Life of the spirit and the art of carpet cleaning

I contemplate my life, my purpose.

The floor is covered in pieces of dirt. 

Life sneaks through our fingers and drops its debris everywhere.

This carpet will need a good hoover today. 

At times, I feel a bit adrift and rudderless. 

Some of those spots on the carpet will need to be scrubbed after hoovering. 

Finding direction is hard when stationary in the water. 

It’s only when I start to make progress on the carpet. I will suddenly see how filthy the settee has become. 

Momentum is needed to achieve anything of worth in life. 

Perhaps I should make a list, to-do list 

1. hoover carpet 

2. clean spots on the carpet 

3. wipe down the settee

When I get started, I can make some adjustments in life as I go, these first steps are just the beginning!

1. Forgive everyone

2. Work on my own defects

3. Clean the rust from off my soul

Reflections on Character fuelled by my P3 art piece

 My Mum is a custodian of epic proportions.  Things from decades even 50 years ago, of worth, are carefully stored.  In her garage, there are even the school exercise books of my children with their early writing, poetry and stories.  My grandfather’s old medals, certificates, and awards for shooting etc are all on shelves safe and sound.  My father’s letters of reference as a young teacher, his qualifications and his many letters are wrapped up with care.   The very first letter he sent to my mum over 70 years ago can still be retrieved and read.  The pages worn thin, with lines from folding and unfolding, show my father’s handwriting and thoughts.  On the wall opposite me is an oil painting by my grandmother which is around a hundred years old.  I’ve known this about my mum for years that she takes care of things and people with tenderness.   In her attic, above the garage, there is even a huge bag of my artwork from school.  It includes work from my primary school years P3 and P4.  Today, for the first time in almost 60 years I got a ladder and braved the spiders and their webs, to get the bag down.

As I took out one of my earliest pieces (see above) from P3 in primary school the art took me back.  Made of material stuck on a sort of canvas, I can actually remember making it.  It is indelibly branded in my memory. I did it in the room used for sewing and knitting.  That must sound odd to a modern audience but there was a time when very young primary students would spend hours mastering all kinds of stitches (both in sewing and knitting).  As our artwork required material we were making our creations in this room.  

The teacher was the wife of the headmaster a man who had suffered from polio as a child and limped badly.  His father had been a captain of a tea clipper (merchant sailing vessel of the 1860s) which shows how old I am! Anyway, Mrs Philips, his wife, mostly taught P1s those innocents to whom school must have seemed a bit of a shock.  In Northern Ireland you start school aged only 4 and if you happen to have a birthday in July you would be a 3-year-old who had just had turned 4 a matter of weeks previously. 

Mrs Philips was terrifying indeed.  She seemed permanently furious with all children.  I am not sure if she was born like that or had morphed into this type of enraged teacher with age but the end result was awful.  This particular picture, of mine I remember so well because while I made it one of her P1s was locked in the sewing box room adjacent to the class and roared and wept the entire period.  Someone whispered that he had wet himself with fear and as punishment had been locked in the storage cupboard.  The sound of his howls and his suffering was heart-breaking and being young myself the horror of it went deep.  Sometime during that endless class, I promised myself I would never become immune to the suffering of others.  As I stuck material with a shaking hand onto my board I pledged that if there was any other choice as an adult I would choose not to inflict pain such as this.  

In later years I could rationalize and tell myself that perhaps Mrs Philips had not always been like this.  Maybe, she had been a good mother and treated her own children well.  Indeed, it was possible she had taught primary school for years and did a tremendous job and this present version of herself was not characteristic of the real person she had been for most of her adult life.  I began to think of people like a graphic line with goodness on the y-axis and time on the x-axis, sometimes down and sometimes up.  Perhaps, Mrs Philips was in the abusive phase only at this point in her life?

Then, at university, I suddenly thought that a simple line is not adequate to reflect a person. Perhaps instead we should use an extra dimension, making an area.  What if a person’s character is proportional to the area under the line.  That would be much harder to determine but be more accurate because if you stayed loving for 40 of your 60 years then you would have a larger area under the curve.  It makes sense, doesn’t it?  If you had been a vicious person for 60 years you could end up with an area of roughly 120 but a loving person for that length of time would have a tremendous score of 600!  But, what if you are a hurtful teacher but a loving mother? 

Obviously, we need another dimension.  What if we added a three-dimensional approach to our diagram? This could represent all the other aspects of our lives, how we treat our parents, grandparents, neighbours, our dog etc.  Instead of an area, we would be looking at a volume where that line is rotated through 360 degrees in space. Here it is shown for a simple line rather than our jagged line but it gives the principle.  Our character is now represented not by a line or an area but by solid volume.

But though this might reflect much more about a person’s character it still fails to take into account all the interactions that happen to each of us as we pass through life.  You can meet an amazing person who inspires you to be better than you ever were before.  So perhaps 3-dimensional shapes that interact with others to substantially change would be closer to reality. Not a totally solid volume but a more malleable shape. 

Then, we have had occasions when religions have come along and changed not only individuals but whole civilizations.  It often seems that at the start of a religion dramatic positive changes happen to a whole populations' spirituality and then with time corruption can set in. Meaningless rituals and corrupt clergy can play too big a role.  Perhaps, then the character can be represented as malleable solids/volumes interacting with each other in a liquid (representing for example religion).  When religion is a dense, deep, inspirational contribution to life the molded volumes/solids all float higher on top.  When, religion becomes corrupt, materialistic, divisive, and fanatical the liquid becomes less dense and lighter without meaning or sense at which point the shapes sink into its depths far from the surface above.

Knowledge is praiseworthy when it is coupled with ethical conduct and virtuous character ...

