Feast of St Aidan - Flame of the North

Aidan - Flame of the North 

Genesis 1:3

And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. 

Today sees the feast day of St Aidan and a week of celebrating the the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne and her saints.

For a wonderful account of the life of Aidan see Canon Kate Tristam's article here. 

St Aidan's Bamburgh

from the Baptistry

When I have the time, my visits to Lindisfarne include paying my respects to Wilfrid at Hexham and then Aidan at St Aidan's in Bamburgh. By tradition, Aidan died in an earlier wooden church on this site and the beam he was leaning against has survived two major fires. Benedictines rebuilt the church in the 12th Century, honouring the memory of the Celtic 'apostle'. 

In a symbol of resurrection the beam is now part of the roof work over the baptistry. 

There is a simple shrine over the ground where he lay and, touchingly, prayer tokens take the celtic shape of shells, pebbles and feathers tucked into a little stone recess at the side.  

Then it is often a case of racing the tide for the crossing - it seems to be another personal tradition to only just make it one way or the other. 

This year was the first year that I made the crossing on foot - in bare feet to be precise - following the sentinel posts that mark safe passage. The poem and post Pilgrim Sands celebrates the experience of walking in the footsteps of all those who wander for the love of Christ.  

There are probably a thousand ways of expressing Celtic spirituality -  Aidan is one who carries God's hospitality with him. Wherever he was, he was the doorkeeper to the Kingdom - and his lamp was always lit.

Blessing of Aidan 

May you  shine with Heaven's Light 

May your heart be Light

in Love's longing

May your words be Light 

in dark times

May your hands be Light

in life's struggles

May your feet be Light

in sharing journeys

and bringing all to the Feast

May you shine with Heaven's Light

Blessed be

wordinthehand2013

Prayers for Seekers

Maybe there is something in the air of late summer. In the turning of the leaves, the over-blowing of the flowers and the ripening fruit that creates a restlessness. In the excited gatherings of starlings across the telephone lines and skeins of geese pointing the way to pastures and waters new.

Maybe the light evenings give everyone, even those who work, the opportunity to clear the mind and notice a lacking, a calling, a mission.

Maybe the Spirit is more easily seen in the wide skies, rustling leaves and sparkling splashes of rivers in full spate.

Maybe it is simply an instinct from our early lives. When the new school year forced us out of cotton sandals, leaving the crisscross pattern of suntanned feet as a melancholy reminder under crisp white socks. And it was no longer acceptable for your hair to look as though you had been dragged through the hedge backwards.

There is a long liminal season between Lammas and Mabon - the celebration of high summer and the autumn equinox - that nudges us out of our Dog Days attitude. The fine summer will not last forever.

How we are to traverse the darkening days is something we need to consider and act upon. Perhaps a pilgrimage of the spirit is called for; a journey to a new depth of being. A calling to ministry or commitment to prayer. The 'perhaps' needs time and consideration. A time of 'ressourcement' - a return to what is authentic, a stripping away of habit and convenience.

Jesus would take this need to the desert, that was his ''otherworld'.  Advent and Lent can still be desert experiences for many. But why not here, in what the church calls Ordinary Time? Why not invite the desert to show us what is extraordinary within us?

This series of prayer poems and reflections have a rough sense of desert journeying as a focus for meditative prayer. I usually prefer to set the scene. When I am fortunate enough to be on retreat there will be some wilderness patch, cliff or beach. Standing stones and circles and, of course, labyrinths create a world to withdraw into. Otherwise, a garden shrine or table and a big cupful of silence - quality is not always about quantity.

They are in an order of sorts but feel free to be drawn one way or another.

Calling 

The Lord calls,

'Come to me.

Leave the plains of ordinary times
The well worn paths of everyday
Leave the dry river beds
And relentless horizons
The daydreams
And mirages
Of life.

And come to me'

Desert brothers and sisters
Perhaps it is easier to find a place for oneself in the desert; with all its physical trials but without the temptations of the world. I will admit to sometimes finding the idea of solitude and the 'apartness' so very appealing.

How difficult it is to focus only on God, only on our soul travelling towards God when we live in the busyness and distractions of the Everyday.

This then becomes our challenge - to sacrifice the 'who we are' within the walls of the mundane - in the ordinariness of life - and to create within ourselves some 'desert' space to follow the yearning that leads us into the experience of God's loving presence and so find ourselves, at the end of the day, praying on our knees and with blessed souls.



The desert

I stand with my back to the world.

Its distractions and temptations fading away
Ahead the desert, a journey into peace
A journey into solitude

A journey to find meaning and understanding
In a world of confusion.

