The Pirinexus

Between Monday, 9th September and Thursday 12th September, Angus and I cycled the Pirinexus, a 350km circular route, starting and ending in Girona, involving climbing the Pyrenees (4000m of elevation).

Before we started I had anxious thoughts about being able to complete the task – I was worried about my own fitness and ability; and worried about the weather (the forecast suggested storms and heavy rain). When it came to it, neither were limitations in overcoming the climb.

We cycled from Girona, planning on travelling about 80 km on the first day, but decided to continue for 160km to Ceret due to the weather forecast. Steadily cycling up the two Cols we had to climb we reached the top with time to spare for the 40km decent to Ceret. This was an exhilarating 40km where I quickly forgot about the challenging climbing we had just completed. During the ascent I had moments of feeling uncomfortable and tired, but I knew that if I kept going I would eventually reach the summit. On reflection, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined. I was constantly reminded of the various ‘mountains’ I was climbing back home … mostly around work and finances … was there a summit to these?; and if I just kept steadily going, would I eventually get there; and what exhilarating decent would I discover?

Ceret was an enchanted town with a sense of culture and a rest place for pilgrims on every journey. It also reminded me of how much I appreciated French patisseries. Angus and I enjoyed the museum of Modern Art, which again challenged my perception of things. I had largely ‘thrown away’ the idea of appreciating any Picasso-like art, but found refreshing respect for these artists’s view of life and the world; and how they honestly attempted to portray the reality of things through their art.

Travelling from Ceret to Peralada was another exhilarating experience. Having climbed the toughest of our mountain stages, I was ready and amped to tackle the next climbs. And again descending the mountain on rugged paths was a joy and delight, especially seeing what our bicycles could do. We then continued for many kilometres with a mighty wind behind us … pushing us toward our destination … it was a joyous free wheeling.

I will remember Peralada for the quaint streets, cribbage, sketching, and the wonderful breakfast.

The journey to the coast was filled with contrast and diversity – from the mountains to the sea, from rural fruit areas (where we sampled apples) to the hustle and bustle of the Costa Brava; and from the peace and serenity of the ‘naked’ stripped-back life to the glitz and sparkle of the pleasure-me daze of the over-the-top resort life. I quickly got drawn into this, especially with the all-you-can-eat buffet, which although left me feeling uncomfortably full, felt uncomfortably empty about being in this soulless place.

The swim in the Med was a highlight, but is was with a pull back towards the mountains, that we continued the last leg of this epic journey. Returning to Girona along the gravel tracks which had made up most of the 350km route, made me appreciate travelling on paths not used by motorised vehicles. This felt like the journey was the focus and not the destinations.

So often I get my head down and push on to get somewhere; without really seeing and experiencing the journey in the way that it grants itself to pilgrims willing to embrace it. I’m realising the worth of getting off the “motorway”, slowing down and allowing the gift of the present moment to have a place in my essence of Being; and also giving myself to the present moment … an exchange which births a serenity and a joy that opens my eyes to the beauty all around and within.

The Pirinexus gently and patiently guided me in seeing the journeys in life, and not just the destinations, as the purpose of our pilgrimage.

Death as a teacher

I read the following recently which I found inspirational:

Suppose we stopped compartmentalizing death, cutting it off from life. Imagine if we regarded dying as a final stage of growth that held an unprecedented opportunity for transformation. Could we turn toward death like a master teacher and ask, “How, then, shall I live?” . . .

The [following] five invitations . . . have served me as reliable guides for coping with death. And, as it turns out, they are equally relevant guides to living a life of integrity. They can be applied just as aptly to people dealing with all sorts of transitions and crises—from a move to a new city, to the forming or releasing of an intimate relationship, to getting used to living without your children at home.

1. Don’t wait. [Step fully into life. Be present.]
2. Welcome everything, push away nothing. [Turn toward your suffering.]
3. Bring your whole self to the experience.
4. Find a place of rest in the middle of things. [For example, focus on your breath.]
5. Cultivate don’t know mind. [Practice a beginner’s openness, curiosity, and humility.]

