EXTINCTION – It’s just not cricket

On 8th October 2019, several people were playing cricket on the road round Parliament Square, in front of Westminster Abbey.   A few thousand others were busy stopping the traffic in 12 different localities.  On the back of this person’s shirt is written the words:  ‘Extinction – it’s just not cricket.’  This was the beginning of the London October Extinction Rebellion.

In my last blog I said that my deepest wish was not to be afraid but to play in the sand of my life.  As I’m sure any child psychologist would tell you, play is a vital thing for healthy growth in children.  I don’t think it stops being important when we are adults.  Surely, part of play is trying out new approaches, new ways to do things, playing with what its like to be someone else, being creative…

Over the last two weeks, Extinction Rebellion (XR) activists played, with great seriousness but also with great creativity and often great courage.  Some of it you might agree with and some you might not.  We’re in the midst of huge change and what is called the 6th mass extinction.  If we want the wonderful diversity of life that inhabits our planet to survive, we have to wake up and change, radically.

READ THE SCIENCE!

(you can start with the IPCC report :International Panel on Climate Change https://www.ipcc.ch/sr15/)

We need to challenge ‘business as usual’, suggest alternatives, act them out.  The three demands of  Extinction Rebellion to governments are:  Tell the Truth, Act!, and create Citizens Assemblies (similar model to juries) to take this out of party politics.

Throughout the two weeks of the London Rebellion, people met in People’s Assemblies to plan, make decisions and check in with each other. On the Telegram app there were often messages reminding us to look after ourselves. There were constant reminders that this movement is Non-Violent and when we start feeling the rage rise, we need to step aside.  Everywhere there was a conscious choice to speak reasonably, to hear one another and to ensure non-violence was our signature. When the police started arresting people and the temperature was rising, people who had trained in de-escalation would step in and often someone would start a song to help restore the peaceful mood. We’d  sing to the police ‘We love you police’ and sometimes add ‘we’re doing this for your children.’

Below is a taster of  my experience of the London Rebellion (there were events around the world). I was only up there on 4 of the days and I didn’t camp.

On the Monday 8th October at 8.30am, as requested, a number of us gathered incognito at Parliament square. Police were everywhere and searching people and it was nerve wracking.  A group of us XR Meditators stood at a bus stop on Whitehall ‘waiting for a bus.’  We then moved towards the Women’s memorial.  We’d been told:  ‘when the man with the yellow umbrella walks onto the road, everyone go’.  It was like some sort of strange comic farce.  The man with the yellow umbrella walked out and we all ran onto the road. The police ran after us and a policeman grabbed me and pushed me off the road.  I saw Tim go back onto the road several metres down so I followed.  Someone shouted ‘sit down’ and we all sat down and that was that.  A couple of hundred activists sitting in the road and we’d done it! Whitehall had been ‘taken’ just outside Downing Street.

It may help to know that the people who’d come with me and were sitting with me were mostly quiet introvert types: buddhists, meditators, psychotherapists, nurses, gentle souls.  It was extraordinary.  On that first day, we as a Meditators group, offered meditation on the hour every hour for 10 to 15 minutes and despite the noise, we kept silence and others joined us.  I found it surprisingly easy as all the noise outside drowned the usual panoply of noise inside my head!

I didn’t see it but later on a giant pink octopus travelled down towards Whitehall and got kettled by police.

On the Wednesday some of us came

back     and we walked around the different sites.  By St James Park we saw some ‘birds’ fly past while a young man entertained children by making huge bubbles.   Just out of sight is a wooden frame with a young woman on top. In front of her is a crowd of people ‘holding the road’ and a cherry picker has been brought over to remove her.

Later we came back to find an indomitable woman in a wheel chair who had fixed herself to the road with several people attached/glued on to her wheel chair. We helped put the blue plastic over to protect them from the rain.

