Speaking Out

Lesley's Blog

Today I mailed a letter to President Obama, my very first "political"
communication.

Eric and I have just returned from a wonderful trip to Washington D.C. That was also a first, my first visit to that very special city. I hadn't expected to be so inspired by the great past presidents, their courage, determination, creative thinking and sensitivity to injustice and inequality. So,I wrote to the President.

It doesn't matter what I wrote about, just that I wrote. I don't expect my one letter to have any impact but speaking out is cumulative, the more people do it, the more likely the message is to be heard. America is a country of great diversity and I believe it is important that all views be expressed and heard. But we must take care to express those views with respect, irrespective of how intensely we might feel about our beliefs.

Expression alone is not enough. We must also be willing to truly listen to each other and try to understand different points of view, even if they are initially abhorent to us. Listening gives the message that we value and respect all individuals, even if we disagree and it is the key to the development of creative resolutions to the  issues that we face in this very complex and ever changing society.

I don't think I will become a political activist any time soon but I probably will find ways to speak more openly about the society and world issues that are heartfelt for me. Hopefully I will be more willingly to say, "I am really glad you shared that but I see things differently" and then give a brief statement of how I see things and be willing to really think about what the other person has said.

So often we don't speak out because we fear that we might offend someone and they will not like us anymore. Or we fear their anger with us if we hold different views or beliefs. It is strange that we live in a country in which it is mostly safe for us to speak out and yet we still habor fears.

In our intimate relationships with family and spouses we are often paralyzed with fears in the same way, fears of anger, conflict, cut-off, abandonment and all the consequences that can come from those responses. We fear that we will no longer be loved if we speak out and that terrible things will happen. 

But ironically terrible things happen if we do not speak out. In our personal lives we become diminished, leading lives without real connections and that require us to hide so much of ourselves. The society also suffers when a majority remains silent for we lose the richness of diversity of opinions and beliefs that can help us find creative resolutions to our conflicts and challenges.

Someone gave me for Christmas a small bottle of an essential oil called Valor and when I dab it on in the mornings it has become a wonderful reminder for me to dig deep every day for the courage that lives within all of us. Hard as it is, at times, I want to live a life in which I find the courage to speak out, irrespective of how others respond, and the courage to listen so that I can do what I can to enrich my own life and that of the society in which I live.     

          

Couples' Magic

Eric's Blog

Thank You

 

Thank you

For doing the washing

For making supper

 

Thank you's

Show appreciation

For mundane jobs

And partnership in living

 

Lesley and I have a habit of saying "Thank you" for things we do for each other. I must admit, I acquired the habit from her and I really like it. It let's others know they are not being taken for granted. It also helps me become aware of others' contribution.

 

Some couples seem incapable of this simple gesture. They act as adversaries in living together and see saying "Thank you" as "I owe you one" or "I am one down to you".

 

Share the joy of living together with a simple "Thank you". It is catching.

The Sound of Silence

Lesley's Blog

This is a follow-up to the blog , "A Convenient Pilgrimage".

" But peace, perhaps.
There is no quiet that matters
Except inside your head"

"Not needing to clutch
The thread of our thought-
For most of us, an only time
To be still and catch a glimpse
Of our spinning
To be an echo from the center
And go on unfolding
As all the smells of growing
Unfold moistly round us."

From Soundings by Christine Evans (who has lived intermittently on Bardsey)


Four hours on Bardsey might not be thought of as a "real" pilgrimage but for me being on the holy island of Bardsey proved to be a magical and sacred moment in time.  

The beginning set the scene; arriving late at the parking place (or so I thought), frustrated at myself, running down to the beach to get to the boat on time only to have to wait an hour. But it was in the waiting that the gift began, allowing a release of the need for things to happen in a certain way and the opening up to embrace whatever happens just as it is.

The day was glorious with clear blue sky and barely a breath of wind. The sea moved gently onto the sand with no sign of the ferocity that it often displayed, that would make the crossing to the island a dangerous enterprise.Today the sea was showing us its gentle side, beckoning me to relax, release and restore.The cove was a wonderful place to explore and I delighted in peering into caves and rock pools and inspecting barnacles and limpets clinging precariously to the stones scattered along the beach. Some of the groups of large rocks were smoothed by millions of years of being washed by the waves while others were jagged and seemingly untouched by the elements.

