Tag: Love

  • On Empathy…

    Skara Brae 2

    Empathy. That’s where my thoughts have been. The power of real, deep heart-to-heart human connection.

    I spent some time on the Orkney islands in the summer. It was my first visit, fulfilling a soul-yearning for the area that I still don’t really understand. It’s a place that is rich in Neolithic history, the landscape literally stuffed full of five-thousand-year old human stories.

    We spent our first full day there visiting the archaeological dig at the Ness of Brodgar’s Open Day, the archaeologists on hand to explain the treasures they had found beneath our feet. And it was fascinating. How science, and care, and precision, and knowledge, and expertise, and the good old-fashioned hard graft of digging combined, enabling them to find and unearth and interpret the stories written into the ground, connecting humankind across thousands of years.

    And it was fascinating how an ancient community, even older than the pyramids, still had so many stories to tell, of how they lived and organised themselves, of extraordinary creativity and ingenuity, craftsmanship and artistry, society and shared living.

    As the week went on, we visited other five-thousand-year-old treasures. The chambered cairn of Maeshowe, engineered so its entrance was perfectly aligned with the light of the setting midwinter sun, and covered in runic graffiti, tagging the names of Viking invaders and their bawdy exploits. The standing stones at the Ring of Brodgar, built in line with the remains at the Ness and the cairn of Maeshowe, mysterious in their size and placement, hinting at Stone Age transport innovations and a shared communal spirituality. Skara Brae, the Neolithic settlement hidden beneath the sand dunes, uncovered by a nineteenth-century storm, revealing the perfectly-preserved secrets of our ancestors who lived there – a community who in all likelihood lived in family groups, gathering around a central hearth, sleeping in box beds, displaying their treasures on stone-built dressers. We saw the four-centimetre tall Westray Wife, the earliest known carving of a human form found in Scotland and one of only three such carvings found throughout the whole of the UK; a tiny stone person, with pin prick eyes, an M-shaped brow line, a possible nose and mouth below.

    And everywhere we went, there was human connection. Shared humanity. Shared values. Our Stone Age forebears were not primitive or inhuman; they were innovative and societal, craftspeople and artists, spiritual beings and master engineers, their monuments surviving for thousands of years.

    And it struck me time and again that the only reason we know all this, the only reason we can connect with them across millennia, is because of humans now – archaeologists, historians, volunteers and more – whose minds, hearts and souls yearn across the ages to connect with our forebears, to understand them. Empathy. Deep human connection.

    And it struck me that empathy, deep human connection – that is kingdom work. Jesus embodies empathy. He saw people, he read them, he understood. From the widow who gave all that she had, to the woman caught in adultery; from Zacchaeus in the tree, to his encounter with Judas at the Last Supper; in his response to Peter cutting off the soldier’s ear at his arrest, and in the way he allowed for the restoration of their relationship at the barbecue on the beach. He is all about empathy. That is at the heart of how he relates to people. When Mary and Martha sent for him as Lazarus lay dying, he delayed his journey – allowing for the greater miracle of resurrection, yes, but also for that short but well-known Bible verse. He wept. He allowed time to feel their deepest grief and loss alongside them. Empathy.

    In a world where so many of our political leaders choose to build a stance of unassailable power on bullying tactics and threats, on retribution and sanctions, it is empathy that is needed. Empathy is how we bridge the divide, geographically, culturally, spiritually, historically. Empathy is how we draw together across the division of values and beliefs. Empathy, built through shared stories and experience, founded on strong and sacrificial love for our fellow humans and our world.

    Shared humanity. Real, deep, heart-to-heart human connection. Hospitality and openness. Empathy.

    That is my choice. Join me?

  • Love is…

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    Love is fierce.

    Love is strong.

    It cowers, and bends, and withstands crushing pressure; it folds in on itself.

    Love clings, love grips, love hangs on in the storm.

    It looks for the spark of light when there is none.

    Love knows when it is not enough. It seeks unceasingly for the scaffolding to shore it up.

    Love weeps.

    Love mourns.

    It sacrifices itself again and again.

    Love is steel.

    It digs in deep. It bides its time. It burns slowly into bloom.

    Love survives.

