I am from cots, beds 

And starchy white aprons

I am from ward 8 

Thermometers, bedpans 

And the wireless in the corner 

I am from silent looks 

And pass-it-on clothes

I’m from the Lord is my shepherd

And Amazing Grace,

The Sacred Heart statue

And the Angelus at noon.

I am from the larks

And the pond 

Where Mr Pastry fell. 

I am from Charlie and Maisie 

 From my father’s tin whistle

And my mother’s Irish songs

I am from eggs and black pudding

I am from old, faded photographs

Of family I heard about, but never knew

Of stories I listened to, but never heard

Of dreams that were dreamed, and some lived. 

I am from hope rising. 

I declare myself an ambassador of rest. An advocate for the self-care necessary for us to be able to show up in solidarity for generations and centuries to come.

I declare myself a pleasure activist *(see adrienne marie brown’s excellent work on this). An advocate for eros, for erotic justice, for joy, for dance and for delight in the beauty and sensual ecstacy that enlivens and animates our lives.

I declare my right to reclaim desire, to follow and trust my instincts and intuition. As a bisexual and polyamorous cis-woman, I work towards inner peace, overcoming internalised homophobia and patriarchal thinking to be free from shame and judgement. I do this for the love of myself and the people I love and with the hope that my courage can light the way for young queer people to come.

I declare my desire for justice. I allow this desire to support my ability to stay with the discomfort that arises out of exploration and action around my white and class, gender and ableist privilege. I declare my desire not to confuse comfort with peace, so I can live in the uncomfortable reality of our world, and know that not one of us is free until we are all free and we can not be at peace until we are all at peace – with earth, with one another and with ourselves.

Recently I have been noticing and naming this as virtue signalling, the word used to describe the action or practice of publicly expressing opinions or sentiments intended to demonstrate one’s good character or the moral correctness of one’s position on a particular issue.

What are the stories we keep telling ourselves? What are the narratives taught in Sunday Schools?

LOOK OVER HERE, for example at the Quakers such as Elizabeth Fry who until recently was on the British £5 note who went into women’s prisons and improved conditions. So we are celebrated for reforming prisons (but where is the conversation about abolition?).

LOOK OVER HERE, at the Quaker Retreat centre in York famous for being ahead of its time in treating mentally ill people as people and leading the way in occupational health (but again, where is the conversation about social models of psycho-emotional health?)

LOOK OVER HERE, at the early Quakers who spoke out to abolish slavery and support the Underground Railroad movement, (but what about those who continued to own enslaved people beyond abolition and the way many Quaker businesses profited from the sugar trade built on the backs and deaths of so many people.)

LOOK OVER HERE, at the Quakers who spoke out about witch hunts in Salem, (but so late in the era, what was our part in early witch hunting in the UK and the US?)

LOOK OVER HERE, at the Quakers who were conscientious objectors (but what about those of us who are yet to divest our money from banks which support the arms trade?)

LOOK OVER HERE at the Quakers able to take environmental action and put solar panels on our roofs and buy organic food (and yet how do we judge those who can not afford to make such choices?)

LOOK OVER HERE, at me virtue signalling by being critical and trying to stay woke and on top of the curve of the moral spectrum and be on the right side of history…

My faith taught me from an early age to virtue signal, to learn how to show I was an ally rather that to actually be one and to teach me how to be exceptional white middle class woman. Although being a Quaker also teaches me as an adult to hold the complexity of history, to speak and seek the truth and to know my complicity in oppressive systems as well as my part to play to dismantle them, i am acutely aware of the omissions we choose to conveniently not emphasise and the ways in which we have a duty to start digging and sharing more of the dirty as well as squeaky clean parts of our individual and collective past and present.

In 2021, British Quakers collectively committed (Quakers don’t vote but rather make decisions rooted in silent worship) to becoming an actively anti-racist community and inclusive and welcoming for non-binary and trans folk. This was based on realising the Quaker Testimony of Equality is not necessarily enough to ensure actions reflect values.

In 2022 this was added to with a minute made in the yearly meeting gathering that made first references at the national level to financial and other reparations for how Quaker institutions have profited from and continue to proliferate oppressive systems such as slavery.