Bahá'í writings

Flight to the Light

Transmutation calls not for a cloak to hide distress nor an icy barrier to protect. 

Not even splendid hermit-like isolation to guard against all blows verbal, physical or emotional.  

But that alchemy of the spirit that burns the dross off and polishes the mirror of the heart. 

Creating that cleansed pure channel to allow the divine confirmations to flow through. 

Cleaning this poor backwater of all regrets, expectations or disappointment. Focusing all one’s rays of hope on the spirit of Faith. No defence of the heart but open to love allowing that magical transmutation into a worthier me. 

Fingernails gripping each painful centimetre upwards. Aware of the ego drop but clenching the rope of security in my fist. 

Closeness requires sacrifice and my eyes must be on this journey of discovery and my heart filled with kindness for all I meet on the way. 

Understanding that like the butterfly, a rotten cocoon must be broken free to enable flight to the light.

Practising Calligraphy and seeking illumination

The Báb, who was born almost 200 years ago in Iran, rose stellar-like with brilliance above the darkness of a corrupt world. His followers exhibited a fearless detachment from materialistic pursuits.  The address of the Báb (part of which is shown below) instructed his followers to set forth and proclaim a new revelation from God,  resonate with that eternal call to walk a spiritual path.

Despite atrocious persecution the mild-mannered Báb exhibited such warm loving gentleness that more and more fell under his spell.  Even his hardened prison guards could not but recognise his spiritual greatness and warm to his radiance. In his 20’s this young man proclaimed words which resonate still across the globe.

Despite imprisonment in more and more remote prisons, the Báb penned words of such simplicity and beauty they illuminate the heart to this day. Perhaps, it is only when sacrificing and suffering are the edges of the path we walk does the inner truth of nobility emerge. Certainly, the Báb’s short but moving cry out to God, "O God, my God, my Beloved, my heart's Desire" reminds us all that love for God that should ever animate our words and deeds.

In the face of imprisonment and torture, he did not withhold his call to urge others on this spiritual quest unlike any other.  In this prayer of the Báb, he speaks of how God is the remover of every anguish and the dispeller of every affliction and that only God can banish every sorrow.

Despite the brutality of his death, the vitality of this young man and his words fuelled the flames of a new world order.   This prayer of the Báb, below, calls for protection in times of tests and ends with the observation that nothing can withstand or thwart God's Will or purpose.

The Baha'i Faith has risen phoenix-like from the ashes of many thousands of his followers,  put to death, who would not nor could not recant the truth they knew he embodied.  Their pain and that of those who still to this day face death, imprisonment, exile, lack of education or jobs, or face discrimination is remembered in this piece.

On no subject was the Báb more vehement than on the coming of one even greater than he, “Him Whom God shall make Manifest”. Much of his writings urged his followers not to fail, like past generations, to recognise the Promised One. When Bahá'u'lláh declared his station on April 21, 1863 in a garden outside Baghdad, before being again exiled and imprisoned for much of his life, the Báb’s promise for humanity’s rejuvenation was fulfilled.

As this period marks the Bicentennial celebrations of the birth of the Báb and Bahá'u'lláh it felt like the perfect time to take their powerful exhortations and try and use calligraphy to proclaim their eternal call to turn to God, obey His laws and to treat others with love and consideration. To recognise the essential oneness of humanity and its need for divine illumination in order to find its way in a dark, confused and divided world.  These words of Bahá’u’lláh remind us we are all broken-winged birds in need of a guiding light to bring illumination.

Often when we think of a spiritual path, great pilgrimages come to mind. Long distances travelled to spots blessed by the spiritual mirrors that effectively reflect the glory of God. The journey is meant to be both a physical and spiritual odyssey. Malta lay on the ancient pilgrim route to Jerusalem and much of its fortifications were to provide protection and shelter for pilgrims on the danger-ridden passage in homage to Christ. This prayer by Baha'ullah reminds us that, wherever we live from cave to mountain or from land to sea, praise of God has ever been the state that should be saught. 

Our journey in life both in place and time needs to be built on the recognition that we are all pilgrims on the path of nearness to God. Our words and deeds merely reflect that progress.

On the gravestone of my father-in-law, in Cornwall, is inscribed the quote below from Bahá’u’lláh. My father-in-law's name was Ridvan, and during these days of the Ridvan Celebrations, he comes easy to the mind.  A gentle loving soul who made unity his watchword.  Unity of family, of village, of country, of nation,  of religion and of humanity.  

The Baha'i Writings constantly reminds one of the need for spiritual progress and that the purer the heart the closer to God we become and as a result of this the greater the illumination revealed to us.  A Russian friend sent me this lovely arrangement of dried flowers whose simplicity and beauty is an echo of the words within.

Over thirty-five years ago at my wedding, a dear friend of mine, the doctor at the local hospice in Ireland read these writings (below), of Bahá’u’lláh during the service.  Afterwards, one of my relatives, a huge farmer of few words, came up and commented, "That's a very high standard -  generous, trustworthy, a treasure to the poor, an admonisher to the rich, an answerer of the cry of the needy, a preserver of the sanctity of thy pledge... and be humble!"

It's important to realise what real wealth has always been about.  It has never been about possessions or riches of this life but always about attainment to the next world where the only things that will matter in your life here will be the steps that take you closer to God.

It is said that every least pebble can resound with praise of God and so this next piece tries to capture that with stones and flowers interspersed with Baha'i writings.

If there is one principle that the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh stressed more than any other it is that of unity.  That it is a reality not an aspirational goal.  The world is united. It faces challenges and difficulties that can only be addressed if this unity is accepted and implemented.  "..each and every thing manifesteth the sign of His Unity, testifieth to the reality of Him Who is the Eternal Truth, proclaimeth His sovereignty, His oneness, and His power."