The one about…fear.

I knew it was going to be ‘one of those evenings’ when she said she couldn’t get to sleep! The wind was unusually strong, and eerily loud, especially through the huge yew trees which stood at the top of the garden.

“It’s just the wind”…I tried desperately to play it down but it didn’t help that last winter a large branch had fallen and narrowly missed the van parked on the driveway. I knew my attempts to convince her that it was ‘just a bit windy’ weren’t going to make any difference, no matter how many distraction techniques I tried!

I’d had about half an hour to myself, I don’t think I ask for much, just a little time to gather my thoughts, process the day and just be me once they’re all in bed…but best laid plans and all that! I took a breath and tried not to sound irritated, she was genuinely scared… “Ok, get into my bed, I’ll sit in there with you!” That was my evening gone!

I checked the oldest three were settled, and the rest were asleep. I put the dog to bed and texted Sid (he was out with friends) to warn him there was a child in his bed and he’d have to jump into hers when he returned, then I got into bed, the wind still howling…she took my hand and gripped it and then, within minutes I felt her grip loosen and her body relax, she slept…

It was the most beautiful moment. All my irritation and disappointment about “my time” melted away as I watched her sleep. The wind still howled, the trees still swayed and I was very aware that there’d be nothing I could do if they did fall on the house…but somehow I made her feel safe, somehow me being there was enough.

There were many things I thought about in that moment. I wondered why I’d got so precious about my time? Did I think I deserved an evening to myself, like it was something I’d earnt! Did I think I could clock out of parenting at 8:30pm because most of them were in bed? Had I learnt nothing in fifteen years!! There’s always another evening and I do know parenting is 24/7… it’s not like our youngest let’s me forget that!

I think the thing that bemused me most was the trust my daughter had in me, she found security and safety, not because I could change anything, but just because she knew I loved her. It was almost as if, in that moment, love overcame fear; as if love drove the fear out; as if love left no room for fear to exist.

I know that much of the fear in our world could be overcome if we learnt to love others rather than hate or distrust them. I know that some fear is irrational and can be negated by logic and self-talk. But what about the fears that are deeply personal, the fears that haunt us about who we are, where we’re going and how this is all going to end? How do we face those fears?

It seems sometimes we distract ourselves from those fears; we shop, we work, we socialise, we watch TV, we read books, we flick through social media, the list could go on and none of the things we do are wrong or bad in moderation, but they can become avoidance techniques and in the long run they’re about as useful as me trying to play the ‘Greatest Showman’ soundtrack to my daughter to drown out the wind!

The fear doesn’t go, it might be numbed or hushed for a while but often, deep within, our soul is still troubled, still uneasy, still fearful, no matter how much we try to avoid it.

Admitting fear exists is painful, it leaves us vulnerable. Maybe acknowledging that our soul needs to be held; that what’s deepest within us needs to connect to someone or something else; that our truest reality needs to know love, is the start to working with that fear.

Maybe that’s why the bible talks of God as love.

What if in that moment where I held my daughter’s hand, the mystery that we call God; that divine force; that love; became a very present reality? What if it’s love that both awakens and calms our soul? What if love is one way we experience the something that is outside of us, something we know to be true but can’t always define? What if God really is love and love really does exist!

The one about…another dimension.

We seem to have a remarkably good grasp of space and time. We use a calendar, wear a watch, keep a diary. We can see pretty much anywhere on google earth and if we input the right information into our SatNav we can find the way to our chosen location. We talk of historical events and place them in a specific space and time and we dream of the future and plan the next night out, holiday or adventure.

Spacetime is how we understand our world because all events occur in a particular place and time. Spacetime is the fusion of the three dimensions of space and the one dimension of time and these dimensions are inextricably linked. But what if there’s another way to understand our existence? What if there’s more to life than the three dimensions of space and our one dimension understanding of time? What if there’s something that exists outside of space and time?

There’s a novel called Flatland, written in 1884 by a ‘school master’ called Edwin Abbot. It’s the story of a two-dimensional world called Flatland, occupied by geometric figures. One day this world is visited by a three dimensional object (a sphere) who introduces the idea of a third dimension, in hopes of educating the inhabitants of Flatland of a third dimensional reality. The two dimensional beings are open to the idea of new dimensions, so the square visits one dimensional Lineland where he appears simply as a line. He then visits Spaceland where the circle he has met is seen as a sphere. As the concept of further dimensions are introduced he becomes fearful and incapable of comprehending such realities. Despite the best efforts of the sphere to convince him that there is something more, the square lives out his days within the comfort of his known Flatland.

That’s the synopsis of the last book I read! There’s a great quote, where the sphere talks to the square (because that’s what shapes do?!)

“When you entered the realm of Lineland you were compelled to manifest yourself to the King, not as a square but as a line, because that Linear Realm had not dimensions enough to represent the whole of you…your country of two dimensions is not spacious enough to represent me, a being of three, but can only exhibit a slice of me, which is what you call a circle.”

