There’s something quite sobering about being 40,000 ft up, or rather 15,000 ft and ‘unable to land’. Whilst you’re high in the sky, the cars and people are barely visible ants… but the lower life becomes far more recognisable… at the dizzy height you barely give it a thought, the how you’re going to get down.. you are.. just there…

An aborted attempt at landing and a reclimb to cruising /higher circling heigh changes perspective.

What if the great metal tube can’t land? How do we fix a fault in the air? What if we can’t land safely?

As the plane continues circling for another hour, 10,000 ft, 15,000 ft we watch as more planes come into our airspace and land safely, and became worried … what if?

Looking down I see life. The houses, the car the people. All little ants passing around in their own world oblivious to the situation above them.

Mountains too look like small hillocks. And vast sprawling golf courses look like postage stamps.. From here you see the vastness of this place l, all the features that we know and we call ‘our home’.

As the plane lowers down, the landscape changes. Ants become more recognisable people, and the sizes of roads, motorways and woodlands begin to change…

Lower still becomes the realisation that we are ‘the ants’ too. That this plane is smaller than that golf course and travelling at speed. We might now be small but still the question- how do we land?

Strangely my world didn’t flash by. I did think, perhaps I’m not ready yet. Some tastes of regrets were fleeting, but mostly there was an acceptance to see my maker, and an awareness that this mortal body wasn’t all. I do remember gripping in my minds eye to every bit of green space, the fields, the woodland, and the golf courses…why the damn golf courses??? And then it hit me. My unconscious prayer was to land in a space where we don’t need to take out others; a place where I only this plane and body of people are affected, and by heck, St Peter is gonna have his hand full at those pearly gates!!

……

…..

As it was the pilot announced he’d ‘thought’ he’d got things rectified..

There was a decent and a few clinks and bangs.

As we touched down the whole plane applauded, unaware that we had landed and proceeded to over shooting the run way, stopping abruptly at its very very end with an army of emergency vehicles waiting to receive us. We (the plane) were checked over for a good 20mins before being permitted to taxi to the gate. Everyone got off departing with a desperate sense of relief.

What was the issue?… who knows!..

Were we more close to our end than we thought? Again who knows!

Everyone left that plane glad to be on the ground. Glad to be home making their way to their loved ones and lives.

And the air crew throughout all this.. They were steadfast, very militant and hauntingly steely to the end. They never gave any emotions away, but remained in pure training /trained for mode… which in itself was and is still, unnerving!

How are grand parents so special?

How can their influence live on so strongly through their grandchildren’s lives?

How as that child (even if we’re adults we are still a child in their company) do we adapt and live through the grief and the hole they always leave behind?

My grandparents were so incredibly special. They loved me and I loved them with my whole heart. They were there to nurture and teach, to love and cherish when the world felt confused and cold. They were so so often the calm in the storm, the sensible guiding voice in the chaos and my shelter. And all the loves of life, my hobbies, came from them.

I thought I was unique in this special relationship, but then I look at my kids, and how they view their gran (now gone) and living grandparents (there’s a few!) and realised it’s the same. History does repeat, over and over.

Now I am a grandmother. Being so aware now I feel burden in my shoulder, to try to live up to the model my grandparents left me. I want to get it right, and be like they were for me, and yet did they think or feel the same when they lived and loved me. Did getting it right ever cross their minds? I think not. I think all they did was love and cherish me and include me in their lives, in the here and now. They were always ‘present’ whether it was through needlework, cooking or knocking bits together in an old attic workshop, or gardening. Whatever we did, they were always present and always included me..

And now so that’s my job…

Forget the burden, forget the responsibility or the pressure. It’s time to let my grandparents live through me. It’s time to let their memories of our time flow, and let me be present to love and cherish and teach my grandchildren.

They may be gone. And I do still morn them, but….. when I look at my grandchildren, I feel them present lovingly looking at me….

In the darkness

In the darkness and stillness a form is borne

Under the murky dark depths a stir of life

Trusting the light will be there it grows

Searching and ever seeking, hoping that there is even light at all

Each day dwelling in the dark and the depth its grows.

