There is nothing quite like having to pack and unpack all your gear every day to remind you how important the physical universe is in your life.
Today Cardiff, yesterday Bristol, the day before Bath, and before that Oxford and Cambridge.
Arrive unpack, do the gig. Pack up, go to wherever you're staying, unpack, sleep, pack up.
Leave anything behind and there is no picking it up as you are probably 200 miles away before you realise it.
We are so dependant on all that material kit. And yet when you do leave something behind (flip charts once, phone charge once) you find you can do without it.
(Actually, that,s not strictly true, on Friday I drove for half an hour to recover my phone charger as I did not think I could do without it!).
I feel panicky when I am loading up, worried that there is a mistake about to happen.
I feel that I have to over-compensate for my possible lack of attention, and that makes me feel stressful.
Then there is the travelling (hopefully not dying) delivering the presentation (hopefully not dying) and generally keeping body and soul together.
It all seems quite a schlep.
But then I am reminded of that old Midland Bank commercial (old admen never die, they just use ads as divine wisdom). "Do what you do best, let the Midland do the rest, and your part of a winning team" - amazing how it is still there.
If you just do what you do, as well as you can, and trust that the universe is a friendly place (as Einstein suggested), then things generally work out.
You can only take life one second at a time. Try to think much further than that, and you enter the realm of speculation. What if.... what might....or perhaps..., and you're off with the fairies.
It is a good lesson to remember that the planet looks after itself, and so do our lives, if we let them.
So we just have to stop worrying, and get on with whatever is in front of us.
The rest can take care of itself
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Life on the road
At Starbucks in Middlesbrough availing myself of their free WiFi as I travel between Manchester and Teesside Universities on the northern leg of my Book Tour.
I say 'book tour', but that is too grand for the series of small meetings that I am driving hundreds of miles to attend.
I went for University Chaplaincies, as they seemed organisations who might want a bit of 'left field' thinking to drum up a crowd of a few more than the usual suspects.
But invitation and happenstance has broadened my destinations to include church groups and meditation collectives.
It is a strange sensation to head off onto the motorway, leaving loving family behind and drive towards who knows what. Strange people, strange beds, stranger loos and bathrooms. I take my own pillows to make sure that I at least have the chance of a good night's sleep.
But so far the hospitality of my hosts have been amazing. Kind people willing to open their homes to a strange man they have never met, feed him, talk to him, and deliver him to the venue. They have all provided lovely food and an understanding of some of what it means to be 'on the road'.
It is, however, a humbling experience to arrive at a destination with a car load of flip charts and aids to the sort of spiritual giggery-pockery that constitutes and evening of 'Developing Consciousness', only to be confronted by a crowd of 9. All who are as embarrassed as you are by the paucity of their numbers.
We all consider whether or not the evening might have been a mistake both in the 'putting on' and in the 'deciding to go to'.
But nevertheless you are in blood stepped in so far, and so you go ahead. You raise the hammer, like Thor, and bring it crashing down to work the magic. And sure enough, with only 9 present the light comes out and we are all transformed, however briefly, by the glimpse of the eternal that we all catch and marvel at, before shuffling off into the night to go our separate ways.
But it is not all like that. There were 33 in Leeds, two groups of 18 and 10 in Loughborough and the same 20 people turned out twice in Wells, Norfolk.
It may sound a bit dispiriting and small, but there is a strange sort of satisfaction in setting up camp, displaying one's wares and then for people to be really quite kind in their responses.
Which is not to say that you do not doubt the efficacy of what you are up to. In other words, you sometimes think you must be bonkers.
Travelling round the country peddling a kind of pseudo-intellectual culturally relevant take on the nature of reality, and why there is a force for good behind everything, and why that makes all the difference.
As you pull into another motorway service station and pour £60 into the tank that you are not sure you will get back as 'expenses', you do begin to doubt it all.
You continue doubting as you roll up to the next 'hosts' house, as you are driven, like the condemned man, to the venue; As you clear away the mess of a University function room to make it presentable, and as you wait for the 9-33 people to arrive.
It is only when you spring to your feet with a 'good evening everyone' that the blood begins to flow and out of nowhere the road ahead seems clear, and you have all the gears you could possibly want to enjoy the ride.
Roll on Teesside University 12.15 tomorrow.
I say 'book tour', but that is too grand for the series of small meetings that I am driving hundreds of miles to attend.
I went for University Chaplaincies, as they seemed organisations who might want a bit of 'left field' thinking to drum up a crowd of a few more than the usual suspects.