Coming out by Methodist Central Hall, Parliament Square were some phoenixes and an uncooperative crusty 🙂

These birds joined a band drumming a rhythm that got me dancing in the street.  Shortly afterwards, I saw the young man who led the dancing, gluing himself into his tent on the road in front of Westminster Abbey, while police were arresting and removing others.  I hope you are ok, Patrick.  Further along, I watched as 3 police officers unzipped a tent, read the rights to the person inside and then dragged him out and arrested him.

On an impulse I sat down in the tent.  A policewoman came back, furious and told me I was illegally sitting in someone else’s property.  When I said I was just looking after it for him, she grabbed me by the arm and almost literally ‘threw’ me out of the tent.  several XR people surrounded me to see if I was ok and to offer me care and biscuits.

Down Whitehall, walking back towards Trafalgar square, a group of Australians had decided to appear as jumping kangaroos.

Over the days we watched as the Red Rebels wove their silent way through the crowds.  This time they arranged themselves in front of the Women’s Memorial.

Up in Trafalgar square Extinction Rebellion had found other creative ways to block the road.  Police had stopped them bringing boats into London, so instead, someone drove a hearse in, with a coffin that had ‘Our Future’ written on it.  Two men sat in the front of the hearse, one locked on to the steering wheel.

The police moved in over the days arresting more and more people and gradually clearing the 12 different sites yet XR members continued to act.

On the Saturday we joined the march from Marble Arch to Russell Square, a sombre and highly imaginative funeral procession that allowed rebels to grieve for the ongoing ecocide. The march drew a crowd of more than 20,000 people, despite near continuous rain, and brought Oxford Street to a standstill for several hours. I brought my sign and walked with friends very slowly for over 3 hours.

The view from above was impressive.

On the Sunday the police slapped a section 14 on the whole of London for Extinction Rebellion which meant they could arrest anyone anywhere in London. In response, at least 1000 people gathered in Trafalgar Square.

In spite of this section 14, I came back on the Thursday 17th, a day before the Rebellion officially ended and joined a variety of working people; librarians, nurses, university lecturers, professional coaches, engineers, farmers, scientists etc etc. We marched to Trafalgar square, heard from some of these people and then finished the day with a mass meditation. There was a wonderful medley of faiths and philosophies represented and offerings included inviting everyone to bellow out 3 Ohms, sing a Taize chant “Ubi Caritas” and the first verse of “Amazing Grace” with particular reference to the words ‘I was blind and now I see’.

What is it about this movement that matters to me?  It’s thoughtful, creative, non-violent and aims to be as inclusive and democratic as possible. It can get somewhat chaotic and messy but creativity in my experience is not tidy.  XR is challenging those in power to make systemic change, it dreams of a different way of living which is fairer,  sustainable and which honours, not destroys our beautiful planet. It is waking people up to the fact that Climate change is happening now.  People and creatures, trees & plants are dying now.

Is it worth all this effort when we may not succeed?  As my son put it, ‘you mean we might make this world a better place, for nothing?’ !  Even if we don’t ‘succeed’,  it is so heartening to be in the company of so many people who want to create a better world and want to do it actively and non-violently.  Many people on the rebellion joined in workshops on non-violence and discovered how to relate to each other in healthy, creative ways, how to notice and channel their anger and fear.  That’s got to be good 🙂

This movement is following in some very honourable footsteps: the Suffragettes,  Gandhi, the Civil Rights Movement and many others.  There are older footsteps to honour: for me, the Jesus who challenged the authorities and who turned over the tables of the money changers.

For the love of this beautiful earth and for all living beings in it, lets make a stand.  After all, extinction is ‘just not cricket’.

Coming back to what matters

About 16 months ago, I and Tim left an entire way of life behind.  About 13 months ago a friend of mine, Stephen, left his entire life behind because he died. Within the space of 4 months, three friends of mine died. On the day I was told that Stephen had died, 13th August 2018, I had just spent the morning reflecting & brainstorming, ‘what is my deepest wish?’

