Tuesday, 4 February 2020

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”


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Deeper than happiness, joy springs from mysterious sources. Not sudden rain bursts of glee. Nor mere gladness because of calm waters. It is fuelled instead from clean, deep unpolluted wells that are blemish-free. That run with cleansing channels to fertile lands. Growing deeds as crops. Its unseen abundance is fenced by detachment. Joy bubbles up despite hardship, often due to hard lessons learnt. The deeper the plough cuts the greater the harvest.


Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) the ancient stoic philosopher was sentenced to commit suicide by the emperor Caligula, who resented Seneca’s eloquence in the Senate. Seneca only survived because he was seriously ill and Caligula thought that he would soon die anyway.  The next emperor Claudius exiled Seneca for many years to the island of Corsica.  Nero, the subsequent emperor, was tutored in his childhood by Seneca but later turned on his old tutor and sentenced him to death.  Seneca had certainly experienced the hardships that tribulations bring.  He would have agreed with the words of Epictetus, a later stoic who urged vigilance in life by pointing out:

“It’s much easier for a mariner to wreck his ship than it is for him to keep it sailing safely; all he has to do is head a little more upwind and disaster is instantaneous. In fact, he does not have to do anything: A momentary loss of attention will produce the same result.”

Seneca, much earlier in his life, had already spoken to others on misfortune.  He had pointed out that one should not see apparent misfortunes as genuinely bad. He lectured that in some ways they should be welcomed as they can benefit us. He felt that a good person should treat all adversity as a training exercise.  In fact, he drew an analogy with a wrestler who only benefits from taking on tough opponents and who would gradually lose his skill if he only ever faced weaker challengers. Seneca felt that we only show our own skills when we face a real adversary.  Adversity, he felt, works in a similar way: it lets us display our virtues and it trains them so that we can improve. He suggested that adversity should be welcomed when it came. In a similar vein, he pointed out that a general will only send his best soldiers into the most difficult battles. He felt that God will send the toughest challenges only to the most worthy individuals. Experiencing adversity then is a mark of having a virtuous character. He asked the question that if we are never tested would we ever develop virtues of patience courage and resilience? Seneca pointed out that unlimited luxury and wealth would serve to make a person lazy, complacent, ungrateful and greedy for more.

After a lifetime of giving lectures on detachment he consoled his companions as his own painful death was endured. He reminded his listeners of Socrates’ (470 BC – 399 BC) approach to death. If life was so valuable, he pointed out, why would Socrates, the greatest philosopher, treat it with such dismissal. Socrates had been occupied with the search for moral virtues and was sentenced to death by drinking hemlock.  Socrates' fearless humour was demonstrated when during his trial he was asked what his punishment should be and responded that a wage from the government and free dinners for the rest of his life would suffice!

It’s not that life is unimportant but to live an uninvested life seems the worst torment. If unexpected death can be viewed as a kindly gardener moving a tender plant to a more fertile land then a waste of life can both be likened to a worthless weed. A weed that has grown out of sight of the gardener’s care, strangling younger seedlings and denying them light or substance. Such weeds will gain their recompense at the final harvest. But what gardener does not despair at their wanton destruction. The question then remains how do we flourish and progress fully in life?

Marcus Aurelius (121 – 180 AD), a stoic emperor wrote with insight;

“Make a habit of regularly observing the universal process of change; be insidious in your attention to it, and school yourself thoroughly in this branch of study; there is nothing more elevating to the mind. For when a man realizes that at any moment he may have to leave everything behind him and part from the company of his fellows, he casts off the body and thenceforward dedicates himself wholly to the service of justice in his personal actions and compliance with Nature in all else. No thought is wasted on what others may say or think of him or practise against him; two things alone suffice him, justice in his daily dealings and contentment with all fate’s apportionings.”

So sometimes when hardship or loss strikes, the lessons it brings can prune and strengthen growth.  But if we instead, flower with easy abundance, grow in wealth and glory while seeing others around us wither and suffer then, perhaps the Divine Gardener does not transplant with love but views us with startled disdain.

