The one about…the darkness.

There’s an awkward reality to our existence, one we’d rather ignore. It’s a reality that plagues us, a reality that we’re desperate to resolve, on that we long to rise above, or eradicate; a reality we don’t want to live with, one that we try numb or distract ourselves from. Yet no matter how religious we are, how much we drink, how busy we keep ourselves, how much we try to channel ourselves into all the right things in an attempt to find meaning and purpose, the reality exists. The reality is there, sometimes gently reminding us, sometimes brutally forcing itself upon us; the reality that life hurts, that pain and sadness exists, the reality that we’re not always happy. The reality that things do go wrong and that other people make mistakes, let us down and even die and the reality that we ourselves make mistakes, let ourselves down and one day too will face our final hour.

It is not easy living in the shadows of this truth, carrying on with life while the darkness hovers, never that far away. At times the darkness is overwhelming, at other times it lifts, at least for a while, although darkness still exists, just as when the sun rises over our land, in other lands it sets.

What if this reality, this darkness that we would love to eliminate, could instead be embraced? What if the shadows all have their place in this thing we know as life? What if there’s a deeper reality, one that says that the pain and sadness belong? What if true reality says that you don’t have to live only for the good times, that there’s more to our existence than happiness and laughter, a truth that tells us the testing times, the fear and the tears are OK too, that we don’t have to avoid them at all costs, because experiencing the whole range of human emotion is part of being fully alive.

What if the stories we read in the news, the political climate we live within, the everyday difficulties we face, are all part of it? What if what the darkness requires is not to be eradicated but to be decorated? What if we have misunderstood the darkness, seen it as something to be vanquished when instead our role in this world is to decorate it? What if to decorate it is to smile, to offer kindness, to be generous, patient, understanding; to listen and to share, to go the extra mile, to give of ourselves and to love.

What if this week, as the Christmas light decorate the darkness of the winter evenings, we choose to decorate the darkness of the world around us, within our immediate family, our community or in the wider world? What if we see this season as an opportunity to decorate the darkness within us, to allow the darkness to create even more opportunities for love and peace and joy to exist? What if in this practice of decoration at Christmas, we also find that we learn how to decorate the darkness at other times too? What if it teaches us that joy and peace can exist despite the circumstances we face not because of them, and that by embracing all emotions we find that they really are all part of this experience of being human and in time we learn to accept the darkness too, to allow it to be, but to always know that love shines brighter.

The one about…light.

It’s incredible how a house becomes a home. Empty rooms, bare walls, a vacant unfurnished space, devoid of any real character takes on a personality and identity as it begins to fill with possessions and people. Our new house felt like home instantly, we all felt it (apart from the dog, but that’s another blog!)

It is perfect for us, size, space, layout, location, it all just works. It’s warm, it’s cosy and it’s light; the light floods in through the kitchen and through the patio doors to the lounge, an incredible contrast to the house we lived in before, tucked away, nestled in between other houses, a beautiful building but cold and dark in comparison to what we now have.

Light; it brightens the room, lifts the mood and warms the space. Light is a gift. I’ve noticed something else about light too though, it shows up every little detail, every spec of dust in the air, every crumb on the work surface and every little piece of dirt on the floor. Light exposes everything.

Many of the world religions celebrate light, the triumph of good over evil represented by the dominance of light over darkness, light is seen as that which shows us the way, whether as in the Hindu tradition of Diwali with Rama and Sita returning home, the celebration of light, or the concept of Jesus as the light of the world, showing the way to live. Light is what guides, what illuminates the path, light is good.
What if three’s far more to light than that? What if in the same way that sunlight shows everything, when we use the word light in relation to religion, it’s there to illuminate everything too, good and bad? What if that’s what Jesus really meant when he said he was the light of the world? What if that kind of light illuminates what we’d rather wasn’t seen, those character traits that we’re not so proud of; our lack of patience, the thought about others that we know we shouldn’t have, the corners we cut or those thoughts we have about ourselves; the self-doubt or unbelief? What if the role of religion is to illuminate all those things for what they are, expose the truth, call it out and call us to be more who we’re capable of being?

Darkness and light both have their place, and sometimes it’s easier to live in the darkness, hiding ourselves away from the realities that we know light would expose. Maybe living in a dualistic world where we have good or bad, light or dark, those who are in or those who are out, isn’t actually healthy for us, maybe a subtle shift in understanding from ‘or’ to ‘and’ would help us see that it all belongs, that there are far more shades of grey in all these areas than the stark contrasts we often box others and ourselves into. Maybe instead of attempting to defeat the darkness we need embrace it and decorate it.