 

In writing down the thoughts,  the most repeated phrase was ‘I do not want to be afraid’.  It finally formed into the following: My deepest wish is to play – to allow myself to make different patterns in the sand of my life and then allow the tide to wash them away.

 

As I finished writing , the phone rang and a voice said ‘Are you sitting down? Stephen has died.’

 

PLAYING LIFE AND LETTING GO  

I will play in the sand of my life

because it is sand

And its

Running

Through my fingers

 

Let us play together,

Let us build strange structures

Dig ditches

and fill with them water.

Let us create

Extraordinary shapes in

the sand and delicate

Patterns with shells and

Stones.

 

Let us play together

Create together

Argue

Fight

Laugh

 

Then watch the sea

In leisurely fashion

Erase

Our precious

Designs

 

And let them go

And let them go.

 

Over the coming year I played.  It was very serious play.  I discovered what it was like to be the executor of Stephen’s will, to become a mindfulness teacher,  to live in a home that was not public property (ie belonging to the church), to live without a car, and many other things.  I also discovered Extinction Rebellion.

What I kept finding was that I’d appreciate something valuable and then get carried away into planning, angsting, plotting or being utterly overwhelmed and then lose touch with the original experience.  Meditation would eventually bring me back.  That is one of the beauties of mindfulness.

 

So, with Climate Change and Extinction Rebellion.  I feel a deep love for this good earth:  my dog’s hairy face, the hundred different shades of green in the garden,  the crunch and taste of cox’s apples, the view from a hill I’ve just climbed…  Then I get caught up, rushing, worrying about whether to get arrested or not, becoming in turn furious, despairing and weepy over the burning of the rainforests, the destruction of the coral reefs and more.   That is not to be avoided but I also need to keep coming back to what matters, to let ‘the soft animal’ of my body love what it loves (see below: Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver).

 

In April, Tim set up an Extinction Rebellion Meditators Group,  a group of meditators who want their action to come out of their meditation, and in keeping with the ethos of Extinction Rebellion, want to respond deeply to this climate crisis, not react by pursuing a narrow ‘solution’ or finding enemies to hate.

It’s quite a challenge!  The group helps anchor me and keep me coming back to what matters:  connecting with the earth, myself, others, – discovering what contribution we can make, not only in relation to the climate crisis but in relation to what sort of people we want to be, what sort of society we want to live in.

Last year, two weeks before my friend Stephen died, I visited him in the nursing home he was in.  He was only 63 years old but by now he was an invalid.  He was in a wheel chair but he’d survived so much, it didn’t occur to me that he’d be dying anytime soon.  I had to travel 100 miles to visit him and was going to ‘fit in’ a visit to someone else as well but just in time, I recognised that push to ‘efficiency’ and chose deliberately not to do that and therefore not be rushed.

In the event, we sat on the porch outside his nursing home for nearly 3 hours, mostly in silence, as the sun slowly went down.  He’d had a lifetime of mental health issues and was struggling with his ‘voices’, I was struggling with the desire to ‘get on’ and with the irritation of having to light his cigarettes every 15/20 minutes by walking over to my car where there was fixed lighter.  Yet still, for large chunks of time we sat peaceably together.  When the nursing assistant came out to collect him, I said with feeling, ‘Thank you Stephen,’ meaning, thank you for the space to sit in silence together, to watch the sky change colour, to be present, to be here.  And Stephen said ‘Thank you for sitting with me’.

That was the last time I saw or spoke to him before he died.

 

What is your deepest wish? Or wishes.

What is it that matters most deeply to you?

Make time to remember

 

Wild Geese – by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/calliope/5300846002

 

 

 

WAKE UP TO CLIMATE EMERGENCY – EXTINCTION REBELLION

Its not exactly ‘the ARK’ but it is trying to save us from catastrophe.  The Police have removed a boat which has the words “TELL THE TRUTH” on the side of it. Well, isn’t that interesting?

