Derby, Brighton, London

It's been a full few days on my English 'tour' - with much to enjoy and think about.

On Friday, I caught the train up to Derby for a combined conference of the UK national community and Meditatio Seminar on the theme of Contemplative Christianity. The main speaker was Professor Bernard McGinn from the University of Chicago. He is a well-known and extraordinarily learned scholar of the mystical or contemplative tradition in Western Christianity, and his talks were rich and yet evidently grounded in the lived experience of prayer. Unfortunately, I have no photographs of this part of the trip, since I was inside a conference centre for most of it!

I gave two workshops on the Saturday on the theme of Being a Contemplative Church, and was able to share in some detail about our life at Benedictus and what we are learning about the vocation of a contemplative church. People were very interested and engaged - lots of questions and wonderings about the possibility of developing like communities in different ecclesial settings, and so that was encouraging and thought provoking.

I returned to London on Sunday afternoon, and then on Monday caught the train to Brighton on the southern coast. Here's the sea-front merry-go-round just off the rather grey shingle beach!

I came to visit Rev. Philip Roderick who is the founder of another contemplative group called Contemplative Fire - established under the auspices of the Anglican church's Fresh Expressions movement in the UK about 15 years ago. Contemplative Fire describes itself as a 'dispersed community of Christ at the edge, inviting us into transformative awareness', and it runs events and services in conjunction with churches (I think mostly Anglican) throughout the UK. We arranged to meet to talk about the whole notion of contemplative Christianity and had a great conversation and sharing of perspectives.

Afterwards, I met with a friend and member of the WCCM who lives in Brighton and who showed me some of the sights, including the famous Brighton Pavilion - built by the Prince Regent (later George IV) in the 18th century as a kind of folly for himself and his court.

The outside looks Mogul influenced - apparently the inside is more Chinese inspired!

We wandered a bit in the Brighton lanes, where there are lots of jewellery and antique shops, as well as an over the top (perhaps inspired by the Prince Regent) chocolate shop. These, would you believe, are highly decorated chocolate cakes - with a rather improbably tropical seaside theme - octopus, mermaid and flamingos!

After that, came a walk along the promenade,

with views of an extensive windfarm out to sea,

and of course, the appetising looking Brighton beach itself!

Back in London last night was the Meditatio event called One in Christ: Why do LGBTQI people feel rejected by the churches, at which I spoke with James Alison. It was a great evening and a privilege to share the event with him. Here we are afterwards.

My time here is nearing its end - I've got one more major event to do - Silence in the City at Westminster Cathedral Hall on Saturday - and before that on Friday, I go up to Oxford to visit some old haunts. I'll keep you posted!

One last link - a picture of me walking on Hadrian's Wall 10 days ago, taken by Father Laurence and featured on the WCCM Daily Wisdom page recently!
https://us4.campaign-archive.com/?u=c3f683a744ee71a2a6032f4bc&id=30d55c75ea

Shalom,
Sarah

London and Bath

I've been staying in London at Meditatio House - where are small community of two oblates with the Christian Meditation community lives permanently and hosts guests and visitors (like me) who visit from time to time. We're in Cloudesley Square - a lovely quiet spot in north London, in which the wisteria is trailing over door-frames and it's been possible to sit out in the garden in some lovely warm spring weather. I'm with Elba, from Colombia, and Henriette, from Holland, is taking the photo.

I've spent most of my time inside at my desk, wrestling somewhat with the talk that I'll be giving next week in London, at an event with James Alison. It has been a bit of a wrestle, but I think it's finally coming!

Then yesterday I travelled to Bath on the train and gave a talk at an evening organised by the meditation community there. I walked from the station up the edge of the lovely River Avon.

To my surprise, about 100 people came to the talk. My topic was 'Contemplative Christianity for the World Today' with significant reference to the experience of Benedictus! There were lots of questions and interest, and it was great to have the chance to articulate some of what we are learning and what it might mean for churches in the future.

