Seeker and Guide

Seeker & Guide

Prologue

I came as a seeker looking for the lost ground.

That place where once I glimpsed a mystery and then lost sight of it.

That was in the days of innocence before ambition blotted out truth

and gave me instead a goal and targets

by which to measure the steady tread towards it.

Once I could speak of the journey and see companions along away.

Then all too easily we became competitors jostling for position

and forging alliances rather than friendships.

Once I saw a placid pool and in it the reflection of a thousand, thousand stars

rejoicing in the beauty of creation

and inviting me to join them with uplifted spirit.

Now all I recognised was my own reflection,

a sense of desolation and a grey uniformity.

It was then that I told myself there must be more.

Where is the place that mystery hides itself waiting to be found and heard?

Where can I see that which I do not understand but am content to hear?

Where can silence create the exaltation of the stars

and celebrate with the bird that sings its notes of rejoicing?

Is there such a place?

Or is that dim recalling of another age just an illusion,

a fancy built in another time of which I never was a part but just imagined?

No! For something deep within says "There is more:

there is something I once recognised".

In response you show me a river

and ask me to turn aside from my business

and consider what it teaches:

To look at its welling place where, from the soft soil,

it forces its way into the world and begins its journey.

From the very start it chuckles, laughing its way along its course

and finding the easy path wherever it may be taken.

It will not stop until it finds its place.

It is this that I must learn.

It is the Way I must follow.

Chapter I

A Seeker came to the Guide’s door and asked where he should begin his journey. “What is your destination?” the Guide asked. “I do not know anything except that I must begin to travel in order to discover another way,” the Seeker replied. “Then we shall begin from here” said the Guide. “Look at yourself and tell me what you see.”

“I see one who has wandered for many years,” said the Seeker. “I have been to all manner of places and have seen wonderful and amazing sights. I have owned houses and valuable things, taken a wife and fathered children. I am very well off and want for nothing. But in all of this I recognise that I have discovered no clear path. I have grown older but have nothing more to say except that I have been to more places and acquired more things.

For many years I dismissed the possibility that there were things to be thought about which did not depend upon what I could buy or afford. Now I’m not so sure. I see others who ought to envy me but they only look at me with sadness. They should look for my approval and friendship for I could benefit them but they seek their fellowship elsewhere. They seem to say to me ‘there is another way,’ and it is this that I wish to find”

The Guide pointed to the river which ran through the valley in which his home stood. “There are,” he said, “some in this village who have never left its boundaries. When they come to the banks of this river you could ask them where this river comes from and where does it go? And they would tell you that it is a mystery. If I told them that the river begins in the hills fifty miles from here they would be no wiser, and if I said that it flows into the sea, it would mean nothing to them. So it is with the Way you seek: it is a mystery.

The Way begins in the mists of time and comes to us where we are. It enables us to travel to where we need to be and we will not see its end in this world. To begin our journey we need to look at what we believe.”

The Guide continued to speak as he led the Seeker to the river’s bank. The water was broad and ran swiftly. It came from beyond a bend to the left in the far distance and was marked in its course by grey rocks. These thrust out of its depth and caused foam flecked wavelets to acknowledge their place in the order of things. The banks of the river were strewn with the debris of that higher level of water which came when rains fell on the hills beyond the bend. As trees spread their branches to shelter the river’s progress they also half concealed deep pools. These lay still and almost unmoving even though the strong currents surged only a metre or so away.

“Do you believe this river could support you, hold you up and let you rest in its bosom if you stepped into it? Do you see that pool?” the Guide asked as he pointed to another bend in the river just beneath them. There, just as the main stream sped away lay a large semi-circular area of water. “If I said you could lay in that pool and dream, would you believe me?”

The Seeker pondered, looking slowly back and forth between the pool and the Guide. Eventually he uttered a yes which lacked conviction but contained truth. The Guide seemed almost not to hear. “Yes” he said, “it would do so, and as you stepped into it, your belief would have become faith. Our beliefs become faith as we give them force by our actions. And as we do so faith, in turn, transforms us, shapes us, takes us into itself. You would step into the pool as an upright man and, as you gave effect to your beliefs, faith would transform you into a horizontal one who floated and dreamt and was sustained and became faithful. The river would hold you and would become one with you in its midst.”

Guide and Seeker sat together in silence beside the river following its course as it disappeared round further tree-lined bends into a hazy distance. “You do not need to prove your faith in this river” remarked the Guide, “but you do need to learn its lessons. Your answer was spoken from your head: you reasoned you could believe and were prepared to do so. But your heart was not much in evidence.

Faith grows only when reason, the mind and its beliefs and thoughts, are brought into the heart. When that happens its as if we have planted our beliefs in the richest soil. They spring to life, grow and are given force and effect, as they flower and bear fruit through the gift of life.

So many ideas never see the light of day. We think a thought and then discard it, so it never stirs into life of any sort. Another strikes a chord with us and for a few moments we think that it may answer a question but our enthusiasm wanes and the thought dies with it. Sometimes we have a really good idea but then our busyness and other ideas crowd it out. We never give it room to grow into a belief and we soon forget it

If you remained seated on this bank you’d never experience the water. Were you to sit at the high water mark occasionally you’d get damp. If you paddled you’d have some sense of the pace of things, but not much. To really test your belief you need to go in, all the way in, only then does faith have a chance to grow.”

Later, at the Guide’s house when they sat down after breaking bread, the Guide gazed into the fire and sipped his wine. “You have told me how the first part of your journey has ended. Can you tell me now how it was when you set out?”

“As a youth” responded the Seeker, “I tried to worship God but I could never find Him for myself. I only discovered a shadow of God given to me by my mother. She had preserved it just as it was when she was a girl and did her best to pass it on to me. My father had abandoned God in favour of material things which he believed would bring him greater pleasure and happiness. He also sought the friendship of men who would, he thought, benefit him in business. He died surrounded by silent idols, all the symbols of his wealth and success. His friends wrote saying they would miss him but few of them came to see him go. After that even the shadow of God in my Mother disappeared.

Later on I could not come to terms with those for whom leading people to God was little more than a job. If being Holy were indeed a mere task carried out for payment, then it seemed to me an odd way of going about it. What is more, I could not distinguish between those who said they had discovered God and those who had not, other than that some gathered in one place and some in another or not at all.

I gave up the search for God and got on with making myself as comfortable as possible. I threw myself into the pursuit of wealth and pleasure and determined that what suited me would come first and be my yardstick.”

“In the absence of God you became god for yourself,” the Guide mused over his rhetorical question and the fire fizzed and spat as it received a new log. “Do you see this fire?” he asked. “It considers nothing but itself. Whatever is presented to it, it consumes or spits out to die on the hearth. It is determined to make everything like itself, nothing is ever allowed to retain its own character and identity within the flames. Even the things it cannot swallow up or reject, this iron for instance, it heats and makes glow like its own colour.

It is so easy for each one of us to be individualistic and to disguise our isolation by our clubs and gatherings. We turn against anyone who refuses to conform to our pattern. But, as your father discovered, when the only motivation is our own gain then there is no spirit present and then we begin to be consumed by our own greed and individualism. Everything that comes our way is gobbled up and converted to our own purposes. We spit out anyone who does not conform. We use people to serve our ends and then we discard them, like ashes from the fire, when they can be of no further use.”

For a long time there was silence. Eventually the Guide spoke again. “If we are to begin,” he said, “then we must speak of faith. Until now your faith has been in yourself. Your yardstick has been your own success in achieving the comfort you prized. We discover the Way does not lie in that direction when we confront the Questions asked by One who comes to meet us as we journey. If the Questioner asked, “What do you believe?” How would you answer? That is what you must consider.”

The following day dawned with the golden mellow glow that heralds the onset of autumn. The river wound its cheerful way burdened by its heavy load of peat carried down from the hills in the far distance. Guide and Seeker walked steadily along the river bank against the flow of the current.

“I believe,” said the Seeker, “that there must be a better way than the one I have been following. I say this because I have followed a path mapped out by the pursuit of my own goals with pleasure and self-interest being the yardsticks of my success. I have wealth but feel that personally I have no substance and my pleasures bring me no lasting happiness. I see others whose lives are a drudgery compared with mine but whose happiness appears far greater. This makes me believe there must be a different way from the one I have chosen and that it is one that brings better results. I also recognise within myself a conflict between my thoughts and feelings.”

The Guide’s attention was refocused by this last statement. Until then he had seemed intent on studying the path they were following, but now he looked keenly at the Seeker as he asked, “Could you say more about this conflict between your thoughts and your feelings?”

“It’s as if my thoughts tie me to the past but my feelings are dragging me forward into the future” the Seeker replied. “I am constantly on the move between feelings of insecurity that demand more and more to satisfy them and thoughts which accept and justify what I have already accumulated and intend to increase.”

“Yet you have already said that this response to life takes you nowhere in terms of your understanding of yourself and your circumstances” said the Guide gently, for he sensed that the Seeker was now approaching a difficult area. There was a long silence during which the two men slowly climbed away from the level ground of the wide valley in which the Guide’s home stood.

The river’s course had taken them in a long sweep towards the hills and, as it had done so, the valley narrowed as it rose almost imperceptibly. More of the underlying rock became exposed in the ancient pathway and the smooth swathes of grassland on which the village stood were now replaced by ones which were altogether course, more tufted and sparse. The travellers became aware of a breeze which seemed to have come from nowhere but which now brushed their foreheads with a touch which cooled and refreshed.

“Let us pause for a while and enjoy what we see” the Guide spoke gently but firmly. Just away form the path stood a beech tree whose bronze leaves spread a sturdy canopy through which the rays of the sun sought their way. The Guide motioned the Seeker to sit and both rested their backs against the trunk of the tree. They gazed at the valley path, the village now below them in the distance and the river which was flecked with foam as the water rushed and roared coursing through a much narrower channel among the rocks which sought to contain it.

The Guide produced sandwiches and an apple which he passed to the Seeker and each man ate in silence taking in the panorama before them. After some while the Guide spoke again. “You have told me about your thoughts and feelings and you have spoken of your search for a better way. You seem to have recognised, however dimly it may seem to you at present, that there are many things we believe we want which however, when we look more closely, we do not actually need. Many men receive great sums by way of reward for their labours. They do not need what they receive but nevertheless want it because they believe it increases their status in the eyes of the world. Indeed it may do so for some, but for others it merely shows how far removed such people are from the reality of life for so many others.

We have self-respect when we recognise and meet our needs but have learned to control our desires. It is also then that we earn the respect of the wise. Your father needed genuine friendship but you learned, through his life and death, that possessions cannot supply this nor can mere companionship bought by business favours and interests.

Your own life is like the needle on a machine registering an earthquake. It travels to and fro matching your frantic activity as you try to meet the demands of the voices of the past and the imaginings of the future. When the earthquake ceases the needle comes to rest in a steady, straight line. This reflects the silence of the moment in which we live, for it is that which links us to eternity. It is in that silence that we are asked the Questions. You have said what you believe. Now examine your answer in the light of another question. What do you need?”

“I need to discover what is true” said the Seeker. “Is it what I think or what I feel?” “Must it be either the one or the other?” asked the Guide. “Are there no other possibilities? Tell me more of your need for the truth in the light of your doubts about the time you have spent acquiring all the things you have.”

“I recognise that what I own does not answer my questions and that I need a different view of things” said the Seeker. “The things that surrounded my Father when he died looked at him and saw nothing, listened to him but heard nothing.”

“Indeed” the Guide observed. “Now listen to the silence of this place, the silence of this tree. Here it stands waiting for sunshine, for rain, for the seasons which come and go. It spreads its branches and reaches upward to the sky; another part of it pushes downward far into the earth and spreads root outwards in all directions. Without moving from this place this tree grows, matures, generates itself, sires off-spring and fulfils its purpose. It follows the pulse and pattern of life around itself. It responds to the seasons. It receives some light from above and moisture from below and from them synthesises the energy for life. This tree lives and breathes and has its being. What does it teach you? What is its truth?”

The Seeker had never thought before that a tree could teach him anything. Yet as the Guide had spoken, so the Seeker had begun to look more closely at the trees around them. He now stood up and slowly and carefully examined the beech which had provided them with their lunchtime shelter. Already it had begun to shed its leaves. Thus it had provided a golden-brown glow around its trunk showing the extent of its span by the almost perfect circle into which the carpet of leaves had fallen. Its bark was lined by the years but shone with the vibrancy of life as it curved upward around the trunk and showed here and there the places, now healed over, where branches had once reached out. As he stood back he noted the sweeping curve formed by the tips of the branches which made it possible to imagine a small private and personal rainbow being formed to surround it. There was here, he realised, a grace and elegance of shape and form; there was, too, strength and purpose. The tree had its place and filled it to perfection.

“It teaches me” the Seeker said, “that there must be an interchange within us, a sort of dialogue, if we are to grow as we should and be what is intended. This tree can stand for months and seem inactive but it is in fact waiting with a quiet expectation for the message, which its branches will hear and tell of, that the new season has come. And as that word goes one way, so its roots begin the process of taking and converting and then pushing back the energy for new life and growth.” He felt himself strangely exhilarated by the picture he saw in his mind’s eye as he spoke. This tall, strong, silent tree full of harmonious energy through spring and summer was now preparing to rest as it responded to the voice of the season calling down its leaves and slowing the flow of life to the steady pulse of winter rest.

The Guide sat silently respecting the Seeker’s journey of discovery as his awareness grew. Eventually it was right to return to the path. “You are right,” the Guide said leading the way. “This tree teaches us that integration leads to healthy growth. It also shows us that patience is rewarded and that waiting in the present is far better than either living in the past or rushing to meet the future. Nature does not outstay its welcome or anticipate itself. Sometimes autumn is early and spring late but these things have a habit of balancing out.”