I’ve watched videos of TV interviews with Extinction Rebellion people and the interviewers are not challenging the statement that our planet is going down the pan.  The last couple of weeks have felt quite overwhelming as I’ve tried to absorb all the information and at least attempt to read the IPCC report (international panel on climate change) which tells us we have 12 years to make radical changes if we want to stop temperatures rising to catastrophic levels.  It has been very helpful to combine the activism with meditation.

I went up to London on Monday with the Oxford Meditators and then camped Tuesday and Wednesday evening.  These are some of my reflections on that experience as a part of Extinction Rebellion.  I am intending to go back next week.  Hope you can come and see for yourselves at some point.

Susie & Tim at Marble Arch, Monday 15th April

Monday @ Extinction Rebellion – a group of us, ‘Oxford Meditators’ went up for the day and it was more like a festival, friendly and easy.

 

Tuesday @ Extinction Rebellion –  In the afternoon I came back with a tent and 2 of us (myself and friend, Sarah) camped at Extinction Rebellion Marble Arch site.  That’s a rare opportunity!  I recommend the toilets at Hyde Park 😊

we were up by the pool

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waterloo bridge Tuesday afternoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sarah and I went to Waterloo bridge to hear children speak about wanting change.  We saw plants and flags, heard music and mixed with a range of people: older, younger, hippies, middle class types like ourselves (!), all sorts.

We then went to Oxford Circus which was more of a party around the pink boat – a very good natured party, where one of the people on the boat gave us an extended argument as to why it was so important that we did not drink alcohol or take drugs while involved here and if we wanted to do that then go somewhere else and if we see people drinking, tell them to go.  He explained that drinking and drugs destroys movements and people.

One man started shouting at the police and Sarah walked over to him and insisted that he stop.  He took a bit of time to respond but he did stop and over the next 2 days I saw him often and he stayed calm and reasonable.

police vans at Oxford Circus Tuesday evening

Something in the region of 8 to 10 police vans arrived and the police then began to converge on the boat. It was intimidating. Sarah and I watched young people being carried out of the circle around the pink boat by groups of 5 or 6 police officers as volunteer legal advisors walked beside them and the crowd cheered those being arrested.  It was as peaceful as something like that can be but I found a heavy pain in settle in my guts.

 

Wednesday @ Extinction Rebellion – DEMOCRATIC PROCESS- a group of about 30 or 40 people gathered at Marble Arch to discuss the proposed action on the underground.  The person who gathered us asked if someone else wanted to chair it, no-one did, after gathering some views, he then asked if there was anyone with a different viewpoint.  Everyone listened respectfully.  We all agreed we didn’t think this was a good idea and the news was sent back to the main headquarters.

I decided that I was willing to be arrested and I sat with the others at the Pink Boat but it’s not as easy as you think 😊.   If I’d stayed a bit longer on Wednesday evening then I may well have had the privilege.  While I was there I listened to a young german man tell us how big companies are systematically stripping local farmers of the land in many countries and then they starve.  It is our money that is being used for this and it is standard practice..  He said ‘have you watched a person starve to death? I have.’  I  wanted to cry.

At midnight, I stood at the barrier at Edgeware Road talking with a lecturer in Economics, a frightened scientist, a retired psychiatrist, and others.   Other people I’ve met are women who were at the Greenham common, shop workers, couples and single parents with their kids, people coming up from Devon and down from York, a young man who biked from Cambridge… There are people with mental health issues, physical health issues.  There are babies and 80-year olds.

food offered at marble arch

And every day volunteers create dhal curry in the evening, porridge in the morning for hundreds of others.  I spent a pleasant hour in the food tent on Wednesday evening cutting up onions, garlic and carrots with others.

There are Volunteers carefully emptying the  ‘green’ toilet with its plant pots on the top,  volunteers checking that those locked onto the boat have food and water,  volunteers acting as de-escalators and keeping the atmosphere as calm as possible,  volunteers who’ve done some training to be legal observers, volunteers who are willing to be arrested….. volunteers who stand at the barrier through the night, it goes on.

