Pandemic proverbs

Caution is the better part of valour

This is my current proverb of choice. In South Yorkshire where I live, we are in tier 3, the highest risk level for Covid-19 in the UK at the moment. And, with the onset of autumnal, fast-darkening evenings, everyone’s just getting weary of it all. We’re now not allowed to meet indoors or even in people’s gardens, though we can still go for physically distanced walks within South Yorkshire.

I’ve been in conversations with numerous groups about what we can and can’t do and so on for a long time, with frequently changing goalposts. It’s all quite tiresome, but I think at the very point where we may be tempted to just give in and break a few rules, it’s really vital that we don’t.

I know about 5 people locally who have been diagnosed with Covid-19 in the past week or so, all of whom are sensible and have been adhering to the rules as best they can. One of them is in hospital with it, though he is only in his early 50s.

A local friend also shared that her colleague (also in their 50s) died from Covid-19 recently. So, now I think is the time for knuckling down. For considering that caution may well be the better part of valour in this season, for everyone else’s sake as much as our own.

I’ve thought of a number of these “pandemic proverbs”. It’s amazing how powerful a proverb can be as it settles into our subconscious. If someone in our past has repeated a proverb ad infinitum to us in a judgmental way, it can become like a weight to carry around, which is not so good. But deployed sensibly and meaningfully, I think proverbs can bring healing and hope and remind us of the wisdom of our ancestors.

Once, when I was a priest working in a parish church, a lady came into church one afternoon, wanting to turn over a new leaf. She wasn’t a church goer (except maybe at Christmas sometimes, or for Christenings, weddings or funerals), but she knew she had to come. She described how, after weeks of moping around at home alone, feeling depressed, anxious and rubbish about herself and her family, she’d decided enough was enough. She’d made herself have a shower, “because cleanliness is next to godliness, right? Isn’t that what they say?” and she’d come down to church.

My colleague and I were of course really grateful this lady had showered!! But also, looking at her fresh face, which she’d bothered to wash and her hair she’d bothered to brush and put up, what I saw was hope in action, in spite of her really difficult circumstances. Of course, I think that was the powerful work of God (well, I would say that, wouldn’t I?). But I think it was also the powerful work of a simple proverb.

I wonder what sayings or proverbs are offering themselves to you in these strange times? I am sure there is wisdom from before for us to access to help us through. A friend shared on Facebook the other day, “for 4.5 billion years, no two days on earth have been exactly the same; we will get through all the changes we are living through at the moment.”

Photo Credit: Jeremy Timm

More autumn glory

I couldn’t resist… I missed all this last year, on my travels. I live in an inner city area, but these pictures were all taken about ten minutes’ walk from where I live. In lockdown, I began walking here much more often.

One minute meditation from further afield (Tideswell Dale)

Autumn Glory

This year I am really noticing all the beautiful colourful leaves on the trees and on the ground, and the delightful bright éclat of blue, yellow, gold, green and surprisingly red red. To my mind, the French word expresses so much better than any English one the brilliance of the yellow leaves against the blue sky. It feels like the colours and shapes physically strike my eyes, momentarily stunning me. They keep tempting me to linger for a longer look at the whole scene.

Damflask Reservoir

The sky is more white than blue today, but still all kinds of colour abound. This time last year I had just begun my round the world trip, and I was in warm places well away from all this autumn glory. I really missed it! I remember how relieved and delighted I was when I reached Switzerland at the end of November to find the last vestiges of a golden leaved autumn were still in evidence, although winter was fast approaching.

So this year I am delighted to be fully present here, among the beautiful leaves and skies of my home. Sheffield does a good line in bright, brisk autumnal sky-blue days. There is much that is wrong with the world, but this remains such a joy.

I discovered this plant in our garden is called “Autumn Joy”

How to turn a news article into prayer

I wrote this poem on reading this extraordinary news article this morning:

How to turn a news article into prayer


Slow your reading

Question – who’s voice? Who stands to gain? Where does power lie? Who or what is hidden?

Slow your reading

Re-read what is key

Engage compassion

Deploy generous, indiscriminate empathy; an Exocet missile of love

Notice – what do you notice? What phrases, images, feelings does this evoke?

Embody; craft a posture of response

Meditate; be still



Thoughts about this poem… One of the paradoxes about contemplation is that it always dances with action. The one leads to the other and back again. They do-si-do and whirl around together in the most beautiful way.

The end of the news article above quoted activist Claire Faggianelli saying to us in Europe:

“Look, we have been yelling at you for years now. There is something that shouldn’t be happening at the very borders of Europe, and you close your eyes to it. Wake up!”

