is mystery

There are three pictures of God that I find helpful.

The first is God as water.  The nature of water: the way that it flows; the way that it can reach into the smallest of places; the way it is absorbed.  That reminds me of God.  Jesus talks of a spring of water that is inside us – that gushes up and brings life and joy.  And then there is the image of the water in the marshes – it rises up from the ground unseen, but when we switch on our awareness to it we find that it is growing and doing its work.

The second is God as light.  Light helps people to see.  The smallest light in a dark place will have an impact: the blindness the dark brings is broken as grey edges are revealed.  Light brings clarity, warmth and comfort. That reminds me of God.  And then there is the way that light reveals beauty: whether it be in the sunrise; as it shines through a stained-glass window; as it brings the colour in the natural world alive. 

The third is God as breath.  The very air we breathe.  Keeping us alive and enabling us to do all that we do.  There are times when we find ourselves literally gasping for air.  There are other times when the gentle rhythm of breathing can lull us into a spiritual moment: from the sleeping child, to the ‘dying’ breaths of a loved one.  That reminds me of God.  Jesus appeared to his followers and breathed on them, saying, “peace be with you”.  Our breath can teach us about God.

Then one day, musing on these pictures of God, a realisation.  How had I not thought of this before. God is so much bigger, so much more present, than these pictures can portray, because…

God is not only found in water but also in the desert; in the parched places.  In the book of Genesis we find the story of Hagar who runs away to the wilderness where there is no water.  In this place God finds Hagar: sees her, recognises her and sustains her.  In our ‘desert places’ God finds us: sees us; recognises us and sustains us.  He finds us where there is no water to refresh us and gives us what we need.

God is not only found in light but also in darkness.  Darkness is often used as a metaphor for times when God seems absent.  These times can feel ‘dark’: it can be difficult to see the way forward. Things come crashing down on us and we feel alone.  The writer of Psalm 40 describes this as being in a pit. But God is present in this darkness – in the pit: he has not gone anywhere.

And – this is a gut feeling – God is not only found in breath but in the lack of it.  Something in me feels sure that in the literal nothingness of a vacuum we will find the essence of God.  And when our loved one takes their final breath, that is not only the end of something but also a beginning: a step into something new.  God is there in his own absence.

And so these words in Psalm 139 make complete sense:

Where can I go from your spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

And the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you;

The night will shine like the day,

For darkness is as light to you.

God is everywhere and in everything.  That is what God longs for us to know, so that he can reach out to us and into us.

Then another question; another realisation.

Is God the water? No.  Is he the light or the breath? No.  Is he the desert, the darkness or the nothingness? No, no, no.

All these are metaphor.  They help us to understand and perceive God, yet God is beyond our understanding and our ability to perceive.  We get snatches; we catch glimpses, but God is mystery.  He stays beyond our control; outside of our boxes; free from taglines and soundbites.  Closer to us than we are to ourselves; infinite and infinitesimal; beckoning to us in silence.  Metaphors help but they are not Love.

God is the mystery that holds us, and whose only requirement of us is that we let ourselves be held.

 

Photo by Karolina Kolodziejzczak on Unsplash

Winter

 

In the Winter of life

I turn my face to the sun

And feel its warmth

On my skin

 

The breeze is gentle

And whispers of a world

Unknown

 

I sense infinity

Waiting on the edges

 

I feel the pull

But there is no rush

 

“Rest a while.”

 

My soul stills within me

As love takes my hand

And leads me on.

 

 All is Well: A Journey in Contemplation

d Everything

How do we think about God?  Yes, how do we even begin to think about whatever we call the force that holds everything together?  It seems to me, more and more, that in trying to understand we have squeezed and squashed God into a box.  In making the indescribable describable we have limited him.  In defining what it is right and wrong to believe we have excluded God – we have shut the bigger part of her outside of the door. 