Angeles Arrien suggests some very tangible practices to help us live more intentionally with death in view:

What legacy will you leave for future generations? How will you be remembered? How do you want to be remembered? Write a draft of your desired obituary. Prepare your own memorial. As you do these practices, what is revealed to you about what is meaningful for you in your life and how you want to be remembered?

Use your own death as a teacher, a companion who is always with you, who reminds you to live your life fully every day, for it may be your last. This in itself is a rigorous practice, although you know you are going to die at some unknown hour or day, you do not believe it.

What attachments do you find in your personal life? Professional life? Spiritual life? Consider Mary Reuter’s three layers of release from attachment: from material gain, from self-importance, and from the urge to control or dominate others. Which of these will you practice releasing this year?

Create a Book of Revelations: include your favorite memories, turning points, epiphanies, peak experiences, synchronicities, prayers, spiritual practices, significant moments, and important dreams.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best: “To leave the world a bit better, whether by healthy child, a garden patch, or redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you live—that is to have succeeded.” 

Living the questions

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) wrote in his Letters to a Young Poet:

I want to ask you, as clearly as I can, to bear with patience all that is unresolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves. . . . For everything must be lived. Live the questions now, perhaps then, someday, you will gradually, without noticing, live into the answer. 

When I was younger I was surprised when I got an answer to a question wrong. As I’m getting older, I’m sensing I don’t have as many answers as I once did and I suspect as time passes I’ll be surprised if I ever have any answers.

The knowledge and experience we acquire through life should hopefully humble our judgemental and know-it-all egos; and bring us to a place of ‘unknowing’ contentment where the mystery of Being permeates our daily life. When we surrender to the great mystery, we find a peace where striving ceases and the burden of succeeding and having answers melts away.

We try so hard to find the answers to a fruitful, peaceful and joyful life (both the present reality and imagined future). Much of our time is spent finding solutions or methods to ensuring success and happiness with as little inconvenience and suffering as possible.

We are living in an era of information overload. This causes so much confusion, anxiety and depression for all of us trying to make sense of it all.

“We cannot settle today’s confusion by pretending to have absolute and certain answers. But we must not give up seeking truth, observing reality from all its angles. We settle human confusion not by falsely pretending to settle all the dust, but by teaching people an honest and humble process for learning and listening, which we call contemplation. Then people come to wisdom in a calm and compassionate way. There will not be the knee jerk overreactions that we have in so many on both Left and Right today.”

The beauty of Divine reality is accessible to all and as the first beatitude says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” The stance of ‘unknowing’ finds the deep divine ‘knower’ within.

To be or not to be

I thought I’d share a small excerpt out of my journal:

Today I feel I’m in a thin place in the area of tension between living out of my egoic self, that seeks gratification of the senses in the here and now and tries to avoid all kinds of suffering; and my ‘soul’ (Christ) self, that seeks connection within and without, with creation and the Divine reality of things. On the question of suffering, I think it all comes down to which ‘self’ I’m living out of. The challenges in my life will be perceived in a suffering way when I’m living out of my egoic self that wants it’s own way and ‘good’ outcomes. When I’m living out of my Christ self, I have peace despite whatever is going on and whatever the outcome.

There is so much distraction in this life … every moment there seems to be something vying for my minds attention. Oh how I desire to live in the ‘no mind’ space of my life. But the cost is ‘losing out’ on all that glitters and sparkles in my mind’s eye. Why can’t I shake these patterns of entrapment and enslavement? Why am I so fickle? I know the beauty of living free of my mind’s control. Metanoia (repent) – change in mind – could rather be interpreted as ‘no mind’ for me. Mindfulness could rather be ‘mindlessness’. Letting go of my mind and embracing my soul – that is my prayer, that is my simple goal.

My mind has a place in my life, but living and being beyond myself requires living out of something deeper within.

To be or not to be. It’s a question of my mind.

Loss, Failure and Life

A patient recently quoted the following he had heard, “The grief we feel is the price we pay for the love we share.”

Loss underpins the cycle of life in which we all take part. Life is all about being connected … this underpins the wholeness of Being … but the risk with this connection is suffering the loss of it in any form.

Recently, a patient with terminal cancer passed away and the grief his wife experienced was described as ‘numbing’ and ‘awful’. She tearfully told me that she couldn’t imagine living without her partner.

