Dear One,

It has been such a special time with you and I have luxuriated in all these moments of fellowship. I cannot be grateful enough for all these gifts of love. The heart-to-heart chats, the beautiful walks, and my young grandchild’s hugs all serve as a wonderful immersion in love. 

These past years of Covid have stolen such meetings from too many. Heart-stopping to think of all the fellowships that ended in permanent separation on this earthly plane. There are no words for those who faced such endings. So, it is with utter gratitude I find myself with loved ones these days. I am appreciative of health to enjoy such company and to have weathered this pandemic. Perhaps some of us have emerged scarred from all that has happened. Changed creatures from what we were before. I feel my brain is not what it used to be. No matter, perhaps recovery will take time. That is my hope and, in the meantime, I relish connections with loved ones that seem to stretch with love past the veil of brain fog and communicate heart-to-heart. I don’t have to be 100% to bask in love and laughter. 

Perhaps love, that cord that stretches even past death, is how we all must hold onto that which is vital. I am enjoying CS Lewis’s diary, who knew his spelling, was almost as bad as mine? When called up to serve in World I he wrote to his father to come and see him before he was shipped off to France. He would subsequently find himself on his 19th birthday on the front lines in the Somme Valley and lose his university flatmate and best friend Paddy Moore on those muddy killing fields. His father didn’t visit, not even when his son returned to hospital in the UK injured from France.  C.S. Lewis’s words on this haunt me dreadfully, “my father was a very peculiar man, in some respects: in non more than an almost pathological hatred of taking any step which involved a break in the dull routine of his daily existence.” How true it is, that we have to sometimes break free from dull routines which blind us to the real priorities. I felt travelling to see you was the break I needed to remind myself of how precious such steps are in all our lives.

“Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and harmony, with friendliness and fellowship . . . This goal excelleth every other goal, and this aspiration is the monarch of all aspirations.”

Bahá’u’lláh

Aged 13 and Writing to the Archbishop for answers

me around 13 looking annoyed in pigtails

When I was young, around 13, I wrote a letter to the Archbishop of the Church of Ireland. It was a heartfelt piece about how angry I felt about the people of violence in our community who regularly bombed and shot others. My question was how as Christians could we turn the other cheek to such individuals? How could we love those who hate us and do us harm? Living in an area of Northern Ireland prone to bombs and violence I really wanted answers. One of my playmates on our street later would be sent to prison for planting a bomb that killed others. She was released after many years for health reasons. Seeing the devastation killing created it seemed forgiveness was an inadequate response for the community. Wolves when allowed free reign will kill the whole flock. Acquiescing and forgiveness in those circumstances will not avail. Surely communities have a right to defend themselves from such abuse. But where do Christians  stand given scriptural demands of a higher moral standard?

I was surprised to receive a reply from the archbishop. It was unexpected and appreciated. He wrote of our duty of forgiveness not just in words but in hearts also. He recognised how hard this task was and how many in Northern Ireland struggled with the enormity of this call. It seems strange then that decades later the man of violence on both sides are not just released from prison but invited to play their role in government. In fact those not involved in violence in the past are seen as rather ‘weak watery’ types who have little role to play in this new peace. Centre stage are the redeemed bad guys whose pronouncements on political and social affairs receives much prominence. What is this strange new vista where not only are we to forgive those of violence but handover to them the reins of power. Not just devout Christians but atheists, agnostics and those of all Faiths are expected to turn the other cheek and pretend all the bloodletting never happened. 

The same scenario was repeated in Rwanda where almost 3/4 of a million were slaughtered in a matter of months. The new peace requires victims to swallow an unpalatable reality. Violence achieves results. Those who are terrorists today will be tomorrow’s government. Until someone more violent trumps the existing cards and takes his place at the peace table. So we perpetuate a system of injustice devoid of reward and punishment. Almost the opposite where violence is a new currency of political debate and is rewarded with depressing regularity. The only beneficiaries apart from those of violent tendencies are huge armament industries whose bank balances bulge with blood money. 

It almost feels as if countries are being used as military advertisements of just what weapons of war can achieve. Instead of staid military hardware conventions the new sales arena for this industry is unfolding on our screens in the nightly news. Look! Look! How powerful our strikes are, how many we can kill or maim, how quickly can we lay waste a whole urban city. As millions flee the violence should we demand they turn the other cheek? Actually we ask much much more. We demand they turn around and head back to the hell they have fled. We are annoyed they fling themselves and their offspring at our European borders and drown in our seas. That's the perverse thing about injustice. We no longer see the reality that exists but some coloured perspective of our own construction. Everyone is the hero of their own movie. We look on all events as to what effect it has on me and mine. It is a tendency that is rampant in people, in industry, in nations and even in how hard facts are portrayed. To defend our dignity our nation’s flags are hauled around our naked flanks. Bare of principle or integrity but proudly indignant of the precious soil beneath our feet. 

One human life is worth more than any of this. When you take another life you have lost the game. Everything shifts and you have to see things in a light that justifies your actions. To do otherwise would be unbearable. That shift is subtle but cataclysmic in consequences. You must go forward claiming justification for your actions or spend a lifetime regretting those actions and attempting to find some redemption. Perpetrators choose the easy path and we have chosen to look the other way. It is easier for us to think that when men of violence achieve their objectives we will have peace. But even in our worst dreams we cannot think our way into their heads. 

Violence warps the fabric of our very humanity it makes us walk among others like humans but devoid of humanity. We no longer seek forgiveness. We are full of self justified anger. We have no mercy and are hungry for more blood. We have developed a taste for such things. I would it were not so. If I was writing to my 13 year old self I would hesitate to put pen to paper. I would not unfold the terrible path that lay ahead. It would not be fair. The young need hope to weather such storms. It would be unfair to take that away. Perhaps, with hope in their hearts,  they will find a more just path than we have.