But invitation and happenstance has broadened my destinations to include church groups and meditation collectives.
It is a strange sensation to head off onto the motorway, leaving loving family behind and drive towards who knows what. Strange people, strange beds, stranger loos and bathrooms. I take my own pillows to make sure that I at least have the chance of a good night's sleep.
But so far the hospitality of my hosts have been amazing. Kind people willing to open their homes to a strange man they have never met, feed him, talk to him, and deliver him to the venue. They have all provided lovely food and an understanding of some of what it means to be 'on the road'.
It is, however, a humbling experience to arrive at a destination with a car load of flip charts and aids to the sort of spiritual giggery-pockery that constitutes and evening of 'Developing Consciousness', only to be confronted by a crowd of 9. All who are as embarrassed as you are by the paucity of their numbers.
We all consider whether or not the evening might have been a mistake both in the 'putting on' and in the 'deciding to go to'.
But nevertheless you are in blood stepped in so far, and so you go ahead. You raise the hammer, like Thor, and bring it crashing down to work the magic. And sure enough, with only 9 present the light comes out and we are all transformed, however briefly, by the glimpse of the eternal that we all catch and marvel at, before shuffling off into the night to go our separate ways.
But it is not all like that. There were 33 in Leeds, two groups of 18 and 10 in Loughborough and the same 20 people turned out twice in Wells, Norfolk.
It may sound a bit dispiriting and small, but there is a strange sort of satisfaction in setting up camp, displaying one's wares and then for people to be really quite kind in their responses.
Which is not to say that you do not doubt the efficacy of what you are up to. In other words, you sometimes think you must be bonkers.
Travelling round the country peddling a kind of pseudo-intellectual culturally relevant take on the nature of reality, and why there is a force for good behind everything, and why that makes all the difference.
As you pull into another motorway service station and pour £60 into the tank that you are not sure you will get back as 'expenses', you do begin to doubt it all.
You continue doubting as you roll up to the next 'hosts' house, as you are driven, like the condemned man, to the venue; As you clear away the mess of a University function room to make it presentable, and as you wait for the 9-33 people to arrive.
It is only when you spring to your feet with a 'good evening everyone' that the blood begins to flow and out of nowhere the road ahead seems clear, and you have all the gears you could possibly want to enjoy the ride.
Roll on Teesside University 12.15 tomorrow.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Quo Vadis?
It takes patience to recognise the path that is laid out for us to take in life. As Robert Frost said in his famous poem "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both".
We get a choice, if we look hard enough.
Most of the time we do not look, we just take the road of common sense. But if we look, there is always the other path available - the path of love.
Less obvious, more difficult, yet once perceived it is the only one that we can take, while maintaining our integrity.
It may be harder, but it will take us somewhere we could never have imagined.
It is the path that can only be seen when you are looking with love in your heart, because it is prepared for you by that which is infinite. It is the path you were meant to take.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
And sorry I could not travel both".
We get a choice, if we look hard enough.
Most of the time we do not look, we just take the road of common sense. But if we look, there is always the other path available - the path of love.
Less obvious, more difficult, yet once perceived it is the only one that we can take, while maintaining our integrity.
It may be harder, but it will take us somewhere we could never have imagined.
It is the path that can only be seen when you are looking with love in your heart, because it is prepared for you by that which is infinite. It is the path you were meant to take.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Tuesday, 27 September 2011
Don't worry, be effective.
Living with uncertainty is never fun. I much prefer to know what is going on, or more's the point, what is going to happen.
Right now I'm not clear about either.
And yet that unclarity does not seem to impose itself on the present moment.
When I do not think about it, things just present themselves to be done:
Have breakfast, go to my desk, do some writing, make phone calls.
The great scheme of things does not have a huge bearing on the day to day.
So why the worry?
I think it is my desire to be in control. To know is to be in control. So when I do not know, I feel out of control.
In the same way as 'if you look after the pennies, the pounds will look after themselves', if you look after the moments as they go by, so the future will look after itself.
I can't do anything about the future. I can do something about the day ahead: Be conscientious, do my best, be optimistic. Just thinking that way makes me feel better.
We spend so much time worrying about the things we cannot effect, but which might happen. Much better to stop worrying and do something positive.
There, blog written. Good positive start for the day.
Right now I'm not clear about either.
And yet that unclarity does not seem to impose itself on the present moment.
When I do not think about it, things just present themselves to be done:
Have breakfast, go to my desk, do some writing, make phone calls.
The great scheme of things does not have a huge bearing on the day to day.
So why the worry?