They packed the remains of their lunch and resumed their journey. After a while the Seeker broke the silence of their steady progress. “So what must I do?” he asked. By this time the path was growing steep and was more rock than grass. The river once wide and lethargic was now much noisier. It seemed to rush with a fierce pace as it forced its way through the narrow channel it had dug in the face of the rock. Here and there large boulders lay strewn showing the force with which the river could flow when the winter rains came.

“What you must do now is to consider this path” said the Guide. “When we set out it was part of a pleasant meadow. Now its covering is coarse and sparse. The surface has been stripped away and we have reached the point where the rock beneath says to us ‘so far and no further.’ That is how it has to be with you. The Way you seek cannot be travelled with pretence, only with complete commitment. The Questions can only be heard by one who is open to being totally honest and prepared to face change without reservation. So far we have talked about faith and you have explored your beliefs, especially the things which brought you here. If we go on you must be ready to become like this path and to face yourself as you really are; is that something which you want to do?”

The Seeker looked back along the path. The village was now little more than a few wisps of smoke from specks of houses; dusk was fast approaching and ahead stood a small cottage which he guessed was their destination. “Can I reflect on what you have said?” he asked. “Of course,” was the reply. “Now come and meet a friend who can provide a place apart for your purpose if you decide to go further,” the Guide said leading the way to the door. The Seeker knocked and was greeted warmly by one of the most attractive people he had ever met. Quietly, almost it seemed without movement, he found himself seated before a large fire in a room which exuded tranquillity.

Chapter II

Some years later, when the Seeker was asked to describe their host on that evening, he made several attempts to begin but each time he failed. He could not focus with precision on any particular feature which would enable a physical description to be given nor was there anything remarkable in her voice or conversation. Yet, there was about her a quiet radiance, a warmth and peacefulness that soothed and brought comfort merely by her presence. The three ate a meal together which was enjoyable in itself but doubly so because it appeared without fuss or pretence and seemed to bring with it some of the presence of the one who had prepared it.

Sitting before the fire when the meal was over and with a glass of a clear wine tinged with a golden glow, the Seeker found the Guide to his left and their host to the right. She sat with her hands resting in her lap and when she looked at him it was with a gentle and inquiring gaze from eyes which seemed to remind him of many others, yet were like none he had ever known and whose colour he could not describe. You have asked for time to reflect,” she said. “That is good if you are to hear the Questions, but have you, I wonder, understood what this means?” The voice which spoke to the Seeker was like the rustling of the autumn leaves on the stone of the pathway yet it cut clean through to the place where his thoughts arose and showed him his lack of comprehension. She saw his answer and continued, “There is One who meets us in the Silence, in a place where there is no time and where darkness is utter and complete. In this place there is nothing upon which to stand and yet we do not fall, it is a void and yet we are not alone, there is no space and yet we float infinitely, there is total silence and yet we hear what is ours to understand. In this place the darkness is so deep as to be like the touch of warm velvet. To enter into this presence is something only possible when we have faced ourselves with complete honesty and committed ourselves to discovering the Way no matter what the cost may seem to be.”

She paused and as she did so the Seeker found himself pondering his father’s group of businessmen and his lonely commitment to it. “No” she said, “It is not at all like it was with your father. The Seeker looked up, startled, and stared first at the Perceiver and then at the Guide. “It was written on your face and in your heart,” she said. “Your father’s path, however well intentioned, was unwise. He thought to gain more security but mortgaged his integrity in the process. His insecurity made him gullible and brought him no enlightenment. The Way which is open to you will cost you everything that you have, but only because you will see the need to examine all that you receive and own, and to consider whether you have truly earned and deserved it. You will also consider yourself and your conduct and relationships in order to discover the nature of your own integrity. Remember that cost, in your journey of discovery, is not just examined in material terms. No, such adjustments as are needful, arise only because of what we discover within us and it is there that the real cost occurs. When our minds uncover the reality of our heart’s desire, when our hearts illuminate the true purpose of our thoughts and we admit who we are, that is when the real price is paid. It is this upon which you must reflect.” The Perceiver stood, picking up something from the edge of the hearth as she did so, and gestured to the Seeker to follow her. As he left the room the Guide nodded and smiled.

The passageway which led from the room in which they had been sitting was just as warm and friendly; there were doors on either side and the Perceiver opened one and entered the room beyond. It was arranged as any normal bedroom except that in the centre of the floor at one end was a small pool. The Seeker’s mind went back to the bend in the river he had passed earlier, for the pool was so shaped as to recall the Guide’s words ‘If I said you could lay in the pool and dream, would you believe me?’ He also remembered his reply and its lack of conviction.

The Perceiver anticipated his question. “You may bathe in the pool,” she said. “It is fed by the river and cleanses itself; it is quite safe.” Was there just a trace of humour the suggestion of the enigmatic smile in the Perceiver’s expression the Seeker wondered, but there was no basis on which he could ask a question. “If you need anything I will be in the sitting room” said the Perceiver, “but this is your place apart. I believe all you need for reflection is here.” She stared briefly at the pool then at the Seeker and quietly and without any apparent hurry opened her hand to reveal in it a small piece of rock. “This comes from the path you have trodden; let it speak to you of what it is to be laid bare in the search you say you want to make.” She turned and placed the rock on a small table, smiled at the Seeker and was gone.

The Seeker took stock of his surroundings. His room was spacious but not extravagant. In one corner was a door that led to a toilet and wash basin. The bed looked crisp and welcoming with its white sheets and blankets. Beside the table on which the rock had been placed was a comfortable chair and the Seeker sat down, suddenly acknowledging how tired he was. He further reflected that he was in a strange house with two people he did not know, having completed what seemed like a twenty mile walk. The bed looked very inviting but, as a salve for aching limbs so did the pool beside which were two large white towels.

It was strange that as the Seeker settled in his mind that a dip in the pool before retiring to bed was very sensible, so did a number of fears arise in his heart. Was it wise to get into a pool with apparently no bottom to it, in a room where he was alone, in a house he did not know, when for all he knew the only two other people could have left? He stood up and suddenly saw his own reflection in the pool which was perfectly still like a sheet of glass. “You are here to reflect and to confront yourself as you really are in doing so.” The Seeker realised he was speaking to himself. He slowly undressed and lowered himself into the pool. He gasped, for after the warmth of the room, the cool waters of the pool stung. There was just enough room to swim a stroke or two from side to side but the Seeker recalled the Guide’s question and kept wondering if the pool would support him and let him dream. His doubts sprang from the rational view that it was sheer folly to go to sleep in such a situation but he felt so certain that the Guide would not have asked an irrational question, so when he had said ‘yes’ he spoke the truth.

To this day the Seeker does not know if he slept in the pool and dreamt, whether he got out of the pool and dreamt or whether what he recalls actually occurred at all. It really does not matter, but the truth for him of his encounter with the pool does, for it is part of his journey.

Resting on his back in the pool and gazing upwards the Seeker was intrigued by a fresco painted on the ceiling which had previously completely escaped his notice. It was of a young man sitting on a rock in the middle of a desert. The smile on the young man’s face was familiar but the Seeker could not imagine why until he recognised a similarity between the man and his host. He could not have said that they were related but they certainly shared the same quizzical smile and puzzling eyes which, even in a picture, seemed to present the Seeker with a challenge.

Almost imperceptibly the Seeker became aware of two things which impinged on his consciousness simultaneously. The first was that he was sinking and the second that he was not drowning. These realisations were reinforced by the fact that he was not afraid, indeed as he descended he looked around him seeing quite clearly the wall of rock which completely encircled him. He examined the rock in his hand, the one his host had given him and which he could not recall picking up, after all why would he have done so, and noted its similarity to that which surrounded him. He also noted that he could see and that this was because a pale light filtered through the water from somewhere far below. The Seeker then became aware of a far brighter light coming from over his shoulder and, kicking with his feet, propelled himself towards it. He found himself in a side passage which suddenly turned at right angles driving the Seeker upwards as it did so and causing him to explode into another pool identical to the one he had left hours, or was it minutes or seconds, before. He climbed out to see two white towels and a pile of clothes beside the pool. He dried himself and dressed while examining his surroundings.

The Seeker seemed to be in a well-lit cave devoid of any indication of ownership, occupancy or location. Indeed the only reason for the existence of the cave seemed to be that it housed the pool which now had resumed its state of total stillness and did nothing more than offer the Seeker his reflection.

The Seeker looked down at the warm brown rock in his hand and considered its surface. He felt no urges to do more than think about the Perceiver’s words when she said ‘let it speak to you’ and so he sat down cross-legged beside the pool with the rock on the floor of the cave before him. The first thing he registered was that he was alone, utterly and completely alone.

He could not remember the last time he had been alone like that. Yes, he had undertaken the journey to the Guide’s house on his own but there were folk on the road and round about. He had passed through towns and villages, nodded to people as they passed and had never been, or felt, alone. His situation now was different. He had no idea where he was and could hear no sound and that was a second surprise, for life ordinarily was so full of sounds, some welcome, others not.

The Seeker looked again at his rock; it was alone and made no sound. He saw marks on it, scratches here, imperfections there; he felt its smooth areas worn by time, the action of the river perhaps, who could tell. It reflected him and his situation, solitary, silent and alive. The Seeker almost reeled backward as he heard himself say the word ‘alive.’ After all, how could a piece of rock be alive?

He decided to put this thought to one side and got to his feet picking up the rock as he did so. There were a number of possible ways of leaving the cave but one seemed, for no special reason he could identify, to be the right one. At a steady pace and conscious of his heart beat, he set off up a gentle gradient along a passageway filled with the same pale light that had illuminated the pool and the cave.

Gradually a sound pressed upon the Seeker’s consciousness. It spoke of storms, the swirling leaves of autumn and the waves of winter seas. He had wondered in the warmth of the cave why a cloak was the last item of clothing in the pile and suspected that the answer was about to become apparent. He arrived at the mouth of the passageway quite quickly now; he rounded a bend and there was his first glimpse of the outside world.

The first impression the Seeker had of what lay beyond the cave was of an overwhelming sameness. The rock here was a uniform and oppressive grey and the wind, which roared now, stirred up clouds of grey dust. The opalescent light was dulled by the grey filter through which it passed and a coldness crept upon the visitor like a dull ache which threatened to numb both flesh and sense.

The Seeker could see no sign to guide him. Indeed, as he drew the rock from his pocket, he was almost dazzled by its richness of hue contrasted with the overall greyness of his surroundings. He placed the brown rock on a grey slab as a marker and noted with satisfaction that it glowed like a small beacon securely unmoved by the wind which blew around it.

In the absence of any feeling about whether to go one way or another, the Seeker set off to the right. Almost immediately he was confronted by a pile of rocks and boulders which had not been visible through the grey cloud of dust carried on the wind that now blew directly into his face. It forced him to use his cloak to cover his nose and mouth but already he had grit in his mouth from licking his dried lips. He struggled over the rubble which confronted him seeming to climb as he did so but, after what seemed like an age, he could see no further and was still surrounded by rocks and boulders. If anything, the wind was now more intense; it screamed as it tore at his cloak and at one and the same time it chilled his body and burned his face. He looked ahead of him and saw nothing other than greyness through his smarting eyes. Then he squinted, screwing his eyes to try and make out a shape, a shadow, something, someone standing motionless just at the edge of where the rocky shapes merged into grey emptiness. Just for a second the wind eased as if to draw breath, someone became visible and then was gone as the wind returned even more intense than before.

The Seeker made to stand up and go on but in the act of doing so, realised it was impossible. He felt drained by the effort of covering the few yards he had travelled. He knew he must go back. Such was the intensity of the wind now that the greyness was becoming darker with the thickness of the dust that swirled about within it. The return journey was a stumbling shamble with the Seeker moving like a drunken man, buffeted by the wind, stung by dust and grit, now conscious of a growing fear brought on by the intense gloom. The uniform and impenetrable greyness of his surroundings rendered him almost blind. There was nothing to distinguish where the Seeker had come from or been to, no footprints, no feature, no sign of any kind by which to distinguish the entrance to his cave from any other spot in this featureless wasteland. Just as he felt he was slipping towards hysteria, hearing the wind speak his mind as it howled about him, the Seeker saw the rock seeming to shine out to him like a beacon. There it sat on its grey slab seeming to be an oasis of calm stillness in that screaming, grey world.

Because he was so weak the Seeker could only crawl towards the rock and on reaching it took it in his hand and went on into the cave. He did not remember the journey back to the pool although he reasoned that he must have made it. Nor did he recall returning through the waterway to the pool in his room although, he surmised, that was how he had returned. In any event he awoke on his bed, in the room to which the Perceiver had shown him and he saw that the rock rested on the table exactly where he had placed it when he had first entered.

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When the Seeker went into the passageway, he had the distinct feeling that he was moving into a different world. He remembered the Perceiver’s reference to a place apart and realised that was how he already felt it to be. He was confused by his recent experience unable to determine whether it had been dream or reality, fact or imagination and, if fact, how had it been accomplished? The Seeker had been unable to find one shred of evidence to suggest that he had even entered the pool let alone visited another world full of greyness and screaming winds.

When the Seeker entered the room where he had eaten the previous night (at least he assumed it was the night before) the Guide and the Perceiver were sitting at the table and his chair was waiting for him. It was, he felt, as if they had known that he would join them precisely at that moment for everything was ready for breakfast to begin. The Seeker was welcomed with warm smiles and was offered, and soon enjoying, as good a meal as he could remember having at that time of day. The conversation involved inconsequential pleasantries until the Perceiver suddenly addressed him while gazing quizzically with her disconcerting eyes. “Did you enjoy your night’s rest?” she asked. Before he could think in any depth about his response, the Seeker replied “I don’t think I rested much.” His two companions remained silent and the Seeker felt relief spreading through him as he was able to give an account of the previous night’s events.