This morning, I got to sightsee a little in Bath - and what a beautiful city it is. This pub was across the road from where I was staying - I took the shot in honour of Neil on Camino, trudging through Moorish Spain!

Next stop was Bath Abbey - originally a Benedictine foundation from the 8th century.

On the facade by the main door was something I've never seen before on a cathedral - a depiction of Jacob's ladder, and the 'angels ascending and descending' (though mostly they seemed to be ascending!).

Lots of memorial inscriptions on the walls and the floor (under which the 'remains' lie) - this one took my fancy particularly.

Inside, there was the most glorious fan vaulted ceiling.

And then, of course, I was off to take the waters - the Roman baths.

A small amount of Jane Austen nostalgia ensued - a visit to the Pump Room, the Assembly Rooms and the famous Circle of beautiful Georgian townhouses!

I'm now safely back in London - and tomorrow head up to Derby - where there's a weekend seminar on Christian mysticism, at which again I'm giving a workshop on our experience of being a contemplative church.

I send my warm greetings to you all for this coming weekend, and much love.

Shalom,
Sarah

The North

Ten days into my UK foray, this is a belated first blog post! I've been travelling around with intermittent wifi, and I've also had trouble with my camera battery. In fact, I thought it had died and it's meant I haven't been able to take as many scenic photos as I otherwise would have wanted to share. However, that problem now seems solved, so I'm hoping I'll be able to share more of the next part of the trip.

But let me backtrack a bit!  I arrived in London to chilly spring weather. I am staying at Meditatio House where a small oblate community of the World Community for Christian Meditation is resident. There is meditation three times a day in the lovely meditation room overlooking the garden.

The hanging on the wall in the meditation room was a gift from the Dalai Lama to the community - it depicts a beautiful nativity scene in Eastern idiom - and is a sign of the Dalai Lama's friendship with Father Laurence and our fellowship in contemplation.

The next day I was on a train up to Penrith in Cumbria (the Lakes district) - though I got to see a little of the beautiful gardens in Regents Park on the way to the station.

The countryside in the Lakes District was extraordinarily beautiful, and I MUCH regretted my malfunctioning camera. But a couple of glimpses were had.

The retreat day I led in Windermere went well, and then I repeated the same talks the next day in Northumbria on the other side of the Pennines. In both places, I was beautifully looked after by the meditators in those areas and it is wonderful to make these connections and feel we're embarked on the same work.

Next stop was also in Northumberland - the retreat centre of Minsteracres - where I was helping Father Laurence with an intensive eight day silent retreat for about 30 people. This is an international retreat for meditators, and involved eight meditation periods per day as well as contemplative walking and short spiritual direction sessions with each participant. The way the quality of the silence deepened over the week was very noticeable and I found it personally really renewing and helpful.

The retreat finished yesterday afternoon, and Father Laurence took me and a couple of other 'foreigners' to visit Hadrian's Wall before we left the north. That was a lovely experience (and the weather has finally warmed up) - though a little confusing. There were so many dry stone walls in the sheep paddocks that we couldn't work out which wall we were supposed to be admiring! (we did figure it out eventually!)

I'm now back in Meditatio House in London, and doing some work towards the next round of engagements.

I have been mindful of the Benedictus community gathering this Saturday and holding you in my heart. I send my love to you all and blessings for this coming week.

Shalom,
Sarah

Regenerative Living

I've just read Kate Raworth's brilliant book, Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st Century Economist (Random House, 2017).

Among many profoundly hopeful possibilities the book opens up, one that's particularly struck me is the possibility that economies could be what she calls 'regenerative by design'. That is, instead of assuming that 'efficient' economic activity must function to exploit all available resources (human and natural) to their full extent, regenerative human activity is designed to 'be generous' and to 'give back to the living systems of which we are a part' (p.218). Elsewhere she speaks about the built-in redundancy in natural systems, which means that things aren't always operating at full stretch but have some capacity to absorb shocks to the system or 'lean' periods. In a similar vein, Charles Massey in The Call of the Reed Warbler: A New Agriculture for a New Earth speaks of 'regenerative farming' and others speak of 'regenerative cities'.