I think it is my desire to be in control. To know is to be in control. So when I do not know, I feel out of control.
In the same way as 'if you look after the pennies, the pounds will look after themselves', if you look after the moments as they go by, so the future will look after itself.
I can't do anything about the future. I can do something about the day ahead: Be conscientious, do my best, be optimistic. Just thinking that way makes me feel better.
We spend so much time worrying about the things we cannot effect, but which might happen. Much better to stop worrying and do something positive.
There, blog written. Good positive start for the day.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
How to discover what you are meant to be doing in life.
How to navigate your way through life? It is surely a key question.
Most of us take bearings on our situation, and then set a course and plough on. Our minds control the action.
I can honestly say that from the age of 19 I have decided what I wanted to do, and then gone out and tried to do it.
Sometimes I succeeded, and sometimes I did not. But in all cases the journey was pretty much an exercise of will: Attempting to impose my will on the circumstances that confronted me in order to make the best of those circumstances.
Nothing really wrong with that, except that the great limiting factor in the whole equation was the extent of my own imagination. All my horizons were set at the limits of that imagination, and as a result they were severely limited.
When your mind is running the show, it can only ever create that which it has some experience of. And therefore it always tries to make life conform to what it believes it to be.
If it thinks that people are unreliable, it will gather evidence to that effect.
If it thinks that life is unfair, it will find the proof.
Therefore a life that is controlled by the limited imagination of our minds will always be limited to the capacity of our minds.
I have begun to try to let go of my mind’s insistence on what it thinks I should do, and open up to seeing what life out there wants me to do.
The difference is subtle. It involves taking bearings on my situation as before, but then not setting a course, but simply taking more bearings and allowing the wind to take me where it will: Allowing life to lead me to the actions that I need to take, rather than dictating those actions and trying to make life conform.
The key to acting like this is to give our lives the credit of having a natural intelligence that will guide us into the right place at the right time, if we will let it happen.
We have to give up the desire to control, and simply allow things to happen.
That is not to say that one should take no definite action; just that once action has been taken, we then review the situation, rather than deciding what to do next.
It means holding our ultimate goals lightly, and willing to change them as circumstances unfold. Not always deciding what one wants to do beforehand, and then ploughing on regardless.
Doing this frees us from the limits of our imagination and gives us whole new horizons that we could never have thought of on our own.
Life then becomes more like a voyage of discovery, rather than a race that has to be won.
Most of us take bearings on our situation, and then set a course and plough on. Our minds control the action.
I can honestly say that from the age of 19 I have decided what I wanted to do, and then gone out and tried to do it.
Sometimes I succeeded, and sometimes I did not. But in all cases the journey was pretty much an exercise of will: Attempting to impose my will on the circumstances that confronted me in order to make the best of those circumstances.
Nothing really wrong with that, except that the great limiting factor in the whole equation was the extent of my own imagination. All my horizons were set at the limits of that imagination, and as a result they were severely limited.
When your mind is running the show, it can only ever create that which it has some experience of. And therefore it always tries to make life conform to what it believes it to be.
If it thinks that people are unreliable, it will gather evidence to that effect.
If it thinks that life is unfair, it will find the proof.
Therefore a life that is controlled by the limited imagination of our minds will always be limited to the capacity of our minds.
I have begun to try to let go of my mind’s insistence on what it thinks I should do, and open up to seeing what life out there wants me to do.
The difference is subtle. It involves taking bearings on my situation as before, but then not setting a course, but simply taking more bearings and allowing the wind to take me where it will: Allowing life to lead me to the actions that I need to take, rather than dictating those actions and trying to make life conform.
The key to acting like this is to give our lives the credit of having a natural intelligence that will guide us into the right place at the right time, if we will let it happen.
We have to give up the desire to control, and simply allow things to happen.
That is not to say that one should take no definite action; just that once action has been taken, we then review the situation, rather than deciding what to do next.
It means holding our ultimate goals lightly, and willing to change them as circumstances unfold. Not always deciding what one wants to do beforehand, and then ploughing on regardless.
Doing this frees us from the limits of our imagination and gives us whole new horizons that we could never have thought of on our own.
Life then becomes more like a voyage of discovery, rather than a race that has to be won.
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Do people really change?
I’d never been interested in religion. I always saw the church as the bag lady of spirituality, wheeling around a load of old tat for no obvious reason. I preferred a large joint, an available woman or the rush of a career that aimed for the top.