The Seeker spoke of the pool, of the place where he emerged and of the grey world he had tried to explore. He described the figure he thought he had seen, the violence of the wind and his struggle to find his way back. He also told of the role played by the rock which had been his marker. Throughout his story the Guide and the Perceiver remained silent, listening intently. When he had finished the silence remained for a considerable time and the Seeker found himself contrasting this experience with that of the grey world with its screaming wind. He marvelled at the tranquillity he was enjoying and the warmth of the silence that surrounded him. Eventually the voice of the Perceiver, seeming almost like a whisper, asked “How do you feel?” The Seeker considered this question. “I am glad that I have been able to talk about what I have experienced” he said, “but I feel perplexed that I don’t know whether I actually made a physical journey or not. I remember, for instance, experiencing the pain of that wind about my mouth and yet there is no trace now of the soreness I was feeling then.” Again there was silence and the Seeker continued. “I feel even more uncertainty about whether I saw someone or something in that other place and even as I use the word ‘saw’ I want to say ‘felt’ instead.”

“So you are feeling glad, perplexed and uncertain?” said the Perceiver, seemingly unsuprised. “Yes” the Seeker replied. But if he was feeling comfortable at that moment, the next he most certainly was not. “Where do you think you went on your journey?” the Perceiver asked, and when the Seeker looked at her, she was gazing at him with a penetrating intensity.

Chapter III

The Perceiver’s question had remained unanswered. The Guide saw how the Seeker was at a loss to reply and quietly interposed a new subject which diverted the focus of the conversation. “Would you,” he enquired, “like to explore some of the higher places today? We can, if you like, go to the source of the river.” After some brief conversation it was agreed and the Seeker returned to his room to prepare for the journey. However, the question remained; where had he been? It was then it struck him that the Perceiver had not questioned his view that he had been somewhere so she obviously believed he had made a journey. The more the Seeker mused on this fact the less able he felt to name the place he had encountered.

The morning proved to be one whose blue sky and bright sun sought to deceive, for there was a sharpness to the wind which brought instant colour to the walkers’ cheeks. The village below looked for all the world like some model in a schoolroom, the hills above were in turn rich brown and steely grey against the sky. There was an excitement in the Seeker as the sight of the green and deep purple of the heather which covered great swathes of the landscape and, when there was grass along the way, it was springy underfoot. The Seeker took several deep breathes of the fresh, crisp air and as the Guide joined him, they set off.

The two had been provided with neat packages of food and flasks which felt warm to the touch. These had appeared on a table in the hall of the cottage. The Perceiver had not been there in person but the Seeker felt her presence and found himself strangely conscious that she had watched them go although he had not seen her. The climb away from the cottage was steady rather than steep and the Seeker found the journey exhilarating. Slowly it dawned on his consciousness that he was contrasting his surroundings, their openness and freshness, the ease and freedom of his stride and the companionship of the Guide with the isolation, greyness and wearying struggle of that other place. The images rested with him for a moment and then slowly faded but their memory was stored, for the Seeker knew they were important and that there was the question to be answered.

When Guide and Seeker reached a fork in the pathway, the Guide motioned to the Seeker to stop. “I am going on this way for I have business in the next village. Your path is that way!” he said pointing to the gradually rising ground which led to more hills in the distance. “I will be here again towards teatime; go and see what you can discover but do not be afraid to rest awhile for not all discoveries lie in the distance. Sometimes they are at our feet.” The Seeker nodded his farewell and set off. He walked for some while; he did not note the precise time but stopped when he became conscious that now the sun was approaching its zenith. What was more, his exertions had produced pangs of hunger. He sat down on a comfortable looking rock at the path’s side and emptied his pack using it as a cushion for his back. He ate slowly taking in his surroundings as he did so observing that from this high place he could no longer see the village or indeed any sign of human existence. His world was now one of rugged cliff, purple heather, springy grass and a few scattered and stunted trees and bushes. His companions were an occasional bird hovering in the up-drafts of the air trapped and channelled along cliff faces and a stray sheep or two. Largely his world was silent, apart from the rustling of the wind and the faint and distant sound of a stream struggling along its way to join the river far below.

The Seeker’s mind wrestled with the stark contrast between the scene around him in this clear, clean air and the grey screaming bleakness of that other place. Why was it, he asked himself, that here I am alone and not afraid and there I felt so threatened? Even as this question entered his mind the answer began to form; he knew that what was confronting him was himself. The grey place was no more than his own state of mind, arid, uniform and frantic. At one and the same time empty and full of business and howling confusion. He had entered another world and there confronted himself. Here on the cold firmness of a rocky outcrop in the fresh hill air he was encountering something quite different. Suddenly he could see the Perceiver. Her eyes were gazing at him intently but also, it seemed to him, looking beyond him. They transported him back to a scene from his past.

Before the Seeker stood a man who had borrowed some money, an insignificant amount, from a float in his control used to finance minor everyday needs. The workman had put in a note saying what he had done and promising to pay the money back on his next payday. This conduct was contrary to the rules and, despite his exemplary record and the fact that he had a wife and child to support, the Seeker had sacked him instantly. Everyone he had spoken to had praised his firmness and courage; he had set the right example. After all, rules were rules and if a small one were broken today, another bigger misdemeanor could follow tomorrow. Yet deep, deep down in his heart he had felt a sadness, wondered whether there was another way but the logic of the situation had told him not to waste his time because it was an ‘open and shut’ case which needed no further consideration. Until today he had not thought of it again, but now he saw the sadness in his wife’s eyes as he told her what he had done. He had not noticed it before. He also saw his daughter shrinking away from him and it dawned on him that the workman’s daughter had been one of her special friends; why, he wondered, had he not recognised that before?

The scene shifted and he saw himself relaxing on holiday with no expense spared. There were various business friends near him laughing and joking. But there in the background, he had not noticed them at the time, were his wife and children. They were unhappy and out of place, caught up in an expensive charade of which they did not want to be a part of. Why, he wondered, had he not realised that previously?

The Seeker heard the voice of the Perceiver speaking as if from far away. “You have said that you need to see things from a different point of view. You obeyed the rules you had laid down but now you can see perhaps something of the price paid for them. You spent a lot of money to keep up with your so-called friends but now you can see something of the price paid by your family who were always outsiders, never accepted. It remains for you to decide this: are you ready to face yourself? Are you ready to answer the question: Who am I?”

The Seeker stood up. He was shaken by the vividness of his new perception and the clarity with which he had seen and heard the Perceiver’s challenge; gentle insistence was how he described it subsequently. He also commented to those who sometimes came to seek his advice that he was aware that what had happened was quite illogical, the Perceiver was after all miles away, but he accepted his experience without question. Her ability to enter his thoughts in this way was paradoxically quite natural to him. He had finished his meal and now moved on, climbing gently higher until rounding an outcrop of grey rock he came to a vigorously flowing stream which emerged from the foot of the rock face. He knew that this was the source of the river which, as it seemed to him now, he had sat beside in another lifetime.

The Seeker became aware that as he rounded the outcrop the fierceness of the breeze had increased sharply. It did not scream nor did it threaten him but it appeared to him that something was being offered. It was as if things could be carried away by this wind which seemed to clear the mind as well as the head.

The Seeker knelt and washed his face and hands in the stream. As he lifted up his dripping head which was quickly dried by the force of the wind, he saw in his mind’s eye the tree under which he and the Guide had sat. He noticed its fall of leaves. He also saw the path they had trodden. The pathway which had carried him to this place was bare rock with a covering of tufted grass only at its edges. Suddenly he remembered what the Guide had said about being stripped bare. Only now did he see a connection. The tree loses its leaves to prepare for new growth:

The answer to the question “Who am I?” now meant for the Seeker “I am one who must examine, acknowledge and seek to put right for those things which lie in the past but which I now perceive to be wrong.” As the wind blew in that high place it was as if it was beginning to carry away some of the self-deception that had so often kept him from seeing the reality of his actions. Now he was, perhaps for the first time in his life, prepared to be honest with himself.

Chapter IV

When the Seeker left the source of the river he moved steadily downwards and out of the path of the wind. His mind was full of thoughts, ideas and questions. It was just as if someone had entered a room which had been sealed for decades and had lifted the sheets from its pictures and furnishings. As the curtains were drawn and windows opened, so fresh air and light entered to dispel the gloom blowing away the layers of dust that had accumulated over the years. He recognised that he was experiencing feelings he had not sensed for as long as he could remember.

The depth of the sadness and shame the Seeker felt over his treatment of the workman he had dismissed was something new to him and he found it disconcerting and uncomfortable. He knew now that he had exercised his legal rights without compassion and that therefore there had been no justice. How could all those whose opinion he had sought, whom he regarded as just and honourable have given him such poor counsel he wondered. The advice of those men who had encouraged him to be firm was now causing him to feel ashamed. As these feelings grew in him so he walked faster and became angry. So it was that when he came to the place where the paths forked he was striding at a great pace and flushed with rage at himself and those he had thought of as his friends. The Guide was sitting on a rock at the path's edge looking down on the valley far below. As the Seeker drew level with him he rose and fell in with his stride saying nothing.

They walked together for some time in this way until eventually the Seeker’s pace began to slacken as his anger subsided and the two assumed a more leisurely progress. The Seeker asked the Guide about his visit and learnt that it had been to a couple he had known for many years whose lives were drawing to a close. The man in particular had borne great physical difficulties with wonderful fortitude and had received spiritual blessing which he had shared with the Guide. The Seeker found it strangely rewarding to be a listener in this way and to discover that the Guide appeared to be valuing this opportunity to speak. What was even more intriguing was the description of the experiences of the man approaching his death. These embraced a number of occasions when he’d encounter light and sounds which he seemed to have accepted as preparing him for his final journey.

The Seeker mused on his own recent experience of sound and colour which amounted to a screaming greyness, and contrasted this with what the Guide had described. He spoke of soft hues and gentle sounds which reminded the Seeker, by way of comparison, of the gold, bronze and gentle rustling of the tree under which they had sat on the journey to the Perceiver’s cottage. In a minute or two of silence the Seeker found himself disturbed by the emotion and warmth he heard in the Guides description of his friends. He could not recall having previously listened to someone speaking in this way nor to having felt their feelings as personally. That, he mused, was because he could not recall having listened to someone as carefully and closely before nor had anyone previously trusted him with such feelings. He was left wondering how many times he could have listened but either could not spare the time or did not even realise it would be good for him. And how many times had he heard people speaking but not listened to what was being said especially, he realised to his shame, by those he took for granted, namely his family.

The two men rounded a bend in the path and there, in the gathering dusk, stood the warm and welcoming cottage they had left that morning. The door was open, indicating that the Perceiver had anticipated their arrival and they entered. “Let us freshen up and meet in a little while,” the Guide suggested and so the Seeker went to his room.

The pool, his bed, the rock, were all exactly as he had left them that morning and all had an air of familiarity which was comfortable and welcoming. The Seeker realised that he was tired and grubby after his day’s exertions and chuckled to himself recalling the Guides tactful suggestion about ‘freshening up.’ The pool looked inviting and the Seeker striped and lowered himself into the water gasping slightly as the stinging coolness received him. He lay back looking as the brown rock in his hands which he could not recall picking up and smiling back involuntarily at the enigmatic young man who looked down at him from the ceilings. His descent into the chamber he had previously visited was calmer than it had been before. Then he had not known what to expect, now his surroundings were more familiar. The pool into which he emerged was exactly as he remembered it and he climbed out, dried and dressed himself. He walked, somewhat apprehensively, towards the mouth of the cave but became increasingly aware that he could hear nothing. When he arrived at the end of the passageway there indeed was the grey world he remembered but no longer was the air thick with swirling dust nor were his senses numbed by the screaming cold which had met him previously.

In a strange way the grey calm was as nerve racking as its violent predecessor. The stillness contained an atmosphere of expectation, a sense that an event was imminent, which was almost tangible. Once again the Seeker placed his rock on a stone at the mouth of the cave and started to climb across the boulders which previously had proved so intractable. Eventually, and without, it seemed, undue effort he reached the lip of the depression which housed the cave and found himself on a plateau. This lay along the edge of what appeared to be a range of very large hills. These stretched to the right and left of him as far as the eye could see. Likewise the plateau spread out before him broken only by occasional rocky outcrops. The scene could have been described as desolation and yet it did not feel empty. The Seeker felt that he needed to explore but that somehow the time was not yet right. He sensed that there was something to discover in this place but only after other tasks he was to undertake had been completed. He went back to the cave mouth and collected the rock with his mind full of these thoughts noting as he went the deep, clear imprint that his feet had made in the grey dust covering the rock surface. His return to the pool in his bedroom was accomplished almost without his noticing it and once back in his bedroom, as before, he could not say with any conviction where he had been or for how long, if, indeed he had travelled at all.

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The fire, its warmth, the table spread with its evening meal and the Guide and Perceiver relaxed and comfortable in their places, again gave every impression that his arrival had been precisely timed for the right moment. The Seeker seated himself and the meal began with easy and inconsequential chatter about the day, the recent happenings in the village the Guide had visited and news from his home. It was not until the Seeker had finished his main course that the Perceiver said to him, “And so today you came upon the source of our great river,” and as she said this last word her gaze came up from her plate and met his own filling him with an overwhelming sense that somehow he was ‘known’. He realised, even as he spoke the word inside himself, that it was inadequate. It also sounded foolish for there was no evidence for it and was based on a momentary glance, yet that was how it felt. He replied with a description of the climb and enjoyment of it and his pleasure in the surroundings. When he had finished there was a silence and the Seeker became aware that the question which had been addressed to him called for more than an account of his physical journey. “I also discovered something about myself,” he said and spoke at some length about the conclusion he had reached especially in the light of his recollections from the past. “And” said the Perceiver, “what have you made of your place apart?” The Seeker knew by now not to be surprised that she seemed already aware that he had visited his grey world again. He told them what had happened to him and of his feelings and Guide and Perceiver listened attentively until he had finished.

