Courtesy is such an old-fashioned word but a wonderful art indeed

 

She had a warm smile of greeting and she spoke kindly showing careful loving attention towards all guests. Her open heart welcomed you to her simple tidy home with generosity. Talking with her reminded me of conversations long ago, in black-and-white movies, where it seemed each word and gesture was carefully weighed and considered.  But it is the feeling her courtesy generated that I remember most.  She was doing not just everything to avoid offending you but also providing a safe space for you to be. Where you knew no harm but only help and love would come your way. Her determination to be courteous provided a safety net for every hurt soul that came her way.

"Do not be content with showing friendship in words alone, let your heart burn with loving-kindness for all who may cross your path."

Bahá'í Writing

Doer of good

Dear Friend (you know who you are!), 

Doer of good remorselessly. 

Placing wreaths on old graves. 

Remembering lost ones over decades. 

Tidying and cleaning their resting places in honour of the love that lives still. 

Visiting lonely living elderly relatives and nurturing them with that life-affirming connection. 

I care, you matter, these regular long trips, crisscrossing the country affirm. 

Keeping friends, tight, through stress, divorce, separation, and loss of loved ones. 

Making sure the safety net of your love and concern is strengthened with additional knots of love. 

Never failing in loyalty, even when brought to the knees by the suicide of dear ones. 

The devastation of losing dear ones by their own hand strikes that huge heart to its core. 

But keeping that love alive despite the loss, the pain and absence.  

Remembering and holding their spirit in gentle arms of understanding and compassion.  

Dropping everything and giving anything to help a friend in real need. 

Providing constant help of finance, time, and love. 

Not buckling in the face of death but tightening the armour of love and heading anywhere for those you hold dear. 

"The betterment of the world can be accomplished through pure and goodly deeds and through commendable and seemly conduct. "

Baha'i Writings

Mystery of the Missing Earbuds

I lost my expensive Wi-Fi earbuds. I looked everywhere, under things behind sofas, and then in the most unlikely places, drawers and coat pockets, cupboards and shelves. No sign of them, and after two days of no success, my thoughts took a darker turn. Which of our visitors had pocketed my earbuds? They were a top-of-the-range model, an expensive gift for my birthday. You only had to look at them to know the quality. Even the case they were stored in seemed expensive. 

Perhaps it was the man who called in to read the electricity meter this week?  I had held the corridor cupboard door open while he read the meter inside. Had his sticky fingers closed over my precious headset as I fumbled with the door? Another suspect was John the man who comes once a year to spray clean the guttering and windows of the house. He had called and asked if he should do it this week. I went to ask my mother as he waited on the doorstep with the front door open. Had he reached in while I was along the corridor and pocketed the earbuds? His huge hands could have easily swallowed the small slick case in seconds. 

And so it went on. By the fourth day, I even searched the garage, the toilet and the car. Places I had never even used the earbuds. Desperation had obviously set in. They were gone. Was it my carelessness or another’s callousness? Would I even ever know? This morning I put on my white trainers and deep inside there were the case and earbuds. Mystery solved! 

It is human nature to make mistakes and to blame others. To vent our anger out on someone else. Too often the sad truth is the mistake is simply ours. The root cause is right here in us.  How many times do we decide to blame others instead of fixing the problem?

You can get discouraged many times, but you are not a failure until you begin to blame somebody else and stop trying.

John Burroughs

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

Impossible to fix?

At times, it feels impossible to fix. 

The problem beyond solution. 

However adept and agile the mind, however, clever and cunning the plan. 

It still feels like an impossible task. 

When you've done everything you can, thought it out from every angle, consulted with those with experience or wisdom, or who know you best, then there comes a time to leave it in the hands of God. 

Not like a spoilt child, crying for a parent to fix the broken toy, but with tenderness and humility leave it in the hands of God whose compassion is greater than we can possibly imagine.

Ballybosnia Writer's Group

A writer’s group fuelled by coffee and biscuits. 

An armpit room up steep twisted stairs in a community centre on a dismal estate in Northern Ireland. 

So many houses burned out the locals call it, Ballybosnia. 

The laughter and creativity set hearts aglow. 

Sharing thoughts and experiences of life. 

Rich in failure and very rare successes. 

But open and unveiled. 

A space to share even the raw pain of loss with others. 

For that pain to be spread butter like, over waiting hearts. 

Soaking it up like crumpets and lightening, the teller of sorrows. 

Awakening, empathy and support in the listeners. 

Healing wounds with silence, and some words. 

An honour to share such space with such souls.

"... engage in meaningful conversation in those social spaces open to you; and participate, to the extent possible, in undertakings and efforts directed towards the common good."

The Universal House of Justice

Dishing the dirt on diaries

Went through some of my old box of diaries in the garage and was quite depressed by the groaning complaining tone of many of them.  Adolescence can be so totally self-centred that even reading one’s own personal perspective makes you want to smack your younger self!  At this particular age, you are generally the hero of the movie and every other person in your life is an extra.  Not of great importance and usually ignored, resented or actively disliked by the perpetually embarrassed adolescent.  One friend pointed out that her 13-year-old daughter told her, across the dining table, that she couldn’t stand the sound of her mother’s breathing!  But along with the growing recognition of one’s self-preoccupation over the years the diaries have occasional gems.  I found this interaction with my teenage eldest son, captured as we wrote in the diary to each other as we sat side by side at a summer school talk in Greece.  It was fascinating to see his handwriting and mine on the page as we discussed stuff.

Me: What makes for a good speaker?

Son: Authenticity, systematic but also give an interactive presentation.  They should be confident, and knowledgeable and speak loudly with excitement. 

I have a vague memory of the speaker we were listening to as we wrote was quietly speaking in a monotone as he read head down from his notes.

Me: What is the reaction of an audience to a good speaker?

Son: They don’t try and correct the translation.

It was a Greek Summer school and any English talks were translated into Greek.  Unfortunately, some of those in the audience who could understand both languages would often complain about poor translations.  Such interruptions could entail ten minutes of excited arguments about the correct words to be used.  The visiting Speaker would stand confused as shouting and arguments in Greek seemed to follow everything they said. 

Me: But what should the audience get from the experience?

Son: It shouldn’t show until they check the sources used themselves and reach their own level of understanding, I guess.

Me: Is spirituality equivalent to following the Will of God for the age in which you live? 

Son: Nope! I think spirituality is the quality of human consciousness and soul on a level that equates with the harmony animals have with nature.

Me: Thanks, I think I understand you, but deep stuff!

My Son just drew this in response.

Here are an assortment of entries from all the years of writing that resonate still.  They remind me of so much I’d forgotten but also allow time for reflection. We live in such a reactive mode these days that it is rare to have time to really look back and learn the many lessons life has schooled us in.

• Some plants can only be distinguished by the differing parasites that infest them. Some mindsets can only be distinguished by the differing prejudices they exhibit.
• Strange, but I can see for the first time quite clearly why there is a need for an integrity of nature in those with whom we live. There is an honesty and dignity with which they carry themselves despite what they encounter. You know with certainty that even if you fell out with them and never associated with them again they would never backbite about you. It is because their code of behaviour is not dependent upon the fragile bond of human fellowship, but draws its strength from a higher source.
• A joy, intense and wonderful lifts my heart, and makes me smile at it all. How glorious is life, how intense, how abiding! Love should be like sunlight, blinding all, with its glory, curing all with its bounties.