The decision making process of Quakers is slow but it does enable us to evolve and react and reflect the practices and morals of the present day. This means we can perhaps virtue signal more than other Christian denominations and faiths, but how does it actually translate in practice?

There is a famous Quaker phrase, what does love require of us?

Right now it requires discomfort, actions, humility and accountability. Love requires us to have courage to really live our faith.

Book title: ‘Imagination is Still the Key to Unlock Environmental Crisis’. 

The above book by Chris Sunderland was a good and a disturbing read.  The premise of the author is that unless we can begin to imagine the environment as it could be, then everything remains the same. But if we can imagine it as it could be then we have started to progress.

I quite like the idea of imagining things into being, because after all everything starts with a thought  in the mind first. If a Carpenter wants to make a table, s/he first needs to see it in his mind’s eye, (his imagination) then he / she makes a plan and then builds it. If a sculptor wants to create a piece of artwork out of marble, s/he has to see the beauty that’s already there in the stone waiting to be released. Everything starts as a thought first. 

I find the idea of harnessing the power of the imagination to bring about transformation in individuals and society very interesting and powerful.  

At  Ammerdown we did a  ‘Deep Adaptation’ exercise. We were lead through the soundscape of the wind, rain and projected images of destruction and walked around ‘stepping stones’ describing the effects of climate chaos – for the earth and for societies in general. 

That weekend was the first time that I ‘woke-up’ and acknowledged that we were at a very crucial point in history; and as a species we are destroying the earth. The rainforests and some animal species are disappearing, the climate is changing, there’s plastic in the sea and pollution in the air and in the soil; and sadly, we haven’t got an answer on how to deal with it. What is obvious is that what is being done, is too little and too late.

The images of earth, seen from space is inspiring and humbling. Chris Sunderland, in his book, recalls stories of astronauts who have been transformed because they have seen the world from the perspective of space.  They see the earth as a whole and from above and they see how beautiful yet fragile our planet is. On their return they have Picked up the baton for environmental change. Some astronauts have been so transformed by their experience that they work together to find ways of giving a similar experience to those men and women who will never be able to leave terrafirma. Their hope is to offer  a virtual reality experience to seen the world from outer space so that those who have this experience can ‘fall in love with the world’ in the hope that this will fuel a new passion to  champion the protection of the earth and the environment. 

During the ‘deep immersion experience’ at Ammerdown, as I  imagined the world collapsing into chaos, there was a realisation that there wasn’t much that I or anyone really could do about it. Certainly not enough to make much of a difference before we reach the date of no return which I think is about 17 years from now. 

Because of that experience, I’m getting more conscious, that we need to develop more of a relationship with the earth, to ‘fall in love with her’. It’s only when we have a passion for something that we are single-minded enough to want to see it  change and flourish and to become what it could be. I do believe that this holds true for the environment.  

At Ammerdown we experienced a shared imagination of climate crisis which was very powerful.  So, what would it be like if we could harness that power – the power of shared imagination?  Can we have a vision of us all working together on this one problem? 

What would it take for world leaders to set aside their power and territorial claims, and to use the energy they put into keeping power and domination into uniting together to find a solution to the crisis of climate change?  

Would taking part in a deep adaptation exercise, and shared imagination bring about any transformation in them too? 

Will they too ‘fall in love’ with the earth?

Since returning from Ammerdown, I have thought about how I can live out, in a small way, that transformation exercise.  

My family ( 3 of us) get through 6 litres of milk a day. Yes, we are big milk drinkers! But the danger for the environment of our milk habit is:  4 x 2 litre plastic bottles each day; 4×7= 28 plastic milk bottles in my bin each week. 28×52 =1,456 a year which end up on some land-fill site, somewhere in the world, and most likely a land-fill site in a poorer country. 

That startling piece of information led me to buy our milk ,from now on, in carboard cartons. 

I’m very ashamed of not giving it much thought before. Yes, I’ve fallen in love with the world. 

About time! Said my ever-so-eco-green friend. 

I am aware that the trend towards division has been growing and I have been told this is exacerbated by computer algorithms fueled by profit through advertising that is getting out of our control. I think that the question of political division has felt to big and hard for me to get my head around but I have had a bit of a wake-up call recently.