By this time all three had moved to the fireside and the flames from the glowing logs and the soft light created a comfortable world of warmth and contentment. Eventually the Perceiver’s voice came from the shadows of the firelight and did so this time reminding the Seeker of a waterfall running over pebbles down a hillside. “You have spoken of your need to seek to put things right and that is commendable, for it begins a journey away from yourself towards the feelings of others. You have also spoken of your anger towards those whose advice you took and who you now see as having deceived you by their selfishness. I wonder,” said the Perceiver, “if you can grasp all that is happening to you and why?”

After a pause the Perceiver continued. “Your friends, wise as they may have been in the ways of the world, invited you to have faith in them and their experience in such matters. They sought to take their limited view and apply it to a much wider horizon than it could serve. It is as if the scientist were to say ‘because I can understand and explain the little I can now see, you must have faith in me when I say I will ultimately be able to understand and explain everything.’ Such a one would not be trustworthy because his claim would be foolish and so his petition for your faith is fraudulent. So it is with those to whose advice you paid so much attention; they only considered how an action might affect your business isolated from everything else. But life, as you are beginning to see, is lived out on a much bigger scale than that. Even the rock I put in your hand can speak to you and turn a place where you seem to know nothing into one where you have a point of reference. Many people have been affected by your past actions and your relationship with them has been changed as a result. Others were influenced by your example and followed it and so more lives were affected. The faith you so easily placed in your friends caused their influence to spread like a plague which then infected many dozens of lives.” The Perceiver paused and then added in a whisper “and you did not even realise.”

The fire crackled as another log was placed on it and wineglasses were refilled. No one had spoken while the Perceiver sat wrapped in thought. She continued seemingly unaware that there had been an interval. “So much which influences who we are and what we do, we are barely aware of; so to say we understand is to show how little we really know. To admit to being at a lose is to begin the journey towards real understanding. This does not mean that we must pretend we know nothing, merely that we must acknowledge how much escapes us. The mystery is that so much happens without our realising it and we would be touched by so much more if only we gave ourselves time to be open to it. So much of our time is spent being what others expect of us that we do not have enough left over to be ourselves. We copy others, adopt their ideas, arguments and standards. Ultimately, because we have not given time to thinking things through for ourselves, we put our faith in them and then we are lost. The question ‘who am I?’ cannot then be faced because it frightens us too much; that is because it asks us to stand apart from those who give us our identity and we cannot do it.”

This time, as the Perceiver paused, she lifted her head and gazed at the Seeker. “Do you yet know the place you have visited, the grey world of which you have told us?” The Seeker smiled the smile of one upon whom realisation has dawned. “I believe that the place” he said, “is within me. I am the grey world or rather perhaps it represents what I am at present.” Having said this he suddenly felt a great weariness as though the very making of the statement had itself required an enormous effort.

When the Perceiver spoke again it was as if she were whispering from a very long way away. “The beginning of the journey is indeed from within each one of us,” she said. “The Way passes the gate that stands just beyond the doorway of our hearts. There are many who are so committed to those who give them identity that they never even discover that the gate exists. You have opened it and stepped onto the Way. The storm within you has been stilled by the discovery of your need for forgiveness. Now the journey can begin in earnest. For today you have done enough, so go and have a peaceful night.”

Chapter V

During his night’s rest the Seeker learnt many things. They were confused: there were jumbles of stones and greyness, eyes that sought him out and gazed upon him questioningly, winds and rivers carrying sounds which beat upon him and then caressed him. He awoke with a very keen awareness of a need to return to his home. When he announced this over breakfast, his decision seemed to be greeted with a quiet approval and no great surprise. At the door of her cottage the Perceiver bade him farewell with a smile which spoke of a time yet to come. The Guide and the Seeker strode the path to the village at an easy pace and took no time at all. It was downhill and the village almost seemed to rush to meet them. Again when the Seeker said that he proposed to continue his journey straight away the Guide expressed no surprise and, having provided food and drink, said farewell with no hint of finality. His ‘Goodbye’ carried the clear message that they would meet again.

The Seeker’s welcome home contrasted starkly with his departure from the Perceiver and the Guide. Whereas with them there was warmth and the promise of renewed acquaintance in the future, here there was uncertainty and apprehension. The Seeker knew now that to discover the Way was one thing, to walk it quite another. He also recognised how his time away had changed him. In a few short days his understanding of himself and his world had been transformed. He had discovered within himself a personal world of which he had never before been aware. He had also recognised that it was possible to explore beyond that personal world and to go into another of which it was a part. And then there was the whole question of his standards and values and the way in which they had determined his life. His wealth, business, his priorities, all of these had been questioned within the larger question, “Who are you?” How could he explain to his family that the man who had left them some days before had returned with his heart set on a very different path from the one he had previously followed.

The Seeker had wrestled with these concerns on his journey home and had recognised that the river, the tree and the rock he had encountered on his journey had spoken to him from the way they were. He had met them and learned from them, not out of any explanation they offered him about themselves, but by being what they were and waiting for him to discover what he could from them. Thus it was that, rather than trying to convince his family that he had something new to say, he let them discover a different approach in him. He found himself talking about the insights he had gained and the places to which he had journeyed. He found it hard to describe the Guide and the Perceiver other than by the up-welling of warmth that he felt towards each of them and which spoke through him when he described his journeys and the cottage with its pool.

Slowly, imperceptibly almost, each relationship within his family grew in a new way. They were hesitant at first but gradually grew in strength as the late days of autumn, full of gold and bronze burned their way across the evening of the year. On the mantle-shelf above his fire the Seeker’s stone glowed its warm brown. It spoke to each member of the Seeker’s family of the things that do not change and how they could be reached if there were time and an awareness of the need.

In the time of quietness he now observed each day, the Seeker spent some while contemplating the worker he had dismissed. He reconstructed the events so that he now assisted the man rather than ignoring him, retaining rather than rejecting and seeing happiness in his daughter rather than her sadness. It was strangely unsurprising when one day his daughter told him that her friend had been visiting in the town that day and they had met. Her father had successfully started his own small business which had prospered. It seemed that he now looked upon his dismissal as a blessing in disguise without which things would not now be as good for him as they were.

There were many other incidents in his life which the Seeker dwelt on in those times of quietness. He spent them in what became known as his place apart. This was a small part of a room at the top of his house which overlooked a quiet part of the garden. It was bare apart from a chair and a small cushion on which the Seeker could kneel, if, as he put it, he wanted to bring himself down to earth. This place became peopled with all those where there were things which needed to be put right. As the images unfolded it became clearer and clearer to the Seeker that he had never been in control of his business life, rather it had dominated and controlled him. The business clubs to which he belonged were nothing more than places in which to seek solace from a demanding master who took more and more of his time, compassion and integrity and gave back nothing that made him more human. Even the money, which was he now saw, the sole reward for his devotion to his business, turned into a devouring monster when he contemplated it in the quietness.

These inner revelations slowly altered the Seeker’s attitude and conduct. As his focus became more balanced between his work and home, so his family gradually adjusted to a changed member in its midst. All this contemplation was prompted and guided, it seemed to him, by the Perceiver, whose thoughts came to him from a great distance and yet as clearly as if from across the hearth. However the eyes which once saw through to his heart now focused from within him as did the promptings about people and areas within his life which needed attention. The Seeker no longer saw a face or figure not that, as he recalled it, he ever had done so with any clarity. Only the Perceiver’s voice and eyes remained and the one reflected the waters of the river and the other defied description. It was as if the light which had once explored him and revealed the arid greyness of his life now illuminated those barren places and encouraged life.

In his quietness the Seeker had shed tears as his unintentional heartlessness had been revealed to him. He now perceived from within himself that, as the tears fell in the wilderness of his heart, tiny flowers began to grow. Each time in his place apart he visited the many people whose lives he had affected adversely and the opportunities to improve situations he had let slip by him, a sense of relief touched him. Where this feeling came from he could not tell but he perceived that the other person whose presence he had sensed and dimly discerned in the grey desert was somehow a part of the answer. It was in response to the need to understand more of these feelings that he became aware of a growing plan to visit the Guide again.

Chapter VI

On his way back to the village where his journey had begun the Seeker mused on his parting from his family. Whereas before the farewells had been formal and perfunctory, now there was a genuine sadness and a tinge of excitement. It was as if a question were being asked about what he would discover and what he would bring back. He had sent word of his intentions to the Guide and so it was that on a crisp and bright spring morning full of the white flowers that are its herald he arrived at the familiar door. His welcome was all that he could have wished for and lacked nothing in the warmth he felt able to reciprocate. He renewed his acquaintance with the Guide’s family who disappeared to attend to this and that leaving the fire and wine for the enjoyment of traveller and friend.

Once again the Seeker experienced the silence which made no demands but opened itself to the words it would accommodate. When he was alone in his place apart the quality of the silence was the same. Here, where another was present with him physically, was no different from when he the only one present in the room. The Seeker recognised with a deepening sense of shock something which until this moment had been hidden from him. He realised that it was only now, when the Guide was with him, that he knew how it felt to be in silence with another. He had not shared his quiet times with any member of his family and so only now did he have a comparison and there was no difference. He knew now that in fact he had not been alone on all those other occasions and it was something he could not comprehend.

While this journey of growing awareness took place within the Seeker, the Guide remained silent and relaxed in his chair by there fireside. He seemed for all the world to be oblivious of the struggle taking place across the hearth from him. His discernment was vindicated however when eventually he spoke. “Tell me my friend,” he said, “since we last spoke what is the most important thing you have discovered?” And before the Seeker had any time to think over his reply he said, "That I have not been alone.” The Guide gazed at him with that enquiring look which compelled him to continue. “All those hours that I have sat alone in my room turning out the rubbish of my life, examining the bad memories and gazing on the faces of those I injured by my carelessness, I was in fact never alone. I took the silence and the space around me as emptiness. Now, here with you, I know it was not. Someone else was with me all that time. I also discovered forgiveness. I have come to know that I cannot undo the things I did but by accepting my wrongdoing I feel that I could perhaps improve the outcome. I could also prepare myself to avoid similar mistakes in the future. Now I feel that whoever was with me understood all that was happening and was party to my feeling forgiven. However I do not understand because no one was physically present!”

If the Guide had heard anything of this he gave no sign. “Have you revisited the grey place of which you spoke before or learnt anything else about your inner self?” he enquired.

“No,” said the Seeker, “I have not been to that place again but I recognise where it is and I know it awaits me. However I have also recognised that the Perceiver has guided me as I have worked with my recollections from the past and I feel her presence as part of what lies within now rather than as something coming from without.”

There was another long silence. In it the room seemed at one and the same time to fill the universe and yet only to contain the two of them. Or was there another?

“And this silence in your room, who created it do you think? Was it you entering your place apart or was it already there waiting to meet you?”

It seemed to the Seeker that these words spoken by the Guide were taken up by the silence itself and expanded until they became a great chorus of autumn leaves and cascading water falling into his mind. The words in turn raised up others forming questions. “Whose space? Whose silence? Whose forgiveness? Just as speedily the sounds died away leaving only one question. From somewhere beyond himself the Seeker heard his own voice “I am someone who has experienced forgiveness and discovered a way. Now I want to understand how to continue my journey.”

“Then know that the silence of which you speak is part of the way and that the way passes through a wilderness. That wilderness lies within each one of us and yet, like the silence we who travel the way share what it teaches us. It is the gift of the One who questions us and whose Spirit is our guide. You know something of this Spirit for you have met one who is full of her. The same Spirit who guides the Perceiver will guide each one of us if we allow it.”

The Seeker considered these things. A silence awaited him; in other words he did not create silence for himself, it had always been there waiting for him to discover it. It, the silence, had waited patiently until he made himself available to discover and approach it. That silence was part of the journey, part of the way. The way was not just some pathway from one place to another but an approach to life itself which differed from some others because it gave and demanded nothing in return. It allowed itself to be entered rather than making those who sought it, captive. It also offered a path to self-knowledge through the promptings of the same Spirit that guided the Perceiver and a way of experiencing forgiveness for acknowledged wrongs. And all of this was shared; the way began within but all travelled the same way. The Spirit was within him and yet guided all others on the same path. And there were no demands, only the observance of those disciplines which he felt aided his journey. The Seeker reflected on the enormity of this vision. He felt that he was glimpsing another world whose boundaries merged with his own just at the edge of the picture in his mind. It was one in which the greyness of his inner world became the lush green of fruitful summer with silence as its warm and welcoming air.

Chapter VII

“If I am to help you open the gate of your heart and set your foot upon the way then we must look again at your thoughts and feelings. How do you see your mind and your heart now that you have revisited your past?” The Guide and Seeker were treading again the path by the river leading away from the village. The day was bright and clear with the remains of the overnight frost still thick on the ground where it was not yet touched by the sun. “Let your mind see what it thinks about all that you have felt since we first met. Let your heart see what it feels about your thoughts.” Faced with this challenge the journey progressed in silence.

As they walked the Seeker remembered the silence which had accompanied them when he and the Guide had last spoken of such matters; it seemed a lifetime ago. Then thoughts and feelings had confronted him with an enigma which prevented him from discovering the truth. Somehow in that conversation he had managed to slide away from actually confronting the conflict within him. He now recognised that then the time had not been right to go further than he had. But now where should he begin? The Guide had told him to take his thoughts and see how he felt about them. Was that right? Was he primarily a person who thought first and felt later? On the first journey he would have agreed that it was so without hesitation but now he was not so sure. He felt differently about himself because he had become far more conscious of his reactions to situations when previously he would not have given them a second thought.