It’s fascinating because it opens up questions of realities beyond what we know to be true. What if there really are realities or dimensions beyond our own known consciousness and we are simply unable to comprehend reality outside our own known sphere? What if our use of language when we talk of wonder, cosmic energy or spirituality is exactly the same problem that the square experienced; that our understanding of dimension is not ‘spacious enough to represent’ the mystery? Which leads to the question of what if we had the ability to transcend the known reality and what if that allowed us, at least for a brief moment, to see life from a different perspective, to hold for a moment the view that time and space could offer so much more than we’d ever realised?

What if meditation, reflection, prayer, contemplation (whatever word we use) are all tools through which we’re able to transcend our known consciousness into a deeper connection outside of space and time? What if religion offers, or at least should offer, opportunities to experience moments of space and time outside of the normal, known Spacetime Continuum? What if religion allows us to place story and experiences within a larger story or collective experience that allows life to be understood more holistically, more fully? What if experiencing life, even for brief moments in another dimension, allows us to hold our own lives more lightly, to see the bigger picture and know that all life and even death is held and sacred? What if there is something else to all of this?

The one about…time.

Some things just take time; like moving a family of nine to a new town, or settling into a new job or school, or understanding a new way of being in the world when something significant has changed. We live in a world of instant, fast and quick, we don’t always like the reality that some things just take time. We do however talk a lot about time; about not having enough time, or time running out. We talk about time being of the essence, we use words like ‘anytime’ and ‘sometimes’, we enjoy time off or time out and we work full time or part time. We have a good time, a hard time, a rough time and some things happen all in good time. Sometimes we’re in a race against time, living on borrowed time; or having a whale of a time, the time of our lives, wasting time, at the same time or ahead of time. Time; the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present and future regarded as a whole or a theoretical construct established by humanity to enable us to place or plan events in some kind of order? We make good use of the concept of time, yet across our world time is viewed very differently.

Some cultures don’t place anywhere near as much emphasis on time as we do in the West, or atleast they understand time so very differently. We are monochronic, we are time obsessed, schedule dictated and busy. I read a book* a few years back written by a son of American missionaries who spent much of his childhood in a small African village. His village was visited one day by Frenchmen (but they could have equally been British or American). These Frenchmen asked many questions of the villagers about the future of their village, questions which the village elders were unable to answer. The chief gave this explanation:

“We are not like them. To them, time is everything. Did you see those silver circles on their wrists? Those things measure the day into very little pieces….Frenchmen think that counting time is important. A day can be divided into twenty-four parts, and each of those parts can be divided into sixty smaller parts…the smaller the men can measure the day, the more angry they seem to be. For the Senufo, the movement of the sun is as much measurement of the passage of time as we need. We know when to get up. We know when to work the fields and when to hunt. We know when to rest in the shade. We know when to go home. We know when to sleep. Children, it is enough.”

We do not live in a small African village following the pattern of the sun. Instead as Green Day so eloquently summed up “time grabs us by the wrist, directs you where to go,” we are slaves to our calendars, diaries and schedules and we are often stressed. So is there any way to hold time differently?

What if we start by admitting that there’s something slightly mysterious about time? What if we start to see time as a gift? A tool for us to use but not to be controlled or defined by? What if we were able to literally make better use of time? It seems that time can offer us a lot of comfort as we negotiate some of the more difficult opportunities life throws our way, as though time does have mysterious healing properties. Given time, events that once felt raw, painful and insurmountable become less so, time seems to reduce the pain, intensity and impossibility of some of the circumstances we experience. Time is mysterious in other ways too. There are days where time seems to stand still and days where time seems to fly. Yet we believe time always passes at the same rate? How can some things seems like they happened yesterday when actually it was five years ago and other things seem a lifetime ago despite only a week having passed? There are those moments where time stands still, moments where we witness an incident but it all seems to happen outside of time, we can’t get there quick enough or move out of the way fast enough, its as though we’re not functioning within the usual parameters of time. It seems there’s so much more to time than our narrow one dimensional view, although I’ve heard it said that we actually live in a half dimension of time because we can only move from the present forwards.

Which raises the question of what if there’s something or someone that exists outside of our constraints of time; a being, force or energy that isn’t limited by our understanding of time. An entity that holds all time and sees our past, present and future as a whole? What if we were able to comprehend time in a different way? How would that affect our understanding of death and loss? How would that impact how we hold the present? What if there is mystery to engage in, mystery that enables us to begin to grasp that this isn’t all there is, that what we hold to so tightly isn’t as important as we believed it to be and as we begin to realise this we also begin to let go of some of the things that we thought mattered and begin to celebrate life, here and now, in this place, in this space because time and space are inextricably linked. Here and now will always be where the joy is because here and now are all we actually have.

*Too Small to Ignore, Dr W. Stafford pg 84-85

 

 

 

 

 

 

The one about…beginning to ask?

