By mid February, my love of winter is waning. I’ve had enough of wind and rain and mud; of being swathed in layers of thermals and woollens. I long, instead, for floral dresses and the warmth of the sun.
It’s been a hard winter emotionally too. Week after week, I hear of ill-health or tragedy encompassing those I care about. I am ready for something more positive. Though I cannot in any way change the cycle of news in my own milieu nor the world, at least I can rely on Nature to wave her floral flags that semaphore hope is on the horizon.
Mimics
The first flowers to arrive in my garden were the paperwhites and snow drops; their pale blooms mimicking the frost so recently passed. Then, as the sun’s strength increases, the flowers take some colour from its hue and daffodils, crocus, primroses and forsythia take their places.
When I did my daily perambulation of my yard today, I could not believe how much more was in flower. Last week, there was almost nothing, and today a great array.
A tiny primrose sheltering under the step. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Let there be light
As every housewife knows, the clear sparkling light of early spring is a mixed blessing. Whilst the garden basks in its newfound beauty, the home is illuminated in all its less than perfect state. Cobwebs and dust concealed by winter dark and low lighting, suddenly come into focus. If the garden were not such a lure, I am sure that I would get on with more cleaning.
Instead, I drink my morning coffee in the kitchen and admire the mini rainbows cast upon the table as the light is filtered through the stained glass. I look outside and see the leaves of the great Austrian pine silvered with sunlight. I inhale the scent of paperwhites I have brought inside. Such perfume is wasted on the open air, I reason.
Much more fragrant than furniture polish Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Revivals
And it is not just me who is revived by the abundance of life unfurling all around me, the birds too are becoming noisier. The skies are filled with crows, their ragged wings rowing through the limpid air. Mr and Mrs Magpie come each day to haunt my garden and feast on the abundance of insects just now hatching in their millions. Out front, my beech hedge, with dead curled leaves, still hosts dozens of sparrow who choir to each other relentlessly. I know they are in there – but they are impossible to see.
Perfect camouflage – even in winter Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Fickle February
February is the month of lovers, and like lovers, it can be fickle. One day, you bask in its admiring glow, the wind a warm caress upon your face; the next, it has withdrawn all its affection, leaving you cold and disheartened.
Though in future weeks, winter may yet claw back its jealous hold, its days are numbered. The season is moving as insistently as an incoming tide, ever forward. Each day a little lighter; each day a little warmer.
And each joyful bloom reminds us this is so. Spring hopes – eternal.
Most of us will find ourselves this month looking, like its namesake, Janus, both backwards and forwards. Television shows will highlight the successes and failures of the year; we shall ponder our own highs and lows and as we make resolutions or start filling our pristine diaries, planning or simply hoping for a better future.
2021 was definitely a strange year and the temptation is to see it as one of endless lock-downs, disasters and civil unrest. From a news point of view, it certainly was. From a personal vantage point, it was something else entirely.
Reasons to be thankful
Last year, having received an additional wall calendar, I decided to dedicate it as a gratitude diary. Each day, I would fill in one event or experience that brought me joy. With only a couple of exceptions, I managed to complete something for every entry. I took as my guide Alice Earle’s wise saying that: Every day may not be good, but there is good in every day.
My gratitude diary Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Most of my entries were hardly newsworthy: a coffee with a friend, a trip to a nearby beauty spot, or an act of kindness. Yet, these are the stuff of life. Looking back over the year, I saw that it was filled with moments of joy amidst all the stress and restrictions. It was a good year.
Sustaining hope
For me, knowing that happiness can be found in the most challenging of circumstances gives me not only solace but hope. We need to feed our souls with a belief in the goodness of others and the possibility of positive outcomes, otherwise we will shrivel into despair. The world has never been just nor easy. The most cursory look at history tells us that. Yet it is still a wonderful place. Like Janus again, we can find balance by looking at it both ways and centre ourselves somewhere in the middle. By developing the practice of gratitude, we give ourselves the best defence against life’s ‘slings and arrows’.
This year, I received two wonderful calendars again and I knew exactly what to do with the second. And when this year ends, I shall look forward to reading its entries.
Moominmamma would approve Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Looking forward
Two years ago, when I pondered what 2020 might bring, I did so with great optimism. By February, my diary was packed with planned visits from friends and family, a literary festival in Oxford and my own family’s reunion in the US. Of course, none of those things came to pass. This year, I am a little more circumspect.
And this is the problem with trying to guess the future. We often over-estimate how good or bad it is and forget to focus on the only time that actually counts, which is now.
A cause for celebration Image: Artturi Jalli on Unsplash
Perhaps we should be grateful to our current circumstances for reminding us of this. We literally cannot make plans only tentative goals. Whatever we schedule, we must be willing to change or rearrange or even cancel. This is hard. No-one wishes to be reminded of how slender a grasp one has on one’s life and those prone to be more controlling (as I confess I used to be) find this the hardest of all. We rant, we rage and some even throw tantrums – but it hardly changes anything.