I began in broadcasting, working alongside the young Turks of the 70s such as Kate Adie and Jennie Murray at the BBC in Bristol. But when I found myself lacking in the necessary talent to really make it big, I switched my attention to the dark arts of advertising (more smoke and mirrors to hide behind than in broadcasting), and ended up at Saatchi and Saatchi in the late 1970s.
My long term goals included a Bentley Continental, a large property in the sun, and enough money to use whenever I couldn’t get no satisfaction.
So it is with some surprise that I find myself 30 years later living in a small vicarage in Norfolk working as a vicar with a wife and two young children. I have less money now that at any time in my life, and yet I have never felt richer.
Do people really change? It is a question that still needs a clear answer. But in my case I can see a definite before and after. Before in my flat in Notting Hill Gate, at the Carnival with a party on the balcony overlooking the police barracks in the school below; joints all over the place, the stereo blaring out ‘Let it be’ in the vain hope that we could lessen any potential for violence.
Today making marmalade, while the children plant sunflowers in the garden, ready to show at the Harvest Festival Service.
Where did it all go right?
Well, of course, I had a conversion. First the obligatory trip to the Himalayas, then the Damascus road and ‘seeing the light’ (you really do see light actually!), and finally the dreadful realisation that I was becoming a Christian (a crushing blow to my self image and having the same effect as the bubonic plague on my friends).
Goodbye advertising (in spite of Tim Bell’s attempts to appeal to my sanity), hello Jesus.
Do I regret it? Not a moment of it. Someone the other day accused me of being content. And I had to own up to it. Gone was the ravenous black hole of need that consumed anything in its wake: drugs, drink, women, cars, music, shopping, holidays, and acclaim. Anything that promised to satisfy, but never did. And in the place of ‘getting what you want’, was ‘wanting what you get’.
Albert Einstein was once asked “What is the most important question you can ask of life?” and he answered ,“The most important question you could ask would be “Is the universe a friendly place or not?” Being able to answer ‘yes’ to that question changes everything. You are no longer fighting life, you are working with it. You may have various problems and issues, but if the universe is a friendly place and you cooperate with it, then what was previously dysfunctional becomes ordered.
A Buddhist friend once told me that the purpose of practicing Buddhism was to live life more skilfully. Somehow I had stumbled upon a way of doing that – God knows how.
When you accept that the circumstances of your life are in some way the means you have for transforming yourself, rather than something you have to fight against, everything becomes a lot easier.
It didn’t all happen at once, but gradually I noticed how I was less driven, and appreciated what came my way more. True, I lost most of my old friends and ran out of money, but I gradually began to recover my love of life. I was happier with less.
Accepted as a priest in the Church of England I went to train at Durham University. Finding myself slightly pissed at a Fresher’s fair at the age of 40 was very liberating. I joined ‘dramsoc’, acted in Romeo and Juliet, began reading the Guardian in Cafés and was elected President of the college. It was as if I was starting adult life over again and I was being given a second shot at it.
I met my wife in my first parish and married after 46 years of being single (Kingsley Amis once said the male libido was like being chained to a lunatic for 50 years). I have never been happier.
I do experience being a changed person. Deep down I am of course the same, but it is the way I have learnt to negotiate my way through life that has changed.
Someone once said that after 30 a man has nothing to learn from success, but everything to learn from failure. I think I know what they mean now.
I began in broadcasting, working alongside the young Turks of the 70s such as Kate Adie and Jennie Murray at the BBC in Bristol. But when I found myself lacking in the necessary talent to really make it big, I switched my attention to the dark arts of advertising (more smoke and mirrors to hide behind than in broadcasting), and ended up at Saatchi and Saatchi in the late 1970s.
My long term goals included a Bentley Continental, a large property in the sun, and enough money to use whenever I couldn’t get no satisfaction.
So it is with some surprise that I find myself 30 years later living in a small vicarage in Norfolk working as a vicar with a wife and two young children. I have less money now that at any time in my life, and yet I have never felt richer.
Do people really change? It is a question that still needs a clear answer. But in my case I can see a definite before and after. Before in my flat in Notting Hill Gate, at the Carnival with a party on the balcony overlooking the police barracks in the school below; joints all over the place, the stereo blaring out ‘Let it be’ in the vain hope that we could lessen any potential for violence.
Today making marmalade, while the children plant sunflowers in the garden, ready to show at the Harvest Festival Service.
Where did it all go right?
Well, of course, I had a conversion. First the obligatory trip to the Himalayas, then the Damascus road and ‘seeing the light’ (you really do see light actually!), and finally the dreadful realisation that I was becoming a Christian (a crushing blow to my self image and having the same effect as the bubonic plague on my friends).
