Balance ...

taken by Sue Pickering 2004

We visited this neolithic monument  Pentre Ifan, in Wales in 2004 and since then it has often reminded me about balance, particularly as I've tried to do justice to the various people and things that matter to me, and to express what I am called to do or be over the years.
But as I age the picture has begun to speak  to me about the precarious nature of life: as our planet struggles to survive, as friends become unwell and die, and as my own capacity to do what I've always done diminishes. It would be easy to despair - to allow it all to overwhelm me as I attend or conduct yet another funeral for a someone special,  as I watch the increasingly urgent calls for climate action, as I look at my 1 yr old  grandson and wonder about his future, and as I try to extricate myself from the expectations of others and of myself. 

Today though, as I was reflecting again on this picture, a new perspective of Pentre Ifan emerged, a way of looking that  has to do with being upheld by the three Persons of the Holy Trinity :
Lover, Beloved and Love itself holding me - holding each one of us - with perfect poise and deep strength from everlasting to everlasting.

And that brings me hope - may it bring you hope too.

Rock pool revelation

I hadn't intended to go down to the rock pools
but a basket of time arrived like a gift
which I received with welcoming hands

like a child
I walked from rock to rock
not 7  or 17 anymore but 71
so more aware
of the need for care
and relieved to reach
the exposed beach
and the pools
that called me in my youth
and call me still
to be
still...


it's far too easy to glimpse,
it's far too easy to glance
and then rush on
instead of settling and letting
the shadows clear and
the depths reveal themselves
as eyes adjust to the slanted light

and then it will happen ...
the slightest movement will catch our attention
and draw us to the path of a tiny cat's eye snail;
a curve of kelp will waft away
and show the kina,* shiny-spined,
cramped in a crevice;
a glass shrimp's antennae will dance to and fro;
and hormosira banksii - a name from my youth -
will offer its brown beads for popping!

be called
be still
look into the wondrous rock pool
of your own inner being
and let yourself find and be found by
the One who made you.

* kina - the Maori word for sea urchin

INSTEAD OF GOING TO A MEETING

Instead of going to a meeting
I bring in the washing:
sun-warmed, 
wind-freshened
smelling of possibilities. 


Instead of going to a meeting
I pick silver-beet
satisfyingly squeaky,
grown in deep soil
just as I am, 
just as we are.



Instead of going to a meeting
I gather camellias
old-style-speckled with deepest of pinks
and pale, white petal blush,
beautiful, vulnerable
just as we are, 
just as God is.



Instead of going to a meeting
I begin a new life …

a little moth

Years ago while I was studying in the UK for a year, we went as a family to a nearby stately home
in Kent. I was grieving for my mum who'd died a few months earlier and I was missing my young cat
whom we'd had to leave behind. I was full up with the home's information and objets d'art, when  
something touched me to the core and days later prompted my very first attempt at 
writing a poem - here's a portion of it:
         

          I came across another cat
          curled in silent, sunlit sleep.
          Tabby and white and warm,
          her fur invited my touch.
          I could not hold back 
          My hand reached out 
          For God was gently lying there
          Beneath my longing hand.

I remember it so clearly because I felt quite shocked at what I'd written -  and 
initially if I shared it with anyone I'd replace 'God' with 'Love' - until I accepted  
that what I'd written in the first place was the truth for me: it was the first time 
I had seriously considered what 'God being present in all things' could look like in 
everyday life; it was the first time I experienced the Spirit enabling me to recognise
the Loving Presence in other living, breathing creatures - if I knew how to look!

Since then a lot of my time and work has been focused on helping others recognise 
God in the everyday and every so often a new glimpse of this truth comes to me 
like a 'top-up' to remind me that no matter our circumstances God can reach us. 

One such reminder came late in the evening a week ago, when  I was sitting on the bare floor of my beloved's study, overwhelmed by the mess around me. He'd decided quite late in the day to remove some decrepit carpet and replace it with some  'rescued' carpet which he'd had waiting in the garage for a rainy day! Our bed and bedroom was heaped with books and boxes, there was dust everywhere and I was physically sore after trying to lift and shift heavy items until the floor space was clean. I would have gone to bed if I'd been able to climb in!

