Behold - A New Year!!

There is nothing especially magical about a new year. After all, time is a human construct that has been created to enable order in what often seems a chaotic world. Look what happens when the trains don't run on time, or we have to wait for an appointment that is running late. Our lives are so dictated by the clock in order that we might be in control of this life that is ever racing towards some unknown future destination. There is some hope. As we have cleverly based our concept of time on the cycles of days, months and years, we have not veered entirely from the more cyclical understanding of time that is given to us in the natural paths of our sun, moon and earth. I find this a helpful way of looking at the new year: not so much the next step in a linear path where I am expected to be closer to perfection than 2018, but a coming around the circle again, learning from what has been and experiencing it anew. How we understand time has a significant impact on how we choose to live our life.

And so, as we come around again, looking at the path we have taken many times before from a different perspective, we ponder what we might do differently. Some make resolutions, often unrealistic and broken within a month. Others treat it as a fresh start, an opportunity to study harder, exercise more or be more disciplined. I gave up the idea of resolutions some years ago now. I can have very high expectations of myself and my lists were always far longer and complicated than was practical. 

A few years ago now, I began choosing a word for the year. This word was chosen in a very prayerful and reflective way. It has usually been a characteristic or a verb on which to focus for the year. The ones that come to mind immediately are 'integrity', 'courage' and 'cherish'. As I think on those words and the years that accompanied them, I recall moments and small transformations that crossed my path. I have been wondering for a few weeks now what the word for 2019 might be. A word has come back to me over and over like a persistent mosquito. I haven't sat comfortably with it for many reasons. It is an old word, not so used in every day language. It is not your usual verb or a personal characteristic - how will I make it applicable? It was seemingly a passive word, and I wanted something more challenging, more life disturbing. I even attempted to do a deal with this word. What if I have two words this year - this one (as it will not go away) and another that I will choose to make it more punchy!

However, I have resolved myself to trust this process and I am now happy to say that the word that has chosen me for 2019 is 'Behold'. The dictionary definition of behold is 'to see or observe (someone or something, especially of remarkable or impressive nature)'. My contemplative nature is quite content spending a year beholding the world around me; gazing upon the beauties of nature, watching those I love grow and blossom, searching out the moments and glimpses where the wonder of God is present. Seen this way, there is a sense in finding the sacred in all things and celebrating this each and every day. As Julian of Norwich said, "The fullness of joy is to behold God in everything".

But what happens if I start to use this word about myself? The initial reaction is to cringe in discomfort. I am not one to enjoy the spotlight. If the attention is turned upon me spontaneously in public, I would happily melt into my surroundings. Only use the word 'Behold' in front of my name after hours of rehearsals and all the mistakes have been ironed out. I love karaoke, but let me practice first!! So, what if I invited myself, others and God to say 'Behold, here is Cathie'. Suddenly, this word is a lot more challenging than I bargained for. To allow people to gaze upon my life and what I do before the dress rehearsals and the make up calls is something I encourage in others, but can I live it. I have always blamed my insecurities on the expectations of others, but this word is calling me to address the unrealistic expectations I put upon myself. 

I feel I am going to have a love-hate relationship with this word in 2019. I will need to hear my own words and see it as a coming around again, rather than some striving for unachievable perfection. Let's see how it goes. Behold - a new year!!

Lectio divina

Lectio divina is a spiritual practice translated from the Latin as "divine reading". Originating from the third and fourth centuries, and used by monastic orders for centuries, lectio divina usually concentrates on a passage of Scripture. It is usually used in community, but can be used in individual reflection also. 

There are four movements in lectio divina. These are lectio (read or listen), 
meditatio (meditate/reflect), oratio (pray/respond) and contemplatio (rest/contemplate). These movements are experienced in many different ways today as people have adapted and kept the practice relevant. Essentially, the text is read aloud three times. Each reading takes those participating through the four movements at deeper levels each time. As I practice lectio divina, I ask myself during the first reading which word or phrase particularly grabs my attention. On the second reading, I ask myself what emotions are tied to this word or phrase. How does it speak into my life at this time? In the final reading, I ask myself what God might be inviting me to this day? What might God be saying to me through this text?

My Community Group at WCC Conference in 2004

My most memorable experience of using lectio divina in community was in Greece at the World Council of Churches Conference on Mission in 2004. Each morning we met in our community groups. People from all across the globe - different languages, different cultures, different theologies - were thrown together in small groups of about ten to engage in Bible study. You can imagine the problems that might have arisen. The process used, however, was lectio divina. No one commented on others' responses. The time was held in a prayerful way, that did not lend itself to theological debate. This practice enabled us to meet on a common ground that would have been near impossible using traditional Bible study methods.

