I play cards a lot. I’ve done it all my life. There is something very special about sitting down with friends and playing a game that challenges one a bit, but does not push one far enough to generate bad feelings. The games I play involve acceptance and generous congratulations for the winner or winners – whoever they may be. I only play games with good friends. In contrast, my mother had a real horror of card games that involved any kind of gambling. She came from an abjectly poor family with two brothers and many cousins and had experienced some horrible conflicts arising from bitterly competitive card games where money was involved.
The best card games feature a combination of skill and luck. I play two games on a fairly regular basis – an Italian form of Canasta, known as Samba (in this country) and also Poker. These two games are very different, but still take me to places that remind me of life skills and lessons that are difficult to learn. Samba, described as ‘Canasta on speed’ is a terrifying and addictive, and is played with a partner. As one rises above the first levels of play, one acquires handicaps that can bring down fast-speeding front-runners as quickly as one likes. There is no place for arrogance… at least not for too long. Italian Canasta also has a built-in tension factor, as the four players fight-tooth-and-nail to gain a pile of cards that will set them up with a higher score. Every now and again, as we sit around the card table, some anxious but jolly player will ask why we choose to create so much stress for ourselves… just for a card game!
An entirely different kettle of fish is poker – two kinds – Texas Hold’em, with two cards, plus the flop of five, or Omaha with four cards plus the flop. The game is usually adjusted to the number of players at the time. Money is also involved, albeit small sums. With poker there is skill in reading people, making sure that others don’t read you, but also in working out whether the cards have potential, or imagining what the others might have in their hands. The problem arises when one just does not have good cards, and there is little or no room for manoeuvre when this happens. Having bad cards is demoralising – like failing to get to a good drop shot (in tennis) – or being rejected by an official body when one thinks one has done something brilliant. Bad cards are like the bad turns in life that lead one questioning oneself and one’s skills, which is why one has to play cards with a touch of optimism, faith and enthusiasm… alternatively just keep to playing cards with friends, and keep the stakes to a minimum and stay happy.
Games… including card games teach one about life, but sadly the lessons are not always easily learned. If one is on a winning streak it is a great feeling, but countering that are so many emotions that can spoil things. Does one deserve to win? Is it unkind to others? Is this war or just a bloody silly game? If one is constantly winning is it because one is just utterly brilliant? Possibly yes; more probably no.
The one thing that pushes the sweetness and kindness out of the window is playing games with one’s three teenage nephews, and then one gets a real sense of the bitter struggle, the silliness and vicious punch-ups necessary for survival. Many years later I am glad to say that we are all alive to tell the tale, but I think I might leave out some kinds of board games. Monopoly and Hotel are far too scary for me.
With the certainty of the sunrise may the ball rise above me waiting to be placed
May the flight of the sphere with its cosmic grace be a perfect trajectory defying space and time
So, as I turn agile and angled I let fly
My heart sings as the sphere soars higher and higher only to come down to an invitation to sweep wide an earthly motion skimming controlled power like a stone on water
May my racquet be my friend may the ball travel wherever I wish may the net serve as a gentle reminder may I have confidence in myself may I respect my opponent
May this game bring joy to me to those I love in this… our interstellar world
We don’t get the post that much anymore, and because the service has been so seriously depleted since privatisation, we no longer have a relationship with our postie. It’s a frightful loss. But this doesn’t mean that I don’t think about the person who delivers our post and parcels anymore, because I do. For this reason I have written a prayer for the Postie, which appears in the new website which still has a few things to sort out, but is gradually getting better every day – Prayers for Everyone
Prayer for the Postie
Let us honour In prayer The honour of work Important jobs That demand Respect Bring pleasure Inspire Poetry
A thousand emotions contained In a million envelopes A universe of ideas Beyond the mind of man
Let us honour The Postie Once esteemed Once smartly uniformed Pillar of the community Now strangely invisible Yet even today Hero and heroine Striding out in wartime Freezing winters Sweltering summers And pandemics
For over 200 years The Postie brought Papers, cheques, passports, Visas, love letters, Cards for birthdays Invitations Letters of sadness Letters of gladness Written on paper of every hue, The pink, the violet, the white and the blue Nasty news alongside nice postcards Silly views alongside perceptive poetry
Let us honour in prayer The Postie Knocking at the door Ringing the bell Descending slippery steps Dodging dubious dogs Negotiating snapping letter boxes
Two hundred years of tradition Needing strength, patience, Kindness, strong limbs… Which is why We bless the Postie Post Woman and Post Man For all they gave us yesterday Today and tomorrow A job well done Thank you
In anticipation of the forthcoming website – Prayers for Everyone – which is currently under development, I am writing prayers where there seem to be gaps… like interfaith prayers that don’t address any deity, but just celebrate joy in the ideas and ideals of the interfaith movement.