All that growth and show, just wasted space. If our good deeds here plant seeds in the next world, what scene of devastation awaits those who have abused and brought destruction to others. Better by far to face atonement here than face the divine Gardner with no penance paid, full of selfish satisfaction and a wasted, wasteful life to offer. While others roughly treated here may find more forgiving climes and receive tender divine care from the source of love.

Marcus Aurelius had clear opinions on what we should and should not fear in this life.  It is surprising but to the point.

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“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

Monday, 2 December 2019

Ruins, trees, leaves and poetry that awakens


Robert Burns struggled to make ends meet for much of his life and died aged only 37.  He suffered from bouts of despondency and when describing himself he was as direct and honest as ever.

"My life reminded me of a ruined temple.  What strength, what proportion in some parts!  What unsightly gaps, what prostrate ruins in others".

Robert Burns



Alfred Joyce Kilmer wrote this lovely poem about trees; He was killed by a sniper's bullet at the Second Battle of the Marne in 1918 at the age of 31.

"I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."


Oliver Wendell Holmes (August 29, 1809 – October 7, 1894) was an American physicianpoet, and polymath based in Boston.  He wrote a poem entitled The Last Leaf, here is a verse from it.
"And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,
Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling."

    
"Every now and then let us answer the forest's call,

To come see life's beauty and the miracle of it all;
If we listen with our hearts as we walk among trees,
We may understand the message carried on a breeze,
For us to blend with the forest's spirit so it will beguile
Us into walking under its lovely trees for just a while."



from a poem by Belinda Stotler



"Everything I touch
with tenderness, alas,
pricks like a bramble."

Kobayashi Issa (June 15, 1763 – January 5, 1828) was a Japanese poet and Buddhist priest famous for his haiku poems.  It is of ancient Japanese origin and every Haiku contains 17 syllables in 3 lines of five, seven, five.  Their shortness and conciseness mean they can pack a real punch.



Enos A. Mills (April 22, 1870 – September 21, 1922) was an American naturalist, author and homesteader. He was also the main figure behind the creation of Rocky Mountain National Park.  He had high hopes for what trees represented and what they could contribute to the world. 

"The forests are the flags of nature.   
They appeal to all and awaken inspiring universal feelings.  
Enter the forest and the boundaries of nations are forgotten.  
It may be that some time an immortal pine will be the flag of a united peaceful world."
-   Enos A. Mills  

Monday, 25 November 2019

Dear David


A good heart,
kindness embossed throughout,
Expressed in word and deed.
He stood upright, tall and regal.
With a mind clear and agile.
An excellent honest Inspector of police.
He proved himself as one of integrity
in the difficult days of The Troubles
when shifting sands caused better men to stumble.

Perhaps his stability came from his warm faith
working as a Gideon to provide all he could
with what was his mandate - the Bible.
His unusual quiet humility was accompanied
by a deep devotion to his wife.
He met her as a young constable on his bike.
Entering the village shop he heard the bell above the door
and then he saw her!
It was love at first sight.
Instant, total and devoted.
Not some fleeting fancy
but a love that grew over many decades
into over a half-century like a mighty oak.

As once we walked past a neighbour’s home
eighty-year-old David shivered in sympathy.
The owner was recently widowed
David said the thought of him ever losing his own wife
made his heart ache in horror.
But the years brought dementia to his door.
It was hard to see words take flight from his mind.
That agile, fluid, articulate mind began to stumble.
Making a sentence an impossible hurdle.
When he fell down his staircase
and was left with huge black bruises on his chest
he struggled to explain what had happened.
But in trying to express his gratitude
in surviving the bad fall
he raised a finger pointing above
and managed to convey his gratitude
to the "Big Guy" upstairs.

He had three loves.
His wife his Faith and his music.
Long after conversation stopped completely
he could sing the old songs of Ireland
in a beautiful tone that stirred the spirits.
Then that too stopped
and there was nothing
that was not taken from him. 
I will not dwell on this final bereft phase.

Who knows why tests rain down on mighty souls?
Is it perhaps our test not theirs?
Who knows?
But this week he threw off this fleeting shadow of a world.
I like to think of him striding out on sunlight fields.
Full of his old vigour of mind
surrounded by all his great loves.
I am grateful for the fragrance of his existence
that lingers in my mind
the citrus tone that ever cleanses the senses.