Morning Glory

We are experiencing a false "spring" and having been unseasonably cold it is now unseasonably warm. As ever I am wary about words like spring and cold and warm because I know how much they mean different things to different people, depending on where you live. We consider a cold winters day what an Englishman would view as a lovely warm summers day. So bearing this in mind it is lovely and warm today at around 24 deg C and no wind and it shouldn't be quite so warm in the depths of winter.

It was warm in even in the pre dawn morning. So warm that I couldn't resist going outdoors just to be outside barefoot.

And what a wonderful morning it was.

The eastern horizon was burnished orange, fading through salmon to blue. And clear in the deep blue sky hung Venus chasing Jupiter shining brilliantly  and dogged by some small star I don't know the name of. All around the Hueglins Robins sang joyously and with liquid sound from their territories, joined by a chorus of chirping sparrows and the wistful notes of a thrush or two. The air was fresh and clean and tantalising as cold wine. The dry grass crunched under my feet, connecting me to the earth while the sky drew me impossibly upwards.

I was pulled out of my ordinary self into another place of possibility where misery and sadness  recede and joy colours the world. And even briefly this glorious morning I was given grace to allow joy space in my sometimes tortured life.

Ah grace.......

Such a mystery.

Small Community

Yesterday a trainee Professional Hunter got severely hurt in the bush and was air evacuated to Harare in urgent need of medical help and a blood transfusion. However there was a shortage of his slightly unusual blood type and the word went out on email and twitter and skpye and text requesting anyone with his blood type to donate blood. The response was overwhelming and many waited in line for over and hour to donate blood. Some had come, not knowing their blood type but sought to donate anyway while another offered to fly in from Zambia at his own expense.

Being a universal donor I stood in the line in car park and marvelled at the people of all races and creeds who had come and good naturedly stood in the brisk cold waiting their turn for an unknown young man.

Such is what it means to live in a small community and for that I offered a prayer of grateful thanks.

Grace and Peace

Now I know why Paul often used this greeting.

I had one of those rare half hours with nothing immediate to be done. Oh yes there was washing and supper and the like but nothing that had to be done right then. I chose instead of being busy to sit with the late afternoon sunshine streaming in on my back and a now quite large fuzzy black cat on my chest. Daydreaming almost. Meditating almost. But not quite either.

As the silence and peace deepened I pulled my old bible toward me. One I have had since a teenager and one that has travelled the world with me. Still my favourite. It fell open at a marker. Psalm 91. Words of reassurance and strength and courage and protection.

Warmed, emboldened and with joy I welcome the grace and peace that has been so absent recently

Water lilies and blowing reeds

Today I walked with a friend at the National Botanical Gardens and was entranced to find water lilies blooming in the pond that was fringed with blowing tossing seeded reeds.  Reflecting as we walked I thought that the lilies and the reeds are images of values I hold dear. Many of my friends value growth as the apex of personal development but I do not. I find in my own life that growth often comes at the hands of suffering and pain. And frankly suffering sucks. While I accept that suffering is part and parcel of living I would not court it neither do I see any need to make it palatable by using wisdom gained as compensation. It simply is and I do not like it.


The reeds and water lilies are rooted in rich, dark mud. Being a gardener I am often at my happiest playing in the mud and value rootedness and stability and sense of being nurtured that being planted gives. Perhaps this is simply so because I was adopted within my own family and have flt disconnected from parents and sister and uncles and aunts and cousins for most of my life.


Water lilies and the reeds are also adaptable and supple. Moving with the wind and water. The water level drops or rises and the water lily floats imperturbably on the surface, the reeds blow in the wind, bending without resistance to the direction of the wind. I am none of these things even though I dream of being so calm and flexible.

I love waterlily flowers. A sunburst of colour beautifully formed. Happiness. I would like some happiness, some contentment. I would like to smile back at the world and for that to be fully genuine. And the reeds, singing in the wind dancing their tossing heads. Singing the song that the moving Spirit plays, easily, merrily, softly and with joy. I would like to be smile and sing and dance, just some of the time but this is hard to do when I feel fractured and broken.

Lefty

Yesterday I broke a finger and it is now bound to my ring finger. People keep saying to me "well, at least it is your left hand". Would be fine, except that I AM left handed.

I have been learning to do all sorts of things right handed which is proving a little interesting and harder than expected. Some things like cleaning my teeth and typing now take conscious effort and it is not to disastrous if I get it wrong (which happens quite a lot). Other things I approach with caution - ironing and kettles are potentially very dangerous if I get it wrong and I do not wish to add burns to the sprain. It is quite sore enough.

Being conscious of unconscious actions and having to think through how I am going to do something is making me wonder how much of my spiritual life is a similar reflex, and how I might become more conscious of what I am doing (without breaking a metaphorical finger I think). Part of the answer lies in simply being more present and paying attention to my actions as I am having to do now. Astonishing how much this focus changes my perspective.