Claire Faggianelli, quoted in Guardian article about Banksy-funded refugee rescue ship 27/08/2020

This made my day

I woke unusually early this morning to find this wonderful message waiting for me on Facebook. I stayed in Thanh’s Mum’s homestay in Ninh Binh in Vietnam when I was travelling last year. It was a really beautiful place in terms of the scenery, but they were also a wonderful family to stay with. If Vietnam listens to the wisdom of its young women, and enables them to live their dreams, who knows what might be achieved…?

Here are some more of my photos from this beautiful place…

Thanh is the young lady in the middle here
The river and rock face at the bottom of
Mai Spa Homestay garden

After sharing this post I looked more closely at the postmark saying it had been missent, and realised it had actually travelled pretty much all the way around the world. This map shows the geography. I sent it from the UK then it went to the British Virgin Islands, then finally to its proper destination in Vietnam. Wow. I am so amazed it actually arrived in the correct place in the end!!

La perle

There are many reasons why I called this blog “La Perle”, ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime. But the other day I arrived early for a meet up with a friend and her little girl at the General Cemetery in Sheffield (now no longer used as a cemetery but as a public park). So I went for a stroll around, for the first time realising just how extensive the cemetery is. I stumbled across this enormous monument in one corner that I’d never seen before.

The inscription reads:

“To kindred friends and townsmen dear

A Christian merchant slumbers here

Who found while goodly pearls he sought

One pearl of price surpassing thought

Reader do likewise – he who finds and buys

that pearl, though he sell all he hath, is wise.”

This recalls the parable of Jesus about the pearl of great price:

“…the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

Matthew 13.45-46

There are some things; moments, experiences, interactions between us, that everyone knows are extraordinary. The kind of moment when someone says something that is deeply true, maybe very vulnerable, some wisdom coming from somewhere beyond, which none of us can access at will, and yet any of us may find ourselves stumbling across unexpectedly. Those moments are to me like the pearl of great value.

I want to live my life like the merchant, open, expectant, looking for the pearls. And when I find one, I hope I will give up everything I have for it. This is an ongoing journey for me. There was a moment when I was much younger when I chose to follow Jesus. That decision involved letting go of other possible paths. It is a constant choice. And it is a risky option, requiring readiness to let go of all sorts of other things. But that pearl is so beautiful, I don’t regret anything I’ve given up for it.

The fact that I stumbled across such an explicit reminder of this wisdom in a cemetery only reinforces it for me. This is wisdom from beyond the grave. From the perspective of our mortality, what is wise? Or, as another friend put it to me a while ago, if we knew we only had another year, or just 3 months or 3 days to live, what would we do? What would be important?

This blog started as a travel blog as I visited friends and family around the world last year. On my travels I experienced many special moments with people, known and unknown to me, and also moments on my own in jaw dropping awe of creation. Each one of these moments was like a pearl of great price to me. It took a lot of effort to make the journey, and to make it I had to let go of a lot of things. It was worth every sacrifice and every penny. I’ve shared some of the pearls here, and there are many more still to add and marvel over.

May you also be a seeker after fine pearls. And when you find one, may you have the courage to let go of all the other stuff in order to claim it. “…She who finds and buys that pearl, though she sells all she hath, is wise”.

That awkward feeling

I, like so many others, have often fallen into the trap of only making friends with people who are quite similar to me. But occasionally, just occasionally, I have had the privilege of becoming friends with someone who is really quite different from me.

For many years I have lived and worked around social housing estates in the UK. My Dad was brought up in a similar community, so I have some things in common with the friends I’ve made there, though perhaps at one step removed.

Something I am learning from Black Lives Matter and from black writers recording history from their perspective, is the power of friendship with those who are different from you. James Cone describes eloquently in his book The Cross and the Lynching Tree how various big name white theologians in the midst of the civil rights movement in America failed to make friends with their black colleagues, and how this is partly why they were anaesthetised from really feeling the full force of injustice and the hideous suffering and loss of life caused by the lynchings. The lack of awareness and feeling, coming from the lack of friendship with black people in turn stopped the white theologians from acting or speaking out / campaigning quickly to bring about a change in the law so the lynchings would be stopped. If your friend’s brother has just been lynched, and now his children have no father, you feel something, right? And you are motivated to bring about change, even at risk to yourself.

All of this is resonating with my recent learning as a coach to do with how people can move from not seeing/not knowing there’s a problem to seeing it, then onto feeling the significance of the problem emotionally and physically (opening our hearts and bodies to it), and then onto taking some action to address it.