Each day, one effort taken millimetre by mil.

Up it stretches

Up is reaches

Out it grows, up in hope.

Then through the murk is bursts

Onto the surface

In the light

Unfurling….

Unfolding its leaves

Unravelling its petals

Responding to the ‘warmth’ and light of the sun

Basking in the light it holds the space

From the murk below it holds the place

And in it will come the insects

To feed, to drink, to rest..

As daylight draws to a close the petals furl

Protecting the precious heart.

Till once again the sun rises and the heart bursts open..

From the murky dark depths beauty is borne

Form the filth, life is nurtured

A precious floating lotus

Purity against the murk.

So often things are referred to as ‘too Jesus-y’. But why? What’s the fear?

Do we fear people might think we’re out to convert them? Or is my faith ‘private’ ‘mine’ and not to be discussed?

Do we think that by referring to God as Jesus we might make us seem too godly, too evangelical? Do we fear it might make us too much like the other more evangelical, Christian traditions ? After all we’re Catholic, but we’re certainly not religious, right??

If you are a practising Catholic, each time you go to Sunday mass you cite the creed..

‘I believe in… One Lord JESUS Christ….’ In fact if you listen to the creed you profess, probably half (if not more) is all about Jesus. We’re anointed at baptism, to be priest, prophet and king, and reaffirm this at our confirmation, with a job on this earth to profess the name of Jesus in all that we are and all we do. In fact we couldn’t be Christian’s without Jesus, it’s kind of in our name as Christ-ians!!

So why do so many recoil? What’s wrong?

God the Father is comfortable when he’s far away, up there on a throne, looking down; disconnected. The Holy Spirit, and ethereal being that lives and breathes and moves around us like the wind too is acceptable, and the Spirit can float around us and not really touch us. Besides too in this secular world, it’s quite ‘cool’ to be down with the spirit! The world after all is mostly comfortable with that…

But Jesus Christ. He is the one who has been one of us, who gets us, He’s the one who touches us, looks directly in our eyes, holds us…

Jesus, the friend, the brother, the prince of peace, the Saviour. How can we believe He is all these things and still recoil at saying the name Jesus?

Just because we mention Jesus, doesn’t mean we’re ‘born again’, only that we are comfortable to have connection with the Human-Divine God-aspect and love..

If songs, readings or experiences are too Jesus-y, wake up! Jesus is the one you’re hearing the teachings and stories about. He’s the one of all our Gospels, we can’t get to the Father unless we go through Him.

Jesus will hold his hand out and welcome you. He will walk with you and beside you through life if you let him. Facing the Father can be mind blowing and nerve wrecking and at the end of my life, do I want to stand there alone, or do I want my lifelong friend and walking companion Jesus by my side…

I know which I will choose.

Get comfortable, practice saying and hearing the name Jesus now, so when the end comes, you’ll have a companion, a friend to guide you into the next part of your spiritual journey.

Today we hear the story of the Lord calling ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ For the first time Samuel hears the Lord speak clearly but doesn’t recognise it. He thinks it’s Eli calling and runs over and over, until both realise that it is the Lord who calls…. It’s funny to hear that even the Lord’s anointed/ own, need reminding of His voice from time to time.

How often does the Lord call us over and over? How quick are we to recognise and if we do, respond?

For some time I heard His voice so clearly. It’s why I chose my way in faith. But now…. well, has He stopped calling me or have I stopped listening or recognising?

Am I concerned?

For a time I was. For a time I was terrified and felt so alone. For a time I felt cut adrift and lost in the darkness.

But then I realised I needed to take the pressure off the trying. I needed to take a leap of faith and walk in the darkness and trust. He has given me a grounding in His love and His teaching, and I and asked to walk forward with that. It feels impossible at first to walk without that support and knowing, when you have heard so clearly in the past, it can seem more impossible to know which way is forward in the dark!! Discernment takes time and we do get it wrong and go the wrong direction.

But as we walk we learn to listen in other ways. His ‘voice’ changes into something other.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta famously stoke of stopping hearing the voice of the Lord, she walked in the darkness most of her vocational life. She had to learn another way and to find His Light in all living about her. She gives us too some idea of how to move forward if we are thrust into the dark, challenged to walk a different kind of road.