Interfaith Prayer
When people of different faith Get together in peace True peace Unity and kindness… Something occurs Something good Something… Glorious
An invisible force A commonality Carried on a wave of diversity Arises… Honouring our different beliefs
It’s as if the invisible energies Of miscellaneous angels Move between those faiths Reminding us Of the similarities Between us all
Explaining the power of love The perfection of agreement The exquisite nature Of harmonious understanding
And so together We celebrate Sacred peace Sacred love Harmony in diversity And give thanks
Bring back the birds 73 million gone from this land in 50 years 73 million songs, 73 million lives Gone from gardens, fields, woods and seas Bring back the birds Please
Robins, chaffinches, starlings, thrushes, blue tits Annihilation by pesticides, farming, cats, Logging, climate-change Humans and their kind Greed, blind greed
Precision, harmony and music Flying like angels Swimming like mermaids Carried on waves of wind and water Navigating by starlight
Where is the morning chorus? Where is the murmuration? Where is the song of the lark? Where the swifts that fly to China? The swallows to Africa? They must return
Celestial acrobats Soaring through air and water Curving over clouds What does it mean ‘Free as a bird’? We caged them Killed them How did this happen?
Bring back the birds 73 million gone from this land in 50 years 73 million songs, 73 million lives Gone from gardens, fields, woods and seas Bring back the birds Please
A loving funeral is essential. But isn’t easy to set up a loving funeral. Most of us no longer have a local priest or person to turn to. The vicar or celebrant recommended by a Funeral Director rarely fulfils the task, and to try and carry out the funeral oneself can also be nearly impossible for a thousand reasons, not least the sheer pressure of living with one’s own loss, which can be draining both emotionally and physically.
Many religious people want a funeral done in the usual way, but for some of us this is not what we want. Religion is man-made; spiritual awareness is cosmic. Choice is part of our lives, and this applies to our spiritual lives. Many of us are spiritually aware but not attached to any particular faith, and some celebrants are not prepared to support our need for freedom. There is a beautiful specialness in people, whether they have no interest in anything or have a passion for embroidery, making doll’s houses out of match-boxes, sport, animals, grandchildren, gardening or mountain climbing. Everyone is unique and it is so important that their unique character is honoured at their funeral.
Funerals today are best when they are loving, insightful, and if possible friendly… and they can be friendly whether there are three people present or 300. They don’t need to be sentimental but they do need to be authentic. A funeral must serve two purposes – to make those present feel connected with the person that has died, and to empower people that come to the funeral to feel better for the experience, and appreciate a moment of connection at the deepest level.
I know when I have carried out a funeral successfully. It’s when somebody comes up to me and says “did you know him? I was under the impression you knew him really well…” also when somebody says “She would have really loved this service… it’s as if she was here.”
Over the years I have written many funeral readings for some very special people. The specialness of each person and each funeral helps to create funerals for other unique women, men and children. But with every funeral there is always something different, beautiful, radiant and unexpected. The readings I have created for these unique people can be found on my website – funeral readings.
In praise of Glamorous Finches and Exotic Libraries
If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book. J.K. Rowling
A great gift from the technology age is the library in your pocket, or backpack, depending on your preference. Books of all kinds are now languishing by the zillion in our electronic libraries on literary ‘clouds’ in the aether. And who can deny… books on a tablet or iPad are wonderful if one lives in a limited space — a virtual library can be as small or massive as you like, or can afford.
The electronic book has changed our reading habits so much. If one commutes, or likes to settle down in a dark place without disturbing one’s partner, the electronic book has much to offer, as opposed to turning on the light and shuffling around in the gloom looking for a misplaced book-mark. The sheer quantity of electronic books in my electronic library also comes as a real relief to the book-shelves in our house. But most importantly these books in the cloud point to a fundamentally different way of reading and book ownership.
When I started to own electronic books, I discovered that important factual volumes needed for research had to be in paper form, because of re-reading, book marking and sharing. This discovery was learned by making mistakes and having to get the same book twice. But then things changed, I started to read only certain kinds of books electronically. Novels, fantasy, stories and ‘page-turners’ were required and acquired electronically. Finally, I came to know when I only needed a real book that involved paper, pictures, references and text… and so, me and a million others changed our reading habits.
The important books that we appreciate have become special, like the illuminated hand-painted tomes of old. Weighing in like the heavyweights that they are, coffee table books have gone out of the window, the big books are the serious ones, for serious people with serious passions. And here are two very different examples I found in our house.