Since this time, I have used this practice in my own personal life and in small groups. The text has not always been Scripture. Often we have reflected on a poem together (I particularly enjoy Mary Oliver) or perhaps the words of a song. The same process is used to take the participant deeper into the text. The aspect of this practice that particularly appeals to me is that it treats a text as living. Each time the text is heard there is an opportunity for it to speak freshly into our lives again. Lectio divina is not simply reading, it is a prayerful, meditative reading that invites the divine to enter the story and intertwine with ours. In this way, no two readings can ever be the same.

Sharing Mandalas

As many of you will be aware, this year I released "A Mandala a Month Workbook". I am gifting myself another copy for Christmas to work through in 2019. In many ways, this book achieved what I was hoping - except one. The inspiration for this book came from a program I ran in 2013 where people met together each month and shared their experience. A small group also registered online. These people would send in a picture of their mandala each month with a few words and I would add them to our dedicated website. It was wonderful to share with others as we worked our way through the year with our mandalas.

I was reminded of this recently, as I received an email from someone who had completed the first mandala in their book. It included a picture of the mandala they created and a reflection on the process and what it means to them. It was such a joy to receive. The importance of sharing the journey with someone was highlighted again. It is one thing to engage in spiritual practices for ourselves, but in sharing this with someone else I find the value is increased for ourselves and benefits the one with whom we share.

Please feel free to share your mandala experiences with me by emailing deepwaterdwelling@gmail.com or if there was enough interest, I could launch a private group page where these reflections and pictures could be shared. Let me know your thoughts. 

A Different Christmas

This is my first Christmas in quite some time that I am not madly preparing worship services and wondering how on earth it will all happen before the big day. I love Christmas! And, to be honest, I have been anxiously anticipating what this first year without the ties of ministry might look like for me. With only a few days to go, I have been reflecting on this different advent space. What have I enjoyed? What have I missed? How am I approaching this Christmas? And how have these differences been reflected in my spiritual journey? It has still been a little chaotic, but the fact that I have time to ask these questions is a huge difference.

Let me begin with what I haven't missed. No matter how hard I tried to be super organised while in ministry, Advent always snuck up on me. I would have these super creative ideas about how to journey through Advent or some craft activity to include in the Christmas Eve service, and would only end up cursing that pesky imagination for putting me under so much pressure at such a busy time of year. At the same time, I would preach each week about spending time, not rushing, being expectant and taking time to be still. Hypocrisy gone mad!!

This year, I don't have any services to prepare, no church to decorate, no last minute nativity costumes to whip up, no orders to print off, messages to write for local papers and the list goes on. Instead, I am helping my family get ready for Christmas. I have been out gardening each day helping my husband cram two weeks of mowing, weeding and raking into one so that he can take some time off over Christmas. I have been offering advice to my daughter who has decided to take on some baking. I am taking the learner driver out for some practice, being a taxi mum and attempting to keep on top of the washing and other chores.

We will be heading to the city to spend some time with our extended families over Christmas and I get to choose where and when I would like to attend church. I must say it is a joy not to have the same pressures of the last few years. There have been a few aspects I have missed, however. The singing is one. There is nothing that bonds people together quite like singing, particularly Christmas songs. I am hoping to make up for this a little on Christmas morning.

The other aspect I have missed is the ritual of Advent and the anticipation it brings. Most of the churches I have been involved in throughout my life have participated in an Advent candle liturgy in the four weeks leading to Christmas Day. This act, often including a song, some words and the visual of the candles being lit each week, has a way of preparing me and building the anticipation for Christmas and all the meaning it holds.

All this being said, I am still super excited about Christmas. I will probably still be up at the crack of dawn as I have been for many years now (much to my parents and now my children's disgust). Christmas has always been a time of surprises. It began with God surprising the world in the incarnation and it continues in how we find the Christ anew in the people we encounter during this special time. I was concerned that without the busyness of ministry Christmas might somehow lose its shine. Instead, I have more time to be present and just let it happen, rather than being the one who makes it happen. Happy Christmas to you all!!

What to do with darkness

What do we do about the darkness?
What do we have to change this world?
What answers?
What solutions?
What possibilities?





We use what we have to destroy.
We make weapons.
We kill. We terrorise.
We trust that violence brings peace.
But the darkness grows ever deeper.