Like her we too must trust the walking forward, noticing the light. The light in others and in nature. If we stop and take our time we can ‘feel’ His touch instead of hearing His voice. Little signs all around us guide us..

Recently we celebrated the Epiphany, those wise men bearing gifts.

If we give our Lord our trust and some space in our everyday, this Epiphany becomes ours. Each day, if we choose to look we are granted ‘the gold’ in the adorned vast richness of this world created, the ‘frankincense’ in the eyes of beauty to lift our minds and spirits high, and the ‘myrrh’ to calm and be a balm for our physical bodies… These gifts given and gratefully acknowledged and back can be our subsistence for each day’s journey. Filled with these we can continue to let our light shine and guide the way for others in the darkness too.

Through these daily gifts, He calls. His voice may not be instantly recognisabile, but His hand and his works certainly are!

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.”

Psalm 19:1:

Images and words by Lisa VO

Spiritual life can seem like one endless restless struggle. A life lost at sea without a float. An exhausting battle treading water and not being able to see the shore or the direction. As Christians we listen for the voice of God in all that we do and yet so often it’s hidden and so we’re left it seems treading water, paddling till all we feel in exhaustion.

The whisper is drowned out by the noise of the waves. The boom that we so want to hear with clarity can be lost in our blatant deafness. The light we want to see can be blind sited by the huge waves that surround us till all that’s left is in the middle ground. Padding… the best we can, trying to conserve energy, keeping the fear and panic down, whilst waiting patiently for some form of direction, just one little sign…

Learning to listen, learning to live this way takes time, commitment and patience. But instead this life has always taught us about instant gratification, clarity in direction, purpose and direction with materialism. Keeping busy stops us thinking and being. Busyness exhausts us into submitting to the hopes and fears of this world. And once again, following this louder life voice we find ourselves lost in the bustle and all at sea, no lifeboat, no ring, no land.

Belief asks us to breathe in and float. Rest here. Be still.

Life asks is to kick and kick, swim ferociously in any and every direction, and scream for help.

Belief asks us to rest.

Life asks us to flag down the next thing to cling to, a bit of debris perhaps because we’re going to drown!! And keep shouting!!!

Belief asks us to wait to be saved.

Life tells us to save ourselves.

Belief asks us to save ourselves too, but through submission of our self will.

The seas of life maybe rough. Land my not easily be found and we may well be plain old tired; but belief doesn’t ask us to thrash endlessly in fear. It asks us to rise to the top. Float on the water. Rest and gather strength. Put your head back into the deep (that may well be scary) and instead of focussing on the down, look up…….

Once we calm the storm and fear in our hearts we can look up with gratitude and thanks and rest held up by the water.

Life is messy, stormy and exhausting. Thrashing endlessly through it doesn’t make. it any easier. In fact, as St Peter showed us, it makes us go under.

Where the land is or what is about us really is insignificant. All we’re asked to do is surrender our self-wilfulness, rest in Him, open our hearts, and “look up child!”.

Life is a long old journey if you’re lucky! And even if you’re not it’s always eventful. We accumulate so much and yet arrive in and leave this place, alone, naked and without anything. Just as we have arrived we depart, just usually a little used and grown.

Walking the Camino taught me so much about what we carry and what we need. Our unnecessary ‘things’ in our rucksack for the journey planned for all eventuality, and also life’s burdens on our shoulders. Through the pounding of each mile and each sore step, I remember discussing the most intiimate of problems with strangers whom I would meet on the path and call friends. And they too would share theirs. There’s something about sharing your dirty laundry (hand washed on backpacks drying) and those of life in the wide open road. It’s freeing… it’s as if the air in the vast space can carry it all off and away!

The air and the surroundings make you put life. into perspective. You can either fight it and hold on with all the exhausting emotion it takes, or you can surrender it and in freeing it, free up space in your heart and energy in your life to be able to divert it elsewhere and live!

Everyone of us is bogged down by visible and invisible burdens. Everyone of us has experienced or is carrying pain. Everyone of of us is hurting. And as they great saying goes, not one of us is getting out of this life alive.