“I feel cleaner, freer and more relaxed and I think that has helped me to see how the way ahead might be different from the past. In fact I think I see a path that is right for me, one that makes me feel contented even if I am somewhat apprehensive.

My journey began in earnest when I decided to seek your guidance a second time. I understand what you have said to me about silence, I know that I have changed because I now consider what I feel first and then think how I might go ahead with those feelings. In other words I bring my thoughts to my feelings by letting what I feel inform my mind.”

The Guide gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Then,” he said "you must take your first step into the wilderness. If you are right in your assessment of yourself and I believe you are, there you will encounter other questions.”

The familiar cottage came into view as they climbed away from the valley. The Seeker became aware that the river was in spate, full of thunderous noise and boiling foam. The cottage garden was white with snowdrops which were passing their best as the yellow of mature springtime began to take their place. A climbing plant which hung about a porch was already covered with fresh green leaves and full flower buds hung ready to challenge the remains of winter

.

Before long they were seated together with the Perceiver having been provided with warm welcomes and hot drinks. The late afternoon sunshine illuminated the room in which a fire gathered strength in the hearth.

Pleasantries were exchanged and news imparted and when it was done the Perceiver looked intently at the Seeker and said, “You have come with a need; can you say what it is?” “To travel further.” he replied. “By way of the wilderness?” the Perceiver asked. “If that is where the Way lies, yes.” was his response. He looked at the Perceiver’s eyes and saw there the gaze that he had come to know so well in his place apart and a smile crossed her face as she acknowledged his recognition.

‘The Way is a hard one to travel,’ mused the Perceiver gazing into the fire. ‘It is a rocky path, narrow and often difficult to discern; it will test and try you.’ Her gaze settled on him again. She had not spoken in a questioning way and did not seem to expect any response except that which she saw in him for herself. When she spoke again it was clear that a decision had been reached. ‘Come with me,’ she said and indicated that the Guide should join them.

The Perceiver led them into the familiar passageway but this time they did not enter the room containing the pool, instead the Perceiver opened a door on the opposite side of the passage. The room beyond was smaller, cosier and less formal. A window looked out on the valley below but more immediately a vista of racing clouds and brilliant blue sky filled the view. A bed to one side, a small table, an upright chair below the window and a comfortable armchair were the furnishings. There was a small sink in a corner behind the door. Another door opened to reveal storage space and shelves and the Perceiver took the Seeker’s bag and placed it on one of them ‘This is all you need,’ she said and, nodding to the Guide, she left.

The Guide pointed the Seeker to the armchair and went and stood gazing out of the window. ‘To begin your journey you must find the gate which opens on to the Way’ he said. ‘The gate lies within your heart but for so many it is difficult to find because they think they already know the way to go and so do not test their thought in their hearts. With others they focus on themselves so much that it obscures the gate. It is placed in such a way as to be much more accessible when we are focused on others rather than ourselves. When we discover it we realise why so many overlooked it. They are expecting something ornate and grand but those who travel this path do so in the company of those who recognise the handicraft of a good carpenter. Do not look for ironwork giving access to a grand avenue; the Way is a humble path but it climbs to eternity.’

‘How do I begin to look for the gate?’ the Seeker asked. ‘By taking your mind into your heart. Think of those you love and for whom you are concerned. Think of what is best for them. Feel the love you have for them and let it expand to enfold your thoughts; then rest but remain alert. When heart and mind are unified they enable the Spirit within you to search for the gate. When all three set foot on the Way together, your soul which comprises all that you are will begin its journey. Use this candle as your focus.’ The Seeker listened intently to this response to his question and watched as the Guide lit a candle on the table. He then felt the Guide’s hands upon his head and heard the words “Travel in peace” and with that he was left alone.

For some while he sat with his mind filled with images of his wife, children and various friends about whom he was concerned. He expressed his love for them all in their different needs and gradually he felt more still and peaceful than had been the case for a very long while. The total silence of his room and the light of the candle brought forth a response from inside him which seemed to permeate his whole body and then radiate out to meet its counterpart in the room around him.

The light of the candle grew brighter so that the space around it seemed to merge into equal darkness. That darkness itself deepened into a blackness of such intensity that it seemed almost tangible. Yet there was nothing in the experience which threatened the Seeker. The darkness became almost like black velvet enfolding and supporting him while the light was so intense that he was forced to close his eyes in order to protect them. It was then that he experienced feelings similar to those he had undergone when descending through the pool. He acknowledged their familiarity but now continued to focus on his thoughts and feelings for family and friends. It was as if he was moving through the darkness and meeting each one in turn emerging from the light. ‘It is almost as though this soft and supporting darkness represents my feelings and each person comes to me from the light of my thoughts,’ the Seeker said to himself. Indeed each person who came into his thoughts was enveloped in his feelings. and appeared to him to be carried up in a cloak of black velvet which cushioned and caressed them.

As his progress continued the Seeker was attracted to a patch of light in the distance and moved towards it. This area was populated by numerous people busying themselves in all sorts of activity. There was a general movement along a broad road on which some walked and others danced. Yet others were transported in all manner of conveyances some of which were familiar to the Seeker and others not. It was as if the highway was so vast that it was capable of handling as much traffic as there might be and whatever those travelling wanted to do would to be possible. Some bathed in sunshine on one side of the highway while opposite others played on snow covered slopes. All this appeared to the Seeker in a series of pictures as if he were using a huge kaleidoscope. He fancied that in some of these pictures he saw colleagues from his past and that they were beckoning to him to come and join them. Indeed when he tried to turn away it took considerable effort to do so because there seemed so much to do and enjoy.

However, the Seeker had noticed that his companions to whom he had previously been devoting his thoughts and feelings were no longer alongside him as they had been. So alluring had been the sights that had attracted him that he had failed to notice their absence. As soon as he refocused his thoughts and feelings he saw in the distance a number of faint lights and moved towards them. The effort required to do this was considerable such was the pull of the previous attractions but the Seeker persisted. As the faint lights becomes stronger so the task of reaching them became easier. Eventually looking back the Seeker saw that the broad highway was now just a patch of light again and the objects towards which he had been moving proved to be some of his family and friends as he had envisaged them. However, beyond them there now shone another small, bright light towards which they were all moving and before which they eventually halted.

By the time the Seeker and his companions came to rest, their destination had taken shape and there before them stood a small but sturdy wooden gate. Beyond this lay a pathway fringed by a profusion of trees and shrubs. The Seeker was astonished and exhilarated by the richness of the tapestry of colours contained within flowers and leaves of all shapes. There was a mysterious sense of expectancy in the pathway as it disappeared on its wooded way. Occasionally a traveller would approach the gate, open it and step onto the path soon to disappear from view. The Seeker pondered the feeling he had that he should follow. He looked around at his companions only to discover that they had disappeared and he was completely alone. He realised that he did not question his assumption that this gate marked the beginning of the Way he was seeking and that it was his focusing on others that had led him to it.

When his gaze returned to the wooden gate someone was working on it repairing a joint. The Seeker approached and the workman looked up. The Seeker found himself reminded of the young man whose picture he had seen on the ceiling of his first room in the cottage and he also recognised again the great similarity to the Perceiver’s eyes. The young man opened the gate and the Seeker stepped past him. Almost at the same moment the Seeker saw a subtle change in the light around him. He looked back at the young man whose smile seemed to say, ‘Your journey will begin here.’

The Seeker felt the scene moving away from him and that the bright light, which caused him to close his eyes, was fading. He opened his eyes to find himself in his room with the remains of the candle spluttering in its holder. Outside night had fallen and the inky blackness was punctuated only by the twinkling of stars and a pale quarter moon. Below, in the far distant valley were dotted a few lights which seemed like pinheads on a black cushion. The Seeker’s stomach sounded the approach of supper-time and he responded.

Chapter VIII

The Seeker was not surprised that the Guide and Perceiver appeared just to have sat down so that his arrival seemed to be exactly on time. Their conversation included him quite naturally, indeed he now recognised names both from the Guide’s own village and the one beyond the cottage in the next valley. The Seeker had to suppress his excitement since he wished to relate his experiences while they were still fresh in his mind. However, the opportunity never arose.

As the meal drew to a conclusion the Perceiver looked at him with a gentle smile, ’You must return to your journey without delay’ she said, ‘we have kept you from it for far too long. Her steady gaze left no room for argument and the Seeker returned to his room puzzled and disappointed. He lit a fresh candle, settled in his chair and went over what he would have said had he been allowed to speak. Almost without realising it his imaginings merged into reality and he was standing on the pathway again. He began to walk, admiring the variety of trees and other plants as he did so. There was, he noted, an abundance of bird life and flowers of many different kinds; some familiar, others new to him. After walking for some while he noticed that the way ahead was now less distinct than it had been at first. Indeed he now found himself hesitating about which way to go. Since a nearby tree offered a broad branch at a convenient height, the Seeker sat down on it and allowed himself to rest.

Why, the Seeker mused, had the clear path suddenly become so indistinct? The euphoria he had felt on finding it was fast evaporating and yet he knew that was no response. What was more, in a strange way he could now understand why the Perceiver might not have wished to hear from him over supper; after all finding a path was one thing, travelling it quite another. Thinking about previous journeys particularly with the Guide, the Seeker looked around him; what was there to learn and what could his surroundings teach him?

The Seeker noted the height of trees which permitted tall shrubs to have a space beneath them. The bushes with their compact branches and dense structures nevertheless allowed for tender plants of various kinds and hues to nestle around them and to have a secure foothold from which to push out. The small birds that found shelter in the bushes and fed from the shrubs flitted about while their bigger cousins flew from treetops high above.

The Seeker began to see the order of things which previously had eluded him. Although going nowhere in the sense of journeying as he was, each plant had its place and purpose. ‘What’ the Seeker asked himself, ‘is mine? Why am I travelling this path? In order to discover a better way,’ was his response. ‘I want to learn about myself and the way of things about me. I am on the right path, but now I must discover what it has to teach me.’ The Seeker had it in mind to retrace his steps and begin again but when he rose from his branch the narrow path seemed so remarkably clear that he was surprised that he had not been able to see it earlier. He put his lapse down to tiredness and renewed his journey with fresh vigour.

Suddenly the pathway widened into a clearing in one part of which there was what appeared to be a garden. No dwelling was immediately visible but the seeker’s gaze was so arrested by a profusion of roses growing in a standard fashion, that he ignored the apparent absence of buildings in his desire to look more closely at the flowers. The range of colour was quite stunning and the air was heavy with a blend of different scents each subtly trying to draw his attention. There being no fences it seemed quite natural to explore this natural delight, almost as if a painting had been placed in his way to enjoy. It seemed equally unremarkable when he came upon the young man he had seen repairing the gate, tending a rose by removing some spent flowers. Aren’t they beautiful,’ the young man said. ‘They teach us so much.’

The Seeker had never before considered the educational properties of roses and so the statement was arresting in itself. When delivered in the same gentle but clear manner as the Perceiver’s and with the same gaze as a counterpoint, the Seeker was completely taken aback.

The young man seemed to take the Seeker’s silence as an indication that he should continue. ‘The rose takes from soil and sun and gives in return. What it takes is there for all living things. What it gives back is however, unique to each plant and on each plant each flower is itself unique, special to its own place and time.’ He took a rose and, without breaking the stem, held it cupped in his hand. ‘The life of this flower is dedicated to giving. By its shape and colour it gives pleasure to the eyes. As it unfolds it gives scent to please us by perfuming the air about it. It feeds the bees that visit it and will decorate our homes if we wish. We can take it and as we give it to another, let it speak for us whether in our sadness or our joy. This flower speaks of love because it gives throughout its life. You could not give it to another out of hatred, only out of your own love, for this flower can speak no other language. It lives and dies in giving and speaking of love. Love speaks through this rose; it has discovered its purpose and place.’

The Seeker bent to take in the gentle perfume that the vibrant red flower offered him. He closed his eyes and was enfolded in the moment. When he straightened and looked round, he was alone.

Chapter IX

When he returned to himself he found the candle had long since burned out. He sat for sometime reflecting on how desolate his knowledge had been up to this point and how transient. He also saw with absolute clarity in a blinding moment that all he knew at any one time held good for only a short while before it was overtaken, became outdated and was absorbed by other deeper truths. As he adjusted to that realization and what it meant for his future understanding of his life it was as if a light shone into him and for the first time in his life he saw within himself

Later the Perceiver would speak to him of the eye of the spirit and he would then recognize that this moment was when he had first become aware that such a thing might exist and that indeed the eye had opened within him. For now he was aware of himself as more than a mere accumulation of the knowledge he possessed and the atoms of which he was composed but also realised that he knew nothing of what lay beyond that truth. He pondered how he had allowed his mind to tyrannise him into believing that his knowledge was all-important, indeed, in some ways, all he was.

There was, he recognised now, a need to seek more guidance and to continue the journey he had begun. It was as if this doorway into himself which had now become visible had done so at the moment when he had discovered the gate. He needed help in understanding what lay beyond it so that he could grasp its real significance.

He also needed to know where the pathway he had begun to explore was located. How could it be so real when he came to it having left this room and this chair? He had held a rose, enjoyed its aroma, indeed he could still detect its scent and yet where had he been and why was it so important?

The Seeker went in search of the Guide only to discover the Perceiver sitting alone at her fireside working on a tapestry of a country garden. Her smile welcomed him and he saw sandwiches and cake waiting for him on the table. As she made a pot of tea using the kettle which had been simmering at the hearth the Perceiver asked "Have you journeyed far, today?” The Seeker responded by telling her about the path, the rose bed and his encounter. In the silence which followed he thought about his questions and eventually asked "Where is the place I visit?"

It seemed as though time stood still as the Perceiver gazed into the fire and then at the Seeker before slowly raising a hand whose index finger brushed the left breast of his shirt. "It lies within you" she said "the desert you saw has come to life now and your inner eye has opened to see it".