What is interesting is that most of us most of the time halt this process of change quite early on. For example, we refuse to see/recognise that there is a problem in the first place, in spite of the evidence all around us. Or, we acknowledge the problem, but then we refuse to feel and engage with the discomfort of what it means. Or, we see the problem, engage emotionally with it, but then still fail to act to do anything about it. There is ample evidence of all of this sort of behaviour in the Covid-19 pandemic, regarding reluctance in mask wearing, physical distancing or avoiding unnecessary travel, for example. How we are engaging (or not) with the climate crisis is another example.

Steps, Stairs, Up, Staircase, Stairway

Sometimes my friends who are different from me give me an awkward feeling. Often, they don’t share my middle class language of polite niceties, which cover over a multitude of sins. They also don’t always share my convictions about what is most important during the pandemic or about the climate crisis. They are more inclined to say frankly exactly what they think or feel, without any attempt at hiding it or pretending to be considerate towards others who may think or feel differently.

There’s a certain kind of clarity that comes when someone just says exactly what they honestly think. At times, it presents me with real discomfort, because I completely disagree with what is being said, and I find the language very harsh, with little or no allowance for the possibility that they may be wrong. But just this morning I have been wondering… What if the depth of my discomfort is coming from a realisation that, if I were being really honest, I would have similar thoughts on these, or other topics? And I would similarly admit no possibility that I might be wrong…?

Banner, Header, Question Mark, Question

With all these thoughts in mind, here are some questions I will be pondering:

What are the situations where I fail to see there’s a problem still, in spite of the evidence around me?

What are the situations where I know there’s a problem, but I fail to let myself be friends with the victims and start to really feel the discomfort of the repercussions of it?

What are the situations where I know there’s a problem, I feel something of the repercussions of it, but I still haven’t actually taken action or spoken out?

and…What steps will I take to move beyond where I currently am?

Another thing some of my friends have been teaching me, is about knowing what you deeply want or need. I am no psychologist, but when someone states repeatedly what they want and defends their right to have what they want, what I hear is a small child who is clawing their way back to life. Maybe what that child needed when they were younger was ignored? Maybe they were mistreated instead of cared for? In which case, their asserting their right to meet their own needs irrespective of the needs of others could be the frail beginnings of a recovery? How do we co-create safe spaces for each other to acknowledge our vulnerabilities and begin to face them undefensively and find some agency? How do we make these spaces safe, open, honest, gentle and mutual, without colluding with self centredness or aggression? Is it even possible?!

In response to this, I am also wondering how aware I am of my own needs, and how prepared I am to own them honestly and openly, regardless of other people’s responses to my vulnerability?

It can be tempting to condemn people who express themselves directly and honestly with no niceties. But what if my friends who are different are in some ways like a light shining on my darkness?

Adult, Blur, Bokeh, City, Evening, Light

Lockdown L words

Lockdown lard 😋 – no explanation needed!

Lockdown lassitude 😴 – when you just. Can’t. Be. Bothered!

Lockdown leftovers – again, 😋

Lockdown lollies – again, 😋 the reason for the lard

Lockdown lazy days – when you just. Can’t. Get. Your. Act. Together (and decide to go with it).

Lockdown legs 🦵- more lardy than usual, may also be unaccustomed to any movement whatsoever

Lockdown liberties – this is when, let’s admit it, we take liberties, as in, “It’s Covid-lockdown-brain… I couldn’t help it/I just forgot/I was Zoomed out/I just can’t seem to get organised these days…” etc etc (delete/edit as applicable)

Lockdown lawns – how do they grow so quickly? How?? And why do I not have time to mow them when most social engagements have disappeared from my diary??? Why???!

I have many other Lockdown L words… if you’d like me to add more, like this post…! And feel free to suggest some of your own, of course…

One poster

👆🏼This is the Black Lives Matter poster that we made to take with us on the demo (see earlier post), which I prayerfully painted and then stuck in our front window next to the NHS one.

The view from the window with the posters

👆🏼Our window is not right on the street. there’s a driveway and my car in between. And the poster was not really all that big (the biggest paper I could find though). Nevertheless, the other day, my housemate was just on our driveway when a black lady waving her arms excitedly in the street caught her attention. The lady had a big grin on her face and was pointing to the poster saying, “Black Lives Matter, thank you, thank you!”

Some time later, I was struggling to resurrect some wire fencing that had been trampled on at the top of our back garden. When the weather was colder, someone had climbed over into our garden to gather some of our dead wood, then climbed back over the fence into the ginnel (non Yorkshire folk, “ginnel” means alleyway) and made a fire there.