One of my favourite Rumi quotes: “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”

How do we learn this? Only through losses in our lives …  and becoming more aware of our connection to all that is … and living in that awareness.

I feel like I’ve failed in my attempts at becoming more aware – probably because I have thought that is is up to me, rather than being aware of the reality that I’ve always been connected. The illusion of being disconnected is the greatest sadness of our age.

I recently watched The Last Jedi and Yoda had the following wisdom “The greatest teacher, failure is.”

The realisation that experiencing life in abundance is intricately linked with failure and loss, is growing in me. Can we learn to suffer loss and endure failure with a hope for life in abundance? May it be.

Falling into the abyss of Divine Love

I have recently been reminded of an image which describes the nature of Love: we are like little pebbles in an ocean of Divine Love which is bottomless, endless. As we fall we may get lodged in little ledges of coral where we may get comfy and want to ‘set up camp’. The currents of Grace gently ‘wrestle’ us free from these places and we continue falling, gently tumbling deeper into this abyss of God’s Love. We delude ourselves to think we have any control over Love or that we are separated from this Love. Whether we are living in a state of awareness or not, we are immersed in the ocean of Divine Love falling ever deeper into this abyss. Each one of us is sustained by Love. If Love stopped loving us with every breath we take, every second of the day, we would cease to exist. 

2016 has been another year of falling into the Abyss. It started with a much needed rest in South Africa. I had a sabbatical – a rest from the privileged work I do as a GP – we took a trip to South Africa. 

We spent three weeks in Cape Town catching up with family and friends. We celebrated my 40th birthday at a farm in Tulbach with all the family. It was a very special time together.  We had a wonderful few days with the Redfern family on Elandskloof farm. We then had one week in the Pilansberg game reserve. Aunty Dee joined us for a few days. We witnessed a pride of lions hunting and killing a baby wathog which left an impression that the boys took back to England and shared with their friends … wild Africa.

Judy participated in a few triathlons starting with one in Oxford and then Lymington. She also completed the Forestman middle distance triathlon (with the swim in the Beaulieu river). 

I spent 5 days cycling from London to Paris and back to Portsmouth with my good friend, Angus. We spent a day in Paris visiting a Monet museum and various other landmarks. We cycled to Giverny to visit Monet’a house and garden … a surreal and special moment. Coffee and Pain au raisins became our staple diet for those few days … it was something I’ve longed to do and can’t wait for the next cycle touring adventure. 

The year was full of the boys footie. They both did so well and Joey received an award for the spectators player of the year. During the summer Joey’s team played in a few tournaments and went unbeaten for 25 games in a row. We visited St Mary’s Stadium to watch Saints play a few times. Nath and I watched Saints beat Inter Milan in a historic victory in the Europa League. The boys and I visited Wembley Stadium to watch a friendly between England and Spain. This was our first visit. It was an overwhelming experience with 83 000 people. 

We had some good time together during the boys school holidays and spent 2 weeks in Normandy during the Summer break. We spent time fishing for carp, cycling, swimming, playing games and visiting Mont St Michel. 

Nath and I went to London to watch Michael Morpurgo read his War Horse story with Joanna Lumley at the Royal Albert Hall. The Philharmonic Orchestra played and the London Choir sang. It was unexpected when Nath remarked how much he enjoyed the evening. 

During the summer, on one of our visits to Calshot (an activity centre on the beach where the boys and Judy climb), Judy and I assisted in a rescue of a young girl after a jet ski accident. Judy was incredibly brave and acted quickly to rescue the injured girl from the water. The boys looked on in amazement while we worked together as a team. I was amazed at how Judy reacted and how calm she was. Judy was involved with another incident where a cyclist was knocked down by a car in the New Forest. She stopped and assisted in providing support to the man who lay unconscious on the side of the road until the paramedics arrived. Again I was so amazed that she responded in the way she did with such composure.

We continue to enjoy running and cycling in the New Forest. Nath has recently started cycling with me when I run and this has been a special time. 

Judy has done exceptionally well with her football coaching and has almost completed her FA level 2. She has also started a new job as a lecturer at Brockenhurst College in the Sports and Exercise Department. She is also working towards a PGCE. 