Across the globe, tribes and cultures tell stories of the origins of their species. Oral narratives exist wherever people are found, a way of understanding and explaining the beginnings of time.
One of the most dominant stories told has been passed through generations and recorded in the ancient Hebrew writings of The Torah.
This story tells of a divine force or energy that brought the world into being. For some this creation story is a literal explanation, a seven day description of the origins of the world. Yet the account is more easily read as a piece of poetic prose offering an insight into humanities’ connection with something or someone beyond itself; a consciousness which exists outside of space or time and ultimately holds all that we know to be true. Some call this a divine spirit, others recognise an ‘ultimate reality’ and others might use the name God.
This spirit, force or being talks of our humanity as good. This poem recognises the core of who we are, the very essence of our being, as worthy.
It is from this place that the story unfolds. A story that can be traced back thousands of years. The ever evolving story of humanity. This is the story we find ourselves in.
Every story that’s ever been told finds it origin in this story. Every fairy-tale, every moral fable, every myth, every movie ever made speaks of this story, of what it is to be human and every story ever told is an attempt by humanity to give a voice to the passion, love, loss, pain and purpose we all experience.

We too have a story. Our story is often told to us by our parents or our immediate family. Our story has been told for generations before us; it is reinforced by our tribe, our community; the people we grew up around. The story defines who we think we are, it holds what we believe we can be and it is replayed just enough to remind us who we have been.
The story, more often than not, isn’t a bad story, it usually begins as a love story, the coming together of two people who desire to see something good birthed in the world. As with many love stories, reality plays its part and love can be hard to give and receive when those involved are slightly damaged by their own realities. So often we find ourselves entwined in a story, obliged to continue it, as though it’s a generational mantel that we must carry forward.

Our story is a story that has held us, one that has enabled us to carve out a path in the world yet it might also be a story that has hindered us, a story that has held us back and stopped us being all that we can be. It might have been a story told with the best of intentions but what if the way we explain it or the way we replay it isn’t actually how it really is? What if there’s another way to understand our story? What if we’ve always focussed on one way of telling it at the expense of another interpretation? What if we were to take a step back from our story and review what it is we believe about ourselves?

What if we were to start to ask the question “who am I and why am I here?” What if we were to answer that question for ourselves rather than with the answers our family, our community or our culture insist are the answers? What if, in starting to think about that question we start to ask some bigger questions about what it means to be alive; about our real identity and our true purpose? What if it’s OK for that question to be a tricky one to answer and we find that there are multiple layers of answers to identity and purpose and that those answers change depending on the season of life we’re in? What if there is no wrong answer but instead the question actually needs multiple answers from everyone in order for us to catch a glimpse of what it really means to be human and share life on planet earth? What if one person isn’t ever going to have the definitive to answer? What if it’s only together that we can make more sense of life? What if it takes a collective humanity to give meaning to our experiences? What if we need unity and unity really is the direction we’re headed in?

(You can how follow the “Who are you and why are you here? project on the Prodigal Collective website http://www.prodigalcollective.co.uk by clicking on ‘vlog’)

The one about…the space between!

There’s a space that exists, it’s a space some might describe as magical or enchanted; a sacred space outside of the noise and demands of our everyday.

Liminal space is not necessarily a physical place but it can be. Maybe an empty car park, a disused factory or a place where there was once life but where it now seems that nature has gradually started to reclaim. Maybe it’s something experienced whilst walking through the woods, or along the beach, a space we sense something of whilst climbing a mountain path or a wandering through a meadow? These places become moments where we tune out out of the sounds that require us to act and tune in to the sounds that allow us just to be. These are not always comfortable spaces. They are places between two worlds, the one we’ve stepped away from and the one we will return to.

We can also find ourselves caught between two worlds whilst present amongst the noise and activity of our children, our colleagues or our friends, in the noise of the high street or public transport; we’re there physically but not really present because the real us is somewhere else.

Liminal space also exists when we’re caught between two realities; as we move from one job to another, as we move house or as we experience the death of someone we love. Liminal space exists when discover we are no longer able to live in the familiar but are yet to create a new familiar; when we’re caught in the space between what we knew to be and what we know will become.

Liminal space can be bewildering, it can leave us feeling lost or as though we don’t belong in the world in the way we used to. Liminal space makes us vulnerable. Yet it can also can be an opportunity to embrace moments that don’t make sense and allow them just to be.

Liminal space is an opportunity to be present in the moment without passing judgement. It’s a chance to reevaluate what’s important and to ask those bigger questions of life that we know need to be asked but so often don’t get a voice. Liminal space offers us rest, just for a while, from ourselves and from others. It offers us the opportunity to choose a new path or the opportunity to see a fresh perspective of what was.

Liminal space is a gift. What if liminal space offers us a window into our soul, our true selves? What if as we dwell in this space between two realities we find a deeper understanding of who we are, beyond everything else that’s always defined us? What if liminal space suggests that there is something more to what we’ve always believed to be true? What if liminal space invites us to step outside of time and takes us deeper into an unknown dimension, a space or place that our minds can’t fully comprehend yet sense something of? What if liminal space is actually a place where our true humanity meets the divine? Maybe liminal space is a place we should seek out and dwell in whenever we can.