When the boat appeared a sense of quiet anticipation seemed to fill all of us as we waded, with feet bared and clothes hiked up above knobbly knees, into the frigid ocean to climb aboard. After a smooth crossing we stepped onto the shore at Cafn Enlli. In the stone boathouse by the jetty are stored the long oars used in bygone days by hardy men who braved treacherous seas to bring people and needed supplies back and forth from the mainland. It's a sobering reminder that life on an isolated island would have a harsh and unpredicable side that our romantic notions, especially on such a calm day, might overlook.

It was the "sound of silence" that was the most striking, as I walked along the unpaved track by stone walls. With no cars allowed there seemed to be a different freedom of movement, more basic, clean and earthy.Following the path I passed sturdy houses, built to withstand the wind and storms that can batter this small island, finally arriving at the ruins of the 13th century Augustinian Abbey. This community of devout monks was a Christian late comer to the island. The first monastery was probably founded by St. Cadfan in about 516. Although nothing physically is left of those celtic brothers in Christ, historic memory and the accummulation of sacred energy is their legacy to us.  

Inside the ruins had been placed a rough slate topped altar with a cross carved on the front. Above, in the window arch on a jagged piece of slate stood a simple celtic cross. It was beautiful and touching. Sitting on a bench in the silence I was surprised by the welling of tears in my eyes. This moment of "knowing" the sacredness of this island, formed by hundreds of prayers that had been uttered over the centuries and the devotion of the men who uttered them was, I realised my pilgrimage. 

Giving thanks I left with a joyful heart to visit the Bardsey Island Trust Shop and Exhibition Center, across the road. I was greeted by Dennis, the caretaker's dog, who carried his leash hopefully in his mouth, obviously harboring great expectations of a walk. He vigorously denied that anyone had ever taken him for a walk, even though his owner indicated that they had circumambulated the island just that morning. When I did not respond to his pitiful look and pleadings, he returned deflated to lie on the floor waiting for the next visitor who might take him more seriously.

It was here that the ultimate in porta potties was to be found, if your bladder or other needs are calling. Simply a plastic loo shaped bucket sitting on the stone floor with not even a pit below, it would serve its purpose but only if you were desperate. It was a reminder that sacredness is fundamentally very basic in nature or maybe even based in nature.

In the graveyard close by were two of the passengers from the boat. The trip was a birthday treat for the older women given to her by her daughter-in-law. The mother-in-law lived on the mainland and over the years had often gazed longingly at the Bardsey lighthouse beam, hoping that one day she might visit the island. Lovingly, her daughter-in- law had made her wish come true. 

Walking further, I soon stopped to eat my filling lunch of bread and cheese outside a small chapel with a heavy arched wooden door, above which hung a bell with a long chain attached. Refraining from the urge to pull the chain, I entered into the homey place of worship which had four wooden pews on each side and a small table covered with a white cloth serving as an altar. It was lovely and heartfelt in its simplicity. 

Time was running out but I made a last stop at the sandy beach, Porth Solfach, on the opposite side of the island to the jetty. I wade up to mid thigh in the clear, frigid ocean and watch with pleasure the bobbing heads of the seals, seemingly peering at me with great curiosity. Fancifully I wonder if they might be silkies, those mystical creatures who can explore the seas as seals or shed their skin and become human. But if they stay on the land too long they will dry up so must put their skin back and return to the watery depths to be replenished. I wonder if it is the same for us. Are those times when we feel dried up beckoning us to swim again in the watery depths of our feelings to help us know our way once more.

Back on the boat the engine rumbles into life and soon the island is a small spot on the horizon. But it remains large and vivid in my mind. As the other passengers chat about with each other I sit in silence thinking about the need for silence being like the need for water, without it we dry up and become brittle, surface only creatures. When we forget to be present to the truth of ourself, revealed in stillness and silence, we lose connection to the deep life that keeps us moist and vibrant, flexible and creative.

And I think of how much courage it took to live on a place like Bardsey in those earlier centuries for the magic and sacredness was certainly balanced by the hardships and sufferings. And I think of how I might be more sturdy, hardy and courageous in my own life.

When I was a child I went to the south of Wales for vacation with my parents. My memories of that time are very vague except for the visit we made to Caldey Island, where there was a strong order of monks. Although access for women visitors was limited, we were allowed to observe the monks at one of their worship services. It was amazingly beautiful, I remember, and recalling that on the boat trip from Bardsey, I wondered about how we respond to the internal calling from that "monk" energy that is in all of us, usually well hidden. Is it that energy that helps us balance aloneness with community and prayerful time with plain hard work, all of which are equally sacred.