Despite another challenging year on many fronts, the sense of God’s presence has been tangible. There is a continuous tension between holding onto things and letting go … a sense of falling into the abyss of Divine Love without settling for anything less. 

Horizons

The horizon is a moment in time where the seen meets the unseen, where the unmanifested becomes the manifested and which unfolds independently of our point of view. For many it represents all that’s hidden and for others all that’s revealed.

Our spiritual journey (the journey of every soul) has similar horizons. Whether we’re on the move or remaining still there is an unveiling, an unfolding of the Divine Nature of things – the Divine Reality. To see the horizon a person needs to have their eyes open. We also need our third eye, the eye of the soul, to be open to see these horizons of our soul’s journey. For all of us we need to be awakened daily to the reality of these horizons. When we are, whether we stand in awe or run or even take a gentle stroll, we begin to see the colourful, dynamic Divine Nature of all things. We then participate in the manifestation of the unmanifested nature of the Divine that is in all and sustains all. We know deeply that although we are not the Divine, we are not other than the Divine. And although we are not each other, we are not other than each other. What a blissful state. Divine Union. This is the meaning of salvation. This is the essence of the Good News.

 A poem I recently wrote in a few minutes:

 Horizons

There in the distance lies the horizon;

Impressions of nothing more than a line of nothingness.

All I can do is walk. Is run. But nothing matters.  

When I think I’ve arrived there ‘s not a lot more than when I started;

However I notice there is yet another horizon looming; luring like an enchanted world, manifesting the unmanifested.

What do I do? Just sit and rest? Wait? My sense of being is here, it’s now!

I want to strip down to nakedness and run into that nothingness until I fall down exhausted, spent and needing help to get up again.

Maybe, just maybe, the horizon is always the beyondness I’ll never reach but always know – the infinity of the moment.

I need to know the now.

 

 

 

 

Art and Poetry, the language of the soul

The ineffable inner nature of living things is often best hinted at through art and poetry.

My dear mum has re-awakened her long lost passion for art. Here are some of her pictures:

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I thought I’d share some of my recent poetry which, much like Winnie-the-Pooh’s songs, ‘just comes to me’, like a bear with ‘little brain’:

A poem I wrote for our 15th wedding annivesary:

Closed Eyes, Crystal Clear

My eyes closed, my soul searching:

Was this the really real?

Finding fullness while being emptied;

Gaining everything while holding nothing.

My eyes closed, my heart questioning:

Was this the paradox of belonging?

Being lost in oceanic oneness;

Being found in another’s eyes.

My eyes closed, my soul seeing.

A poem I wrote inspired by moving from dualistic, divisive thinking, that is more exclusive to non-dualistic, colourful, inclusive seeing:

A question of the soul

My soul quietly watched the falling sun; It prompted a question from my mind:

“What is it that you really seek?”

“To be connected to the Other”, my soul replied.

“The Other?”, My mind enquired, “Is that referring to human, nature or divine?”.

“Is there a difference?” my soul replied.

My mind and soul, together, now watched the falling sun; without a word.

 

 

The journey of the Soul

Below is a message I wrote to Judy during this year … It captures my thoughts and deepest sense of our journey home. It was Rumi who said, “My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there.”

“The journey of the soul to find an eternal home of rest and love, is the journey of all souls. We get entangled along the way and distracted by our ‘separate self’ – that part of us that is addicted to the notion that this home can be found outside of the One who created everything; and who is in everything; and in whom everything has breath and life. My deepest heart’s desire is for you to continue your journey with much courage and determination; and discover all that you are ‘in Christ’ – your very true self that was hidden with Christ from the very beginning of creation itself and will exist forever. What a joy and privilege it has been to journey with you. Sometimes our paths parallel, sometimes crossing and sometimes apart; however being woven together in the great tapestry of infinite Being by the Master Weaver. The deepest truest you is an immortal diamond of infinite worth – I just hope you’ll discover some of that in your lifetime. I desire to walk with you, encouraging you in our anchor of Faith, Hope and Love; learning how to ‘be’ in the naked now; and accepting and allowing the divine DNA within us to unfold in both our lives and the lives of our boys. This is the great adventure of life, yet it is also the most challenging and daunting (it is the narrow road that few dare to travel).”

