The Climb

I stand straight, looking out across the valley;
The climb has seemed interminable.
But now I see the high peak above.
I acknowledge fellow travellers.
We marvel at the sight before us,
And notice the glow of lava pouring down the slopes ahead.
The power and might of the mountain fills us with excitement and dread.

As I step forward, my companion looks at me curiously.
 "This is the journey", she says. "There is no more."
I see that she is concerned that I intent to move on further.
"The mountain is mighty, it is beautiful, but it is also cruel.
Like an ocean wave, that flips a boat over without a care.
The power we see is mindless.
We ride it like the surf.
We enjoy its generosity and exuberance,
Always mindful that it will crush us with indifference."

I am perplexed. This mountain does not give me power.
It is the world under my feet, the road I have to tread.

"I have a guide" I say.
"The guide says follow me and I will lead you further.
There is more.
We will cross these lava fields, and ascend to a safer place.
I may be hurt, but not broken.
I am trusting my guide."

"No guide has ever got through these Lava fields,"
My companion replies.
"Many people have believed different routes,
They are all mistaken.
Viewing from afar is the only way to feel the might of this mountain."

Again I recognise the sense of these words.
I have seen many people hurt, and lost,
But I remember that my guide assured me that this mountain is theirs.
They are familiar with this terrain.  They have walked this route before.
"When it gets too difficult," I recall my guide saying, "I may need to carry you."

I look before me and see the path;  it is as clear as day.
I look up at my companion and point.
They look to me with pity in their eyes,
"There is no path, you will stumble.
Do not go on."

But I know that I have no option.
No one is safe staying here.
Destruction is in the air, and I feel the foreboding.
"Don't get comfortable with this view, this land is temporal," I say.
I know that I am too weak to manage it on my own.

I realise that my eyes see differently.
The climb; I feel the draw of my guide, and excitement in my heart.

I know this journey is to be a reunion,
The creator has not forgotten me.
I know that it was never intended that I leave,
But I lost my way and tumbled down.
The guide found me, and has lead me ever since.
I sense that this present view is a mere reflection of what is ahead.

Random Experiences

Elizabeth swims with a Seal

My new bike

I am from the era that respects mortality

Reminiscing about those early days

A Pagan Moment

Kim Gavin told us not to read too much into the closing ceremony for the Paralympics.  That’s fine, except that one soon became aware that it was loaded with symbolism.  The text being read by Corporal Rory MacKenzie was part of a formal druid ceremony.  We also saw the worship of a flaming ‘green man’, and the scorching of the zodiac on the turf of the arena.  This all made me feel uncomfortable, so I have been contemplating why this might be.  Pagan blogs and websites waxed lyrical about the experience, pointing out the splendour of the event.

See http://www.patheos.com/blogs/wildhunt/2012/09/druid-liturgy-in-paralympics-closing-ceremony.html

It might be that paganism, the original religion of Europe, is having its moment in the spotlight. For many years, it has perhaps been consigned to a shelf in the outer walls of Lincoln Cathedral.  I work with someone who is a pagan priestess.  We have interesting conversations, and of course are able to share a lot of beliefs and values.

So what makes me feel uncomfortable about observing this creative piece of worship?

Apart from this deep feeling of this being ‘misdirected’ worship, I am also aware that although the paths of my faith, and the faith of other fine, and noble traditions may appear to come very close, these paths also go into different territories which fill me dread.  Paganism is associated with the psychics, fortune telling and an openness to ‘earth spirits’.  The mother of Richard Whitehead spoke of when she went to a psychic fair, and was told that her son would go on to win a gold medal.  Just an amazing co-incidence, or benign spirits at work?  These are subtle but random spirits that lead people to become fearful and controlled, like the destructive force present in the sea.  Paganism, like Buddhism, does not recognise a personal creator.  The relationship with the creator is one of awe and respect, but it is not rooted in love and forgiveness.

I feel that my apprehension comes from an awareness of the difference of my faith, based in a trust in the creator as apart from these spiritual forces, and ultimately moving in a different direction.

Like noticing that water falling on an area of upland, though falling on the same hilltop, moves away in different directions, according to the watershed.  I look at my colleague and say, "I'm going this way".