Green Patches

We Shall Not Be Overcome

He did not say, 'You shall not be tempest-tossed, you shall not be work-weary, you shall not be discomforted.' But he said, 'You shall not be overcome.'

 - Julian of Norwich

Contemplation and navel gazing - float on...

 - the peaceful waters of St Mary's Loch, taken during our Durham-Iona pilgrimage last year

 

The credit for this post goes to Smudgie of wibsite renown, whose description of her floatation tank experience bears an uncanny resemblance to the struggles I sometimes often experience when I try to pray,

 

I did not like the way my thoughts continued to  bombard my brain but without being able to gain a purchase and be resolved…a bit like those squelchy toys you throw against a mirror which sort of stic k but then slither down and fall off onto the carpet where they pick  up all the loose hairs and  fluff. I didn’t go into a meditative state – I went into a teflon state, but still with the myriad of thought-directions sparking off inside my brain…together with a sense of guilt that I should be relaxing.

Teflon prayer - I love it! To stretch the squelchy toy analogy even further,  our son threw  half a squelchy santa way up and out of reach  near the landing ceiling just after Christmas.  We're still waiting for it to work its way back down to earth.   Anybody who  fancies speculating as to what that has to say about my current spiritual state is welcome to have a go. 

 

 

"I saw that he is to us everything that is good"

St Julian's Church, Norwich

 

He is our clothing. In his love he wraps and holds us. He enfolds us for love, and he will never let us go. 

I saw that he is to us everything that is good.

 - Julian of Norwich

re-cycled 'Blog of The Week,'

I was tempted to say 'bloggage,' given the  continued attack of writer's block  I mentioned last week.  A quick search on 'retreats,'  shows this is no new thing for me;  it's become a part of the landscape at this time of year for me to emerge from the wilds of the countryside gawping like a stranded guppy. Earlier in the year Opinionated Vicar's  reflections on his IGR at St Beunos prompted me to try to articulate  some thoughts on changes in my own prayer. These changes wove their way almost  effortessly into my own time recently at the same retreat centre and have come out with me as seamlessly. Which isn't to say, of course, that everything was plain sailing. On the contrary,  but underneath the struggles I always had this deep down  sense of 'all will be well.' The nearest I can get to describing my spiritual state is to liken it to a radio: yes, it took some 'tuning in,' and at times I wasn't quite sure which station I was headed for, yet for the first time for as long as I can remember, there was a complete absence of interference, static and crackle.  And a discernible deepening amd moving closer to God which even a hard of hearing Greenpatch was able to pick up on. More than that, I simply can't say. 

Far better to leave you with a picture of the beautiful grounds  surrounding St Beunos; they speak far louder than words.

 

'Busy' Fauve and Contemplative Gannets - 2

 

"So beware of behaving wildly like some animal and learn to love God with quiet, eager joy, at rest in body as in soul. Remember your manners, and wait humbly upon our Lord's will. Do not snatch at it, like some greedy greyhound, however much you long for it."

 - The Cloud of Unknowing cp 46 

'Busy' Fauve and Contemplative Gannets

 

Well, that won't win us  the photographer of the year award, will it? Still  it captures our resident French canine 'Busy Fauve,' to a tee. Greenpatch dog operates at two speeds only: full speed ahead or dead stop. This morning we enjoyed a  long, wet, muddy walk where from  start to finish it was nose to the ground, tail in the air and a 100 mph demo of a weaving technique so impressive that I'm tempted to hire him out to the local Caledonian Society for their next Scottish Dancing demo. Life for your average happy, well-fed and loved pooch is happy, shiny and full of exciting discoveries. For who else is  rolling in unidentified, pongy  substances the equivalent of a 5 Star Spa Experience? The sound of a slab of cheese being unwrapped three rooms away like  Grand Opera!

When I wasn't trying to stop GPD dragging me into the canal I got to thinking that  he and I bear a striking resemblance. (apart from the wagging tail and parfum de boue et crotte, of course).  Not that my nearest and dearest could exactly describe me as the life and soul...However, contemplative though I fancy myself to be, and however still I may look on the exterior.. inside..oh dear! At times  I dart about from one fascinating idea to another, sniff at one tantalising possibility, glance off it onto something else , soak in ideas until my head is bursting.  I want more! It's  easy to mistake quantity for quality. It's so insidious, creeps up on you just as you think you've learnt from the last time.  Spiritual indigestion isn't a pretty sight. Though thank goodness I don't have the spiritual equivalent of GPD's dicky digestive system; all  his cavorting around frequently ends up with him bringing up his breakfast. One thing he does get right, however, is living in the moment.  Something I could learn from.

Our cat, though...she simply 'is.' No explanations needed.

To see a 'busy Fauve' in full flight, have a look at the clip below. It's not of our GPD, but 'Bazou' is a joy to watch and for me captures the happy-go lucky attitude to life of this cheerful little dog. Enjoy!

 

 

 

Blog of The Week - Opinionated Vicar

They're lining up!  Four blogs vied for my attention yesterday morning, hence the delay in posting here.  I just couldn't make up my mind. So, in the interests of fairness, I've plumped for the  first one I discovered, David Keen's reflections on imaginative prayer in Opinionated Vicar. (Opinionated? Surely not...?)

 

"I found all of this very fruitful, whilst being aware that I rarely have the leisure in prayer to simply use my imagination. It's much more controllable to pray set prayers, work through a list of things to pray for, and formulate my own prayers, rather than let my (rather more chaotic) imagination run the show. 