I sat on the floor for a while as he went to find a piece of equipment. In that quiet moment I noticed a fluttering against the lamp shade, and then, as I watched, a small moth - about 2cm in wingspan settled on the heavy desk beside me. I glanced at it, and then I looked again - checking for its feathered antennae [the only thing I know about moths] and then I REALLY looked at it, letting its beautiful simplicity seep into my soul.

Its velvet brown upper wings and subtle orange lower wings, were delicately marked and spread ready to take off again into the evening. I was thankful that I slowed down long enough to notice its  surprising beauty, because it brought a measure of calm to my frazzled soul and energized me sufficiently to help my mate when he got back. It felt like a little gift from God - just what I needed when I needed it! 

The beautiful moth's presence reminded me of a line in Alana Levandoski's  Christ hymn. In this graced blend of word and music, upheld by Alana's chant, four poets explore Colossians 1:17 : 'He[Christ] is before all things and in him all things hold together.' 
One poet, taking as her starting point a drive along a Californian highway, highlights Love's imprint on every aspect of creation : 
          'even the small soft moth on the window of the rest area's dingy                         wash-room, unaware of our existence,  its russet wings traced with                   intricacies of grey, owns an intrinsic excellence'.  
[You might want to listen to the whole chant yourself; you'll find it on on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGe5wJBDjoo.]

If we stop to 'take a long, loving look at the real' as Jesuit Walter Burghardt said, 
we make ourselves available to God's Spirit of creative communication and we are 
so often blessed as a result.

Tabby cat? A flight of birds? A wrinkled hand on an elderly man? A snatch of music?
How will God reveal more of God's Being to you today?
And will you be still enough for long enough to notice?

Having fun

It's a warm sunny day, the sky is clear and the noise of the traffic is increasing outside my window.
It's not 'rush hour' - or what passes for rush hour in our small city - it's the time for literally hundreds of  passionate car owners to drive past, honking their horns, and waving their flags  ...

They're having fun - meeting with others from around the country who share their obsession - for that's what it is -  with all things 'Americarna' - the old gas-guzzlers, their style and swank, their classical lines and highly polished exteriors, their beauty and brightness, their growling engine power, and the sheer joy of driving with the air blowing stressors away ... just for a day.

And all around Taranaki maunga [mountain] the country schools' children will gather to wave the flags they've made as the cars drive past - or even stop for them to pat and marvel and wonder at colours and contours ... igniting in little boys and girls dreams and flights of imagination and tales to tell when they get home that night.




Above the honking horns and revving horsepower, others are having fun too.

Five small planes take over the airspace and revel in flight - loops, rolls, close formation flying and then the smoke-tailed displays writing across the empty sky for all who take the time to look up.
                                                                           
There's more risk up there of course but for some that's part of the fun: the stakes are raised, the adrenalin rush expands thinking and acting; nothing can beat the thrill and sheer joy of human being and machine playing in the free expanses of the air.

Having fun.

How free are most of us to take the time to have fun, perhaps to do something that is 'unproductive', even a bit silly?


Chances are that some of you reading this will be a bit like me - we love the idea of having fun but, for a whole host of reasons - personality, upbringing, life events  and current circumstances - somehow collude to hamper our capacity to 'lighten up - they get in the way and we are the poorer for it.

Maybe one of the things Jesus was thinking of when he told his disciples that to enter the kingdom of heaven, they 'must become like a little child ...' [Matthew 18:2-4] was meant as a reminder, even a warning to them and to us, that we need to reclaim our capacity to have fun, to play, to experience the world with the freedom and joy of a beloved child, so our holy creativity - our God-energy - can have its way with us.