I have a sort of father figure, Jim, who I lived with when I was 18 at a very formative time in my life. Since then we stay in touch and I go to visit when I can although him and his wife Helen live in the very north of Scotland on the way to Orkney. Last time I visited I was surprised at the dinner table to hear him speak about Black Lives Matter protests as if the protesters were terrorists and should be imprisoned for their behaviour against the police. I asked which protest he was speaking about and he showed me the news coverage for the event. I showed him the different news coverage of the same event from a source I read and trust. The accounts were so startlingly different – photos cropped to either portray the police or the protesters as more or less violent – videos edited to change the meaning of speeches. I was shocked. It was a wake-up call. It is easy for me to say he had gone down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos and articles that an algorithm squirreled him down but equally, I have been funneled in the other direction.

We see the world so differently now. In only ten years we have been travelling in different directions. To the point where meeting together is now painful. His views on equal pay for women are sexist to me. His view on Black Lives Matters is racist to me. His views on same sex marriage are homophobic to me. But beneath it all, I see him as a father figure still, and I love him. And this is what I told him. I told him I love him. I told him he could not push me and all the people he knew, and even his wife away. That he might be finding community of like-minded people online but that we are his family in the flesh and we won’t let it come between us.

This is how I am trying to ‘navigate divides in my community’. I am trying to love my way through pain and division. I am trying to have the courage, knowing that if we avoid the uncomfortable conversations now they will only become impossible and completely intolerable conversations in twenty years time. I am noticing my avoidance of pain and discomfort and I am asking friends to keep me accountable to staying in that place of uncertainty and difference and summoning the courage to see love and connection when capitalism and other forces want us only to see division.

At first, that thought made me sad. It made me wonder if I felt no real sense of connection to a specific physical place because of how nomadic I have been and my family has been for generations. I then wondered at the sense of entitlement I have had toward the earth, assuming that where there is land, there is an invitation to inhabit it. (This is one of the areas where I have been/am exploring reconciliation with the earth: deconstructing past beliefs about humans being the crowning achievement of creation with authority over it, and exploring then human as one element of an ecosystem.) 

But then I thought about how each of these places, and this entire planet, has sustained me and my deep gratitude for that. I thought about how the earth holds me, feeds me, comforts me, gives me shelter. How I have come from it and how I will return to it. 

This type of relationship with the earth made me think of my own mother, and the cycles of being held by her, first in her womb and then in her arms, and then in her illness, the reversal of that as I held her on the opposite end of life. Since her death, I have often felt a mothering spirit when I am under large trees. There’s something about their branches arching over me, their roots stretching into a strong network underneath me, that makes me feel safe and secure and in the presence of great peace and wisdom. I wondered if perhaps these are my sacred places. 

My theology of earth is not well-developed. I am exploring and questioning many ideas. But one thing that has been true for me, is that in a long season of rejecting any belief in God or the spiritual, it was always the natural world that drew me back. 

There is a small poem that I copied down on a bit of card years ago that I have carried with me, literally and metaphorically, in many moments of questioning and doubt. (I can’t find the original author now, unfortunately.) It says: 

So I asked the whole universe about god and it answered back, “I am not he, but he made me.” 

For me, this really encompasses my view towards the sacred nature of earth and the universe of which we are a part – it is sacred because it points me to things above in ways that words, and questions, and answers can not. 

I became so frustrated with life and my process of working, that I stopped painting altogether and sought another way of doing things. Four years passed by, and out of a state of hopelessness that I’d never paint again, I applied to take part in a drawing course working directly from nature. For 5 days, we spent 7 hours each day sitting in the landscape, attempting to draw fleeting movements of Gannets, Guillemots, Razorbills and Kittiwakes. The experience was overwhelming to the point of tears. As I sat in a community of 25 artists, we faced together the reality of our weaknesses and the littleness of our presence, in a vast environment full of complexities, interconnected relationships, and never-ending communication. We experienced an unlearning of fixed ideas and processes, and an unravelling of emotion which laid bare our vulnerabilities.  