2015 has been another year filled with experiences that have both driven us and drawn us deeper into  the mystery of Love and Grace, sometimes in unexpected ways. 

We had a few accidents during the year – Judy’s foot fracture and Nathanael’s clavicle fracture and ankle sprain; a few illnesses with Joey and Nath both getting Chickenpox; and some great holidays – Wales (Breacon Beacons and Pembrockshire); Legoland; France (Paris and the Tour de France final stage; Annecy; and the Rhone Alps); and ending off with our trip to South Africa. 

My trip in March to our farm in Malawi was encouraging. I spent a week with Dave and taught more on the use of Medicinal plants especially Moringa and Artemesia. I visited the lake for the first time – it was beautiful and peaceful. 

The boys football started with fervour and excitement with both Nath and Joey doing so well. Judy and I loved watching them play each weekend. We also had great fun watching Saints playing at St Mary’s. 

Judy completed her second Ironman at Heaver castle. The boys and I were so proud of her. 

  

I also completed an endurance event – Chase the Sun – a 330 km cycle across the UK in 17 hours. Quite a spiritual moment for me near the end (our target was to finish before sunset – we made it by 1 minute).

   

 

We had two additions to the family – Joey’s hamster, Jeff; and Nath’s bearded dragon, Alex. They have both been great fun. I was particularly fascinated by the beauty of a reptile.
   
 

Malawi 2015

I think it was Teresa of Avila that said, “it is heaven all the way to heaven and it is hell all the way to hell.” 

And it was the last Pope that said that he can’t understand why people still think that heaven and hell are actual places. He said that these are states of consciousness. 

My recent trip to Malawi was another heart opening and mind bending time. People in the shackles of poverty and clinging to the hope of a better life that ‘modern colonialism’ has to offer. 

Despite the poverty there are those few who have found a ‘source’ outside that of the economic system that gives life and an awareness of their ‘sacredness’ in the great chain of Being. They have discovered the love and grace of a God that is so much bigger than anyone or any institution has created. It is heaven all the way to heaven. 

There is so much need everywhere you look. I was overwhelmed at times; however I had a sense of peace about ‘using whatever I had in my hands (and heart) for this person in front of me at this time’.

While I was in Malawi, I had some interesting discussions about the difference between stewardship and ownership. When we get confused and begin to take ‘ownership’ of things, we tend to want to protect and preserve it for our own good. Our world becomes smaller and we tend to hold onto things tightly (this produces a lot of stress due to the fear of losing what we have). Letting go and living ‘loosely’ frees us to live in a much bigger world and experience the abundance of life and love. 

I did not really know what to expect going to Malawi. I had long wanted to see the farm at Chigumula (PDFA, our registered charity, has rented this for 4 years now and the floods hit it hard) and I wanted to see all the people I knew there. I questioned my own motives and decided to sit with the question, ‘why am I going?’. Once there, I settled into being touched and touching the lives of the people ‘here and now’. Someone once said of being a GP, that we are guests in the lives of our patients where they invite us into the dark and tender places. I have always treasured this; however I felt this to be true with the people I came into contact with in Malawi, from the people at the farm in Chigumula (Foster and his family), to John (the coffee businessman), to the group of 50 that I shared knowledge about HIV and medicinal plants, to Madalitso (“Blessings”) the caretaker of the place we stayed at in Zomba. Seeing with different eyes into the soul of each person broke me open … Open to see an ‘enchanted world’ of sacred souls.

I return to England, once again having received more than I gave, being touched at my core more than I touched, knowing that God (who is more than any idea I have of him) is drawing people constantly to a growing and unfolding awareness of his love and grace … Heaven all the way to Heaven. 

Our training day at the farm (Dave showing the effects of using Aloe Vera in HIV)

Frank, an old friend, who is planting simple churches.

Foster (our farm manager), Chikondi (their granddaughter) and Emily (Foster’s very special wife).

The Moringa and Aloe plantation near Mangochi (Boston and Lamech, the caretakers).

William’s Falls at Zomba

Joy, Madalitso’s daughter