When the Perceiver spoke again it seemed to the Seeker that it was from a long way off. Her voice sounded like a whisper. “You have a question” she said, more as a statement than an inquiry and then she waited. “Who spoke to me in the garden?” the Seeker asked.

“To answer that question you need to understand so much more”, the Perceiver said. “We have all been taught to respect each individual and each one of us is expected to make his or her own way. We are told that we each have our own space, as it were, and that is right. In reality however we are much more closely linked with each other than we might choose to imagine. The truth is that we all spring from and are composed of the same substance as the universe that surrounds us.”

“Eons ago the space in which we now live with a part of that great void, most of which still lies beyond our understanding. It was then that the One, in contemplation, envisaged the world that could exist within the void. And so it was that the light of the Presence of the One, foreseeing the creation of the universe, went forth until the One spoke the Word of creativity. The Word gathered together the substance of creation and the essence of life itself and sent it forth in a great, blazing outburst of joyous celebration.”

“In this one moment of creation the seeds of all living things, plant and flower, beast and bird, found their place in the formation of the stars and planets to await their awakening as the Word prescribed. In the fullness of time the Word spoke again and raised up the potential for self-awareness and conscience in humankind. All that you perceive, everything and everyone that you know and see, is formed from what the spoken Word and the Presence energized. Without that substance and light no life would exist. Just as the Word was in the creation so the Word and the Presence are in the One. As the Presence I told you about enables the Word to be present in you and offers you life, but the Word within offers you understanding as well and waits for you to go in search of it.”

The Seeker’s head spun as the picture painted by the Perceiver gradually gained colour and perspective in his mind. For him, who previously had only the vaguest thoughts about these things, the tapestry was vast and he felt so insignificant. He tried to picture the One and the Word. As if she had understood his thoughts the Perceiver spoke again. “It is,” she said, “hard for us to imagine the One. The universe is vast beyond our comprehension and we are wise of we just accept that it is so. There are those who probe its depths to try to give it form for us to grasp but many of us can only stand in awe and wonder and accept. The Word however would, I imagine, be very much like the young man you say you have encountered. His involvement with our world revealed that the One had an understanding of our need to relate to the source of creation. The Word was a response to our need.”

Suddenly the Seeker realized that he felt enormously tired. His mind was full and images had begun to whirl before him in an alarming manner. Slowly, after a while, the room came back into focus and he realized that the Perceiver had left. The Guide had taken her place and now smiled at him and suggested a stroll. The prospect of fresh air appealed and pushed the tiredness into the background.

After walking for some time in silence, the Seeker said, “The way ahead isn’t clear to me. I am beginning to see how much more there is to understand both about myself and what I am learning.”

“The story of the journey the Word made when he was here with us in our world was recorded by a number of authors and their versions of events are included among other writings which tell us both about ancient times and reactions to the coming of the Word.”

“There are those who regard all these texts as inspired by the One, others see that what the Word said and did is more important. These records may help you, not just by what is taught, but also by the example which the Word left for us. He showed us how to go about things, how, if you like, to find him in life today.”

“And how is that?” asked the Seeker. They had stopped walking and sat now on a grassy outcrop surveying the distant valley. Tiny spring flowers dotted the rock where it was exposed but grass had not yet claimed the space. The sun was rising fast and provided pleasant warmth.

“Partly by his guidance on how we should live day to day and how we should treat each other better than we do. You have been looking at a different way of going about things in your own life and already you know that it feels good to have done so. But then there is silence and using it to approach the One. It may sound strange, even paradoxical, to say so but the Word shows us how we should use silence in order to communicate beyond the here and now."

To the Seeker these words announced something incredible. His life had been altogether earthbound and rational until his exploration with the Seeker had began. Admittedly since then some of his experiences, especially at the Perceiver’s cottage, had been strange but explicable as dreams and imaginings. Compared with them however, what the Guide now suggested went much, much further. He was saying that the Seeker could communicate with the One who created the universe. Suddenly the sheer beauty of the valley struck him and his gaze was then attracted by a small white flower nestling in the crack of one of the rocks nearby. “All this”, he found himself saying, “All this.” As if he could see into his mind the Guide replied, “Yes, all this and you and me too. Don’t forget that we too were envisaged and brought into being.”

“How do I start?” the Seeker asked. “By letting the Perceiver explain one or two of the thoughts and ideas the Word bought to us and listening to reflections on them This is not a work to be rushed into, for it will search you very deeply. It will show you parts of yourself you do not presently know. It will, when you set out on this journey, become darkest right before you see a glimmer of dawn and the night itself may be very long.” The Guide’s tone had left no room for doubt as to his seriousness. The Seeker knew the option was his. He did not have to journey at all or indeed begin it now. The Guide’s way of explaining what could lie ahead made it clear that to stop and consider would seem perfectly sensible. Once again the rose came into the Seeker’s mind, the flower which knew its place and purpose. The One looked at the rose and the rose nodded back knowing that it was as it should be. “I would like to begin to learn,” the Seeker announced and the Guide smiled in response. Together they began the journey back, now warmed by a midday sun.

Tony Kidd copyright 2015

That undiscovered country

The problem with death is that, for many of us, the inevitability that we all acknowledge is one that we wish to postpone and therefore choose to ignore.  Especially when we are in our early years, the old (as we see them) are the ones who need to think about death, not us.  We are immune from death, we are the immortal ones.

As time goes on the picture changes.  There are many in their forties who suddenly discover mortality.  It has in fact been creeping up on them for some while but they have chosen to pretend not to see it and remain lost in the cosy eiderdowns of 'the gym' and 'abroad.'  Then one morning the first muscle pain, tendon ache or worry line refuses to disappear and mortality has posted its first outrider on the previously pristine lawn of our lives and refuses to budge.

Even now, for many, there is no sense of urgency in the situation.  We persuade ourselves all to easily that 'it will go away'.  The 'twinge' does indeed disappear but then returns bringing a friend and soon the immaculate greensward in which we took so much youthful pride contains the deckchair of our autumn days

Yet even now few wish to consider seriously the implications of and options associated with our mortality.  This is despite our being so well placed to recognise that the black and white certainties of youth now reveal many shades of grey if we can bear to acknowledge them for a moment or two.

A perspective on this certainty that there is nothing to consider is that the winter of our lives gives us pointers to the sunlight of spring and a new beginning if we choose to see them.  We  do however have to lift our sights and look beyond the mere dullness of the winter day we were expecting.  There is the need to choose to dream the dream of a new dawn breaking on a world in which a belief in nothing will not do.  There is far more to both life and death if we dare to see it.

Remembrance Sunday Nov 2013

Remembrance Sunday 10/11/13

Why bother with remembering? It is not a question that I ever recall asking myself

when I was growing up. Perhaps that is because my early years were the years of

WW11. Maybe my days in our church choir and the annual procession to the War

Memorial on the equivalent of this day each year made Remembrance Sunday an

occasion to be respected in this fashion. It was, in other words, a part of life. The

buses and cars stopped – people stood still – hats and caps removed – for this briefest

of times on this day, we remembered and we gave thanks. But today in this country

the majority will instead ask my initial question namely - why bother?

At one level the response is easy. It is summed up in the recollection that we should

not take our freedom for granted – they died that we might remain free. But today so

many other things – material, emotional and personal, demand attention that debates

about freedom, what it means and how much we value it, seem remote and irrelevant,

in other words not worth bothering with.

Yet I think we should bother and continue to do what we do. I watched a television

programme not so long ago and during the course of it we saw Simon Schama in

Tel Aviv on Holocaust Memorial Day – the equivalent, it could be said, of our

Remembrance Sunday – and Tel Aviv came to a halt at the prescribed time and

everyone stood and remembered just as they had in my youth.

And lest we are tempted to make the excuse that Jews are more religious than us let us

recall that it may be so, but that is not the whole story by any means.

Closer to the truth might be that we value what we have a lot more when we are in

danger of losing it. Freedom in Israel is constantly under threat from every side

whereas we feel safe and therefore our freedom is, in that sense, less valued.

The overwhelming secular argument for remembrance should be, it seems to me, that

recollection of the reasons for caring about freedom, ought to help us to avoid the

mistakes that led to its being in danger in the first place. An example of such wisdom

could have been our remembering how we were defeated in Afghanistan twice before

the present shambles. That knowledge of our history might have helped our leaders to

avoid the same mistake again.

History today is not valued as it was in my youth nor is it taught from the same

perspective. But sadly there seems to be a paradox here. The value of the, if I may

use the term, ‘socialised’ history as it is taught today seems to be in inverse proportion

to its usefulness in avoiding pitfalls that might otherwise be foreseen.

Remembrance can therefore be seen as vital not just in teaching us humility in

the face of the sacrifice of our forebears but also in safeguarding us against future

dangers. In that respect the nation that forgets its history is in danger of forgetting

why it exists at all. What does it stand for if it cannot remember how it arrived here?

Israel remembers its history and respects its ancestors and so should we. The

alternative is not a pleasant option in my view.

Tony Kidd

Who speaks for the child not yet conceived?

Sermon     29.9.13 (Boynton) & 1.10.13 (Harvesters)

I make no apology for revisiting a topic about which I have spoken on previous occasions, namely the way in which we deal with children in this country of ours.  I do so because several pieces of news have come to my attention recently and they seem to me to be inter-related.

For example, it is reported that there has been a huge surge in the number of women going to work in the UK and this includes a majority who are mothers.  In fact, over 70% of working mothers have dependent children.  This coincides with a situation where there are now more single mothers rearing children than ever before. 

That is, I hasten to add, not a case of my grinding an axe on the subject of single mothers but simply noting that a child has the right under the convention on the Rights of the child, to which the UK is in signatory, to be brought up by both its parents.  That is the responsibility of both parents to their child.

There is then the guidance issued by the Government Agency whose acronym is NICE (the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence) which has issued primary schools with guidance addressed to ‘professionals’ and ‘heads’ (note not teachers) on how to ensure that children are taught social and learning skills.  It also asks them to identify parents who need help with being parents! (One wonders how much time must be taken up with this and how many boxes will have to be ticked accordingly.

Finally my attention was attracted to a report about an Islamic publicly-funded Faith School in Derby and its dress code.  There were two aspects to this code which I found interesting.  One was the requirement for all female staff, regardless of their personal beliefs, to wear head scarves and prohibiting them from giving any indication of a faith other than Islam, that is to say for example ‘not to wear crosses.’  Meanwhile another aspect of the code requires that all girls aged 6 years and over should wear the burkah.

The first requirement has already led to a female teacher being bullied into resignation by male members of staff.  It should be born in mind that the code was not introduced until AFTER the term had started.  But it is the requirement that girls must wear a burkah that worries me for two reasons.

One is the re-emergence of rickets in this country especially within the Asian community and it is happening, evidence suggests, because of the prevention of sunlight reaching the skin due to this style of dress.  There is then, of course, the side issue of girls having no swimming lessons because males tell them that the Islamic requirement for modesty prevents it.

I shall confine myself to suggesting that males who oppress females by presuming to dictate attire because otherwise they, the men that is, might become ‘inflamed’ as they call it, should grow up, get a life and learn some self-control.  As to the wearing of the burkah itself, the problem it deems to me is this: when a dress style coming from one very narrow strict, Wahhabist strand of Islam of comparatively recent origin seeks to impose itself on every part of Islam we all inherit a problem.  Whether it be the young girls whose whole lives may be impaired by illness or the teacher bullied out of her job by zealous male fellow teachers for not wearing a headscarf this is not the way we do things in England – is it?

Even though we may no longer have many Christians in our midst, nevertheless we still tend to think that loving our neighbour means at the very least not forcing him or her to comply with our way of doing things just because we say so, but Wahhabism does not seem to agree with this.  When our approach also carries the real danger of harming people for life then something has clearly gone wrong.

Furthermore this conduct could be argued to run completely contrary to the convention on the Rights of the Child to which we are signatories.  How does the burkah seem to tie-in with the right of the child to be as healthy as she can? Furthermore how can children be equal when one can be taught to swim at school and another can’t?

If parents have children knowing from the outset that they will not be able to care for them as they should, how does that square with giving them the most basic of children’s rights, namely the right to a safe secure home with both parents?  And when Government approved Agencies appear to acknowledge the shortfall in care and good parenting by suggesting teachers make up the deficit, again there is clearly a major problem.

‘Whatsoever you do to one of these little ones you do it even unto me,’ to quote Jesus.  The ‘I must have it all and my rights trump everyone else’s approach, seems to me to sell children short in too many cases, quite apart from its sheer downright egotism.  If you agree with any of this, pray certainly, but also write to your MP.

Tony Kidd

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My thoughts on Woolwich

Who was not shocked by the horrifying spectacle of an un-armed man being almost beheaded in a London street?  His murderers were two men who appeared to be motivated by a distorted, indeed one might say perverted, version of Islam.  In this version the single individual, in this case a soldier, unarmed, off duty and outside his barracks, can become a legitimate target for an onslaught by a man with a knife and a meat cleaver assisted by an accomplice with a gun.

This victim’s ‘offence’ was to be perceived as a representative of us, the unbelievers, who had invaded Islamic land and taken the lives of followers of Islam.  I use the word ‘us’ since this soldier was held to account for the actions of our Government and therefore we, all of us, are deemed to be participants in these events whether we like it or not. 

Once again John Donne’s words “every man’s death diminishes me” spring to mind.  We all ought to share in this family’s grief, as well as being part, albeit only by our positions as electors and citizens, of their loss. 

The reactions to this event have been predictable.  Neither of the perpetrators is white – both profess Islam – both tried to justify their actions as legitimate on the basis that Islam allows Jihad in response to crimes against the faith.  British involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan are seen as ample justification for this awful tragedy.