We fear the dark and we build barriers,
to keep the darkness out.
We hate, exclude, oppress,
giving darkness a name and a face.
And the darkness grows heavier.


We reach out in compassion,
building bridges and understanding.
At times eyes meet, but often we are alone.
Standing on our half built bridge
and the dark void grows wider.





We prepare tables of hospitality
hoping places will be filled by the other.
But those who come enjoy our food,
laugh at our jokes, speak our language.
And the darkness is just outside.

What to do with the darkness?
Solutions are tiring, fleeting and fruitless.
I will build a shelter
and enter my inner room.
Let me help you build yours too.
And in our going deep,
we will find ourselves,
find meaning,
find each other.
Light and love will flow.

A Tribute to Father Thomas Keating

Today, in Denver, Colorado, a large crowd will gather as many tune in from around the world to celebrate the life and legacy Father Thomas Keating. Father Keating, a Trappist monk, died at the age of 95 on October 25th after a prolonged period of ill health. He is not known particularly widely in the secular world, but to those of us who try to live in a more contemplative way, he was a guru.

Thomas Keating is renowned as a pioneer in contemplative living and a world figure in interfaith dialogue. He wrote many books and spoke to many audiences throughout his life, gaining respect as a world wide teacher. He was one of the key people involved in developing the concept of centring prayer, silent prayer centred entirely on the presence of God. In a video I have watched, Keating describes centring prayer as all about heartfulness, which is a little different to mindfulness. Some may feel this type of prayer is sitting in a void, but Keating describes it as sitting in the presence of God who is already there.

It is not surprising to me that Thomas Keating was also a lead figure in interfaith dialogue. In my experience, when we strip back the words that we have padded around our relationship with the divine to discover the centre, the essence, the core, we often find ourselves in a place of mystery and silence that opens doors and windows to speaking a different language with those who are different and other. My favourite quote of Thomas Keating's is, "Silence is God's first language. Everything else is poor translation." Silence may be peaceful, but it is also extremely powerful. Thank you Thomas Keating!

The Veil is Thin

Nathaneal's Rest - One of my thin places.

The veil is very thin. I first heard this phrase about fifteen years ago and my first recollection of relating it to my own life was a very meaningful and formational experience. It refers to the divide between the physical, earthly life and the spiritual realm. Mostly we go about our daily business in a very earthed way, unaware of what lies beyond. There are moments, however, when the mysterious otherness comes very close and we are often left in awe and wonder.

Some feel the veil is very thin at particular times of the year. The Gaelic festival of Samhain (one of the roots of Halloween) and All Souls’ Day are considered to be such times. In the Northern Hemisphere, the end of October and beginning of November mark the start of Winter and it is believed that the spirits of those who have passed away are particularly present.

Some feel there are particular places where the veil is very thin, sacred spaces where we are able to be more open and aware to what lies beyond. Thin places, they are called, places that have been known throughout the centuries to be particularly sacred or spiritual. Stone Henge, Santiago de Campostela, Uluru and Chalice Well immediately come to mind.

I believe both of these to be true, but I don’t want to limit the experience of the veil being thin to specific times and places. I had a day this week when the veil was very thin for me. Yes, it was the beginning of November, and yes, I was in a space that has been a thin place for me before. However, I’m not sure these contexts were essential to my experience.

This is not the place to share the details of what happened, in fact I am still trying to work that out myself. I will, however, try to explain the effect it had. Although I was in a group situation for most of the day and engaged fully with what was going on, somehow I found myself beyond time and place. There was a feeling, or a knowing, that stretched across distances and allowed me to feel like I was present with other people, even though I clearly couldn’t be in a physical way. There were unexplained ‘nudges’ throughout the day that seemed to let me know how things were and how to respond. I had strange emotions well up in me at times that made no sense in my physical context. Now, I am quite a logical person, but the only way I can explain this is that the veil was very thin.

Some may brush this off as coincidence or being over sensitive. There was more to this experience though. I think in today’s Western world we can be very quick to dismiss these experiences. We have been taught to consider them crazy or sinister. My hope is that others will be brave enough to share their spiritual experiences, the times when God has been very close, or when the veil is very thin. It is a vulnerable space as we risk being labelled, but in doing so we give others permission to share in the same way. My other hope is that if we are privileged to hear someone’s story about the thin times and places, that we will listen with awe and wonder rather than try to explain them away. There is much mystery in life. Let’s become more comfortable sitting with it.