In our togetherness of community, we supported each other in this vulnerability and became part of the landscape, intently listening, watching, thinking, interacting, and responding. Our creative outcomes far from matched our engagement, but it didn’t matter, something deeper was at work. We were no longer just observers, it felt as though we had fully integrated into the landscape and spoke the same language. This experience birthed a deep-rooted connection and support for each other within the group, and fostered in us a meaningful appreciation and love for nature. The time was life giving and life changing, and gave me a profound understanding of what happens, when we slow down and sit with each other long enough to take notice.

I sometimes reflect on the Apostle Paul’s words in Romans 8: 20-23, where he speaks about the earth being liberated from the bondage of decay, and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. Paul speaks about this bondage through a groaning of pain. I often wonder, if I sat long enough, even in the most beautiful of landscapes, could I physically hear the earth’s agonising cries?  

This practice of sitting within a landscape in a poise of stillness and curiosity, brings calm to my soul, wonder to my mind and praise to my heart. With my senses fully engaged, I am invited into a place of deep emotional and spiritual connection, raising in me an awe-inspiring sense of admiration and love. I see the hand of the Holy gardener and master craftsman, the originality of design and multiplicity of diversity. But I also hear the cry of longing from my own soul, reminding me that God’s promise of restoration and redemption is for a kingdom so much more beautiful than my mind could imagine.  As I sit with the reality of my declining body and a decaying earth, I recognise that my waiting for this redemption is not passive, but one were I need to generate this love into action and nurture the precious gift of life God has given me.

Feature image: ‘Crosses in the Sky’, Celebration of Gannets at Bass Rock, Mixed Media

As our brother Bayo Akomolafe shared: we are more bacteria than we are human. We have more bacterial cells than human cells. We are emergent and interconnected.

Science is suggesting what Indigenous peoples, witches and medicine men and women have known for centuries- that Earth is interconnected and alive, not separate but inclusive of us as a human animal species.

The water we drink is Ocean. Loch and River. It is blood and sweat and tears. It is Spirit and Life.

Our outbreath is the inbreath of trees and Forest.

In a less romantic but no less real or true sense, the toxins we put into our soil, air and water re-enter our own systems. The plastics we wear and use everyday are all part of and (try to) return to Earth.

And at the same time, we have co-constructed and constantly contribute to complex human-centric systems such as capitalism, colonialism and consumerism. We are complicit in our conflict with Earth, at war with ourselves. Even though we may not want to be. What a bind we are in. The myth of individualism allows us to deny this truth by letting us believe we can escape our complicity and wash away our guilt by recycling and buying green energy and planting wild flowers for bees. These are important actions but not if moral righteousness means we move further from more true reconciliation and the revolutionary, truly transformative action we need and deeply long for.

We are clogging our internal Rivers with toxins just as we are trying to clean up our external Rivers with community litter picks. This litter is then burned or buried or shipped overseas. Where it it out of sight and out of mind. In these out of sight out of mind places of our planet we are wounded and hurting. Places of neglect and abuse and exploitation. Where our human and more-than-human Brothers and Sisters are wounded and dying. Just as within our bodies, we are cutting off the parts of ourselves which are crying out for attention.

Reconciliation with Earth begins with me. It begins with my body. With reconnecting to the disassociated parts of myself, mind and this soft mammalian body. For me reconciliation with Earth began with my gut. For years I binged on sugar and salty foods and then compulsively exercised, a form of bulemia and body dysmorphia. My compulsive eating left me bloated and uncomfortable and probably in more pain than I was able to feel at the time. Somehow the human body can compartmentalise and numb on order to cope and survive. Incredible and necessary coping and survival mechanisms. Just as the human collective can turn its back on humans who are part of our collective human body. Just as part of Earth we disown and destroy ourselves. I am learning to reconnect with parts of my body and mind I was previously ashamed of. Parts that were painful or uncomfortable.

Through self-massage, herbal medicine, meditation and a mysterious more-than-human magic I am spiralling towards healing. And I have to hope and have faith that our human family are spiralling towards healing, health and wholeness as well.

Reconciliation to me means Solidarity. Solidarity to me means that those of us who are able to turn away from our collective pain turn back towards and face it, feel it, witness it and transform it if we can. And even when we can’t, which let’s face it is most of the time, we are still willing to witness our wounds and tend to them, be with those thorns we play a part in perpetuating.

