Silence is such a gentle thing. No one is dominating in the silence – this was one of the many insights from my favourite film In Pursuit of Silence by Patrick Shen:
When silence is mutually arranged and held, it becomes much more hospitable than your average space, particularly to anyone from a persecuted group or a group who are not often given “air time” to speak, ironically…
I am about to go on a retreat which will be almost entirely silent, just for a few days. I am feeling mostly excited, though I do detect a hint of wariness! But really I am longing for this silence at some fundamental level.
Trefoil with book
It strikes me that choosing to be silent might be one of the most powerful choices we could make in a world with so much multi-channel communication going on constantly? And that this is very different from feeling silenced or indeed from actually being silenced.
There is something in this about offering my attention just to God and to the natural world and also to my own self more deeply than I normally manage to do. And also something about receiving the loving attention of God and fellow creatures in the natural world, too. 🙏
This month marks the tenth year since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I am cured, thankfully, and recently officially received confirmation of that from my annual scans. But I am loath to mention my celebrations, as I have so many friends whose lives have been blighted by the long shadow this horrendous disease can cast.
Only the other day I heard that another friend’s life had come to an end, after years of cancer treatment. On the bus on the way home yesterday, when I mentioned my celebrations, another friend reminded me that our mutual friend died from cancer not long after my diagnosis, 9 years ago. Also yesterday I spoke with another friend who is in the middle of her annual cycle of griefs – it’s 3 years since her husband died (far too young) from cancer. And I noticed again the Facebook profile of a friend I made in hospital who was exactly the same age as me, but who sadly died aged 39, less than a year after we met, in the midst of her treatment.
In memory of all these remarkable people and also in encouragement of all of my friends who have gone through treatment and survived like me, I do want to write of my gratitude.
Last night my housemates cooked up a storm to help me celebrate. It was good to remember and also to celebrate. A lot has happened in those ten years for which I am so grateful.
This morning as we prayed we read this quote from Evelyn Underhill:
When we are in good health, we all feel very real, solid, and permanent; and this is of all our illusions the most ridiculous.
I recently had the opportunity to cat, kitten and chicken-sit in my friends’ house while they were on holiday.
In the midst of a lot of serious things happening in the world, enter, Mango the kitten. His behaviour with his ball reminds me strongly of what I must look like to an observer when I am feeling anxious and have lost my keys, my wallet, my phone… 🙄
For Mango it’s a game (and a training ground…). Hmmm it might be good to remember that when I next misplace my keys, wallet, phone…
I have signed this. And encourage anyone who is a member of the Church of England in any sense to consider it. I realise we are not all on the same page. I value my friends whatever page they are on with this. But this is really important to me and reaches to the heart of the good news I believe Jesus brings us all. I long for all those who are LGBTQ+ to know they are totally loved exactly as they are. And so may healing and peace come…
There is so much going on currently in the world, and in the Church of England of which I am a part (albeit at arm’s length). Much of it is downright awful. Some of it is deeply hopeful.
I realise many Big Things have happened that I haven’t yet had a chance to write about here. And they continue to stack up. My heart is full of all sorts of things.
For now let me share this prayer. I share so you can sing along. However untuneful or tuneful you might think your voice is, I dare you to find a space and sing this quietly or loudly where you are, if it resonates with your heart. Sing alone hidden in a quiet room or outside in a garden, or on a hilltop or a beach, an edge place. Sing into the wind and let it whip your words into action, or into the quiet beauty of a still day.
Someone recently told me when they get YouTube links like this they just listen but had never thought of joining in before. Do join in if you are able to. So we voice the prayers of many who have no voice or no opportunity to use it, or who don’t have access to this way of praying and singing yet.
One of the many interesting conversations I had yesterday on the counter far right protest (see previous post) was with a friend who recounted how our local theologian and Methodist Minister John Vincent used to say (I paraphrase), « Jesus’ command ‘Follow me’ was not primarily a command to our heads or our hearts but to our feet ».
Awful that we had to do it, but it was so heartening today to be with good good people, making sure that asylum seekers and refugees in our beautiful City of Sanctuary (Sheffield) know they are welcome. The police were very well organised and in the end there were very few far right protesters there. By contrast, there were I guess 300ish of us counter protesting. The issues are complex and this isn’t a binary situation, but at the end of the day, if you are seeking asylum we want Sheffield to be a genuine sanctuary for you.
A little chant by Philip Roderick that I’ve been singing alone and with others for a number of years. It made its way back to me via a couple of new friends and acquaintances recently. I am so glad it has been doing the rounds. Kick off your shoes, root yourself where you are and have a sing. Enjoy… 🌱
I just had the opportunity to watch this remarkable film on the big screen today. I recommend it! It is breathtakingly beautiful, as you would expect, but also very effective at communicating the violent monopolisation of the oceans that we, the human race, have been engaging in.
I hope conference delegates have the chance to see this film before they go. And that movers and shakers in their countries also see it and therefore realise how important conservation of the oceans is for our planet now.
The film is very hopeful. Apparently significant areas of ocean have made a remarkable recovery once they have been left alone and given time and space.
It seems totally unnecessary for us to be trawling the oceans in the way we have been doing for some decades now. The footage of trawlers was horrendous. I think the only reason this practice has been legal is because it happens out of sight a long way away. Now it’s not out of sight, thanks to this film crew.
Underneath all of the devastating practices lies endless, insatiable greed. The one thing all this industry relies on.
But there are a few stories in the film that show greed doesn’t have to be the whole story. The global campaign to save the whales, which I remember happening in my childhood, was incredibly effective. Whole species of whales were saved from the brink of extinction and whale populations in general are now thriving again.
Also, there’s a little village in the film where the people decided to stop fishing nearby altogether when that patch became a protected zone. One of my favourite scenes in the film is of a group of their children jumping off the jetty there into a beautifully restored, clean ocean, full of colour, light and life.
And in Hawaii there’s a vast area of ocean nearby that the people decided some time ago to protect and make a « no take » zone (called Papahānoumokuāke). Over the past two decades, that bit of ocean has recovered remarkably well, and of course because of this, tuna stocks in neighbouring areas have increased by over 50% as well.
Although the film was explicitly not saying fishing and fishers are evil, it was saying we need to protect much more of the ocean than we currently do (currently less than 3% of our oceans is properly protected). I will be paying more detailed attention to the amount of fish in my diet, and to where the fish comes from in response to this.
This was a beautiful but uncomfortable watch. Ending with pictures of David standing on Old Harry Rocks, which is a beautiful stretch of coastline near where I grew up. As he says, protecting our oceans could protect the whole planet, our home.
la perle 