Page 20 - NewsandViews 2023 whole publication

Journal extract II

The truth of Zen approaches. The truth of the unfolding, joyous, decaying, rose. The glorious triumph of
transience. An insight wherein life's major problems pale into insignificance at the wonder and beauty of
a flower, symbolising fragile eternity which is always refreshing itself. A time when striving is seen in its
irrelevance, when the inner flower blossoms in its carefree way, when grace eases through the organism
from the inside. It cannot be owned or controlled, but it belongs to the interior. When inspired by some
unknowable process it fuses with the universe, here symbolised by a rose. It can well up, it does not have
to be received from without, but to be meaningful it has to link with that unknowable outside,
impenetrable other.

Journal extract III

During the day – a particularly busy and complex Area Meeting – I reflected somewhat negatively on
yesterday's entry. [On my relationship with that which is called God] Yet, on re-reading it, it feels real.
Genuine. Not necessarily true – what, indeed, is true – but it came from somewhere. It was not
manufactured. I am reminded of the dangers of solitary exploration of such matters. Whence comes the
source? Is it benign or malign? One answer which comes, amongst the memory of past wonderings of the
possible need of a spiritual director; that answer is that of the creative artist. By all means listen to others.
By all means be open to alternatives. However, in the end there is a need to trust oneself. Not in terms of
one's own abilities, but, in the absence of compelling evidence that the source is malign, to trust the
source. Even if, as was quoted today, you may be ignoring the last line of advices and Queries No17.

I have fished in these waters before. This may be my last opportunity to do so. Not because, I hope, the
end of my earthly life is imminent. Because the world has a tendency to distract me from that river.
Fishing is a poor analogy. It is not an active process. It is a waiting for what may be revealed, what may be
deposited, there to be found within oneself. And that waiting involves a consistent awareness of an
inhibiting fear. The fear of being overwhelmed by what may be sown within. This fear includes what may
be the cost of surrender, but also the cost by not surrendering and the bleak words “it is now too late”.
The phrase “his/her race is run” on death haunts me when I hear it. It brings with it a sense of finality that
the sins of omission accompany you to your grave. I have for some reason always believed that the sins of
commission are lesser, in that we can temporarily be tempted/swayed or whatever to do things which
normally we would not do, because of awareness that they are wrong. Wilfully not to do something when
there is no evidence that it is wrong and it may in fact be good seems to be a greater sin.

Surrender, prompting, associated with death and sin does not feel comfortable. Words get in the way. All
religious bodies have set forms of words. One Quaker phrase, “what does love require” is relevant from
yesterday's entry. Yet it does not speak to me. (Another, Quaker phrase “What does love call you to do?”
means the same as what does love require but I find that easier to respond to) Transposed to “What does
God call you to do” is effectively the same, as God is love. But there is a hint of grandiosity about it. There
is an awkward, painful contradiction in Christian teaching. The self-abasement stemming from the
doctrine of original sin and the elevation of being made in the image of God. These two extremes hold
great dangers: the paralysis of believing one is wretched in the one, the grandiosity of concentrating on
the other. Yes, the familiar realm of paradox, yet where do the opposites meet? It is safer to be unworthy,
but it is also crippling. And depressing. To dare to look upon the concept, even modestly stated by
Quakers in the words “That of God in everyone”, that we can in any way be compared to God risks
psychosis. Yet “calling” implies a capacity to sense some aspect of God's mind, even if in the proverbial
mirrored darkness.

20