As an evangelical, I'm trained to base prayers on reason. God is found in the Word, in the left brain, prayer is based on who God is (revealed in words) and what God has said (ditto), and is verbal. Ignatian prayer is more 'right brain', and uses the imagination. Both reason and imagination can be flaky, and I came back from the walks wondering whether I'd been for a walk with Jesus, or just imagined I'd been for a walk with Jesus. Then I wondered whether perhaps both had happened, and it didn't have to be an either/or."

His account of his experiences on retreat resonated with me, not only because I'm booked into the same place later this year, but also because it touches on some of the changes I've been experiencing in my prayer  lately, especially since I moved churches.   It  offers a few clues as to why I  often struggle with particular types of churchmanship. I'm currently trying to put together  some reflections on spiritual growth and faith journeys for TSSF; reading about the changes in OV's* prayer is helping me clarify some parts of my own travels. Thank you. 

 

The other 'contenders' were:

Catholic Zen, and, for their reflections on issues relevant to last week's rioting in the UK, Good Goat and Tractorgirl.

 

* Re-discovered via The Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley. No, I'm not being paid commission to give them blogspace, really!

Last week's Blog of The Week : Yn meddwl yn groch

Light my fire - Thunder and Rainbows

 

 -  Fremte  from Wikimedia Commons

 

 

We could do with some here - thunder I mean.  It's absolutely scorching for the third day running, with humidity at 90% if you believe everything the BBC says.  And much as I'm tempted to rush out into the garden and continue with my painting of everything that moves - and some things  that don't, (the dog is breathing a sigh of relief here), I have retained an ounce  of commonsense. We don't want Mr GP to return from his travels this evening to  discoverhis wife flat out on a bench and the dog decorating  the lawn with Jackson Pollock-type  streaks in tasteful sage and buttermilk.

I've been reflecting a little on what life's been like in the GP household over on my wibsite blog  - and on my own journeyings in particular - where the metaphors of thunder and rainbows and holding the two in tension have and continue to be part of a learning curve.  I'm trying, (famous last words) as I've said on Musings, to major on the rainbows as much as poss. Given my natural tendency to Eyorism (have I coined a new expression?) this is no mean feat.  I've always said that I don't know how I'd cope without my sense of humour. One of the warning signs that I'm beginning to get overstressed and need to lighten up is that it begins to wane. I'll admit - signing on to Youtube and grimly ploughing my way through a selection of comedy clips - as I did after a particularly 'orrible 'blip' last weekend maybe wasn't the way to go. 

However, consciously focusing on those brighter moments, (though without morphing into Julie Andrew's "My Favourite Things" mode; there are limits!) has helped. Nothing new and certainly not rocket science. Readers who are of an Ignatian bent will recognise elements of the examen here: pausing at intervals to reflect on where God's been present , what draws  energises, fires you up  (and what does the opposite). A form of this is actually written into my rule of life as a daily practice. Yes, I am Franciscan I know - but let's allow for overlap, shall we?  Did you know that Francis introduced a form of "Ignatian" meditation long before Inigo was around, with his institution of the first Creche Vivante (living crib); the forerunner of our modern crib scene.

To get back to Inigo -  at the excellent BRF Festival of Prayer  recently one speaker told of a similar exercise which has really caught my imagination: their spiritual director had challenged them to try and list 100 (Yes, you read it correctly, one hundred) things that energised and brought them alive. Talk about a challenge. Is it really possible? Time will tell. To date my 'list ' has around 30 or 40 items on it; there are days when it sits at the back of my journal untouched, others when I add several at a time.  It certainly resonates with the way in which I've been experiencing a sense of quiet prayerfulness in some of the most unlikely activities recently - hence the mad garden painting spree.  It's a far cry from the rather (at times) grim, greyish, often extremely cerebral 'Quiet Time' which even  if  it's not actually used up much   of my time, certainly has provoked a lorry load of guilt  in the past.  I'm not the only one it seems. There's a discussion currently over on The Ship on the self same topic. I just love the poster who describes her  prayer practice nowadays as more "Every Now and Then with Jesus."

Happily I'm beginning to loosen up nowadays and am trying to balance regularity and spontaneity.  Not quite in the same way as those delightful Beaker Folk, thank  the Lord, but I'm getting there. Though maybe counting my exploits with a Kelly Kettle and homemade bunting (my latest craft project) as meditative prayer practices is carrying the definition a tad too far. I'll be into fire eating and prophetic banner waving before you can turn round, and then, where will we be?

Pilgrimage Companions Part 2 - Return of the Midges

In case anybody thinks I should be reaching for the halo polish after the last blog post, do feel free to pop over to Musings.  Call it Franciscan joy, if you like!

Silence is golden

At last!  The first episode of the  new documentary The Big Silence, which I blogged about nearly six months ago,  is set to air this Friday on BBC 2. If you live in the UK, that is. I'll be following it with interest, especially in the second programme when, we're told, the participants take part in an eight day silent retreat.

I've   returned from a similar one myself only a few weeks ago, (though mercifully, not accompanied by a camera team!). Mine, too, involved a full eight days more or less in silence; longer than I've been accustomed to before; with a new venue, also, which by its very nature involved a step further into solitude. In a retreat setting I don't have any difficulties with this, seeming to drop into the rhythm of the place quite naturally. The challenges that invariably present themselves in the quietness, however, well, that's quite another matter. They don't always appear to get any easier. Whether or not that's an indicator of greater closeness to God, is open to question. I'd hope the answer would be yes.   And, even as a 'veteran' of nearly seven years to guided retreats,  I still struggle with building those times of quietness and prayer into my daily life.     

So, my sympathies will be with the BBC retreatants and I'm sure I'll find much to reflect on and learn about from their experiences.