Posted on

Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Eleven

It would be very easy, stuck in our quarantine room for eleven days, to only see the negatives: the loss of freedom, the isolation, the noise from the building site opposite…

So I decided today that I would deliberately look out for the goodness, truth and beauty around.

And here is what I found:

  • The goodness of four young adults enjoying a game of Four Square in the middle of the exercise yard
  • The goodness of the armed forces, security guards and hotel staff doing their jobs diligently and with friendliness and grace
  • The goodness of Mma Ramotswe’s kind words to her assistant Charlie in Alexander McCall Smith’s latest novel (yes, I know that the traditionally-built proprietor of the Number One Ladies Detective Agency in Botswana is only a fictional character, but she is portrayed so well that her goodness still shines through!)
  • The goodness of discovering that the 24-storey building site across the road is actually a gutting and recycling of an old building, thus helping to reuse resources and reduce waste, rather than demolishing and starting from scratch
  • The truth portrayed in a couple of research papers submitted to our journal
  • The truth that is slowly coming together as I think about a paper for my PhD
  • The truth embraced by the precision engineering on the building site – how it all holds together securely and safely
  • The unusual stunning beauty of the spikey flowers on the big red bromeliad on the exercise deck (alcantarea imperialis)
  • The pristine beauty of three white gardenias after Lois and I had gone round dead-heading them
  • And yes, even the ordered beauty of a well-constructed building
Posted on

Spring comes to Breathing Space

After what seems like a long drawn-out winter, the sun has finally appeared in all its glory, warming the earth, and lifting our spirits.

In our breathing space garden, life is, quite literally, bursting forth: the daffodils and tulips are competing to see who can provide the most vibrant display; buds are opening up on all the fruit trees; the blackbirds, robin, wren and tits are frantically flittering back and forth, gathering up twigs, leaves and moss for their nests; the goldfish are gambolling in the pond, and even Sir Isaac – our resident newt – is enjoying basking with his family in the afternoon sun.

IMG_2453 IMG_2431

 

 

 

 

 

What a privilege it is to be here, to be able to appreciate all this beauty and life, and to be able to share it with others: individuals and small groups taking advantage of this little breathing space in the midst of our so often frantic, complex lives and work.

 

IMG_2426

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11: 28-30 (The Message)

Posted on

And another chapter begins

When Lois and I married – nearly four years ago – we both felt quite strongly that we had been brought together for something more than just our own joy. We have been so wonderfully blessed over these four years: with companionship, fun, the love of both our families; with friends; with a home and all its comforts; with good health and with opportunities to encounter beauty, goodness and wonder.

chapel 1

And, along with all this, a developing dream: a dream of something we could build together; of a place of beauty, stillness and peace in the midst of all the busy-ness of life; a safe, sacred space where we, together with others in community, could offer hospitality of heart and hearth to anyone who might be looking for a little breathing space.

And now we are here – at Breathing Space, on the outskirts of Coventry; a little haven of stillness. A place that we are making our home, as we unpack boxes and shuffle furniture around. A place where others can come and share the beauty, retreat from the pressures of everyday life, and, perhaps, encounter something of the Divine.

Garden 1

As I gaze out at the garden, with its profusion of shape and colour, even at this time in the grey damp of December, let alone with the sharp, frosty, sun-lit mornings we had when we first arrived, I am filled with gratitude and wonder. Watching the birds flit around the garden, or rise to the tops of the trees, my spirit, too, soars and I feel blessed.

Posted on

Breakfast in Tuscany

 

Waking on my birthday to a cloudless Tuscan sky, the streets of Prato silent and empty in the cool of the morning (and no cafés open for a cappuccino and croissant), I wandered up the river seeking peace and beauty. A couple of miles on, I found my spot: away from the slowly waking town, shared only with egrets and a heron. I sat on a rock in the cool shade as the river gushed past me and the sun climbed slowly over verdant hills.

You spread a feast before me.

I am so blessed: from the wonder and joy of being with Lois – a second chance at life and love; the pride I take in Esther and Joe; the fulfilment I find in my work; the excitement of stepping out into pastures new.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me.

Back in Coventry an exciting new start awaits – yes, it feels uncertain, a step in the dark. And yet, I feel a sense of peace and wholeness; an ability to trust; and a conviction that the journey is the right one.

You lead me to restful waters.

 

(and yes, I did eventually get my coffee and croissant!)

Prato Bridge

Posted on

Crocuses in the Gutter

Crocuses in the Gutter

I might have missed them

had not the lingering morning storm left me

head-bowed, eyes-down

as I walked the dog.

.

A little row of crocuses in the gutter:

tiny,

fragile,

reminding me

that even in the cast-off debris of our world

hope can spring forth.

Beauty,

simplicity,

life.

.

IMG_1919
Crocuses in the Gutter

Posted on

I am going to start living like an artist

Art is not

just an expression of beauty:

soft, green pastels

watercolour meadows on misty hills

leading me to lie down by peaceful waters

and rest.

 

It is an expression of truth

in its brutal reality,

cruel brutality.

The darkness that surrounds

the anguished cry of a mother separated

from her child;

the screams of a young man on a waterboard;

the groans of our mother

earth ravished, exploited.

My pen and my brush

longing for justice

when there is none.

Posted on

To a semi-circle: seeking wisdom

protractor

.

.

.

 

Alone among the shapes I meet,

you rest, content and incomplete;

no rounded symmetry I see,

nor perfect immortality.

Your half-formed body, foetal soul

seems broken, wounded, far from whole.

Your pair of angles doesn’t quite

square the circle, set things right.

.

Yet, should I look beyond such flaws,

open up my blinkered doors,

perhaps I’d see through different eyes:

your gentle promise, silver-bright

shining half-moon in the night.

half_moon

Posted on

Soul: a contemplative companion to chapter 8 of Growing up to be a child

In chapter eight of Growing up to be a child, I explore this deepest aspect of our humanity as a growing awareness of ourselves, of other people, of the world we live in, and of God. In each of these areas, I suggest that the call to ‘become like a little child’ is a call to a redeemed awareness:

  • Of ourselves as beloved children;
  • Of our relationship to others;
  • Of the wonder and beauty of the world in which we live;
  • And of our heavenly father as a God who loves each one of us unconditionally

twig drops

In the contemplative companion, we use music and scripture to help still ourselves and encounter the beauty and mystery of our Creator.

Click here to go to the contemplative companion to chapter 8.