But if we can embrace the current uncertainty as a metaphor for all of life, we can start to enjoy everything that it offers regardless of whether it meets our expectations or not. Of course, we need to make provisional plans for reunions and holidays, but we need not rely on them being fulfilled. There is a place for hope but not, I think, for expectation.
Exchanging expectation for hope
When we expect things to happen: our parcel to arrive the next day, our future vacation to be a success and our plans to go without a hitch, we are tempting fate. We are also likely to be sorely disappointed when things go awry, feeling somehow cheated of our ‘promised joy’.
If, however, we take the more humble approach of simply hoping for a good outcome, our disappointment is likely to be less keen and our ability to recover greater. Hope is a robust thing, as noted in Emily Dickinson’s wonderful poem: ‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314)
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land – And on the strangest Sea – Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me.
Hope is not demanding. It simply continues through times of promise and adversity and ‘never stops – at all -‘ whereas thwarted expectation often ends right there with its accompanying misery.
So, let us hope this new year brings us all that our hearts yearn for, but should it not fulfil our desires, let us remember, with gratitude, all that it has provided.
Looking at the news and hearing about the numerous difficulties and challenges of others, one might be forgiven for slipping into a sense of despair. The climate crisis alone is sure to give one pause. And no matter what deals are written this week at COP26, they are as insignificant as warm air upon the wind unless they are acted upon.
All of this got me to thinking about hope. It was the middle of the night and I was lying awake fretting over the very troubling news of a good friend. What is hope, after all? Is it, as the ancient Greeks claimed, but a cruel trick?
Pandora’s box
According to the myth, Prometheus angered the gods by giving the humans he created fire. As a consequence, he was doomed to daily, insufferable torture, but his brother Epimetheus was allowed to remain living among their creations on Earth. Having the faculty of foresight, Prometheus begged his brother not to accept any gifts from the gods, as he feared their vindictiveness would not end with his own punishment.
Pandora Image: John William Waterhouse
When Epimetheus was presented with the exceptionally lovely Pandora to be his wife and an exquisite box as a wedding gift from Zeus; however, he was unable to refuse. We all know the rest. Pandora, overcome with curiosity, opens the box, which releases the evils of the world. At the bottom lies hope. This is often interpreted as an act of kindness, but the more likely explanation is rather more bleak. The Greek gods were not famous for their altruism, after all. Hope is there, not to give succour to the humans, but rather to perpetuate their misery by giving them the strength to continue amidst all difficulty.
So, in the depth of night, I wondered if this was true. Was hope only a way of making us endure with false optimism or was it something else? Dawn was a long way off and I had plenty time to contemplate this.
Holding hope in our hands Image Ronak Valobobhai on Unsplash
Here’s hoping
My first thought was how hope was not hope but merely wishful thinking when we use it to desire a good outcome without having done much to secure it. I’m certain that I’m not the only person to prepare insufficiently for an exam or event and still keep my fingers crossed that the result will be good. Occasionally, we are lucky and it is; however, more often than not, it isn’t.
Many of us will be hoping for a good outcome of the COP26 summit, but unless we are willing to give that hope assistance in the form of life adjustments, our dreams are unlikely to be fulfilled. Such hope is, in fact, dangerous. The attitude that technology will save us; science will save us; politicians will save us, absolves us of responsibility and we need do nothing but wait. I would not wish to gamble on those odds.
If I wish hard enough it will come true, right? Image: Dayne Topkin on Unsplash
Good intentions
The road to Hell, they say, is paved with good intentions. I had always interpreted this to mean that without action, our good intentions are worthless. But it can equally mean that good intentions do not ensure positive outcomes. Those scientists who developed pesticides and herbicides to increase crop yields no doubt felt they were benefitting farmers and us by ensuring a bountiful and affordable food supply. The devastation that it has brought to the entire insect world would not have occurred to them. For a thorough examination of this phenomenon known as ‘the law of unintended consequences’, you may like to read the article here: https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/word-less/201904/the-road-hell-is-paved-good-intentions
Yet, without intentionality and the belief that we can improve situations, we are rendered powerless. So what exactly should we do? I confess that I’m not certain. For now, I’m going with a sort of two-pronged approach: to spend time in contemplation seeking a compassionate mindset and in making small steps in what I hope to be the correct direction. A gentle, methodical approach may not be exciting, but it does allow for flexibility and adjustments.
The urgency surrounding climate change may seem to warrant a rapid response, but it also means that we must get it right. If we take it upon ourselves to be as well-informed as we possibly can and to act without self-interest, I do believe that some good can come.