Jesus asks us to leave our things and follow him. He offers us a yoke to help him carry our burden. He also offers us a place to rest, and be loved.

How do we respond to this?

Do we keep on picking up that sack, that burden until it knarls is eroded us and deforms us, causing more and more pain? Or do we decide to leave it there, hand it over. Leave the carrying to someone Greater or stronger? Or do we feel guilty doing that, and if so why? Shame?

Each day we breathe we have a choice. Each day that choice is ours.

Each day brings its own new fresh worries to had into the pot. More stuff to stir up to carry in our backpacks of life…

So come. on. What’s your choice?

The rollercoaster of life goes up and downs twists and turns, terrifies and elates….

Endless up and down…

Why are we so surprised with life’s ups and downs? How can we experience true happiness without knowing the opposite, sadness. How can we know the pure power of hope without knowing the depths of hopelessness. How can we feel the power of true healing when we have never encountered pain?

Life is up and down. It’s twists and turns can blow our minds with joy or elation. It’s can throw our spirits/soul out of or bodies with anguish and pain.. why for one moment do we think a stable sedate life is the ‘best’ to have, the aim, the entitlement? Why do we believe this?

What if instead of being taken on it by surprise, we buckle in and wait and let the ride loose?

What if we accepted te ride instead of fighting it?

Where would that take us?

For every twinge of sadness, we know that hope is around the corner, for every steep climb up we know that there will come a rest and downward spiral. For every dark tunnel, there will always be the light. What if we accepted this and believed this?

Life is a struggle for all of us. No one has got this together (regardless of how they look), no one is getting out of this alive!! Our bodies can leave this life pristine, or be completely wrecked because we have loved and lived.

The rollercoaster of life.. why not stop fighting it and choose it? You’re on the ride already…

By choosing it, something happens… hope …. Dwells….

There’s a tiredness in this body. A weariness in these bones. This weariness shivers the skin, cools the tempest of desire. A skin of lethargy envelops every want, need or desire.

There’s an ache for rest or renewal. A glimmer of hope in these. That these might just restore, some fraction of what was..

But even these are out of reach. Rest becomes restlessness. Sleep becomes sleeplessness. All that remains is frustration and agitation in a tense body that refuses to rest. But the body does eventually rest. What it can’t do is receive.

This body is closed around the soul. A soul set deep in ice. Frozen solid. Some may say protected or preserved. But certainly in-penetrable…. Deep deep down.

A soul ….. Buried. Closed in by the bitterness, hatred and hurt, lies deception and deceit. Frozen from the effects of a turbulent life, the pains and joys of life. This soul, encased in ice, and then in a body of blood and bones for further protection. A body that physical, that fights back. A tongue to lash out, arms to for fits and legs to stand or run. This body knows not what else to do. Animalistic, and instinctive.

But this iced soul is a burden to carry. It’s a heavy weight hard to defend. And with each expenditure, comes little or no return. No real rejuvenating rest for this restless weary body, carrying this heavy icy soul.

In time this exhausted body surrenders, this endless carry. The body says it’s fought enough. In this moment there is nothing left for it to fight with; no nourishment or rest can help. Bone tired, these muscles cannot take the weight of this body let alone the heavy soul it carries.

But then there is sound. A shift in a stiring. A little crack of the ice breaks the perspective.

The soul remains encapsulated, protected in its frozen tomb. But this small fracture in its icy encasing let’s in warmth.

The defrost begins from the inside. The frozen soul starts to awaken. What was discoloured and grey begins to pinken . What was lifeless begins to breathe. What was still starts to move, ……..gently, ………slowly ……..and the protective cover is no longer protection but a prison of ice. There’s a great want to crack it all, burst out, be done and be free, but to do so would injure…

Instead, the crack feeds warmth. The crack allows breath, and slowly with a little gentle movement the soul regains space within its icy womb.

Slowly and gently great thaw begins….

And what of the body? It’s still exhausted, weary and bone tired. It’s still lethargic and craves rest. But it also has a sense of hope, a want and need for warmth, and a desire for connection.