What if to spend time in the light is to make peace with the not so perfect parts of who we are, to accept that it does all belong, to accept that there are elements of our character which aren’t perfect and could be better, aspects that we know we’d like to work on but that we recognise might take a lifetime? What if to spend time in the light, however we do that*, connects us with the way of love, with a higher force or power, something more…what if that in turn connects us more deeply with ourselves, with our soul?

As we get closer to Christmas, as even more lights shine, and we’re reminded of that baby who came as a light to the world; what if we chose to stop, to look at the lights and be reminded that who we are is OK? What if we allow the innocence of that baby to contrast with those characteristics and quirks that we’re not so proud of and allow love to do it’s thing? What if as the light shines on the whole of who we are, we say yes to that love and embrace every detail of ourselves, allowing love and light to show us how we could be yet also learning that to accept ourselves as we are is the only starting point for real growth.
*a walk in the wood, a quiet space at home, church, coffee with a friend, music, art, film, a good book…maybe time in the light is different for everyone!

The one about…demons.

The ‘Good Place’, the ultimate afterlife destination, a heaven like utopia for the elite of humanity, an eternal paradise for those that are good enough or so you’d think…but things aren’t always as they seem and the Good Place is actually an experimental neighbourhood designed specifically for four particular human beings as part of an exploration into alternative torture; hosted by a demonic architect called Michael, the four humans are tortured; not with the more traditional fire and brimstones but instead simply by being, well, human.
It’s another one of those Netflix shows that sounds a little far-fetched and it probably is, the ‘frozen yoghurt in heaven’ concept clearly suggesting that the plot is not rooted in any kind of reality! Yet what if there’s more truth to be found in the ideas it does present, what if the theories it conceptualises are not as far from reality as we might think.
We all hold some thoughts about the afterlife; so whether we dismiss it completely, opting for a huge void of nothingness, or whether we calm our existential fears with thoughts of angels, harps and clouds (or a range of options in between) it’s a subject that we have no definitive answer to no matter how strong our religious (or non-religious) convictions are.
Heaven and hell; literal places we descend or ascend to when our time on earth is over or a metaphorical allegory (is that even a thing?) providing meaning to that which we can’t explain? Angels, demons, an omnipotent judge like character? It sounds the stuff of fiction and fable, more at place in a Phillip Pullman novel or as a plot in Good Omens; but what if demons are more common than we think?
Life isn’t always easy and even when it’s going well, we can battle some pretty tough thoughts in our mind. Those “demons” that taunt us about how we don’t deserve to be happy, who whisper horror over that new lump or bump that’s appeared or the way that mole has changed; demons that talk you into one more drink because really, what’s the harm? Demons that make you doubt anyone really likes you, that you were only invited because they were being polite and it probably would be best to send that text to say you’re not going to make it because you don’t want to spend the whole evening feeling like you don’t belong. Demons that torment you with all the bad decisions you’ve made whilst trying to parent that child, that tell you the reason she does that is because of what you did. Demons that tease you about your ideas for that presentation, that suggest its not good enough and that you won’t get the promotion so it’s best to give up now. Demons that laugh at your attempt at a costume for your child, reminding you of your own childhood humiliation at school plays and mufti days. Demons that haunt you with and uneasy paranoia about who you are and what you’re capable of. Demons that go out of their way to show you how you’ve failed, that remind you you’re not the wife, mother, daughter, friend, sister (or husband, father, son, brother) or maybe just not the person that you would like to be.
Demons can take all shapes and sizes and they can creep up on us out of nowhere, just chipping away at our confidence, at our self-worth, at our belief that we are enough and that we are doing OK.
Shawn from the ‘Good Place’ bad place might well just be a cleverly characterised attempt at mimicking Lucifer, the bad place might host some weird and wonderfully designed demons and it might all seem a little too far from the truth but what if there is something in the way humans are used to torture themselves that is quite close to the truth? What if we do actually create our own hell in the thoughts we believe and the way we respond, not only on a personal level but on a national and international level too? What if the concept of hell isn’t something reserved for the afterlife but a very present phenomenon right now? What if all this suggests that if we can create our own hell maybe creating heaven on earth isn’t as impossible as we think.

The one about…moving the dog!

I didn’t expect the dog to be the problem…the move went so well, and we’re so incredibly grateful to all those friends and family that helped; providing boxes, beds, moving boxes, lifting sofas, bringing a trailer, loading the trailer, carrying chairs and wardrobes and desks, entertaining children, taking washing and gently reminding us that it will all be ok! We’re in and it feels like home, more like home than where we were before (but then I do remember that house feeling like that when we moved there). The children have been incredible; building beds, unpacking clothes, filling draws, taking a breath and smiling when I can’t quite remember where I put their favourite toy and being patient when the cooker took longer to cook dinner than I expected. They have genuinely been there for each other in those moments where the tears fell, when it all felt a little strange and those times that we all just needed to know that no matter what else happened we had each other…they have rocked this move!