A week or so before Lee Rigby’s death, the domestic news was dominated by the conviction of a group of men of Pakistani origin who’s repeated rape and exploitation of vulnerable and under-age girls was, it was said, perfectly justifiable because they were “worthless Kuffirs,” that is to say unbelievers.  This gang’s conviction has prompted 54 other investigations into similar groups dotted around our green and pleasant land.

It would be easy to jump to the conclusion that Islam is the problem and that there is a simple answer.  It would also be easy to blame those who either opened the floodgates for immigration into this country or to those that failed to close them.  I however want to focus on another facet of these two events and I begin by recalling that in my nine years as a solicitor in private practice I was never involved in, nor can I recall being aware of, any criminal case involving rape perpetrated by a woman.  Nor do I recall any murder trial involving violence (as opposed to poisoning) or any case of assault involving grievous or actual bodily harm where the accused was female. 

You will note that I am not here confining myself to Pakistani or other non-white criminals nor am I limiting my observations to alleged followers of Islam.  I will explain my reference to “alleged followers of Islam” later.

My point is all the accused were male and I also observe that their conduct exemplifies at least two frightening characteristics.  Firstly there is an arrogance which manifests itself in actions, socio-pathologically directed against females in the case of the exploitation of those young women.  Secondly, there is the inability of some males to be able to comprehend any point of view other than their own.  This when coupled with a consuming anger and over-inflated ego, is indeed a toxic mixture.  When we ally these ingredients to a cause which offers, whether now or in the future, that to which a recruit thinks he is entitled, completely irrational behaviour is sure to follow.

What is lacking in the male figures who bomb, kill, maim and exploit as exemplified by the cases I have quoted, is the sort of courage and compassion which was shown by the women who confronted Lee Rigby’s killers and tended him as his life came to an end.

This short-fall, this absence of an ability to empathise, does not confine itself to any one creed or colour.  However it is apparent that it exists as a predominately male defect.  This defect emerges unless there is a positive role-model which enables the young male to learn to respect the opposite sex and this requires input from both parents.   Respect for the opposite sex means all members not just those of ‘our’ creed or colour.  This must be the case regardless of what some out-dated thinking concerning male supremacy may mistakenly suggest to the contrary.

It is here that we come to a marked difference between some creeds and others.  In part of his rantings intended to justify the totally inexcusable, Michael Adebolajo referred to the ancient concept of an ‘eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’  He tried to suggest that what he had just done by killing Lee Rigby was justified by the killings carried out by the British forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. 

Some commentators have seized on this Biblical reference to smear Christianity as well as Islam because both have the book of Exodus, from which the text comes, in their religious texts.  Exodus 21 verse 23 does indeed establish a law of reciprocal brutality.  It refers to the taking of a life and embraces injury to eyes, teeth, hands and feet as well as covering wounds, burns and bruises.  In Christianity however Jesus reformed this ancient understanding by telling his followers “do not resist an evil person but turn the other cheek.”  He added “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

Jesus explained that whereas he did not wish to abolish the old law, he had come to show humanity how to view things differently.  For Christians therefore there can be absolutely no justification for the sort of killing carried out by Michael Adebolajo.  In any case I note that the killer had indeed adopted a different creed after a Christian upbringing but I daresay that many Muslims would feel far more at home with the teachings of Jesus on this passage rather than the distortions taught to the killer.  He unfortunately had absorbed a hopeless, brutal and unreformed view of Islam from his teachers.  “By their fruit shall you know them.”

It is often speculated that the role of both parents in raising a child is essential wherever possible.  Especially with a male child this must involve learning to value the intuitive and compassionate characteristics that are more associated with a mother alongside the thinking processes and control of aggression that ought to be the input of a father.  A child needs to learn to honour both its father and mother who should provide their child with the safety, support and example needed to grow into a mature, independent, adult life.  Where that does not happen, other influences will invariably step in to fill the void.  The result of this can be life-destroying as it was for those young girls, as well as physically deadly as we now see all too clearly from the scene in Woolwich.

The death of Margaret Thatcher has brought to the surface some extremely hateful examples of the worst aspects of human nature.  People who should know better and set an example have allowed the vindictive politics of tribalism to take over when something more compassionate and considered was called for.

It is understandable that those whose jobs for life in the coal mines on a father-to-son basis were lost in the 1980’s should be unforgiving of the polititians who were seen to bring this about.  However, that understanding has to be tempered by three considerations.

The first is that in the 1960’s and 1970’s the trade unions used their power to bring this country to a pretty parlous state.  Those of us who worked through three-day weeks, rail strikes and electricity blackouts had to go to work regardless. We often trudged through streets stacked high with rubbish.  We who worked on through those days did not and still do not enjoy the inflation-proof pensions earned through those strikes.  Only those paid through the public purse and subsidised by those working in the private sector have that privileged status and that includes our members of parliament.

Secondly, when Labour returned to power after the Conservatives’ four terms in office, they chose not to revert to mining coal in this country, indeed they continued to close mines!

Thirdly, much was made in the 1970’s of the dirt and danger of mining in order to justify higher wages and protected pensions.  A generation later are there really advocates for resuming such activities?

My point is a simple one.  I do not care for bankers who never seem to be penalised for failure, whose rewards are obscenely out of proportion to the work they do and whose treatment of their ordinary staff leaves much to be desired.  They hold us to ransom for more money ‘or they will leave.’  Go, say I – please go.  So, equally, I did not and still do not, care for trade union leaders doing exactly the same thing.  To my simple mind Fred Goodwin and Arthur Scargill are just two sides of the same coin.  Each in his own way was in his own time guilty of using his power both unwisely and without regard for anything but narrow self-interest – ‘my bank,’ - ‘my members’ and nobody else matters just won’t do.

Furthermore, for people to rejoice in someone’s death reveals not only a shallowness of humanity but also a lack of thought that is quite breathtaking.  It is sad to realise that as a nation we appear to have made so little progress.

We live in one of the world’s richest nations; we are well educated and cosseted.  The poorest of our citizens is relatively rich compared with the poorest on the planet and yet we are prepared, some of us, to hold a party to celebrate a death while others seem to think that doing so represents some sort of humour.

Let’s be clear: over four hundred years ago John Donne made it easy to understand when he wrote that “Every man’s death diminishes me,” and, “Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”  We are all from the same thread and our actions have their effects and often do so far beyond our immediate imagining both in scope and time.

The unbridled greed of some in the sixties and seventies produced its counterbalance in the eighties.  In the same way the massive expenditure with borrowed money in the last decade is causing grief in so many ways now. 

We love to find a scapegoat and to say it is nothing to do with us.  I have no doubt that the miners who followed Arthur Scargill thought they were justified, but how many of them looked beyond their own heartland in order to see the impact of their actions on others.  Where was the compassion to temper those actions?  Equally, how many bankers, footballers or others with incomes of six figures or more stop to consider who pays for their lifestyles?

So what to do about it.  Well, let’s stop holding silly ‘parties’ for a start.  They are sick, not funny.  We should also realise that, as the world’s oldest current democracy, it is time for us to abandon the tribalistic and unthinking politics that passes for government now, and come up with a better model.  We can and should do better.  Political thinking (I use the word ‘thinking’ loosely!) is too polarised and self-interested in our land and we cannot and should not afford it.

Let us have far fewer MP’s but let us pay them well and get the best.  Let us select them rather than having them selected for us from the ranks of the politically ambitious who, often, have no experience of work or life outside their own little political bubble.

Let us develop a civil service free from trade unionism and awards that signify little beyond an ability to dispose of rivals more effectively than others.  Let us also take the National Health Service and Education out of the hands of politicians altogether.  Idealology ought to have no part in either.

Finally, let us try in this process to put some older, wiser and more experienced heads into the process of government to create a better balance in decision making.

We should remember we get the government we deserve.  We are all accountable.  It is time we started to make a change.

From East End Lawyer to East Riding Priest:

One Man’s Journey.

There is a school of thought which suggests that smell is the most potent of our senses.  This is largely because its receptor in our brain is located next to our memories.  This means that our memories can be vividly activated by an aroma which takes us back to where we first encountered it or some significant event with which it was involved.

The East End of London where I was born, and later spent five years training to qualify as a solicitor, was a place of memorable aromas.  Some were exceedingly odd to find just on the outskirts of the City of London.  For example, the smell of the smoke-house used by a local fishmonger for curing herring and haddock.  Similarly the aroma of the adjoining bakery at the back of the bread shop which was an unexpected pleasure.  These were good smells indeed, - unlike the effusions of the River Thames at Limehouse Reach which in those days were, to put it no more strongly, exceedingly pungent, indeed – challenging!

Nowadays I only have to pass either a smokehouse or bakery, both of which exist in Bridlington, to be, momentarily, back in the East End of post-war bombsites and boarded-up, unsafe houses.  Equally, aromas recall vibrant districts which were variously home to the rag trade, and therefore largely Jewish in character, or Chinatown, as it was known, with its many restaurants and colourful lanterns.

To say that the office in which I trained was a multicultural business, long before the politically correct commissars of our time got hold of the word, is an understatement. From bar mitzvahs to Muslim prayer mats and from the Orthodox weddings to liquor licenses for the Roman Catholic Church halls, diversity was at the heart of our office life and it all worked harmoniously.  Our office waiting room was a bit like a meeting of the United Nations.

The local hairdresser was Jewish and fiercely proud of his son at Oxford University. He left me in his chair half-done one afternoon because he heard on the radio that the second half of his daily double had just won at Kempton Park racecourse. He returned after about 10 minutes, finished my haircut and let me off the fee because he said I had brought him luck.

By way of contrast there was an occasion when I caused great concern on my train home one Christmas Eve.  I had placed a large plastic bag on the roof rack and it kept producing the noise of moving liquid.  It was a “thank you” gift from a Chinese client of a whole cooked chicken in its own sauce which provided Christmas dinner for the five of us at home.

The dark side of the East End came home to me some two years later and can best be exemplified by the very nervous voice of our receptionist as she told me that she had some clients in reception who wanted to see someone immediately and I was the only male in the building at the time.  The reason for her nervousness was that the clients were the Kray twins and they did not like to be kept waiting!  I survived as you can see.  I also saw them again briefly the next day to complete the task they had given me.

I cannot deny that it was a nerve-racking experience for a 20-year-old trainee.  On the other hand it was all part of what is sometimes called ‘life’s rich tapestry’.  There can be no doubt that the East End of those dim and distant days of the 1950’s & 60’s was something of a law unto itself.  On the other hand the same strange blend of criminals, celebrities, politicians and the police has emerged again in the last 15 years or so.  Just as in those days public houses like the ‘Prospect of Whitby’ & ‘The Blind Beggar’ could guarantee to have this mix alongside regulars from the immediate localities, I suspect that they or others like them would be exactly the same today.

Another recollection drawn from my early days in training relates to the day when I was taken by the Managing Clerk responsible for my teaching in Probate cases, to see the widow of a deceased client.  It was a strict Roman Catholic family of Italian origin living in a small terraced house near our office. When we arrived we were shown into a room which was very dimly lit with just a candle and with curtains drawn.  We were invited to sit at the table which had been laid with tea and biscuits.

My colleague conducted the interview with the widow of the deceased, obtained all the necessary information and documents and when the business part of meeting was over he said to her, “Ricardo looks very peaceful.”

I was somewhat surprised by this comment having noted that my colleague was looking at something behind me as he spoke.  I turned and immediately behind me saw something I had definitely not seen in the subdued light when we had come in. - namely, the deceased standing upright in his coffin with his eyes open!  It was my first encounter with a dead body and my world completed several revolutions before my equilibrium was restored.  That morning I learned that it was prudent to take nothing for granted!

My reflections on those early days begin first and foremost with the observation that my school friends, most of whom went off to university, remained young for far longer than I did.  Let me explain.  After about two months working in the office as tea maker, telephonist, post-boy, lunch-getter and runner of errands, my Principal sent for me.  He explained that I needed to do all that I had been engaged in to date, so that I might properly understand how an office functions.  He told me that he wanted me to know what sort of people were needed to make it work at its best and in order to understand that, I needed to be able to do the jobs myself.  Now the time had come when I had to expand my horizons.

In order to take the next step he asked me to put on my coat, pick up a briefcase, and walk a route he described to me which ended at Thames magistrates’ court.  I did as I was told and when I arrived at the court my Principal was waiting to meet me.  I asked him why I had been required to do what I had engaged in.

My principal told me that I had needed to be seen and recognised and so my walk had been watched all the way.  He explained that because we only acted for defendants, we were very important within the community and that this applied especially to the male members of staff.  I know that that sounds pretty sexist but remember I’m speaking of a time over 50 years ago when female solicitors were a rarity.  For instance, in my Law School class of 56 people, only four were female. Now I had been seen recognised and would be safe wherever I went in the East End.

My Principal then took me into the police station next to the court and introduced me to the Desk Sergeant.  He in turn took me downstairs into what was known as ‘The Museum’.  There he showed me the collection of knives, guns, thumbscrews, knuckle dusters, hammers, axes, whips, ropes of all kinds, bullet-proof vests, boots, swords, syringes, pliers and in fact anything that could be used by one human being to inflict pain, injury or death on another.

That afternoon not only did I see the implements themselves but also pictures of the results of their work from various pieces of evidence, including crime scene photographs gathered over many years.  Finally I was shown extracts from confiscated films of various sorts including every sort of sexual deviation imaginable!

I went on that visit aged 18 and came out aged 40.  Indeed, my wife Sue has always maintained that I did not start to be my real age until I was well past that time in my life.  I truly could not take in what I had seen that afternoon.  It is one thing to read books or newspapers but to see something of the reality is an altogether different experience.

My limited schoolboy horizon had expanded out of all recognition as the result of my East London experiences.  I was being provided with stepping-stones into the world which included the Royal Courts of Justice, Lincoln’s Inn, the Temple, Somerset House and hours spent in Brixton and other prisons where I interviewed clients.  I also spent a lot of time at various magistrates’ courts, the London Quarter Sessions, and The Old Bailey.