But mostly, what of the body? Well, for now it is at least able to receive! Let the unfurling begin…

Images taken by author

Dedicated to The Birchall Trust, Lancaster UK, and all the wonderful work they do..

The body is tired!

It’s tired of being pulled around and pushed by the mind, demanding so much of it, and not giving it one moment to recover, and no way to communicate. It feels like a weary dog on a leash, it’s pulled and pulled to places, to perform, to achieve; when all it wants to do is rest! Just for one moment…… to stop and …..rest.

There’s a disconnect. The body can’t get through to the mind anymore. The mind is too busy giving orders and it has forgotten the language of the body. So endlessly the body tries, and gives up in pain; hoping that sometime soon a translator comes along.

The heart too is tired of the mind. The mind wants it to be excited here and there, pump and do do do… but the heart needs a break. Being driven to work overtime to increase the blood flow for all this activity endlessly isn’t sustainable. But the mind is relentless. High alert mode activated at all times!!!we have to run from that tiger! But to run every second of the day? Really? Surely the tiger risk isn’t every second of every single day!

Something has to give… the arteries? A heart attack or stroke? What will it take to make the mind stop it’s endless roar!

The brain is tired of the mind. So much working, so much thought crunching, and why, what for? Scenarios run in repeat. Situations analysed over and over, underlined by the brain being told to be on hyperalert!

The mind is telling the body to be alert, active, because there’s that tiger, the huge dark dreaded one that could pounce at any single moment.

Stay active but always fully alert!

Sleep with your eyes open!!

Be on guard for none of us know where that deadly tiger hides!

There’s no time for the comforts of joy, peace or contentment. There’s no time to be grateful or to look and take in, no time to receive or be mindful for that tiger dwells just around the corner….. but which one? And so that is our focus is fixed!

The legs are tired of the mind. Always ready to run with no-where you go. Pent up, bottled energy and on standby. This endless ‘ready for action’ limits their movement and use.. Who wants to take time to glide and stretch when we need to be ready for that tiger? Taught and held they wait. But the years bring pain, disabling movements and developing uneven muscle strength and spasms. The legs can’t rest anymore, they can’t stretch anymore. They are stuck in a spasmed pattern of holding…ready and yet stuck..,

The arms are tired of the mind. There’s fatigue in carrying all you have constantly, so that you’re ready to run. Human bodies just aren’t designed for this! The shoulders curl forward, the arms brace for impact, to defend, or fight, when all they want to do is rest, be supported and held. Instead they carry more and more, till their weight becomes all encompassing and burdensome. The ready arms held endlessly and spasms set deep within.

The mind too is tired.

Where is this tiger?

What does it even look like?

It’s spend so much time on hyperalert, it can’t even remember what it’s shape or colour is anymore?

The mind needs to switch off and rest, but where’s the switch? It’s lived this long on red, it’s lost the memory of how to stand down. Mindfulness is useless. Meditation’s relief is limited and if anything creates increased restlessness. How do you continue to live like this??

The mind needs to be taught, but it’s too busy being hyperalert to stop and learn and let anything in. So what happens?

The body breaks down.

Littered with pain and discomfort, it stops the process and fatigued spasms force discomfort and rest. If that can’t repair things… then… it tries again, and again and again. But the temporary breaks don’t reset for long enough.

Finally, the mind breaks down.

No longer able to maintain all the threads. No longer able to function…

In this zombie state; the sorter moves in, to help to understand the jumbled load.

The mind is unburdened slowly of its load. In time too, so it the body. But the holding patterns in the body are still there. It knows nothing else. The body and the mind still don’t speak. They no longer know eachothers language.

Here enters the enquirer, advocate and translator.

As time passes and the neurons fire, you learn more and more about yourself, your body and your mind!

The mind is tamed.

You realise how much energy is miss-spent in the endless prowling,

You realise how so many thoughts and chatter crowd your head space, and the impact it has on your body, both in responses and weight.

As the body unfurls the spasms and tension play out.

And the healing finally truly begins….

Images by Lisa VO

Article dedicated to Penny Collinson, Somatic Movement Therapist & The Birchall Trust, Lancs UK.