There is no confusion here
Life is precious and to be lived
The journey a test of strength
A trial of commitment to the Way.

What is the way?

Who is the way?

The God who was here first,
Tested and tempted

The God who remains now
His footprints in the sand

The God who is always
My oasis, my hope, my guide.


Silence 

There are a variety of understandings about levels of consciousness. There is the activity of the ‘what we are doing now’; reactive and proactive. The thinking that knows it is thinking. If we consider this then it seems to take up most of our time, being in the now. But the process of ‘being in the now’ on a conscious level requires access to multiple layers of what has gone before; all the basic skills of life; acquired information that allows us to interpret and forecast events, memories that tell us who and what we are; our relationship to the world. We may believe that this is all in the sub-conscious; as if this is an ocean of deep water with the oily consciousness floating above. 

To only have these two levels would making fishing for what we need somewhat difficult. I imagine consciousness as layers of different materials sometimes with defined edges, sometimes more fluid, a tidal place where there is always movement; more active at the surface where it is at the elements of the world around it; denser and more concentrated as the layers settle into the self. Silence is not just one layer in this environment. 

There are many layers, some just gentle buffers between one and the other, others a place of transition; others a place to be absorbed into the heart of Now.


Based on Psalm 46

I rest in the Sanctuary of the Lord

Knowing that God alone is my refuge.
I am deafened by the world’s demands
Overwhelmed by its rages and torments

The seas swell and the mountains quake
The uproar of mans greed echoes through the night
Angry voices call out for revenge
Broken hearts for rescue.

But not here

Here is a Holy Place
This, my refuge
Deep as a mountain pool
Hopeful as the dawn sun
The home of the Most High

Heart’s ease is here
Soul’s friend is here
Spirit’s food is here

My Lord and my God

The Lord speaks and the world melts away
Be still and know that I am God
Be still and know
Be still


Choice

We make the choice to turn again; to become unworldly; to escape the expectations. We choose to accept what life truly means. We choose to deny ourselves the distractions that keep us from living an authentic life. If we take this denial seriously we accept some suffering rather than questioning the need for it; somehow we understand the need. That there is solidarity in suffering...solidarity with a God who chose to suffer to set us free; who, in some Kairos moment, continues to suffer and who needs us, in our freedom, to choose to walk beside him


See a clay bowl

See a clay bowl set into desert sand

newly fired and filled to the brim with water,
with life
Perfect.

A stone, plucked from desert ashes

is dropped into the bowl,
gonging it’s entry into sacred space

A shower of sparkling light leaps up
then falls
leaving dark tears on the sand.

Another stone.

a filmy amoeba moves eerily across the surface.

No longer perfect.

Tears rain
forced to flee 

by the will of the unthinking stone.

The fragility of the clay
weighed down by granite.
to move would be to break

The bowl sits – bereft

In the dark of beneath
water seeks a resting place
finds a cocoon of memory
an inheritance abandoned and forgotten.

The remembering seed drinks and climbs
fresh green fingers push sand aside and reaches up in joy.

Roots entangle clay 
Imperfect brings forth life.


I always imagine all pilgrims to be on the road to Emmaus - never quite sure that they will encounter the Divine - until they do.

The Blessing of Emmaus

Blessed be the path of the shoreline

Of thrift and cordgrass

The betwixt path of sea and sand

The path of waxing and waning

Blessed be the path of the meadow

Of wheatgrass and poppies

The tiller's path seeking a harvest

The path of the gatherer and the gleaner

Blessed be the path of the mountain

Of gentians and gorse

The goatherd's path of vision 

The path of precipice and ascent

Blessed be the path of the desert

of mallow and milkweed

The solitary's path of denial

The path of encounter and sacrifice

There are no wrong paths

only the path 

where you do not invite God

to walk beside you.

Blessed be



wordinthehand2014 


You are very welcome to use the ideas and prayers - though I would ask that they are acknowledged as  mairie gelling 2014 http://stbrigidsmantle.blogspot.co.uk

Praying in the Landscape

I thought I would share this reflective liturgy as an idea or inspiration for others. You could adapt the prayers to suit a group if needed.

There are some lovely churchyards, gardens and natural spaces that invite the opportunity to appreciate the natural world, to pray and to rest. This was a day of reflection written for the surroundings of an ancient church near where I live. I'll describe each station as we go.