I am deeply moved.

It is also wonderfully liberating not to react angrily to other people’s anger – simply smiling back at a car driver giving you the finger.  A young man told us we were just a bunch of lefties looking for attention and told me to look up the facts.  I laughed and told him he needed to check his.  We parted on good terms.

the police have been very good and the protestors tend to sing ‘we love you’ to them.  Several of them made it clear that they agreed with us but they were just doing their jobs.  I feel sorry for the ones who were caught on film dancing at Oxford Circus.

Sarah went home on Wednesday and then I met a very able older woman who was planning to sleep out in just a sleeping bag, so she came and joined me in my tent.  She’d volunteered to be a legal advisor and got up for a 6am – 11am shift.  It was freezing in the tent although it helped when I put on my waterproof trousers as well!

While we were standing at the Extinction Rebellion Edgeware road barrier at midnight on Wednesday 3 young very bright, british/arab men came and chatted to us and asked us difficult questions – they were all the age of my boys – turned out one of them had done a thesis on climate change so I asked him to email it to me and he has.  His report is very clear that the temperature rises are human made but following a survey he did, he concludes that we won’t do anything until it hurts us.  We are willing to sacrifice the future generations for our present comfort.

I’ll repeat that.  This young man thinks that:

We are willing to sacrifice future generations for our present comfort.

I hope not  and thousands of people at Extinction Rebellion are not in agreement with that.  Come and see what is happening.  Come and join us.

 

 

 

‘You do not have to be good’ – a tribute to Mary Oliver, poet

‘You must not ever give anyone else the responsibility for your life’

 

Mary Oliver, U S poet, Pulitzer prize winner and inspiring human being, died on 17th January aged 83.  One of her most famous poems, “Wild Geese” begins:

‘You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.’

 

You do not have to be good – Every time I read that sentence, my shoulders drop in relief.  For over 12 years now, my intention has been to become more ‘real,’ rather than ‘good’ and for the last 5 years the poems of Mary Oliver have kept me company.  Like many others, I’ve been brought up to be ‘good’ and not to attend to my needs or pay attention to what I want in life.  As a result, I would not ask directly for what I wanted and often didn’t even know what I wanted.  Instead my tendency was towards the ‘passive aggressive’ approach: ‘I won’t tell you what I need but I’ll make it clear how disappointed I am that you didn’t work it out through ESP and do it anyway.’

But I’m changing!

Mary Oliver’s poem, ‘The Journey’ is that call to listen to yourself.  It begins:

‘One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.

 

You knew what you had to do…’

 

For some of us the bad advice, the voices calling, are mostly external and for some its all inside our heads but those voices, that advice can be so strong, so undermining of our confidence in our own voice, our own experience.

Its painful recognising our patterns of response and changing them but it is also liberating and delicious when we realise we are not trapped!

Mary Oliver was a gay woman who found her life partner, Molly Malone Cooke in 1964,  ‘I took one look and fell, hook and tumble’.  They lived together for over 40 years before Molly died in 2005.  After she died, in ‘A Pretty Song’ Mary writes ‘From the complications of loving you, I think there is no end or return.’

Mary Oliver never explicitly wrote about this side of her life but I would recommend  a read from  https://lithub.com/on-the-overlooked-eroticism-of-mary-oliver/ written by Jeanna Kadlec.  Jeanna remarks how Mary Oliver’s poems gave her hope as a young gay woman:

‘For me, someone who grew up in the evangelical church, the experience of reading “Wild Geese” has often been about receiving permission to desire within my own body: I do not have to be good; I do not have to repent.

‘You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.’