Where will you have fun tomorrow?
And the next day?
And the next?

in the rain

I was caught without my umbrella the other day ... just 150 metres from home ... so no big drama.
But as I stopped before crossing the road, as I let the rain soak my clothes and blur my vision I was struck by the rarity of the event ... I couldn't remember the last time I simply allowed myself to experience the rain without being protected by coat or cover or rushing to escape into some sort of shelter. It was a novelty but it made me realise how easy it is, especially in urban living, to become separated from the natural environment.

With good cause you might be thinking, especially with so many extreme weather events in all corners of our labouring world. But even before tornadoes and hurricanes and forest fires and floods began to make almost daily appearances on our news media, in many places especially in the 'developed nations' we'd begun to be shut off from normal exposure to rain, sun, wind and even the earth itself.

I look at my closet - raincoats  [short and long], wind-jackets, umbrellas, boots, scarves, gloves ... and on another shelf there are sunhats and bottles of sunscreens of varying strengths, gardening soaps, nail brushes and grass stain removers. These all have a place of course and we do have to dress wisely for outdoor conditions, but it seems as if increasingly we're having to protect ourselves from the consequences of our own mishandling of the earth's resources -  and in doing so we're at risk of  losing that sacred connection with the created world which was part of the divine gift to humanity. We're at risk of becoming alienated from what is supposed to be life-giving, instead of being able to enjoy the elements of nature, and live in harmony with them.

We're all invited to share God's delight in the natural world and in the ongoing process of creation. And we can start with the simplest of moments.

So next time you find yourself without an umbrella and it starts to rain, maybe you'll let yourself be present to the experience ...

and -  just maybe - you'll go searching for a puddle to jump in !

bathing in dust

Mud bathing in the Dead Sea in 1996 was a sticky and rather odd experience but I still found it fun; milk bathing might have been a mark of high rank for Cleopatra and others but if the milk were a bit 'off' then 'rank' could be more about the smell than being the queen of all she surveyed!

But dust bathing?

I was out walking on New Year's Day - yesterday - and let my mind wander as you do at this time of the year. No longer do I make resolutions; nowadays life's more about  discerning what is mine to do among competing worthwhile options.  So my mind was open and present to what was around me, rather than what had been or what might or might not come to pass.

And then I noticed three sparrows 'dustering' and dappling in the warm dry sand near the beach path. I don't think it was too anthropomorphic to say that they seemed to be enjoying themselves as they nestled in little sparrow-shaped hollows, flapped and flung dust over their wings, dipped beak and head into the tiny grains until they spilled between feathers and brought cleansing in the absence of water, and relief from irritants. All this vigorous activity was capped off by patient preening until they were ready for whatever the rest of the day had to offer.

I was reminded of a time in 2006 when, on a desperate walk, I'd noticed a dove preening. My husband was in hospital about to have quadruple heart bypass  surgery - and the Spirit used the bird's meticulous and patient attention to its own needs to remind me that, in the midst of everyone doing their utmost for my beloved, it was important that I took the time to care for myself too.

In the 12 years between these two feathery reminders I've struggled to take good care of my self. So often the needs of others have taken precedence and I've pushed my own refreshment time to the bottom of the day's 'to do' list.  But now as I age, I realise I cannot do what I've always done, particularly in terms of quality of pastoral or personal presence, or in accessing that balanced state of creativity when ideas bubble up and words flow and the smallest thing can mediate the Christ.

And so it's time to 'bathe in the dust'.

For me that means prioritising  contemplative practice, anchoring the day in prayer, bidding the day goodnight with gratitude, being open to spiritual conversations [ and what conversation isn't fundamentally spiritual?],  resisting trying to second guess what's best for those I love, and saying 'no' more often. Others may find my choices difficult, but the sparrow's reminder is the Blessed Trinity's gift to me at the start of 2019 .

I know myself well enough to accept that some days the gift will linger on the shelf unopened, that there may be times when it even gathers dust, but I pray that grace will enable me to cherish my God-given true self more as the year unfolds and, as a result, whatever I do will truly be done in the name of Jesus.

What is God's gift to you at the start of this new year?