All this seems to me to offer something incredibly important for thinking about what both social and ecological justice entails in our context, and for the kind of societal transformation we wish to see. Part of what I hope for Benedictus as we enter into a new year, is that we may be part of fostering this kind of conversation and community.

What strikes me also is how deeply congruent this is with our vocation as a contemplative community, since contemplation is itself a radically 'regenerative' practice. On the one hand, it invites me to trust that there is 'redundancy' in the ecology of my own life - that I've got time and space to 'do nothing' in the presence of God. Here we notice that 'redundancy' and 'abundance' are essentially the same - and the invitation is to 'be generous'. And on the other hand, as the practice itself brings us more deeply into contact with the endlessly regenerative livingness of God, we find our 'abundance' increasing, being renewed from the inside (springs of living water that never run dry, Jesus said).

This Wednesday retreat is one of the expressions of this 'redundancy' and this commitment to live 'regeneratively', abundantly and generously in my own life. I don't always manage to blog about it, even if I've 'made' the retreat. I will try to do better in that regard this year. But in this first retreat for 2018, I commit again to trust this time and space, to be faithful to it, in the hope and prayer that it is a gift not only to me but to our common life.

Shalom,
Sarah

New Contemplative Leaders Exchange

From August 14-18, I had the extraordinary privilege of participating in a gathering of contemplative scholars and practitioners from seven countries, meeting at St Benedict's Cistercian Monastery in Snowmass, Colorado.

This is the chapel in the retreat centre where we spent much of our time.

And here it is in context - in a protected valley populated by deer, chipmunks, humming birds and a monastic community of silent prayer (photo by Vladimir Volrab).

We had been gathered at the invitation of four teachers recognised as being at the forefront of the Western Christian contemplative renewal: the Cistercian Thomas Keating (Contemplative Outreach), Benedictine Laurence Freeman (World Community for Christian Meditation), Franciscan Richard Rohr (Center for Action and Contemplation), and Rev. Tilden Edwards (Shalem Institute).

In 2016, these four 'founders' had met together for the first time and, united by their shared commitment to the Christian contemplative tradition and concern for the healing of our world, they resolved to gather a group of younger leaders from their respective communities for what was called the 'New Contemplative Leaders Exchange'. I was participating at the invitation of Laurence Freeman, and I formed part of the WCCM group which comprised five members in total - Karen from the USA, Leonardo from Brazil, Vladimir from the Czech Republic and Sicco from the Netherlands.

It was an amazing privilege to be part of this conversation, the point of which wasn't so much to come up with an 'action plan', but to get to know one another, to share from the resources of our different traditions and communities, and to be open to listen to what might be being called forth and how we might participate with each other.

One important insight to emerge, I think, was the sense that whereas the contemplative renewal had been pioneered by our four founders, each developing his own approach and community, the next phase of the contemplative movement would be more cross-communal and collaborative. It was deeply encouraging to meet with others who are exploring how the contemplative gift and way of life might be opened up for the healing of the world, and participants were involved in such varied callings as offering contemplation for activists, ecological awareness, contemplation in parish life, contemplative theology, inter-spiritual practice, contemplation and justice, and contemplation in daily life.

Others who participated have written some of their reflections on the time, particularly Phileena Heueurtz from Gravity: Center for Contemplative Activism [http://gravitycenter.com/learn/reflect] and Stuart Higginbotham, rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia [http://mindfulchurch.wordpress.com/the-new-contemplatives-exchange/].

Here are some of us walking from the retreat centre towards the monastery for Mass - the monastery hidden in the trees on the left side of the picture (photo by Vladimir Volrab).

There was much interest in the life of our Benedictus community and what we are discovering about being a contemplative church. Personally, I came away nourished and deepened in my own meditation practice, as well as strongly confirmed in my calling to Benedictus and our life together.