Then there’s the dog…the first night the children all settled, they all slept through, but not the dog! No, the dog woke at 4:40am and whimpered, then the whimper turned to a whine and the whine to a bark until desperate Deb got up with a spare duvet and lay on the sofa next to him, not because she wanted the dog to feel better but because she didn’t want him to wake the children or the new neighbours! Last night was a slight improvement but Sid still had to go to him twice and I gave in and got up at 5:50 just so that he would JUST BE QUIET!

I just didn’t see that coming, I didn’t expect the dog to be a problem but he is. Hopefully, given a few days he will settle down but in the meantime it’s serving as a timely reminder that I need to learn to love the dog,

My fundamental inability to have any feelings of compassion whatsoever towards him,is somewhat problematic. I don’t like the dog. I don’t love the dog. There are many reasons why I feel the way I do, reasons I justify on a regular basis. The dog is ridiculously needy in a desperate kind of way, which I just find irritating, does he not know that there are dogs on this planet that live in the wild, that fend for themselves, finding food, shelter and water while he is at times, quite simply, pathetic. He’s inappropriate, totally incapable of reading situations, like when I’m playing trains with Ez on the floor and he thinks I’m sitting there to play with him. He also only seems to learn what he wants to learn, for example, he can read the clues for a walk but he can’t stay on his bed at mealtime despite being told to go there repeatedly. He thinks everything is about him, because, of course me putting shoes on always means I’m going to take him out…NO IT DOESN’T! He makes work, a lot of work, as if there’s not enough, oh and he smells, of dog, and he always has to put his slobbery face on me if I try to show him affection and he doesn’t ever wipe his feet, I could go on…

However, this is not helping me to like him and neither have the last two nights, yet somehow I just can’t get away from the reality that I need to love the dog. I need to love him because all the time I don’t, there’s something within me that’s just not sitting right, not at peace and while it is just a dog, it symbolises so much more than that, a connection to all that’s hard to love, all that I don’t like, all that I find irritating or would rather not face. To learn to love the dog would be a step towards learning to love all of creation and all of humanity more deeply.

Richard Rohr once said that ‘authentic love is of one piece. How you love anything is how you love everything.’*

What if that is true? What if how I love the dog is indicative of how I love myself, others, everyone? What if love cannot be divided out into lots and given to only that which we deem lovely? What if to love means we have to choose to love the unlovely, whether that’s the unlovely within ourselves, within others or even within the dog. What if love grows as we choose to do this, because as we learn to extend the boundaries of what we thought we could love, our ability to love increases? Or maybe, as our hearts overflow, we find that love can, naturally of its own accord, extend wider, until it encompasses caring for all things, and connection to everything—until our love becomes Love itself, the very flow and force of the universe.*

So maybe the disturbed nights and the early mornings are a gift, an opportunity to learn, a gentle reminder of what I need to remember, an opportunity to be grateful and an opportunity to learn what it really means to love…because that’s one thing the dog does so beautifully; no matter how much we ignore him, or tell him off or send him to his bed, he is consistently faithful, completely devoted and inexhaustibly loving.

*www.cac.org/Giving Ourselves Monday, June 24, 2019 Fr. Richard Rohr.

The one about…redefining Brexit!

Brexit…well, I’m not sure what’s happening with the British exit of the European Union so I thought I’d fill you in on the Bridges exit instead!

We’re on the move! It has been nearly three years since we started looking at jobs in the Church of England, knowing that Sid’s curacy would end and we’d potentially need to take up a post elsewhere. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotion; applications, interviews, emails and conversations, all an attempt to discern what we should be doing and where we should be doing it. Soul searching I think it’s sometimes called, although to be honest I always imagined soul searching to be a little more like walking along a beach pondering some deep, meaningful thoughts; but these years have been brutal, exhausting, real and raw, hopeful, exhilarating, energising, draining and a whole host of other somewhat conflicting emotions! Some moments have nearly broken us, as individuals, as a couple and as family; some very dark, seemingly hopeless experiences followed by glimmers of hope, anticipation and intrigue only to find out it’s not to be. We’ve taken jobs and turned jobs down, we’ve applied and then pulled out of interview, we’ve applied and not been called for interview, we’ve been interviewed and not appointed; but each experience, however random or seemingly nonsensical, has taught us something, something more of who we are and why we’re here. We can both honestly say that while that has been ridiculously hard at times, we’ve learnt things about ourselves that we could only learn by living this way.