On the other side of the coin I also experienced my fair share of being taken for a ride to teach me, it was said, not to be tempted to get above myself.  For example. on one occasion I was given details of a claim which had been made against the owner of a merchant ship, which according to the Lloyd’s Register was moored at Wapping.  I was told to issue proceedings against the vessel in respect of the debt which was owed by its owner, and then to serve the Writ on the vessel.  I read that this was achieved by nailing a sealed copy of it to the mast which had the effect of ‘arresting the ship.’

I was left to my own devices in this matter (as a test I later discovered) and I set off armed with the office hammer and a supply of nails coupled with the necessary documents which I had very cleverly, I thought, placed in a see-through plastic bag. My pride was very short-lived when I was confronted by a very large vessel with a solid metal mast!

I had not read the amendments to the legislation which now allowed the service of the proceedings on a ship to be sellotaped instead of nailed in place.  Luckily for me the master of the vessel was still aboard who did know about this and helped me out!  The owners, it seemed, had not paid him either and so they were not his best friends!

There were two things that I learned early on in my career which have stayed with me ever since, even though the circumstances within society have changed so much since my training took place.  The first is that in those days there were only three professions, namely the ancient and long established legal profession, the church, and the new boy on the block namely medicine.  

These three professions shared two features of enormous importance I was told, since they distinguished them from all other means of earning a living.  The first was that they were based on vocation, that is to say a calling to be of service.  That vocation was exemplified by one’s duty to serve one’s client or in the case of the church, parishioners and for medicine, one’s patients.  One did this by affording total confidentiality and providing a personal service at any time of night or day if asked to do so.

It was explained to me that bills were usually to be delivered after, not as a pre condition of, providing the required response.  It was stressed to me more times than I care to remember that being professional meant never withholdings one’s services and always doing one’s best until the task was completed.

I had to put these early lessons into practice on a number of occasions, one of which was when, as a young solicitor, I had to respond to a telephone call from a hospital.  A client of mine had been taken, in a very poorly state, into Whipps Cross hospital.  She had only a few hours left to live and wanted to make a will.  The doctor who told me this and to whom my client had made the request, urged me to make haste.

Fortunately I had some suitable paper in my briefcase and when I arrived at the hospital I was able to write out a will there and then.  Since my client chose to appoint me as one of her executors, I asked the doctor and a nurse to witness my client’s signature.  She died two hours after I left the hospital at 3 o’clock that morning.

After my five years in articles I had been admitted as a solicitor in March 1962 at which time I became solicitor number 18,212 on the Roll of solicitors which in those days was unofficially limited to 20.000 at any one time.  The examination which I had sat in November the previous year comprised seven

3-hour papers lasting consecutively from Monday morning through to Thursday lunchtime.  Each paper had to be passed in one examination sitting and the total number of marks for the seven papers had to exceed an aggregate mark.  Furthermore each paper began with three compulsory questions which carried 60% of the marks.  There really was no place to hide (!) – and failure to achieve any of these requirements meant retaking the examination in its entirety.

Later in the 1960’s it became possible to resit one paper if it had been failed.  Then the papers were divided into two, with three subjects in one sitting and four in another.  Graduates were then required to serve only two years in articles instead of five which meant that many of them never fully understood office routines and practice.  It was said that the profession was modernizing and at the same time rapidly increasing its numbers to over 100,000 without any loss in quality.

Moving on from East London where I had worked as a solicitor for two years after qualifying I then spent time first in rural Essex and then in the Town Clerk’s Department of Bradford City Council.  After that I moved to a building society in Leicester and then spent four years with an international industrial conglomerate in London before returning to Bradford and becoming the secretary and legal advisor to a major building society.

It was during my second spell in Bradford that I became a Reader in the Church of England and later offered myself for consideration as an ordinand.  My vocation was tested and accepted and so I prepared to begin three years part-time training for non-stipendiary (that is to say unpaid) ministry.  I was sent to Oak Hill College in Southgate in North London at the direction of the then Bishop of St Albans.  That was because by that time we had moved to Berkhamsted in Hertfordshire so that I could work as a consultant to those working in the financial services area.  These clients included banks, insurance companies and mortgage lenders.  I made the choice to pursue that course after much prayer and in the belief that it was the right direction of travel me and for our growing family.

It was indeed a dramatic decision for someone who, had he stayed where he was, would have had a much more secure and financially advantageous future especially with four dependent children.  However, building societies were undergoing the change from mutual organizations, that is to say ones whose members’ interests were paramount, to commercial undertakings motivated by what I believe accountants are pleased to call “the bottom line”.

It was a shift of focus exemplified by the change of name of what was once the Personnel Department.  That department had been there in the past to help recruit personnel and then to look after them once recruited.  Now, as Human Resources Departments, they became a tool of management and, in the process, rapidly developed a far less caring outlook.

When I take stock and look back, I can see the recognition of this change as a distinct turning point in my life which led me away from the comfortable world of a commercial lawyer.  It came about because I had promised, with agreement from my management colleagues, that those members of my staff who obtained the right qualifications would have the opportunity to train to become solicitors.  In due course the day came when the first person achieved the necessary qualifications to go ahead and asked to do so.

However, when I met with the head of this new Human Resources Department, I was told that the society had changed its collective mind on such matters without any consultation with those actually involved.  I had given my word and several members of staff had worked very hard at evening classes to achieve the necessary qualifications.  They were now, due to a change of policy of which they were not made aware, cut adrift.  As far as I was concerned the breach of trust to which my staff had been subjected was unacceptable and, consequently, I left.

The move south was an enormous leap of faith into the unknown at the age of 47 with, as I have said, four children still in full time education.  It came after much prayer culminating in a lunch-time of prayer in Bradford Cathedral during which I believe I heard a voice which said to me, “Go and see what I shall show you”

Now I know that such experiences have to be tested and so I related the words and their context to an experienced Christian whose spirituality I trusted.  When she said that the words spoke to her, in other words that they sounded to be from God, then in much trepidation but with the support of my family we left the north of England for a new job and the start of college life.

We had decided to live in Berkhamsted because of the sign over an Arts & Craft shop on the High Street.  It said, “We are here to serve the Risen Lord.”  This was the sign for which Sue and I had been praying and so I enquired at the shop as to where the Lord was worshipped.  As a result I was introduced to the Parish Church of St. Michael and All Angels, Sunnyside.

When I tell you that one of my daughters-in-law now runs that same Arts & Crafts shop, I am compelled to reflect on where prayer can lead.  I had the privilege of conducting Lawrence and Jo’s wedding in the self-same Sunnyside church on the weekend after my ordination.  By the way, my ordination took place not in St Albans Abbey but in Bradford Cathedral in July 1989 after our recent return to the North.

A further turning point came when, after serving for two years as curate at Rawdon Parish church on the outskirts of Leeds and working as a consultant on my own account, I was invited to serve full-time as curate at the parish church in Ilkley. As a result I was no longer a lawyer or a consultant but now a full-time priest.  I could have remained full-time in the church but it was not to be because, when it was time to move on, the church could not find a placement which was able to accommodate a very difficult family situation which had arisen.  So, I now found myself out of work and in what seemed like a wilderness.

At this point I want to digress for a moment or two to talk about an item of attire ‘preaching tabs’ as they are known to clerics.  They are part of standard wear in formal situations for clergy of an evangelical inclination but are also obligatory dress for lawyers in their role as advocates, whether barristers or solicitors, to whom they may be referred to as ‘bands.’

This overlap in symbolism between law and church is no mere accident but is in fact indicative of their common origins at least in this country.  The role of the Lord Chancellor, whatever might have become of it in modern times, began life as a high church official who was also regarded as Keeper of the King’s conscience.  At court he was a trusted confidante and advisor to the Monarch - bearing in mind that such men, as exemplified by Wolsey, were often also cardinals or princes of the church.

Out of that role at court alongside the monarch sprang a parallel court system exercised by the Lord Chancellor dispensing justice based on an equitable view of matters and thus ameliorating what could sometimes be seen as a harshness and inflexibility in the operation of the Common Law dispensed by the monarch’s courts.

Just as an aside, we hear the faint echoes of this historical emergence of our legal system in the names given to the Divisions of the High Court in earlier years.  Indeed the very word ‘Court’ reminds us of the way in which the King would go on royal progress round the country to dispense justice, sentence criminals and settle disputed.  Hence the way in which judge’s travel round their circuits to do the same today exercising their role on behalf of the Monarch.

The Queen’s Bench Division presided over by the Lord Chief Justice is still the branch which focuses on the common law.  The Chancery Division, presided over by the Lord Chancellor, deals with cases where it has been difficult to find justice in the common law approach; an example with which we may be familiar relates to the seeking of Judicial Review of Government or other beauracratic decisions. 

Those who in earlier years appeared to argue cases for the often illiterate or inarticulate people who came before the courts became barristers and those who solicited work for them were to emerge as solicitors.  Those tabs or bands were worn to mark them out because, like the clergy, the wearer was seeking the sort of justice tempered with mercy dispensed by Moses in accordance with the two tablets of stone received by him on the Holy Mountain.  Hence the reference to preaching ‘tabs’ – short for ‘tablets’ and the link to advocacy and law.

I have mentioned all this by way of a practical demonstration that perhaps my pursuit of these two roles can be seen as slightly less incongruous than might otherwise be the case!

Returning to my story - in a strange sequence of events, Sue & I found ourselves on the move once again - this time to East Yorkshire.  There the family situation which had been difficult earlier, resolved itself but another, the third, turning point came with my spending two years in and then emerging from clinical depression  - ‘ dark night of the soul’ as someone referred to it..

Maybe this was the final stripping away of the remnants of the image I might once have had of myself as a highflying lawyer, senior building society manager or consultant.  Depression was a bleak and isolating experience but I was blessed with a very supportive family & friends, and I emerged.

I found myself able to serve a number of congregations who were without a priest and one benefice in particular in due course welcomed me as its ‘House-for-Duty Priest-in-Charge (that is to say unpaid but with a Rectory to live in rent-free), although I think that my wife Sue’s ability as an organist had more than a little to do with it - two for the price of one perhaps!

Thus began four very happy and fulfilling years of service based at Burton Agnes, serving 4 rural parishes. I learned to adjust to the pace of rural life, to recognise the demands placed on the farming community and to take the unexpected in my stride.

For example a funeral visit found me talking to a man in his 80’s who had been married to his deceased wife for over 60 years.  Neither the man nor his good lady could have stood over 5’2” tall judging from his height when I met him and from the wedding photograph he showed me.

Imagine then, my surprise when he announced in reply to the question, “Is there one thing about your wife that stands out for you after 60 years of marriage?” he replied, “She made the best cement in East Yorkshire.”  When I asked him to explain it came down to this.  When war broke out Violet was considered too short for the Services, so she borrowed an uncle’s small truck, acquired a cement mixer and offered her services as a repairer of airfield runways.  That was her job for the rest of the war and a letter from the authorities at Leconfield testified to the ‘excellence of her work.’

So here I am.  My “House-for-Duty” days are over.  They were brought to an end by the repercussions, now mercifully in remission, of a triple heart bypass.  In their place has come a great deal of writing, some copies of one fruit of which, I have brought with me namely “Sally’s Angel” a short story book for children up to the age of say 11 as well, I am told, for some adults of an inquiring mind.

So, what have I learned on my journey?  How, perhaps, do I view the roles of lawyer and priest as I look back on them?

Well, as a lawyer I provided a service, but as a priest I was the service.  What I mean by that is, that as a lawyer I took the instructions of my client and for a fee carried out work to achieve their objectives.  I got peoples’ houses bought and sold, obtained divorces, settled estates and defended the accused.  I did not become involved beyond doing the job required.  Indeed in many ways an involved lawyer is not much use.

However, the priest cannot easily be effective without a measure of involvement. ‘Time’ is the priest’s gift but is what the lawyer charges for.  The lawyer may sympathise but the priest must, whenever possible, empathise.

I have also learned that the work of the Holy Spirit, that mysterious third person of the Christian Trinity, is very much alive and well in many more people today than we may perhaps give credit for.  From my own life I will leave you with one last story about this from the recent past. 

In anticipation of some surgery I asked a priest to lay hands on me by way of preparation.  He did this as part of the prayers at a mid-week communion service and he also anointed me.  During this process I experienced a figure I recognised as Jesus coming to me and passing into me, and I heard the words,’ You in me and me in you.’  I felt a tremendous sense of reassurance.

The following day the operation took place under a general anaesthetic and, as I was being prepared, the anaesthetist asked me what I though I might dream about.  I told him that I did not dream in these circumstances, but had been told that I said things.  I asked him to remember if I said anything of note, and he promised to do so. 

After the operation the surgeon came to check on me and asked if I had seen the anaesthetist.  When I said I had not, he smiled broadly and said he would send him round.  When I asked if I had said anything he said, “Oh yes!”, but would say no more.  It was, he said, the anaesthetist’s story.

The anaesthetist, when he arrived, told me that after the anaesthetic had taken effect and I was well and truly ‘out’, I had suddenly said, “I see Jesus coming,” and all the indicators on the monitoring equipment went completely haywire causing absolute mayhem.  He eventually got things under control but said he’d never seen anything like it and didn’t want to ever again! When Jesus says, “You in me and me in you” it is something I profoundly believe in.

How do I look back on all this?  Well, I could sum it up in this way “true love has no need of lawyers.”  Jesus had no time for them and in my experience, on both sides of the fence, lawyers are only brought in when sadly love has been ejected.

On a personal note, what God has shown me, following that Bradford Cathedral lunchtime, has been a roller coaster of experiences which have been exhilarating, humbling and at times, inspiring.  And I would not have missed any of it.