Lauch of Letter From Malta Service - warnings apply

Many friends over the years have suggested I would make a good counsellor. I've always responded with horror. Perhaps, the reason for choosing science over art so many years ago was a desire for solid facts not the soft shaky business of human psychology. When people tell me their problems it feels like a harpoon to my heart.  I find it difficult to weather the woes of others. I have a thin skin or as my mother calls it ‘You’re supersensitive’. 

When a friend told me how much her husband beat her, we went together to the photographer to take photos of her poor black and blue body, it burned my heart. I find myself wanting to take justice into my own hands. As these things sometimes do the fates conspired to tempt me. I was driving down the street when the husband was crossing the road at a pedestrian crossing. He was about to cross and I slowed to a standstill murderous intent in my heart. He spotted me and read my mind. We eyeballed each other for a few seconds as everyone else crossed the road in front of my car. He glared at me angrily and took a step. I revved my engine and he stopped. Never taking his eye of me he stepped back onto the pavement. He stood awkwardly on the edge looking around himself for support. It was time to drive on. I passed with with a slight nod of my head, ‘wise call’ I wanted to tell him. 

So, you can see that with such an inability to listen to troubles without taking practical action my counselling skills are always going to be seriously flawed. Then, I thought about being on a tiny island in the Med and reckoned there are some advantages to being at a distance. Perhaps, I should call my answering service “Letter from Malta”. You send me your questions problems insights and I will reply with a proper paper letter not email. Be warned I am not trained, not mild mannered, not shy about reframing accounts. Don't expect the usual “I'm hearing what you're saying, rot”!  Sometimes we all need to hear what we do not like. We need to be challenged as to reality not just our own narrow perception. Consulting with others is a powerful tool. We need not accept what others have to say but at times that contribution is from a refreshingly different perspective. That can help us make a better reflection on the choices and challenges that lie head. If you are interested send me your missive ( at colette.maani@gmail.com) and I promise to send my response from Malta. Be warned not only is the service not free it should have a government warning on it!.. 

Letter to a Son

Del (my cousin) flies back tomorrow and it has been a whirlwind of meals/hotel and outings.  The upside is a whole range of experiences that I would otherwise have missed.  The hotel on Gozo was lovely, not far from the Azure window and has an amazing Turkish spa.  Marble tiles with basins of hot and cold water and ornate bowls with which to pour the stuff over you.   The tiles on the huge table and benches/walls are heated.  So whether you lie prone or sit leaning against the walls you are embraced by the wet warmth.  

Power showers are everywhere/plunge pools/swimming pools with massive waterfalls that blast your shoulder muscles into submission.  In the entrance of the spa are jugs of scented oil with which to anoint hair and skin.  Next to the Hamman is a darkened room with sun lounges/cushions laid out among the candles and low meditative music plays you lie tranquil surrounded by the novelty of no distractions.  Your mind settles like a pool without occupants.  A glass stillness reflecting your reflections.  Del and I lay in total silence for an hour, well, Del slept actually.  

In fact, I have observed Del can fall asleep on a canteen table, on three seats in the ferry terminal, prone on a sun-baked wall and even on a bench overlooking the coast.  She even fell asleep ipad crushed between forearms, hands together in supplication.  It is a great gift from God to be able to sleep anywhere!  

I look on amazed and struck by how different we all are.  It is so precious to share time with others as it opens a window to a completely different world.  Most of the time we have to settle for our own small keyhole on things.  I have meaning to write to you for sometime and then didn’t get round to it.  I need to warm up so as to speak.  Get my writing going again.  So forgive my rustiness.  

So satisfying to have those wonderful drawings of yours pour out and thanks for sharing them with me.  I studied them and their names with interest.  When being creative it is hard to know where the pen will go next but it is delightful to see creation unfold.  It is in that inner absorption that makes magic appear and you are fortunate indeed to have a magic wand (pen/pencil) that takes you to such a mysterious place.  Opening that door to an inner place in all of us that we cannot miss out on.

I’d love to see you with your own little art studio room all set up with implements at the ready and walls covered with your creations.  Being able to go to that place whenever the need/desire came.  If I’m honest I’d also love to see you surrounded with lovely people that bask in your ability to love and who also radiate that back.  Being able to have those wonderful nurturing conversations that you engender in all that meet you.  

For me having my own children blew my mind and heart.  It’s like producing a piece of art that is better than anything you can devise.  A part of you and the one you love but better than both of you.  A masterpiece that changes with each day but lodges itself deep within your heart.  With each hug and laugh they embed hooks deep within heart muscle making you melt with joy.  I regret many things I have done.  Wish I’d done so many things differently/wisely/patiently but you three boys have made my life joyous despite all my stumbling.  

Know how much you bring to my life.  How I hug myself in delight at your happiness and am inconsolable when worries cloud your day.  If I had my way I would have wrapped you all in cotton wool protected from all harm but what sort of life is that?  No, I must celebrate your freedom, your independence, your successes and triumphs however hard won.  

Choose good people to have around.  Such fellowship cleanses the rust from off our heart and allows us to lower the barriers that are needed to protect us from others!  There are definitely those that suck us dry emotionally and there are those that we find in their presence our souls grow.  We become people we like more, not less.  Keeping your finger on that pulse that tells us which direction this person brings to us is vital.  You, who are so intuitive, have a great advantage.  I stumble blind in this world, not able to distinguish the good from the bad.  Only through painful experience does my antenna get the message, ‘run, run, run like the wind!’  Well, I did warn you that my writing was rusty so apologies for all this rambling.  I hope you can make more sense of it than I can.  Know that it is sent with all my love and gratitude.  Thanks again for all your love and for making this world sweeter!

Lots of love