It was a very hot day, so I was sweating away while also getting stabbed with barbed wire, brambles and broken bits of fencing. As I picked up all the dead foliage and branches and threw it onto a pile for the tip, I found quite a few bits of rubbish discarded by passers by as well. With every bit of rubbish and the burnt bits of wood, I found myself feeling more depressed about the state of humanity and sad for whatever reason those people had for making a fire in a ginnel rather than having a safe home to go to.

My housemate came into the ginnel with me to help me remove the pile of dead branches and rubbish. We came across a length of carpet and various other items strewn a bit further down the ginnel. I sighed, and despaired a little bit more. I know life is really hard for a lot of people, but I just find it so sad to see whole lengths of mucky carpet discarded like this.

As we made our way to our garage to dump all the stuff, one of the workmen working on the building site nextdoor approached us with a big wheelie bin and said, “Do you want to dump all that in our skip?… in fact do you want to bring it as you are on the sheet?” And he wouldn’t stand by and let me carry it. He took my end of the sheet and carried it for me. His cheery grin and his thoughtfulness and kindness restored my faith in humanity and really made my day. He, also, was black. (We noticed his white colleague leaning on the wall watching, having a fag break. I found myself thinking, perhaps a little unfairly, that this was absolutely typical; my racism tends in this way against those with the same colour skin as me.) Because of the encounter with the black lady earlier the same day, I found myself wondering whether he, too, had noticed our little poster and been encouraged and emboldened by it?

I tell these stories, because, when I speak to any of my black friends, they have umpteen stories of how they have been treated badly because of the colour of their skin, despite being some of the kindest, most talented and intelligent people I know. Sometimes they’ve actively been insulted or mistreated. Other times they’ve just been passed over for promotion or job opportunities even when they had a proven record that outstripped their white colleagues. In this context perhaps even our small poster comes as a big encouragement to people.

One black friend recently told me about an encounter with a white female friend, who’d announced she would never go out with another black man, because her experience with one black man had been so bad. In recounting his story, he said, “She would never have written off all white men just because of one bad experience with a white man. So why did she write off all black men just because of one bad experience? There are good people and bad people. The colour of their skin has got nothing to do with it! Why can’t we just treat each other as individual people?”

Why is this still happening? How is it that we still fail to realise that every human being is a human being, with just one body and one life to live, and that this is a precious and holy thing, not to be dismissed or disregarded? And that any human being can make good choices and bad choices, and most of us make a mixture of the two most of the time, but that however we judge good or bad choices, the colour of someone’s skin is not the arbiter of their value or of their “goodness” or “badness”? I address these questions to myself as much as anyone else.

We are all members of one race. It’s called the human race. May we start to act like it. And may we never underestimate the power of every poster, every kind word, every open question, every thoughtful act, when people have been living with injustice for generations. In the meantime, I will keep thinking of these two beautiful black people, and all my black friends and acquaintances, and sharing what they tell me of their stories. May they know that they are loved, honoured, valued and delighted in today.

Black Lives Matter

Abbeyfield Park, Sheffield

We physically distanced ourselves, we wore masks, we knelt in silence, fists of resistance raised. The air hummed with our anger, our sorrow and our determination to bring about change. One moment, feeling a bit foolish, kneeling there, the next looking again at the young black woman at the front, fist never lowering even for a moment. She knows what it is to be black. She knows this isn’t just another issue; this is life or death. Then our anger mixed with humiliation for generation upon generation of our collective failure to act or to speak up. Or to even see the people around us as they really are, and listen to them talk, at length, about their lived experience, their pain; their reality.

My friend wrote a chant in response to this which serves as a song of lament and also a way of reminding ourselves repeatedly to wake up and pay attention, to prevent us falling back into our well worn grooves of inaction, silence or complicity:

“The beginning of evil is heedlessness; Lord have mercy”

Abba Poeman
Lucy Bolster, Play in Chants

Another friend blogged a response to do with the controversial dismantling of the statue of the slave trader Edward Colston in Bristol. What he writes is astonishing and in my view should be read by anyone in the UK currently or who has an interest in what is happening here.

“…it was only in 2015 that we [UK Government] finally finished paying the debt borrowed by the UK state to pay off the slave owners after the abolition of slavery act in 1833. It was the biggest payment in our history, more than the bankers bailout in 2008. It was 40% of our entire GDP. Not a penny went to slaves who still had to work as interns for free for a further 5 years.”

Find Chris Howson’s full blog post here: