Serenity

I thought I’d try something different today. I will practice Oneing, as described by the mystic Julian of Norwich: experiencing union with God.

“Union with God,” may seem a little far-fetched to the vast majority of people, including Christians—although it’s likely that Buddhists have already reached that state, let’s call it, “self-emptying,” and we Christians are trailing behind.

It’s amazing that most religious people don’t practice Oneing, because the very Latin word, “religio”, from which “religion” is derived, means to “reconnect.”

We Christians have a perfectly adequate myth to describe disconnection with The One: the story of Eve (First Lady) being deceived by a serpent into eating an apple, and persuading Adam (First Man), in turn , to do likewise. For this apparent misdeed, the entire human race disconnected from God and now lives in a state of separation.

I’m not entirely convinced of the literal facts of the story of Adam and Eve—so don’t tell my friends who are convinced it’s true—but I sense there is a deeper truth: that once this soul of mine was connected to the cosmos, and maybe by choice now lives a separate identity, with a deep longing to be one with the One once again.

So what did Oneing look like today?

 I deployed all my senses. I found a twig covered in lichen and moss, and I touched it with a deeper awareness of its texture. There was something very  healing in that connection. It would be ridiculous to say I became the twig—but it’s not too far-fetched to say I knew it to be exactly what it is, and that brought me joy. 

From touch to smell: it has rained heavily for two days here in Redmond, and the lakeside woodland was giving up a delicious scent. Laugh if you must—it would be ridiculous to say I became the woodland—but I stayed for a few moments with the presence of the forest.

Sight:what did I see? A bright blue sky quietly surrounded by forest. In the distance, mountains. Beneath  the trees on the green, a group of women slowly moving through Tai Chi poses. Swimmers heading for shore. A mother with her baby in a buggy, returning his gaze. It would be ridiculous to say I became a mountain or rolled in with the lake—but I looked upon those things with great pleasure, and I felt a desire to tell all those people how much they are loved.

Often at times like this, I look around me at natural beauty and I give thanks for the bouquet of the day—wild, asters this morning- and an orchestra. Today that was different birds going about their business with varying degrees of tuneful intensity. It would be ridiculous to say I became the  orchestra—but I conducted it in my heart, and I bowed to the beauty around me.

I finished my time sitting on a branch that reached out into the lake. It would be ridiculous to say I became God—but in truth, I felt His presence in the silence and in the song. 

And I believe I understood what Lady Julian meant when she spoke of Oneing. 

Oneing.

Being A Godsend

The weekend began with a bang. I wasn’t there to observe the explosion, fortunately , but I was first on the scene for the clean-up. My intention was to meet the guy delivering the flowers for the afternoon baptism, at 9 am, do a bit of a tidy-up, and scoot home ASAP. 

On opening the kitchen door, I noticed immediately that the fridge door was open, the plastic door compartments had exited the door, and the floor was covered with a brown liquid. A half- consumed bottle of coke in a plastic bottle had unaccountably exploded, leaving its environs ae described above.

It could have been a lot worse. All the bits of the fridge were unharmed and easily reassembled, after a run through the dishwasher, I took the opportunity to defrost the fridge, and gave the floor a healing scrub. All done.( Never found the bottle top … weird.) 

The flower guy showed up in good time, but because operation coke-bottle took more time than anticipated, I stopped off at The Manna House for a sandwich, which sorted  lunch.

Ray was away, so I got to determine which jobs to assign to Abu who helps out in the garden. I put him on cutting back the pink elder, which is stressed, and probably dying, and had him clear the trails through the shrubbery, which are  hide and seek opportunities for the grandchildren, now doubling up as a prayer labyrinth. I made him an American Brunch, treating myself to a spare pancake.

Free for the rest of the day, I set about making soup for tomorrow, then settled down to watch uplifting videos on YouTube 

Sunday began slowly. I rose early to pray, which I combined with watching butterflies and walking the labyrinth. July is good for all three. Having done all that was necessary yesterday, I didn’t need to be too early for church, so I ambled up just 15 minutes before kick-off to find a very agitated friend, Michael*, in a heated discussion with Fr  Liam, who was totally at a loss as to why St Mary’s was closed, so unable to give an explanation. 

It’s at this moment I become a godsend. I know Michael well from taking lunch at the community kitchen on Thursdays.  Michael is a volunteer chef and I am one of his customers. 

I know that St Mary’s is closed because the congregation has hoofed it up the road to Gorsley Baptists to celebrate the vicar’s 65th birthday. I got the email. Michael can’t read or write, so he didn’t. St Mary’s takes great care of Michael, and this circumstance is not typical. 