The arrival back to the beach stopped my musing and I let the questions release into my unconscious to be replenished with wisdom for later review.

It had been a wonder filled day.     
    

               

Stop Digging

Eric's Blog

Stop Digging

 

When you find yourself

In a hole

Stop digging

 

Crawl out

And

Get a new perspective

 

 

 

Sometimes when we get depressed we do the same things over and over again. We know they are not working and we have limited energy to do them. Even the previously "fun" things don't feel like fun anymore. We know we need to do something different. That something may not always be apparent and it may take trial and error to find it. It is worth the effort and it doesn't help to keep digging.

Experimenting

Lesley's Blog

This blog was written a couple of weeks ago. I did not post it at the time so it is sort of "outdated"  as we have gone and come back from our vacation already. But I like the idea of life as an experiment so I wanted to share my thoughts even after the fact. I have added an "after the experiment" update at the end. Enjoy.


In August we will be in New Mexico for a week. The dogs are going with us and we are considering this jaunt to be an experiment.

It will be the first time we have taken our two seventy pound smooth collies with us on vacation and we are not sure how much of a vacation it will be. The pet friendly cabin we have rented is on seven acres but the land is not fenced securely. Our dogs are used to going in and out of the house through the dog door into our fenced yard whenever they want to. Although they are completely house trained and do not destroy property ( at least not since Merlin graduated from puppyhood and eating cell phones left within his reach) we wonder what the anxiety of being in a strange house might bring. 

Like many couples, Eric and I tend to have different views and different ways of doing things at times. I tend to follow rules and not take risks and so being in someone else's property with our dogs is creating some anxiety for me. I want to make sure I do the "right" thing and that nothing goes wrong. Eric tends to feel it will all be okay and that the dogs and everything else will be fine. 

We want to be able to do some site seeing while we are there and many places will not be welcoming of our beloved dogs. But I need to be certain that the dogs will be okay left alone in a strange place and that no property will be damaged. 

So we have talked at length about our different styles and, given that I am the one who has the most anxiety, what I need in order to feel alright. We have already taken care of some of the issues by renting a property located on seven acres so that our barking collies will not disturb the peace of the neighborhood. Then we will test how comfortable the dogs are in the cabin by leaving them alone for increasingly longer periods of time. Giving them plenty of exercise before we leave them alone will hopefully ensure that they will be doing lots of napping in our absence. 

When I was in my twenties I worked as a research scientist and although experiments are planned with a hypothesis in mind, it is important that the researchers remain detached from the outcome so as not to influence the results. The actual experiment needs to be carefully designed and the results taken into account when designing subsequent experiments to provide further knowledge. 

Science is also about creatively thinking outside the box, taking risks and leaps of faith, being flexible, listening to intuitive ideas all finally focused in to a specific structure in order to reveal wisdom. Over time with careful thought and planning and ongoing additions of creativity and flair, that wisdom can be increased incrementally to hopefully help all beings in some way.

In many ways we can think of a well lived life in the same way, a wonderful combination of organization and the wildness of creativity, living the process without attachment to outcome. I love thinking about my life in terms of a series of experiments and I approached this vacation in that way, beginning with the idea "we can have a great vacation with the dogs." Then I imagined how we could create a wonderful experience taking into account such factors as drive distance, type of accommodation and, as importantly, mine and Eric's emotional issues that might be significant. 

I researched options and plans but always with the understanding in mind that it is just a series of experiments and that staying detached from the outcome and being willing to adjust to ongoing data will allow us to be pleasantly surprised and joy filled no matter what happens. We will adjust and cope with creativity, flexibility, flair, intuition and lots of organization and practical plans!!

Some people might ask "But where does spontaneity come in?" I personally have found spontaneity to be rather overrated but I know that others love to live in that style. However trying to take dogs on vacation spontaneously might be quite a challenge so for now I will stick to my experiments.

After the Experiment

It was a really good experience and the planning we had done proved to be most helpful for us and the dogs. Mostly we were able to go with few expectations and were careful to do less rather than more so that we did not get overly tired or stressed. It worked well to remind each other when things were difficult that "it's just an experiment".