I pray that we will walk together the path of peace and reconciliation, praying for a destination but experiencing the pain, discomforts and joys of the journey.

Image credit: River Don in Sheffield after floods in 2018, source Daily Mail https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-5796715/amp/River-clogged-foul-smelling-sludge-rubbish-finally-cleared.html

From head… to heart… to hand…

As I understand it, the purpose of ministry is to meet, to listen, to encourage, to include…

I see life not as a clear division of dark and light, of perfection and flaw, but as a circular spectrum of colour, movement and sound. Life is a tapestry where each being is both unique and an integral part of a greater whole.

Each of us, whether aware of it or not, craves being understood, connection, acceptance and respect. We do not always know how to ask for help or where to find that which we truly need. We might think we are all alone or feel unable to trust another.

That is why I stand up and speak out with all my heart for and with the underdog, the vulnerable, the excluded and the oppressed, the sensitive, the rebel, the different and the weird…

I now live in Scotland, but I am much more a citizen of the world, a creature of this amazing planet we all share. As such, I’m happy to offer connection via virtual means or in ‘real’ time. Sometimes, simply knowing there is someone who will listen, just listen, can make a difference. This, I understand.

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still learning. I don’t offer unconditional love… because I am not a saint or perfect being. I offer instead, the best that I can, a listening ear, a helping hand and a compassionate heart.

The ministry of my heart, my calling, has grown from all that I have learned from life, including my own mistakes and the recognition of my human needs and frailties.

The ministry of my heart is grounded in a passion for interfaith dialogue and cooperation. It longs for multigenerational collaboration. It is two-spirited and generous, firmly rooted yet kind.

If I am to summarise all that ministry means to me and how it can change the world, I share here a haiku I wrote long ago, when I was first called:

In darkness and light,

welcoming each one alike,

a candle burns bright.

Image Source: Pixels Free Photos (Media Library)

In my late 40’s I went to university and trained to be teacher for children with profound and multiple disabilities and vision impairments. So, I am very comfortable with people who live with disabilities but when I go to church, I don’t see them there!  

Some thoughts from Ruth Patterson (Oneing 2022) resonated with me. Ruth speaks of a journey or pilgrimage, a crossing over. We don’t decide when it happens, it just happens. It happens as a result, of an experience, of some encounter and it’s always a gift. 

The Gift

I was a new teacher, transferred from mainstream school into special education. The class consisted of 12 children between the ages of 11 and 14. They were profoundly and multiply disabled and all in wheelchairs.  The lesson was: ‘Spiritual, Social and Moral Development.’ It wasn’t a lesson in the traditional sense, there were no textbooks, no desks and chairs, no children’s voices. There were vocalisations, but no recognised words. The floor was draped with soft floaty colourful materials, cushions and bean bags, battery operated candles, nature images projected onto white umbrellas, aroma-therapy oils and calming music.   

I took my place in the circle and sat on the floor alongside other adults.  I stabilised my back against the wall and waited as a child was lowered by hoist into my lap. His broken body lay limp in my arms. I had such a sense of the presence of God in that broken body that my mind went into the Gospel scene of Mary the mother of Jesus, receiving the broken and crucified body of her son into her arms.  

Children’s shoes, socks, and splints were removed and we began to massage the children’s hands and feet with Aromatherapy oil. My mind went to the Maundy Thursday Liturgy and the washing of the feet. There was a calmness and a stillness. And there was God among the weak, vulnerable and the broken. 

That was my crossing over moment, and I’ve been dissatisfied with the church ever since. Dissatisfied because part of the Body of Christ is missing on Sunday mornings. Dissatisfied because we are not providing a church / worship environment for all God’s children and families to come together to worship, to draw alongside each other to minister together.  

And so, reconciliation for me is linked to the church being reconciled and united with all her children living life with disabilities and waiting, out on the edges, for the church to provide accessible buildings, worships spaces and liturgies suitable for their varying physical, cognitive and sensory needs. The more I work to bring about this vision the more I become reconciled to my two halves of life. 

Image Source:

ttps://www.deviantart.com/lesya7/art/Two-halves-of-one-whole-150417172