“Come with me, Michael, I’ll explain, and you can do church with me today,” 

Michael too, was a godsend. During my prayer time, I’d reflected on St Paul’s words in today’s gospel. “Christ in you, the hope of glory …” and I’d determined today to see Christ in everyone. Christ came to me today as a fifty-one year old man with learning difficulties who needed a friend, and I came as Christ  to him, to reassure him and guide him through his first Catholic Mass. Fr Liam broke protocol and agreed to give Michael Communion. “Jesus understands,” he affirmed. 

The grande finale … Christ came to both of us in bread and wine. The greatest godsend of all. 

*Not his real name. 

I Believe

My inner- writer will give me no rest until I do this. That is, write a Statement of Faith.

This is SO HARD. What possible purpose would it serve? Who knows or cares?

I'm time-wasting, because as of this very moment, I have no idea what I'm going to say. So it's down to my subconscious to bail me out again: I shall take this opportunity to give my Right Brain the reins, and let rip:

I know that the Cosmos of which I am a speck, is more than 99% void. I look upon the void with wonder. I wonder that I am matter, and I wonder that I am conscious. Life is of inestimable value, conscious life even more so. I, you, everyone: so rare, so precious.

There rises from deep within me a profound gratitude for Being. This gratitude is unfocused, but real. I delight in every manifestation of life, especially in those three lives I helped to bring into Being. My children.

I have searched and searched for meaning, and for a purpose in my life, and have not arrived at any conclusions. This is what I think today, tomorrow I shall be as happy as I am now to write something quite different.

As there are as many purposes in life as there are gurus to tell me what they are, I may as well invent my own. Like you, I will do this in accordance with my personality, my upbringing and my circumstances.

I discovered that ' I believe ' is too passive. So I ditched it for, I will. And maybe I will. I hope so! Here I am:

I will do what brings me peace.

I will pursue happiness.

I will revel in adventure.

I will make myself laugh, and in doing so, I hope to make others laugh too.

I will endeavour to gladden the hearts of those I meet, and I will not always succeed.

If I have to be angry at all, it will be FOR others, and not with them.

I will try always to be kind.

I will react to the suffering of others - in all it's manifestations - with compassion, and I will,when I can, do what I can to alleviate it.

I will retreat into silence from time to time to connect with Gratitude, and give thanks for Being.

I will never forget how to play.

I will accept that this form will fade and die. Whether there is another form to come, doesn't matter: this one flawed, but perfect, life will have been enough.

I will make every day count by continuously calling myself back to being conscious and present in every moment.

I will remember love: that it is the most lavish and beautiful of gifts, that it never dies, and is never wasted.

I will try to remember how flawed I am, and bring no judgement down on others.

I will forgive myself for my imperfections, and offer the same gift to others.

And finally:

I will remind you, wherever you are, whoever you are, that you are loved.

Who Am I Lord? Who are You?

The title of this blog post is a prayer of St Francis of Assisi, or so I’m told. No reason to doubt it. A beautiful lead in to a period of contemplative prayer. 

Who am I? 

Rather oddly, I’ve never really taken to my name. I’ll sign with it, and answer to it, but it’s always felt borrowed rather than given, if you know what I mean. It was my godmother’s name, chosen over “Myfanwy” which was my dad’s first choice. He got his way in the end, because he was an aficionado of the Home Service of the BBC, which at the time of my introduction to the world, was serialising Daphne Du Marier’s, “Jamaica Inn” and dad was much taken with the barmaid, one, “Mary Yellan”. He misheard it as “Mary Ellen,” so Ellen was tagged on as a consolation prize, and became the name my parents used when I was in trouble. 

“Mary” is occasionally translated as “sweetness” and Ellen as, “light.” So thank you mum and dad! 

I am much into the theme of identity in Christ, as propounded all over YouTube by Jamie Winship. He has some very interesting things to say on identity, witnessing to  a Christ that doesn’t need Christianity to bring healing and wholeness to a broken world. (Well, Duh!) 

I’m going off track a bit, but bear with me. When in conversation with an enquirer Winship will  say, “I can explain that to you, or Jesus can talk to you right now, which do you want?” Then asks Jesus to do just that. Look him up if you want to know if this works. 

Who am I? Winship asked Christ to reveal his true identity and he is “Militant Peacemaker.” He takes Christ, though not Christianity, to Muslims.  

So, encouraged to give this asking God what my true Name is, a go, I discovered it’s “My Beloved!” Beat THAT, barmaid of the Jamaica Inn! 

Out of curiosity, I asked AI what “Myfanwy” translates into in English. You’ll never believe it if I told you.