If you key “Exotic Twitchers” into Google you can have real fun, discovering the difference between a real bird-watcher and a twitcher – the twitcher being a person that sets out to record some exotic bird life that got lost in Brexitland en-route to somewhere sunny. Lost and bewildered the foreign bird ends up on our sad little island, being scrutinised by a host of anoraked twitchers. But real bird watchers look at books like ‘Estrildid Finches of the World’ and travel to distant lands to discover more about this branch of truly exotic finch. ‘Estrildid Finches of the World’ is a vast astonishing self-published volume encompassing nine years of work, over a thousand colour photographs, a nearly 400 pages of descriptive text including 146 maps and many magnificent birdy illustrations. The volume includes examinations of markings and descriptions of hatchlings, as well. It’s a dedicated study of Estrildidae, a finch family of 34 genera and 145 species – beautiful birds that can be found in 40 countries around the world. The book, which understandably earned praise from David Attenborough, costs 69.95 Euros and is available from the author – G.J.Huisman – www.finches.nl. and take my word for it, I am not a serious bird watcher, but for somebody who loves their exotic finches, this has to be the book, it’s impressive…
Another volume that reminded me of the way books and their importance have changed during our lifetimes is the seductive Thames & Hudson volume The Library – A World History by James W.P. Campbell and Will Pryce. This is another physically massive tome featuring photographs of libraries across the world. It includes sumptuous pictures of collections of books and manuscripts including detailed views of weird volumes on strange shelves, from Europe to Asia and the Americas. It probably took every bit as long to compile as ‘Estrildid Finches’. I can look at this history of libraries for the rest of my life, and enjoy its fascinating text too, before arriving at the final chapter entitled ‘The Future of Libraries in the Electronic Age.’ Even this last bit of the book is interesting, but nowhere near as visually thrilling as the adventures one might have wandering through the grand bookshelves of The National Library of Finland, or the sensational Wiblington Abbey Library in Wiblington, Germany. They are so glamorous.
As Charles Baudelaire said: “A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company, a counsellor, a multitude of counsellors.”
As T.S. Eliot said: “The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man.”
And let’s not forget dear old Albert Einstein, who pointed out that: “The only thing that you absolutelyhave to know, is the location of the library.” How true.
I recently carried out a funeral for a dear friend. She was powerfully spiritual, and although she had complete confidence in life after death, at the start of her funeral I had a moment of great sadness, knowing that her spiritual presence would no longer be visible in this dimension.
During the service – very aware of her spiritual power – I felt the need to point out that there is no death, and I said this, with the accompanying phrase – energy cannot be destroyed. I know this because it comes from the first law of thermodynamics, which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only altered in its form.
Since carrying out that funeral, the phrase “There is no death – energy cannot be destroyed” has been wandering through my mind, like some kind of super-silly-stuck-song, but more peaceful. And so I came to write this reading, poem or whatever you like to call it, and of course dedicate it to my late friend – Rev Debbie Gaston.
There is No Death
There is no death Energy cannot be destroyed
There is poetry, music, love But no death
The spirit arrives Dancing through humankind
The spirit moves Departing sleeping bones
Even in great wars Death is not sovereign
Energy cannot be destroyed
A wave breaks on rocks Emitting a roar
Its power transformed From rage to music The seductive snarl of the sea Altered But never abolished
Who deserves thanks? Me? Another? So… Why do I give thanks? Is it useful to give thanks? Is there anything to be thankful for?
Maybe if I step into somebody else’s shoes It would be easier to be thankful… I might be luckier, richer, more gorgeous But then… Maybe if I stepped into another’s shoes I might discover I was poorer, Sicker, a sucker, sadder
Right now, why thank? OK, if I had to I could But why?
Here’s one wild reason to thank… Pluck a memory Carefully selected From the memory bank Pause… Enjoy that sweet recollection… Make it lovely and lovelier
Smile and feel thankful Or pretend To be thankful For being able to smile For having laughed… once or twice In life For being kind, once or twice in life For worrying And discovering that worrying generally Is a unmitigated waste of time A misuse of imagination So, use your imagination For something better, finer, lovelier More beautiful… And smile
I can smile I know how to do it I’ve done it before I can snort (with hilarity) I can laugh at myself smiling and snorting Frivolously and inanely I can appreciate I have a lousy sense of humour I can appreciate myself In all my glory… because A lousy sense of humour – might just be a terrific sense of humour
I can be kind to myself I can be kind to somebody else I can smile to myself And I can smile about myself I can stroke myself, like a cat I can be sensible I can be silly I can be funny I can be wise And amidst all this stuff and guff I can thank myself And whoever made me
It’s time to try-out a token ‘thank you’ Offer some gentle appreciation To you, me and the universe… Go on… Gift yourself with gratitude
Anger I just Feel Anger Anger about greed Anger about cruelty Anger about those in power
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But anger does not serve It diminishes desperate fury It clouds judgement One is more free Without it
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And so… I pray to be free Free of burning red rage
* Instead… I pray for clarity’s cool revelation Sunshine, sky and the pure water of wisdom And with it a loving view of a serene landscape
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Make me free of anger so that I may be wise And kind, patient and loving, and radiate Joy, happiness and gentle detachment And best of all – understanding And so be free of anger