Acceptance
Sometimes, what we hope for simply isn’t possible. No amount of wishing will ensure it. Here, all we can do is bring acceptance to the situation and attempt to minimise the obvious stress and suffering of those involved. I do not feel equipped to do this yet, but I can certainly try to learn the skill of compassionate listening in the desire that it might help.
From the heart Image: Photo by Meghna R on Unsplash
Equally, often what we hope for does not materialise. Life has a habit of taking us by surprise and the goals we have laboured for so long are snatched away. Hard though it is to appreciate at the time, this might be better for us. Though my life has hardly gone to plan over the last several years, I’m not sure that the outcomes have been any worse than if they had. What I have lost in health and material wealth has been more than compensated for in leisure time (to write this, for example), friendship and an opportunity for spiritual development. On balance, I believe I am better off in all the ways that count. Though I regularly have to remind myself of this when frustrated by my limitations. You really can’t have it all.
All will be well
When life seems especially bleak, the words of the medieval anchoress, Julian of Norwich, are very welcome. Sometimes I repeat them on an indefinite loop, but only today did I look up the source. I discovered that these words came from a vision she had while dangerously ill. She was questioning why God had allowed sin (all the contents of Pandora’s box) to enter the world when he was omnipotent. Here is the answer she received:
But Jesus, who in this vision informed me of all that is needed by me, answered with these words and said: ‘It was necessary that there should be sin; but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love
It seems that despite life’s suffering, we need not despair for ultimately, ‘all will be well’. Is she right? I certainly hope so.
We live in divisive times. These last few years have seen fractures widening on so many issues: Brexit, Trump, race, gender and sexual orientation. Increasingly, what began as dialogue and debate has fallen into the shrill cry of outrage. And as each shouts louder, the quiet voice of reason is drowned out.
Without doubt, there has been plenty to be concerned about. Injustices too many to count have occurred; individuals and groups have suffered. There is much to be done. But talking and blaming are the least likely routes to a lasting solution. Our only hope is in learning to listen.
Many notes, but one beautiful sound Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
When singing in a choir, as much of our energy needs to be directed to what everyone else is singing as in following our own lines. The diversity of the notes, the varying ranges and tones are what makes the music beautiful. So too, in society.
We need diversity to thrive. We need to have our ideas and values challenged. Without this, we risk falling into a sort of mono political void – where the extremes of Nazism on the right and communism on the left reside.
Recently, I have been very disturbed by the tendency of the cancel culture to fall into this very trap where their battle cry is: If you do not agree with me, then I shall ostracise you, or worse have you lose your job. In the defence of one kind of thinking, individuals have simply suppressed another.
And it is so seductive. Who doesn’t enjoy feeling right? Who doesn’t enjoy that sense of moral superiority? We post and repost sometimes cruel memes, knowing that we will be rewarded with smiley faces and supportive comments. No-one I know likes Trump, for example, and his behaviour has been outrageous. However, I fear that in joining the jeering masses that criticise him, we too have become diminished. If we fill our heads with hate, I fear our hearts soon follow.
And the wedge between those who support him and those who do not widens further. What we need to do is ask why anyone would support such a man. The same has been true of Brexit in the UK. It is so easy to view the holder of the opposite opinion as a fool or worse. And perhaps some are, but when it literally divides a nation in half, we should assume that there is some cause for their position. If we discuss, if we listen, we may discover that they have cause for their beliefs. We may unearth the very fears and difficulties that led them to it. We may, if we are willing to dive into that messy, challenging area of policy change, work towards helping resolve them.
Black lives matter
Together, black and white make beautiful music Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Of course, black lives matter and the global protests have sparked a long-overdue discussion of how race impacts lives. That so many (of every hue) marched in support of this is a sign that a good number genuinely value our multi-cultural society. But speeches, and marches, only go so far. We need to engage with one another and this is not possible when either side is viewed as the enemy. I was somewhat appalled to see when I opened my online library catalogue that one of the best sellers was titled: Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People about Race. Ironically, I’m sure that it will be read by numerous white readers wishing to improve their understanding, but it saddens me nonetheless that many feel the divide is unbridgeable.
Perhaps a sign of hope should be taken from the star of Biden’s inauguration: a young black woman reciting her own work with the first female, mixed race Vice-President sitting behind her.
Brilliant and wise words
Let it begin with me
Since my post was going to be about harmony – blending a variety of voices into one beautiful sound, I looked for an appropriate audio-visual representation and found this gorgeous choir below. The singers come from diverse backgrounds. If I was looking for something to sum up what I hoped to say, it is this.
And let it begin with me is a powerful challenge. Ultimately, we cannot wait for others to show us the way. The times are too pressing for that. We can only look to our shared humanity and follow the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have done unto you. When I meditate on equality, I always come back to this. It is as simple to say as it is difficult to carry out. Yet if we wish to live in a world where we respect and value each other, we really don’t have an option.