Whatever our faith/non-faith position is we all have an idea of what ‘good’ is that matters to us. It might be being good ‘morally’ or good in relationships or ‘following God”, or changing the world for the better in one way or another.  But unless we begin by seeking authenticity, the ‘goodness’ lark will either whiplash back on us (what a hypocrite/lousy mother/shit friend I am, etc|)  or the whip will land on others (they ‘should’ be…) .  So instead when I remember, I practice being real, bringing awareness and acceptance of myself as I actually am, having compassion for this human being here at this moment. It’s a life’s work.

For Mary Oliver, her work was to love and be amazed by this world.  It was mostly the natural world but not always.  In the poem ‘Singapore,’  Mary Oliver finds herself in the airport toilet when she notices a woman cleaning ashtrays in the toilet bowl:

‘Disgust argued in my stomach

And I felt in my pocket, for my ticket.

A poem should always have birds in it….’

But she stays and then,

‘When the woman turned I could not answer her face.

Her beauty and embarrassment struggled together and

neither could win.

She smiled and I smiled.  What kind of nonsense is this?

Everyone needs a job.’

And later

 

‘I don’t doubt for a moment that she loves her life.

And I want her to rise up from the crust and the slop

And fly down the river.

This probably won’t happen.

But maybe it will.

If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it?

Of course, it isn’t.

 

Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only

The light that can shine out of a life.  I mean

The way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth,

The way her smile was only for my sake; I mean,

The way this poem is filled with trees and birds.’

 

I want to finish with one of Mary Oliver’s poems in its entirety.  It is called “When I am among the Trees”.  Trees don’t worry about being ‘good’,  they simply ‘are’ what they are, with their roots deep down in the soil connecting with this world and their branches and leaves reaching out to the light.  If you haven’t already done so, try standing against a tree for 20 minutes, feeling the bark supporting your back, looking up through rich layers of leaves or perhaps bare branches sharp against the sky, smelling the air, listening to sounds, breathing. Its a gift.

 

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

 

Thank you, Mary Oliver, for the light you have shone on my life.

 

 

Breaking Free and Shedding a Skin – Part 2

It’s worth it!

Sometimes in order to break free, to grow, we need to shed the skin of our lives. Snakes shed their skins as they grow.  Maybe they have something to teach us.

Back in October 2017, after 23 years, Tim and I decided that we’d stop being a vicar and vicar’s wife.  In April this year we left an entire way of life, a community and the vicarage where we’d lived for the last 10 years.  In March, after further reading on how snakes shed their skins, I wrote the poem below.

 

SHEDDING YOUR SKIN – PART 2

 

The skin has come off.

It lies there coiled on the floor.

 

The hardest bit was starting

At the head.

Rubbing at 30 years of habit.

Worrying it, dislodging

thick protective certainties.

Finding the sharp necessary stones

To pierce the old skin.

 

That first breaking!

That relief!

                      Beginning to breathe easily                     .

Smarting with the rawness.

Then, seeing more clearly

How trapped I’ve been.

Rage rising

Spitting out of me, spurring me on.

 

Tearing, scratching, I look around for help,

Some cannot see the problem,

Others irritate and poke.

But there are those who celebrate,

Thank you!

Affirming, soothing, loving,

They apply a gentle pressure for me

To pull against.

 

Then the slow, slow, moving

Wrinkle by wrinkle out of the casing.

Cell by cell

Whole sections peeling off gloriously

While others snap and tear.

The tail snatches at the last of the skin

Trying to find a purchase

But it’s too late. I’m out.

I am out.

 

I stretch and feel the rippling flex of flesh

No tightness at the eyes.

Or pressure on the chest.

The vast expanse of ‘new’

Is fresh and frightening.

 

The old skin lies useless,

dry, translucent,

Beautiful designs

Etched into the calcified cells.

 

I need to rest and hide awhile.

I leave the old skin behind.

 

I don’t look back.

 

 

 

Breaking Free and Shedding a Skin – Part 1

Do you ever get that feeling? You want to break free, move-on but you feel trapped, you don’t know how to make the break, what to do.  Four years ago, I was in that place.