Goodbye advertising (in spite of Tim Bell’s attempts to appeal to my sanity), hello Jesus.
Do I regret it? Not a moment of it. Someone the other day accused me of being content. And I had to own up to it. Gone was the ravenous black hole of need that consumed anything in its wake: drugs, drink, women, cars, music, shopping, holidays, and acclaim. Anything that promised to satisfy, but never did. And in the place of ‘getting what you want’, was ‘wanting what you get’.
Albert Einstein was once asked “What is the most important question you can ask of life?” and he answered ,“The most important question you could ask would be “Is the universe a friendly place or not?” Being able to answer ‘yes’ to that question changes everything. You are no longer fighting life, you are working with it. You may have various problems and issues, but if the universe is a friendly place and you cooperate with it, then what was previously dysfunctional becomes ordered.
A Buddhist friend once told me that the purpose of practicing Buddhism was to live life more skilfully. Somehow I had stumbled upon a way of doing that – God knows how.
When you accept that the circumstances of your life are in some way the means you have for transforming yourself, rather than something you have to fight against, everything becomes a lot easier.
It didn’t all happen at once, but gradually I noticed how I was less driven, and appreciated what came my way more. True, I lost most of my old friends and ran out of money, but I gradually began to recover my love of life. I was happier with less.
Accepted as a priest in the Church of England I went to train at Durham University. Finding myself slightly pissed at a Fresher’s fair at the age of 40 was very liberating. I joined ‘dramsoc’, acted in Romeo and Juliet, began reading the Guardian in Cafés and was elected President of the college. It was as if I was starting adult life over again and I was being given a second shot at it.
I met my wife in my first parish and married after 46 years of being single (Kingsley Amis once said the male libido was like being chained to a lunatic for 50 years). I have never been happier.
I do experience being a changed person. Deep down I am of course the same, but it is the way I have learnt to negotiate my way through life that has changed.
Someone once said that after 30 a man has nothing to learn from success, but everything to learn from failure. I think I know what they mean now.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
First book launch for ‘Developing Consciousness’.
I was pretty nervous beforehand – not quite knowing what to expect, or how to approach it.
Arrived mob-handed with wife, mother, sister in law and two children (anything to make up the numbers!).
The event was at the Christian Resource Centre in Norwich. They kindly provided wine, juice and crisps (most of them ‘hoovered up’ by my children, aged 5 and 7).
To begin with it’s like throwing a party and wondering if anyone will turn up. All those books spread out waiting to be bought, and the staff hoping that they have not laid it all on just for the author’s family.
But no, people began arriving at about 6.45 and it sort of turned into a drinks party with me rushing about trying to chat while keeping one eye on the door to make sure I welcomed any new arrivals.
By 7.15 there were about 70 people there (phew, thank you for all of you that came) and I got up to speak.
I kept it to 10 minutes with a couple of readings, and then left the stage while I was still ahead.
It was weird signing the books. I wasn’t quite sure when to just sign my name, and when to put a message in it. Still don’t know if I got it right.
But people were really kind, and I think we sold between 40 and 50 books.
It all ended at about 8.30, then it was home for large drink.
It is difficult to gauge how well it is going down as no one has read it yet. It is that blissful time between the launch and the reviews. Then people start telling you what they really think!
So it’s on to Waterstone’s next Tuesday for the second Norwich Launch!
Arrived mob-handed with wife, mother, sister in law and two children (anything to make up the numbers!).
The event was at the Christian Resource Centre in Norwich. They kindly provided wine, juice and crisps (most of them ‘hoovered up’ by my children, aged 5 and 7).
To begin with it’s like throwing a party and wondering if anyone will turn up. All those books spread out waiting to be bought, and the staff hoping that they have not laid it all on just for the author’s family.
But no, people began arriving at about 6.45 and it sort of turned into a drinks party with me rushing about trying to chat while keeping one eye on the door to make sure I welcomed any new arrivals.
By 7.15 there were about 70 people there (phew, thank you for all of you that came) and I got up to speak.
I kept it to 10 minutes with a couple of readings, and then left the stage while I was still ahead.
It was weird signing the books. I wasn’t quite sure when to just sign my name, and when to put a message in it. Still don’t know if I got it right.
But people were really kind, and I think we sold between 40 and 50 books.
It all ended at about 8.30, then it was home for large drink.
It is difficult to gauge how well it is going down as no one has read it yet. It is that blissful time between the launch and the reviews. Then people start telling you what they really think!
So it’s on to Waterstone’s next Tuesday for the second Norwich Launch!
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