Somewhere else

Skillet pushes open the door to the cafe. There is a clatter of conversation and tea-cups. He sees his friend sitting at a table at the back of the shop and walks over to join him. Skillet speaks:

Hello, my old friend!

Hello, indeed! It's wonderful to see you! 

I wasn't sure if it was you at first.

Ah, yes, sorry about that. It's the pointy hat that does it.

But you don't wear a pointy hat.

Exactly.

Have you eaten?

Not yet - I was waiting for you. The coffee cake looks good, though...

OK, but first, can I ask you a question?

Of course - anything.

What did you find out?

Ah - straight to the point, eh? Well, there is something...

Yes?

It's not what I was expecting.

But there is some news?

Yes, and it's very intriguing.

So..?

You're to go on a journey.

A journey? Where to?

Ah - that's the intriguing bit...

In what sense?

Well, this journey won't take you where you want to go. If you get my meaning.

So.. where will it take me?

Somewhere else.

Things I have noticed #1

The longer I travel the journey of life, the more I notice that things do not stay the same. But right now I am finding that the rate of change is increasing; there are more and more things about which I do not feel the same as I did, say, two, three or five years ago.

Some are significant because they are huge shifts in my thinking or my outlook; some are significant because they occupy a small but regular part in my daily life.

Things I have noticed which are changing include:

1. I cannot write with music on in the background.

2. I cannot get the hang of A Game of Thrones.

3. I find a great deal of inspiration in the Divine Feminine¹.

4. I am becoming a vegan.

5. I am becoming more and more fascinated by the historical Jesus.

6. I am losing my taste for coffee.

7. I sometimes find it difficult to hold onto my concept of the God of the Christian faith². 

8. I find it hard to listen to loud music for more than a few minutes at a time.

9. I get excited by the Spring leaves on trees.

10. I feel that I own far more things than I need.

¹ Brigid and the Old Testament figure of Wisdom are currently very important to me.
² I don't know why this is happening. It worries me.

I think that ten items will do for now, though there are more!

Proud of Pride

I don't make it to many festivals, even over the summer months. It's largely to do with the fact that I work weekends on 48 weeks of the year (people tend to be a bit upset if the Vicar doesn't turn up to church on Sundays!). But last weekend, on a day of annual leave, I went along to Pagan Pride (PP) in my home town of Nottingham.

I've been to PP once before, in 2014, so knew something of what to expect. The festival is a wonderful mixture of talks, workshops, dancing, bands and the chance to meet old friends and to make some new ones. There is also an eclectic mix of stalls selling clothes, books, jewellery and hand-crafted items ranging from musical instruments to wands.

The atmosphere at PP is very relaxed and friendly - there are folk from all sorts of spiritual paths but nobody is trying to prove a point about their own path or to convince anyone else that they should abandon theirs. Indeed, one of the talks I attended was given by Matt Arnold. Matt is a Christian minister who spoke about his journey from 'grey to deep green' and the way in which Pagan folk had both welcomed and enlightened him. The comments he received from the audience were ones of genuine interest and support. It was a wonderful thing to be part of.

Throughout the day, I was struck most strongly by the individuality of the festival-goers. It may be the clothes they wear, or the piercings and tattoos on display (lots of these!) or simply their willingness to turn up at the festival to declare their allegiance, but at Pagan Pride people seem to be free to express something of who they are. I came away from the festival feeling inspired to continue my own journey into the green, and to have a little more courage in expressing my individuality, too.

Goddess bless Pagan Pride. I'll definitely be there next year!

(Radio) Silence

I was listening to the Today programme on R4 this morning. Just before it ended, there were a few seconds of silence which were, in fact, part of the link to a brief article about silence.

The bulk of the article was an interview with Dr Helen Lees who spoke about the importance of silence in our lives. In her responses, Dr Lees mentioned a forthcoming film about this topic, called In Pursuit of Silence, in which she features. The trailer for the film (below) is astonishing...



Just watching the couple of minutes of the film trailer started me on a train of thought in which I realised how little silence - real silence - there is in my life. There is, I suspect, a strong link between that fact and the lack of stillness, peace and 'belonging' which I often feel.

The film is due to show in only one place in the UK, and I think that a trip to the US to see it is probably beyond my means. I wait for the film to be released on DVD in due course and, in the meantime, seek out some of the silence which it celebrates.

Many ways, many paths

A lot of my inspiration for blogging comes from reading other people's blogs. One of my very favourite bloggers is Nimue Brown whose excellent blog, Druid Life, can be found here.

