It
had been a pretty amazing eight days. I’d been in ‘spiritual lockdown’ at St
Beuno’s Spirituality Centre in North Wales, making an individually-given silent
retreat – my first of many. The silence had been profound and had invited me
again and again to reflect more deeply on what was going on in my life and what
direction I might take in the future. When these seemingly timeless days came
to an end and it was time to head home, we were warned to take the return
journey and the coming few days and weeks gently, as we transitioned ‘back to
normal’ after what had been in some ways a life-changing experience. I realised
the wisdom of that advice as soon as I joined the highway for my drive home. I
felt as though I had stepped out of a different world, a whole other way of
being. Returning to ‘normal’ was a struggle, and one that I was frankly rather
reluctant to engage in.
In
these days of our collective enforced corona retreat (and even St Ignatius
didn’t push it past thirty days!), I restore my soul walking in rural Ayrshire,
meeting few but the cows and the sheep, hearing nothing but birdsong and the
stirring of the breeze through the Scots pines, and gazing on (mainly) blue
skies unsullied by vapour trails, feeling as though I am on retreat again. This
is not – I hasten to add – in any way to diminish the cruel loss of bereavement
and the deep economic anxiety that many are going through. Just as during that
retreat I was able to immerse myself in the stillness and silence while never
forgetting the challenges that awaited me back home, so somehow the two conflicting
aspects of the standstill now likewise come together in an uneasy tension.
As
I wander along these lanes of a quietened countryside and a quietened heart and
mind, I am vividly reminded of the butterfly story. Like the caterpillar who
didn’t know when to stop consuming and expanding, we too have, globally, been
pitched into a meltdown where no one ever wanted to be. We are still
floundering in the gloopy mess that is the post-caterpillar, pre-butterfly
stage of a great transformation. We are, globally, in the chrysalis of our
humanity. The chrysalis is a very strange and uncomfortable place to be -
silenced, immobilised, powerless and in the dark as to what, if anything, might
happen next. There is no choice, as we are regularly reminded, but to ‘hang on
in there’.
Yet
this too shall pass, as we are also promised. When the time is right – and only
then – something new begins to emerge from that dark and lonely place. The
miracle begins when the first colours start to reveal themselves through the
outer membrane of the cocoon. These are the true colours of the new creature
that will astonish (or shock) us as it starts to take shape. Some of those
‘true colours’ of our collective humanity are already showing. They are the
colours of gratitude, of inventiveness and creativity, of a new neighbourliness
and care for the most vulnerable in our midst. They are the colours that sing
from the balconies and clatter the pan lids on Thursday evenings to say Thank You.
They reflect the dedication of teachers striving to conquer the technology and
send my grandchildren daily resources for their home learning. They focus the
gaze of scientists seeking a breakthrough. They shine through the tears of the
confined elderly seeing their distant loved ones on Facetime, making rainbows.
Shall
these be the true colours of the humanity that emerges from these strange
chrysalis times? Or will we choose instead the dark side of ourselves,
fly-tipping and littering, defying reasonable authority and common sense to
gather in gangs and put each other at risk? Will we put profit before
wellbeing, pleasure ahead of real joy? It began in the creation story with the
bestowal of the gift of the knowledge of good and evil – the gift of the higher
brain and the discernment that it facilitates. We alone on Earth have choices
about the future we wish to create. As we gradually begin to leave the
chrysalis, what kind of future do we choose? We make that future a reality – we
incarnate it - by living it, step by step, choice by choice.
We
are just at the beginning of our struggle as planetary citizens, to move beyond
the old normal and aspire to the new. There are no short cuts. There will be
many missteps, both in high places where difficult decisions are demanded and
on the ground where most of us live out our personal birthings.
If
you prematurely cut a butterfly free from the fibres that confine it, you will
kill it. It needs the struggle to activate its circulation. Without this, it
will not be able to fly, and it will die. We are frequently told that if we
loosen restrictions prematurely there will be a spike in the infection rate and
the death toll, but there is even more at stake than this. If we fail to engage
in the struggle to become the best human beings we can be, if we short-cut back
to how things were – the old normal - learning nothing from our long retreat, we
will be gambling with extinction. We will abort the coming of a new normal that
could be something remarkable, something amazing, a real legacy to pass on to
future generations. The first indications are there. We ignore or suppress them
at our extreme peril.
And
when the retreat is over, we might do well to emulate the butterfly. Before she
embarks on her astounding new life, she lies in the sun and dries her wings.
Take care as you step gingerly from the stillness of lockdown into a frenzy of
normality. It doesn’t have to be busy-ness as usual. It could be
something so much more than that.
***
Each
day, we will post a short article by one of Darton, Longman and Todd’s amazing
authors, offering a personal reflection on our current situation in life.
Sometimes this will be written with reference to one of their books, and
sometimes about how they are living in response to the coronavirus and our
current world situation. We hope it will give you a taste of the depth and
diversity of DLT’s list – books for heart, mind and soul that aim to meet the
needs and interests of all.
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