Yet all of it eventually had to culminate in something, a decison had to be made, and the decision was not just about one person or even two, any decision had huge implications for our children too, it would impact their friendships, their education and their lifestyle; it would impact who they are and who they would become, for better or for worse. We moved here with only five of them and now there are seven, and while playgroup and primary were our only consideration five years ago we’re now well into secondary school, GCSE’s and considering the crazy world of post-16 too. Decisions can’t be made lightly!

The decision has been made and now we find ourselves surrounded by boxes, lists and cluttered piles of “stuff” headed for rubbish, recycling or the next charity shop collection. It is somewhat monumental, the reality of moving nine of us, somewhat surreal, as we look around the house and walk the streets of our neighbourhood where we’ve lived life together, through all its ups and downs. It seems strange to think that this chapter of our life is over yet we know that the beauty is found in turning the page and beginning the next.

So we move, not far away, neighbours will change but much of what we know will stay the same and the work we’re called to do, well that’s what’s giving us the energy and inspirtaion to pack up and move on. We knew we had to find work, vocation and a lifestyle that made our hearts and souls sing. We’re so excited by what we’re doing that all of the past confusion and hurt and disappointments pale into insignificance as we look to what we get to do each day.*

There’s so much that we have learnt and are continuing to learn from this journey but there’s something about the name Prodigal that is so important, more important than we realised when we created ‘Prodigal Collective’ nearly a year ago. ‘Prodigal’ was inspired by the story known as ‘the Prodigal Son’, found in the bible. For so many, ‘Prodigal’ conjures up images of a wayward child, squandering inheritance, reckless and extravagant and maybe that’s how some people see us!? For us though, ‘Prodigal’ defines the father, the God character, the divine source, energy or being that holds the whole story. ‘Prodigal’ is recklessly extravagant in all the right ways, a universe that lacks nothing, an ultimate reality that is wired in favour of humanity…prodigal is generous, unstinting, bountiful and abundant and that is what we have experienced as we’ve journeyed. That does not mean that every day we’re skipping along without a care in the world, the belief that the universe is wired in our favour hasn’t fully stopped the tears and the pain, it hasn’t completely removed the fear or prevented the sleepless nights but it has enabled us to move through all of those emotions knowing that they belong, that we’re held and that this is all headed somewhere good. Our understanding of Prodigal is what makes life worth it, it’s what inspires us and keeps us hopeful of good times even through the difficult ones. Our understanding of Prodigal is what enables us to do each day, it’s what’s teaching us to celebrate all that we do have and it’s showing us how to live life to the full.

 

If you’d like to know more about what we’re up to then check out our website: www.prodigal.org.uk

 

 

The one about…spiritual wellbeing!

🎵I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You’re the light in my deepest darkest hour
You’re my savior when I fall!🎵

I sang the BeeGees out loud on my way to school, much to my daughters annoyance and embarrassment. I could argue it was the Michael Buble version but I’m not sure that would have made it any more credible!

I looked at my eight year old as I sang, her eyes shining, laughing at me but also wiling me to be quiet, it was one of those moments, almost impossible to describe but as her eyes sparkled it was as though she became that ‘door to my soul’, there are moments where all my children are that door, moments where they release something deep in me that makes complete sense yet is also completely incomprehensible.

There are other occasions too where I find that my soul is stirred, awake, alive; that the door is open and something in me can be set free. Those moments when the words of a book seem to race with excitement and anticipation as though they’re written just to me, or the lyrics of a song connect so deeply, making sense of something I otherwise couldn’t have put into words. My soul comes alive in the simplest of experiences too, finding a conker still wrapped in its casing or an acorn with its little ‘hat’ on, a moment by the sea, the sheer volume, vastness that speaks without words; a walk in the woods as the rays of sun filter through, the colours of the sunset, catching the look in a friends eye and knowing you’re known, all these for me are soul moments. They are moments where I know there’s something more, that there’s a connection to the universe, a higher power, another, a love that holds all of what I think is true, they leave me with that deep sense of wellbeing that makes me sigh with contentment.

This feeling is even more heightened, even more real, when I share those moments with others, when I have conversations that are about more than just the weather, or what the teacher said about that child, or what I did at the weekend. Those conversations have their place but the conversations about what it means to be human, about what we’re fearful of or excited about, conversations where those participating dare to be a little more vulnerable and honest, that’s where the energy is for me.