In a recent post Nimue considered what Paganism actually is, and the temptations and dangers which come with attempting to say who is and who isn't a true Pagan. Of course, there are similar opportunities for such games within any spiritual path, tradition or religion: the Christian faith, within which I earn my living and become increasingly aware of my shortcomings, is no stranger to this.

(Rather than comment on my own experience of this, it is, perhaps, better to say very little and to consider the words of the Teacher from Nazareth in the forty-second verse of the sixth chapter of St Luke's gospel. That alone would be a lifetime's work for me!)

But Nimue's article is not negative. Rather, she encourages all who would seek to embrace the name 'Pagan' to remember that all paths are valid, and to use that as an inspiration and encouragement for their own path. Furthermore, Nimue suggests that Paganism does not have to be tied to particular affiliations, badges, memberships, rituals or teachings: it is our very humanity that causes us to respond to the sacredness of life. She says:

Paganism is a human response to the experience of being alive that finds sacredness in being alive. It’s a response to the seasons, life changes, the moon and tides, the agricultural year, the land, the weather. It’s a response to living and dying and to the constant cycles of life and death in this world. Anything that comes from a human response to life, is inherently Pagan. 

And it is in the natural cycle of the seasons and the turning year that each one of us could own the name 'Pagan':

So the urge to make light and festivity at the darkest time of the year – that’s a Pagan urge. The urge to dance and party in the summer evenings, that’s a Pagan urge too. Celebrating the harvest, singing about the dear departed, honouring relationships, respecting the land we live on – no one needs telling how to do this. Every last one of us could come up with a way of being Pagan in response to life with no reference to anyone else.

I have now begun to ask the question, are all those who love the land, the seasons and the ebb and flow of relationships and emotions partly Pagan? Perhaps we are, and - if we can avoid the temptation to judge and differentiate -  that is something to celebrate.

Coming home - again

The last few weeks have been more stressful than usual. A cold-type virus which lasted nearly a fortnight, and a very heavy workload have meant that my regular yoga practice hasn't been at the top of my to-do list. Indeed, I began to think that my yoga practice could easily take a back seat for a while.

I was wrong.

For the first few days, my not practising meant that I could squeeze in a few more emails, or finish off another piece of written work. It also meant that I didn't have to slow down. But I soon began to notice how restless my mind was, and the extent to which my thoughts were occupied with nothing but work. Not good.

I also began to feel guilty about not taking time out for yoga. Why would I let something I love drift away? Where was my commitment, my discipline? What would happen if I didn't start up again?

Then I remembered this article, which reminded me what I was missing, and why it was important to restore the balance.

So today, I unrolled my mat, and came home again.

And as I began to move, and to find the breath in my body, I realised that yoga is always there, waiting for us to come back to it. There is no judgement and no demand for explanation; rather there is a welcome and the reminder that we are mind, body and spirit.

It was good to be home.

The Old Straight Track

Over the last few months, I have been obsessed with roads. And not just roads, but also tracks, lanes, byways, and paths - in fact the smaller the road, the more interesting it seems to become.

It really all began with two things: a holiday in Devon and Robert Macfarlane's wonderful book, The Old Ways.

In his book, Macfarlane tells the stories of journeys he has made along some of this land's oldest paths, such as the Icknield Way and the Ridgeway. As he walks he discovers the events, people and tales which have shaped (and been shaped by) the landscape through which the paths run.

It's a beautiful book: a mixture of poetry, documentary, history, cartography, nature-writing and autobiography. I read it with a sense of yearning for the road, and for the mystery into which the ancient paths lead us. And now that I've finished the book, I find myself poring over maps to discern where these old roads run, like pencil lines half-erased from tracing paper.

Mid-way through Macfarlane's book, I spent a week in Devon, where single-track lanes are the everyday highways for local residents and tourists alike. On turning right out of our cottage door, we quickly became the lone walkers on a track through an Oak wood. In response to the silence and the coolness of the mossy path, I took off my shoes and walked the track barefoot, as one would a medieval labyrinth.

At the sound of the Wren, I stopped, and immediately became aware of my role as the visitor, and her place as the resident. I made an offering to the wood and its creatures from my flask of water, the only gift I had with me, and felt at once both at home and a stranger there. The path led on, but I had come far enough for now, and turned back for home. As the Summer fades and the seasons turn, I feel that must go back again, to walk that path into the past and into the future.