At this time in history I believe it is critical that we open up the doors and see that God is everywhere.  We need to wake up - open our eyes - and see that God is in everything.  At the beginning of time there was no written word but God was manifest in creation.  You don’t need to believe in God to wonder at the way that the natural world is designed: to marvel at its beauty; to observe its patterns; to be amazed at its resilience and strength; to stand in awe at what surrounds us.  Who is not struck by the beauty of a rainbow?  Or the swell of the ocean? Or the grandeur of mountains? In the natural world each one of us finds phenomenon that stop us in our tracks and give us the sense of something beyond us.

Those of us who come from a Christian background need to be careful with the way we think.  When we are struck by the beauty of creation we get opened up.  But we also so easily get closed down again by trying to own this beauty: by trying to own the creator.  God is love, and God is manifest in his love - in his creation - all over the planet.  Life abounds where it has not been nurtured or fed – something comes from ‘nothing’: is that not seemingly how the world began, whatever story we subscribe to? When we understand that creation is God manifest we understand that God is available to all.  When we understand that we too are part of that creation – fearfully and wonderfully made – we understand that each human life has the imprint of God.  We open our eyes and recognise that God is in everything and everyone – he always has been and she always will be.

I am not a scientist but I am intrigued by the knowledge that science gives us, and by the way that so many fields of study are being drawn together even as they expand.  Science teaches us that the universe is unfolding and expanding.  This is in essence what we need to do with our thinking – let it unfold and expand.  For me, if my thinking is unfolding and expanding then God is unfolding and expanding.  This in turn means that love is unfolding and expanding.  I want to be a part of that and believe that is what this journey of contemplation is about. 

As science uncovers and explains more and more, the truth is that there is always still more beyond that to understand.  Again, is that not a picture of God?  God is so big that we can’t get outside of him to look back and make objective observations of what she is like.  Which is why it is just impossible to put God in a box.  It is a bit like being on planet earth.  Most of us will not have the opportunity to go up into space and see what earth looks like from a distance (although of course we have photographs).  But equally we don’t need to see earth in this way because there is so much to explore even in our vicinity.  This is also true for us as individuals – I can never get outside of myself and look at myself objectively, but there is so much to explore and work on, on the inside, that it doesn’t really matter.  And however far we go- whether it be to orbit and look back at our earth, or beyond our solar system to look back, there is always a further place to be.  For me, this is a picture of the immensity of God.  It is a picture of infinity – I can never reach the end.  This gives me a sense of wonder and awe, and a sense of the limitations of my own understanding.  But this does not put God out of my reach because, as far as he expands, she is still right here with me.

I am struck that whilst the universe is unfolding and expanding, gravity keeps us rooted to where we are.  There is an expanding force and a grounding force.  Again, this seems to me to be a picture of God – ever creating and expanding and always beyond our grasp.  And yet at the same time so firmly within us – drawing us down as we search for him in our souls; rooting and anchoring us when we feel set adrift.  This is also a picture of what I need to let my mind do – I want my mind to expand, to open up to all that is there and I want my mind to be rooted and anchored in God.  My mind, or my soul?  Probably both. The sense of being opened up to all there is, to all God is, is freeing.  The sense of being rooted and anchored, of finding God deep within me, when I explore under all the masks I wear, is grounding and gives me a safety and a peace which is beyond that which the world gives me.  With these contrasting forces it is not an ‘either, or’ but a ‘both, and’ – a picture of the love that God is: more generous and all-encompassing than our finite brains can understand.

How do I begin to recognise God in everything?  I begin to slow down, to take time, to pause.  There is a presence in animals – we may sense it more clearly in animals we are close to – those who work with animals or who have pets may be particularly attuned to this.  There is something powerful in recognising God manifest in an animal you are close to.  But can we also recognise God’s presence in: trees and plants; rocks and stones; the sea and the sky; the stars and the planets.  St Francis called all things sister or brother.  This gave him an affinity with all of creation which in turn gave him an affinity with God.  ‘Draw close to God and he will draw close to you.’  She is on your doorstep wherever you are: whether you are privileged to live in view of mountains or sea; whether you live in a tower block or cramped conditions where you jostle against other humans.  In the smallest plant that pushes its way through the tarmac; in the biggest creature moving through the ocean; in the planets and stars we see as we orbit and are orbited.  God’s presence – love available at every turn.