In this case, people came into the church space during the day. They were given a map of the stations, which they could visit at their own pace. There were places where people could sit and reflect. Each station had  prayer cards with the prayer poem and an image for the visitor to sit with and take away. The visitors were invited to start and end their journey with the prayer to the Sacred Three and to light candles in the church before they left, some people brought leaves or feathers as well. You could create a temporary shrine within the surroundings for this.

Prayer to the Sacred Three 

Sacred Three, whose love spirals the Universe

I ask you to guide my footsteps 

To open my eyes, to reveal your presence

in the world that is your gift to me.

May the blessing of the Father be in 

the depth of earth, the stability of rock, 

the turning of the seasons

to hold and protect me.

May the blessing of the Christ be in

the life that springs forth from the earth

creatures, trees and plant life

companions in my journey

May the blessing of the Spirit be in 

the eddying waters, the zephyrs of air

the breath of God's love 

to ward me and guide me.

Amen

Station - The Briar Path 

A overgrown part of the churchyard where the path needs to be negotiated with care

No-one said it would be easy 
But sometimes I wish
It would not be so hard.

Life sends me on many paths
The Way is not always clear
Light shines, but casts
Long shadows.
Darkness catches me 
Unawares. 
Thoughts and words
Like briar thorns 
Bite into my heart.
Am I lost?

Spirit 
Be in my mind's eye
My heart's guide
My soul's friend
Lead me home. 


Station - Water

In a quiet corner a clay bowl of clear water, a jug filled to the brim and a scattering of smooth palm size stones.

Water of Life
Liquid light contained
In earth's cool hands.

Stars sparkling in mirrored sky
Reflection of what is 
What is not.

Love is deep
Life water, life-giving
Slipping through fingers

Feeding dry places 
Finding the way
Within




Station - Forked Path 

A place where the path offers a choice 

With hindsight,
I would know
Which is right

This is the way
Or, not...
Who can tell?

Only this moment
Foot poised 
to step into mystery








Station - Boundary

A wall, hedge or fence - a place that defines an edge

There is no reason 
for being on the edge
Except that there seems
Nowhere else to go 
Or
the 'somewhere else'
Seems too far.





Station - Groves

A group or circle of trees 

To be entwined
In earth and rock 
Deep in the One who gives me life

To stand tall 
encircled by life and time
With the One who gives me life

To reach up 

in joy and spirit

To the One who gives me life

Station - The Hearth

This could be a place of gathering, a fire pit, or altar

This place

A leaving

With love and courage

A returning

Longing and thanksgiving.

A place of 

Hospitality

Where love's fire

Burns through the brightest
and darkest of days

Feed my spirit

Guide the wanderer

Bring me home 

The prodigal

And the pilgrim

to the heart of God


You are welcome to use the ideas and prayers though I would ask that they are acknowledged as  mairie gelling 2014 http://stbrigidsmantle.blogspot.co.uk

Blessing of the Moon

Lorica of the Moon

The blessing of the Moon 

Sister of Shadows

Lantern of Pathways

Gatherer of Tides

The blessing of the Moon

Watcher of the wakeful

Seeker of the Lost

Soother of the Mourning

The blessing of the Moon

Guardian of dreams

Mirror of souls

Wellspring of tears

The blessing of the Moon 

Sharpness of birth

Crescent of hope

Roundness of fulfillment

The blessing of the Moon

Angel of the desert

Witness in the garden

Mourner at the tomb

The blessing of the Moon

This night and every night

From the solace of sunset

'til the promise of dawn

Blessed Be

wordinthehand2012

A Lorica is a breastplate prayer

-a prayer of protection 

Feast of St Chiara of Assisi

Saint and Virgin

Chiara’s reply

They praise me as a Virgin, Lord

I am sorry to disappoint

But I am no virgin.

May I ask these holy men

By what do they set their mark?

I rejected earthly comfort.

That place was a shadowland to me

and I hung on the landscape like a

dangling marionette, uselessly beautiful.

There was no comfort there.

I never earned a love song.

Then they never heard the Poverello.

His words were fire and ice in my belly

ardently proclaiming Your Love,

That song drew me away.

Away from desire.

Rather like a maiden awaiting her first suitor

My heart paced in prayer for your presence.

Like a bride in the marriage bed

My soul ached for You to enfold me.

Never known a man.

Francis was my heart’s true friend.

Love given and received without guile or charge

the fulfilment of Your benevolent Love.

What physical act could compare?

But I have not borne a child.

Are they blind?

My daughters are with them still

Loving and faithful

I have raised them all.

So, they have given me a Church

and they have made me a Saint

For being a Virgin.

You had better tell these men, Lord

There are very few virgins in Heaven.

wordinthehand2012