  • Twin Chords

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    Imagine that, at the core of every human soul, there is a single shining golden strand. And in that strand is everything that makes a person who they are. And every time a person encounters love, their strand strengthens, glows, grows brighter in its shining.

    Some strands may be tall and straight and strong, others elegantly twisting and gossamer-thin, but this one thing they all hold in common – they are the essence of a person, full of glorious wonder, a well of potential waiting to be explored, fulfilled, celebrated.

    But as each strand is nourished by love, so other strands will grow alongside them. For wherever there is love, loss inevitably follows, for love and loss walk hand in hand. And every time a person encounters loss, a darker strand grows and curls around the golden core, snaking its way upwards, a lace overlay of shadows.

    And sometimes a loss comes that is so full and violent and devastating and traumatic, that the darker strand quickens at a rush and the person cannot remember how to find themselves underneath it.

    And when such devastating loss engulfs a core which has not first been nurtured by love and care, then the person may lose their ability to see their gleam altogether and, if they do catch a glimpse of it now and then, it is certainly not to be trusted.

    These twin chords of love and loss stretch at the centre of our family. And, together, our task, through intensive love and care and nurture, is to help one another see that the golden gleam can shine more brightly among the shadows. That the darker strands can be accepted as part of who we are because love and loss entwined have a beauty and a courage all their own.

    In a world that all too often thirsts and seeks for the holy grail of pure, unadulterated happiness, this can be a difficult truth to embrace. But every now and then, the clouds part, the shadows recede, the golden glow shines strongly through the latticework of loss and it is exquisite.

    It happened this weekend. Music is something of a lynchpin for us. As words people, we gather lyrics that chime with our experience, singing them at the top of our lungs, often in the car.

    Our latest acquisition (by Robbie Williams) starts with these words – and hearing them sung and claimed and owned yesterday by a voice that I love is some of the sweetest music I’ve ever heard:

    Tether your soul to me
    I will never let go completely
    One day your hands will be
    Strong enough to hold me

    I might not be there for all your battles
    But you’ll win them eventually
    I’ll pray that I’m giving you all that matters
    So one day you’ll say to me:

    I love my life
    I am powerful
    I am beautiful
    I am free
    I love my life
    I am wonderful
    I am magical
    I am me
    I love my life

    (songwriters: John McDaid, Robert Peter Williams, Gary Go
    published by: lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd)

  • Elastic Threads of Love

     

    In our house, we talk about how love grows between our hearts like invisible threads of elastic. Wherever we are, these threads always connect us to one another. And there is always enough thread to unravel, however far apart we are. And because the threads are elastic, (and we’re not just talking your regular elastic here, we’re talking magic, super-strength, invincible elastic) our love, though it stretches, can never bend or break. Sometimes it might pull and that can cause us pain. But the threads always endure, they never snap.

    For our girls, explaining love in this way helps in all sorts of circumstances. When they are worried about being apart from us, the elastic stretches to keep us connected. When they miss those they have loved and lost, though it hurts because their old threads of love are pulling, there is comfort in knowing they are still there. When we tug each other’s threads out of anger, fear or frustration, they are strong enough not to be pulled out and, though we may cause one another pain, we can stop pulling and the threads will snap quickly back into place.

    And the threads of love that connect us aren’t confined to our little family of four. Our hearts are also linked to those who love us, our extended family and friends, the village of people who surround us and support us and bring colour and joy to our lives.

    This week, I finally got round to putting some bunting up in our youngest daughter’s bedroom. And it is beautiful. Seeing it there makes us smile.

    Last year, at her adoption celebration, our friends and family decorated small card hearts for her. Some wrote messages on them. Some went sequin crazy. Some drew pictures or just signed their name. But whatever they did, each heart represents someone who cared enough to be there. Someone who loves our family and wanted to celebrate with us.
    Now, every time she goes into her bedroom, she is reminded of all the threads of invisible elastic that connect her heart to those of others. She sees how many people love her. And hidden among the hearts are words or drawings of encouragement and love that will always be there for her, in good times and bad.
    To all those whose hearts are connected to ours, thank you.
    “For love, though it stretches, never breaks or bends.”