Although we left without a concrete plan for what is 'next' for the Contemplative Leaders Exchange, we all had the sense that we are at the beginning of something - that we will continue to be in touch, and that in the Spirit's good time, what is emerging will become clearer.

I am so grateful for the gift of this time and the opportunity to form friendships across the world. One of our participants, Mark Kutolowski from Metanoia of Vermont, put it this way:

'I left feeling incredibly humbled by the deep trust of these four contemplative elders - trust in the Holy Spirit's work in our generation and in the world. In our group I saw people who have committed their lives to building on the founders' insights, and who seek to bring the gifts of contemplation to effect bodily transformation and profound social change. I feel great joy in being part of a community of love who experiences contemplation as central to the Christian story, and is ready to support the larger body of Christ in growing in prayerful intimacy with God'.

Shalom,
Sarah

The Winter of Listening

This is a stanza from David Whyte's poem, 'The Winter of Listening'.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.

Last Friday, we were in Sydney for The Art of Meditation and Dadirri - the conversation between Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr and Laurence Freeman.

Speaking of dadirri, Miriam-Rose expressed something very similar to Whyte. She describes dadirri as the kind of listening and awareness that nourishes the soul, heals wounds, generates belonging and connectedness, appreciation and gratitude. It is both a practice and a state of being.

This Wednesday, I spent my retreat time in the Botanic Gardens. Despite it being busier than usual (school holidays), I found a quiet path to walk around the edge of the gardens and found myself almost immediately quietened too. I am always slightly astonished at how deeply nourishing it is to take this time and to discover again this incredible gift so ready at hand. All we need to do to receive it is to let ourselves pay attention, slow down, open our eyes to the beauty of the world.

It was a frosty, cold morning; the sky was that clear winter blue and the light and shadow fell strongly on the trees and their extraordinary, multi-coloured bark.

I saw a pair of wood ducks fly into the trees. At first I thought the sound I could hear was a baby kookaburra trying his vocal chords, but then realised it was the female wood duck calling in a constant 'laughing' kind of sound. I wondered if they were checking out nesting sites for the spring.

And as I was getting towards the end, there was this little soul - looking like his tail was starting to turn blue.

The blessing of listening.

Shalom,
Sarah

Dadirri

Next Friday I will have the privilege of being part of a conversation between Laurence Freeman and Aboriginal elder Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr in Sydney. The idea is to explore the connections between Christian contemplation and 'dadirri' - which Miriam-Rose has described as 'inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness'. Miriam-Rose speaks of practising dadirri particularly when she is in nature - when she sits on a riverbank or walks through trees.

The sense of dadirri was present for me this Wednesday. The morning was foggy and cold, but I was drawn to walk on Black Mountain. We'd heard recently of a walk starting half-way up the mountain and I went looking for it.

Well, I don't think I found the one I'd been told of, but I entered instead upon another one - Lakeview Walk - which headed back quite steeply down the hill.

Despite spending most of my life in Canberra, I haven't spent much time on Black Mountain. I was struck by how much it felt at the centre of things. The sound of traffic on the roads below was constant, but that noise had the effect of making the silence of the bush in the foggy, still morning seem very 'loud'. As if this mountain is a monumental, still centre around which our busy lives swirl.

The view was big - across to Mount Painter to the west, and across the Arboretum and the lake to the south and east.

I sat for quite a while on a (cold) rock at the edge of the path, overlooking the lake. I felt as though I began to participate in the stillness of the place. Two crows appeared - and one jumped into a small bush quite close to me, deliberately breaking off a stick in its beak. They were gathering nesting material - but I'd never before seen one 'harvest' a stick from a bush. Later, a dark little wallaby went past - I don't think he even knew I was there.

Allowed to be and allowing to be. 'There is no need of words', says Miriam-Rose. 'A big part of dadirri is listening'.

Shalom,
Sarah