Saturday, 10 January 2015

Pure Gift

I am overcome, right now, this minute, with an urge to write. I wouldn't get too concerned if I were you. Even if concern were your metier, by the time you read this, the Muse will have moved off to torment some other poor soul.

I am reading a book by ( Pause to write in author's name later. Don't forget) called, (Surely not. I HAVE to remember the title!) anyway it's about discovering my true self, a topic about which, being such a fraud, I am practically obsessed with.

I discover to my amazement that I am not doing all that badly. I say this to encourage you, Dear Readers, because if I'm getting 'B+' in the 'Knowing Who You Really Are' class, chances are that you are too. There are one or two tips that I would like to pass on, especially as at least two of you are my daughters, and mothers have an obligation:

1, Remember who you really are. I borrow this piece of advice from the Bhudda, whom I wish I could meet. Religion tells you that you are an eternal and embodied soul, doing time In a wonderful incarnation that isn't actually out to get you, so don't take the tough stuff too personally. Science will have a different take on the same theme: you are part of the cosmos knowing itself. Yes, really, I got that from one of those wonderful physicists on BBC 4, possibly Professor Brian Cox. Either way , you are pretty special. Gloriously, magnificentky, amazingly unique. So. Just SO.

2. Spend a significant part of every day doing something you really want to do. I often find this the most effective kind of prayer.

3. Practise being a better person. You'll know exactly how to do it, because the good stuff is innate.

4. And Finally. ( I pinched this one from Nelson Mandela, whom I would also like to meet one day.) Treat everyone as if THEY are good. This is a great tip, I find it really works.

The Muse has reminded me of something. I shall have to write it down, or I'll have no peace.

Last Spring, I was at Llansor Mill, sort of 'on retreat' except that THAT sounds holier than I mean it to. There's the Camping Field down by the river and I am hanging over the gate. The sun is behind me, and bright, despite the earliness of the hour, and the meadow grass is wet with dew. Yet, for a few amazing minutes, before the world turns, it's not: it's ablaze with diamonds, refracting light of every hue. I stop, I daren't breathe for fear of missing out on an amazing experience - that of knowing that I am the cosmos knowing itself. And in a moment of pure rapture, certain that creation is mine too, and that it's pure gift, and that I am thankful.

Goodnight, and God Bless!


PS: The Book: "Becoming Who You Are: Insights On The True Self From Thomas Merton And Other Saints"

By James Martin, SJ 

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