We and the dogs enjoyed a nice balance of exercising and seeing amazing sites with lots of rest and restoration. Our choice of activities focused on "the road less traveled" rather than the usual tourist haunts and on several occasions we were alone in the countryside so that our dogs had lots of freedom to roam.

Now back at home we are grateful to have two very adaptable and mostly well behaved dogs. We are gratedful for a safe trip and that we had the opportunity to see and do new things in the beautiful state of New Mexico. We are also grateful for the dog door and a fenced yard so we do not need to go out in the early morning or late evening to supervise the dogs.

We are especially grateful for the experiment of living every day.

   

Life Pitches

Eric's Blog

Life Pitches

 

A fast ball

I learn to hit it

 

A curve ball

I struggle but do OK

 

A slider

Knocks me down

 

I get up

It's hard to get up

 

I need more fast balls

A few curves

And less sliders

 

 

Each of us has difficult times. Some are easier to cope with than others. Some of us can't hit fast balls; some can't hit curve balls. For me it's a slider.

 

What makes for a slider? Sometimes it's multiple losses in succession or totally unexpected calamities that try my usual coping skills. They knock me down but in time I get up again and bat. It's no fun lying on the ground. 

A Convenient Pilgrimage

Lesley's Blog

For many years my parents lived in North Wales, a very special area of the United Kingdom that I delighted in exploring, especially on foot. On the North West side of Wales is the Llyn Peninsula, at the end of which is Bardsey Island, known in earlier times as The Island of Twenty Thousand Saints. A place of pilgrimage, especially in the Middle Ages, Bardsey Island can be a challenging place to access with the turbulent waters of the Sound making the several mile trip unpredictable at best. Whether it was the difficulty of the journey or the holiness of the island, or both, it was traditionally accepted that three pilgrimages to Bardsey were equivalent of one to THE place of Christian pilgrimage, Rome.

I arrived in the village of Aberdaron on the evening of a warm summer day to begin my own form of pilgrimage to Bardsey. After staying overnight in a bed and breakfast establishment, I started off early the next morning in plenty of time to find the boat, or so I thought. The parking place, I had been told, was a field from which there was a long walk down to a beach and the boat. The field proved to be very elusive and, after losing the way for a while, I finally arrived at 10:10a.m. I raced in to park my car, with the dire warning ringing in my head that I had to be at the loading area by 10:15a.m., the implication being that the boat would wait for no man (or woman for that matter). The uneven path across more fields down to the cove was fortunately just that, down hill. I ran vigorously to arrive panting and exhausted, late. No boat was in sight: an interesting beginning to my "pilgrimage" day, especially as the boat approached the shore about an hour later.

Several people were wandering on the beach and an older woman and young boy were amazingly swimming in the frigid ocean. The were part of the Ch..... family, the brave swimmers being the grandmother and grandson. Mr and Mrs Ch..... had been to Bardsey several times and on one occasion, they told me, had been stranded for several additional days, after a week's stay, when bad weather prohibited their return boat journey across the Sound.

The Ch.....'s had been involved with organizing a pilgrimage for two thousand people from the Diocese of Bangor, a town on the North Welsh coast. The journey was significantly easier and faster than for earlier pilgrims who endured hardships galore in order to reach the holy destination. In contrast these modern day pilgrims set out in luxury coaches. Several energetic and dedicated individuals did choose to walk a section of the original pilgrims' way, a minor "hardship" in comparison. 

Part of Mrs Ch.....'s job was as organizer of "conveniences" as they are known in Britain (or bathrooms in the United States). She contacted villages along the route to ensure an ample supply of "loos". Apparently, on arrival at said toilets, they often found them adorned with a fresh coat of paint, probably the first for many years. The villagers had clearly been spiritually inspired! With great ingenuity Mrs Ch..... also persuaded a small group of monks at a retreat house along the way to open up their latrines. It was a massive degree of organization for a potty break. Oh! the joys of being a modern pilgrim with all the modern conveniences.

At first reading, a journey of well organized luxury might not seem like a very adequate "pilgrimage" but who are we to judge. It is likely that each participant had his or her unique spiritual process and experience, not to mention the impact on the public toilets along the way. Doing something very small with little effort can be as transforming as a lengthy arduous experience. I believe that whatever we need spiritually is what is presented to us and it is up to us to decide what to make of it, large or small, easy or difficult. 

As for my own Bardsey experience? I'll let you know next blog.