The reality is that those conversations, those moments, are fleeting. It seems they’re there, they happen and then they’re gone. I guess something in me changes slightly each time but then life takes over again and to be honest its easier sometimes to cope with life by simply keeping busy, going for a run, scrolling facebook, shopping for trainers, looking forward to a glass of wine on a Friday night or a weekend away. None of these ways of coping are bad in and of themselves but cumulatively they can serve as a continuous distraction which stops me from discovering soul moments.

What if we could find a way to embrace soul moments more often? What if we could discover how to nourish our souls, to feed them, to wake them up? What if we were to pay attention to our spiritual wellbeing? Physical and mental health are on the agenda, and rightly so, but what if spiritual health, spiritual wellbeing needs to be on the agenda too? What if spiritual wellbeing takes us further than our own individual health and wellbeing and leads us towards connection, belonging and community?

There’s an old hymn with the line, “it is well, it is well with my soul” but what does soul wellness look like? I’m not sure I subscribe to the lyrics of the hymn but I get the concept of peace, a peace that exists despite the circumstances of life not instead of them, that kind of peace intrigues me. The truth is that life throws crazy swerve balls at us all of the time and those moments where we catch glimpses of goodness, what I call soul moments, are great but often far too short. Even when we get a longer time to ‘simply be’ we still eventually have to pick up the monotony of the rat race again. Maybe those moments, however long they last, do enable us to face the next moment and gain a new perspective for a while but what if spiritual wellbeing takes that thought even further and becomes about discovering a peace that exists in the midst of the crazy, not just when we step aside from it?

What if peace, that fresh perspective, that centred contentment that comes from having our own soul moments is heightened in experiencing connection to others, to belonging to and contributing to community? What if peace, that concept of a contented soul, comes from knowing we’re held by something outside of us too? What if it offers us the sense that there is something more and that our story, with all its ups and downs, finds more meaning when it connects to others and the bigger, ongoing narrative of humanity? What if that means those moments where we’re not OK are then actually OK because it does all belong? What if starting to explore thoughts of spirit and soul is the start to experiencing spiritual wellbeing and spiritual wellbeing is about our soul becoming more alive than ever as we embrace all that life is? What if it’s then that the light shines, even in the deepest darkest hour!

The one about…the nothing?

If you’ve ever watched The NeverEnding Story then you’ll be familiar with ‘the nothing’, the darkness engulfing Fantasia and destroying everything in its path.

If you’ve lived a few years on planet earth you may well also be familiar with ‘the nothing’, the darkness that’s all too consuming; extinguishing hope and leaving humanity disillusioned, lethargic or lost.

The nothing takes many forms, slowly eradicating our lust for life. I know because I’ve battled with ‘the nothing’. There are days where I feel like I’m winning, regaining control and rediscovering hope but then there are other days where it seems as though ‘the nothing’ is gaining ground, rapidly. Hours flicking through social media or evenings watching mind-numbing reality TV, often at the same time, any opportunity to engage in someone else’s life so that I can avoid the reality of my own.

‘The nothing’ might not be social media or TV for you; movies, alcohol, holidays, anything that serves to numb the pain or allow us escape from our own uneasy reality, just for a while, because facing up to that reality is sometimes too painful or frightening or simply exhausting.

None of our escape routes are wrong or bad in and of themselves, life is far less black and white than we think. The escape routes we choose often start off harmless, with the best intentions, some even healthy, because we do need to stop every now and then, we do need to disengage and recharge. Yet when the temporary fixes we’ve turned to for respite take over and begin to consume us sometimes we find that the very things we’d used to distract us from life have become life itself.

What if there is an antidote to ‘the nothing’, a way of being that stops ‘the nothing’ in its tracks and allows us to have moments of rest, distraction and relaxation without being drawn into nothingness?

In Fantasia, hope is found in the faith of a human child, a boy that can bring salvation and restore Fantasia fully to life again. What if that’s where we find salvation too? What if we find life again in faith, belief and wonder? In having faith in something beyond ourselves yet equally found within us, by believing in a force or energy or higher power; a love, that can shine light and hope on seemingly dark and hopeless circumstances? By rediscovering the mystery in the mundanity of our lives, the awe in the ordinary and the wonder of this very moment? What if choosing to stop in this moment, right now and breathe, to inhale and exhale and simply be grateful for breath is the start to a life of gratitude, of not taking anything for granted but recognising that its all a gift and that it all belongs? That it all belongs no matter how painful, frightening or exhausting?

What if that means that we then don’t have to escape or distract or run from those difficult things, we can just allow them, simply allow reality to be; learn from it, learn to embrace all of our emotions and move through those experiences to a better place? What if all of that was possible, all from this moment, right now? Maybe there is a light in the darkness and something more than nothing.