In November 2014, I wrote:  I wake today and the voices come from all directions in disarray.  I should have, why didn’t I, he’s so much better,  I feel cramped,  I feel trapped,  I’m not trapped,  I’m fortunate, lucky.  I’m stressed but I can’t be stressed,  I’m tired but I have no right to be,  I’m a failure but I was given all the chances. 

In December 2014 I wrote this poem:

 

ON SHEDDING YOUR SKIN

I was down and low.

My life an untidy room with

No Door.

But inside I’m growing

Like Alice.

The room is getting too small.

Way too small.

It has become an old skin

That has to go.

I shake my head and start to scratch.

[https://wonderopolis.org/wonder/why-do-snakes-shed-their-skin]

 

I didn’t know how my life was going to change or how I would shed this skin but it dawned on me that I had shed skins before. That last one with all the intricate interplay of lines – the choppy, changing patterns of young motherhood,  a stressed partner with his hair cropped short, religious certainties, Duplo bricks, primary school, children’s boots.  The smell of my daughter’s breath in her first bed.

My skin.

And now this one. By the end of 2014, my last child had turned 18, my partner had a beard and long hair and was sorting his stress through mindfulness. I’d been creating drama, organising alternative evening services in church, working with kids, chasing teenagers, worrying late at night, chafing at the theology of church, angsting at my age and lack of income.

Youtube videos tell me that to help a snake get started, give it a nice long bath or some E45 to soften the skin.

My preparation had been to practice mindfulness for the previous 3 years.  I’d started it because I wanted to ‘fall awake’ to my life (Jon Kabat-Zinn).  The thing about ‘falling awake’ is that you wake up both to the good and the bad.  Fortunately the non-judgement and compassion of mindfulness softened me enough to allow me to look at what was going on.  But where to start?

With snakes the shedding has to begin with the head.  They push their heads against any hard-scratchy surface to get some leverage, some motion.

I chose some sessions with a psychotherapist.

Snakes can get vulnerable and aggressive during the process.

Yup.

 

I’d been brought up in an ex-pat patriarchal setting.  There were 2 cardinal rules for a woman:

  • Other people come first and
  • Never openly confront or upset people even if they’re screwing you over – its rude.

Becoming a Christian and a vicar’s wife re-enforced these. Jesus said ‘love others as you love yourself’ but the second part of the sentence always got guillotined.

As I became more aware of this, the irritation grew and the skin felt tighter.  And tighter.

For several years I’d been angry with the Church’s attitude to women but now I also woke up to the realisation that all talk about God was male.  And I’d bought into this for over 30 years.

The shed had begun and it began in my head.

I was waking up.

 

 

 

 

Moving House mindfully…. sometimes

3 Weeks ago we moved house. 3 weeks ago my husband stopped being a vicar. 3 weeks ago we walked into our own home, we walked off the edge of our old life… Here are some mindful and not mindful moments …..

GOING HOME
Always going home,
Always planting the seed
Always opening, allowing
The new growing shoot.
Never so sure what it will be
No one
Telling me
Who I am.
Not even me.

MOVING HOUSE – SELLING AND BUYING
I’m fine
Really
It’s just
The others.

The sellers will renege
They’ll use my clumsy words against me.
The buyers of our flat will drop out
Or drop the price.
The estate agent doesn’t like me.
The solicitor doesn’t care.
The neighbour will block me.
The other neighbour
the basement one,
Will throw a wobbly and ruin everything.

All this running through
My nightmare mind.

I sit still and notice
There is a common thread
And underneath I hear a child crying
And I know
That no-one else can comfort her
But me.

I’m fine
Mostly.
And this is life.

NEW HOUSE

In our new pond the tadpoles
Are seething.
My anxieties fix on visions of frog city
So I collect some in an empty yoghurt pot
And throw them on the raised border
But I cannot shake the shame of murder.
I go to buy goldfish to eat them instead
But apparently the goldfish are ‘not ready’
and anyway they don’t eat tadpoles.
Visions of garden frog hell encompass me.

And then I laugh

Is that as bad as my visions of hell can get?

Later I’m told not to worry
The tadpoles will eat one another
If nothing else.

Apparently I do not need
To interfere.
Simply allow life.

Well that’s a thought.

THEY HAVE NO WINE – LIVING A CREATIVE LIFE

For the first and probably last time in my life, I was invited to preach a sermon a few weeks ago and the subject was the ‘Wedding at Cana’, a story told by the gospel writer, John about a particular wedding where Jesus was said to turn 120-180 gallons of water into wine…. And I decided to speak on Wine and the Creative life.

For many people ‘miracles’ are problematic and turning water into wine raises some practical issues 😊. However, if you’re happy to view it as you might one of the great myths and enjoy the story and the meaning that John wants to convey then this is a wonderful story about looking to live life to the FULL. It’s also funny.

This story helped me to find my own sense of value as a creative person having constantly struggled with the feeling that ‘being creative’ is just a nice ‘extra’ and insignificant compared with really important things like ‘helping people’ and ‘saving lives.’ Yet what are we saving peoples’ lives for? Just to eat ‘bread and water’?

No matter how poor we are, whether financially, emotionally, physically, spiritually etc – we need joy, we need pleasure, we need to be creative, we need richness in our lives, we need hope. This is what makes life worth living.

The audio below comes to about 16 minutes and includes the reading of the gospel story. I hope you enjoy it and find encouragement here.

‘EMMI’ Oxford Premier & the future

Having filmed “Emmi” in Oxford it was fabulous to show it at the Ultimate Picture Palace on Cowley Road on Saturday 1st July. It was a particular pleasure to see London-based Natalie Martins who played the teenage Emmi. Look out for her – great actress and lovely person to work with [nataliemartins.co.uk]

Around 50-60 people came to celebrate with us including the oldest and the youngest members of the cast. Barbara Deane turned 90 the week after we filmed Emmi and Isis was 3 months old.

THE FUTURE – As well as showing in festivals we’re also actively looking for ways it could be used with anyone working with teenage girls/families. Please see my film page for more details about the film and get in touch if you have ideas and would like to know more.
Some of the fab team 🙂

THANK YOU to everyone who supported the process of making the film and all those who could come to celebrate with us!

FESTIVAL RESPONSES
We’ve now been selected by 11 film festivals on Film Freeway and had various reviews. Here are some clips from them:

“Emmi’s” strengths lie in its atmosphere — claustrophobic space in apartment corridors, a tense anxiousness relayed by sound design and wordless facial responses.”
Largo Film Festival Reviewer 1

‘Gritty British indie dramas are becoming rarer, having been popular in the early 2000’s and it’s wonderful to see another being produced for the short film circuit …. Stunning acting and writing throughout.’
Largo Film Festival Reviewer 3

Fantastic screenwriting – I love it when a scene tells the audience what they’ll need to know without them feeling like they’ve been hit over the head with the information.
Elliott Smith – Zen Shorts Review

“‘Emmi’ delivers a very simple yet thoroughly suggestive story.”
Film strip international film festival – Romania – review

‘Regardless of being feature length or short films, it’s a rare thing to truly challenge an audience. More so to lay down the gauntlet to its audience and not provide all the answers. ’
Dan Marshall, Cardiff Mini Film Festival

“Writer Susie Stead clearly has the social conscience of a Ken Loach, and her admirably spare screenplay leaves plenty of room for viewers to fill in the blanks…. Carslaw paints his film in muted palette of steely greys, and the overall tone combines social realism with hints of horror. The editing and music score, also by Carslaw, are very well done. Overall Emmi is a fine short and a great calling card.” Simon Dillon
Simon Dillon – https://simondillonbooks.wordpress.com/