Travel | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

“An Autobiography in Five Chapters” and Avoiding Habitual Holes

(All images taken on this summer’s memorable trip to Iceland)

Earlier this year, my husband Roy and I took a mindfulness course through the Oxford Mindfulness Centre, a truly mind-expanding experience (a wonderful thing in mid-life, when we can ossify in our thoughts and habits unless we make a conscious effort to change).

The teacher read this poem to us, and it felt like an electric shock.

An Autobiography in Five Chapters (by Portia Nelson)

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I fall in.

I am lost…

I am hopeless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don’t see it.

I fall in again.

I can’t believe I’m in the same place.

But it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in… it’s a habit

My eyes are open; I know where I am;

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

I walk down another street.

* * *

I thought about mistakes I’ve made, unhelpful habit-patterns, holes I have fallen into–inadvertently, the first time, and then again, without analysing or accepting culpability for my actions, and then repeatedly, out of bad habit.

But there other options exist… I could side-step the hole.

Or go down a different street.

* * *

So, Roy and I began thinking about holes we tumble into, and how to circumvent them. For instance, we left on a 15 day trip to Iceland just after the Meditation course. I love travel, but usually pack an hour or so before we leave. Which means running through the house to run laundry, gather up books, clothes, toiletries and electronics; it’s stressful, and I am frequently still packing when the house-sitters come, and I feel sad that I was not able to tidy up for them as well and hospitably as I would have liked, and I invariably discover I need some toiletries or better walking shoes or eye-masks, but there’s no time to get them.

Well, this time, I started packing a full 10 days in advance, a pomodoro a time. We were renting a camper van, which meant taking more gear, and I decided to buy good hiking layers for Iceland. (We wore 4 or 5 layers in July and August, can you imagine?–because we hiked up to glaciers, took boat trips in glacial lagoons, and it was chilly!) I also bought a duplicate of almost everything I take in my suitcase or hand luggage when I travel, so that next time packing will be super-easy, with a pre-packed suitcase. (In fact, we are going to Porto soon to celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary, and the suitcase is already packed!!) Anyway, I was packed before the house-sitters came, and even got to clean and declutter.

Packing was always a hated and dread task– and I am so happy I have found a non-time-consuming way to do it: buy a duplicate of everything I normally take , and always keep a suitcase packed…

It takes analysis to figure out holes, and how to avoid them. For instance, we booked our trip to Iceland after reading in our guidebooks that while 5-7 days on the Ring Road that circles the country is the minimum, fourteen days are even better. So, we booked fourteen days! We hiked up volcanoes, took boat trips on glacial lagoons among icebergs, walked on iceberg-littered beaches, and among geysers, saw basalt columns, puffins and seals; soaked in hot pools surrounded by mountains; climbed up to more waterfalls than I’ve ever seen in a fortnight, but realised we could easily have seen our personal wish-list in fewer days, if we had read the guidebook, and made a list. (Things like a steep 45 minute walk up a barren Mordor-like landscape to see a volcano’s crater, or climbing behind slippery rocks to get behind a waterfall were not for me, when there were easy-to-access volcanoes and waterfalls). And Iceland is an expensive country to spend an unnecessary day in. So, though I always read the guidebook on the plane out, and love the serendipity of unplanned travel, I decided I am going to plan an itinerary, ideally before I have even bought the tickets.

I love the poem’s premise: we can avoid habitual mistakes by analysing the holes we can fall into, and, then, take a different road. Another hole I have fallen into is a form of ghosting. Because I dislike difficult, tense, emotional conversations, I can sever a relationship with, say, a spiritual director, or church, or small group, or someone who was working for us with an email or by simply stopping showing up. So, once warm relationships go into limbo, and this is annoying and unsatisfying for the ones ghosted, and leaves me feeling guilty, and without the benefits of maturity that confronting difficult things gives us. I have had to end two relationships this year… one was a warm professional relationship which had definitely come to its natural end. I tried to sever it by email, but he really wanted a face-to -face, so we had it, and it was a good meeting, and provided a sad but satisfying closure to the relationship which had served us well, but now clearly needed to end. Similarly, I left an activity I was involved in with a frank and mature discussion with the leader, which strengthened our relationship, though leaving was the right thing. And each time we end things well we gain courage and kindness for the next time, which is of great importance, because after all the ending defines the book… Scarlett re-marries Rhett, or doesn’t; Jon Snow occupies the Iron Throne, or doesn’t… Endings define the story!

Other holes I’m avoiding. Because we are self-employed, and our work is portable, my husband Roy and I travel a lot. We are suckers for those super-cheap airfare and hotel deals to Europe, and had 10 short breaks in 2018. And six so far this year, including Cordoba, Berlin, Krakow, Iceland, and New York, for my niece Kristina’s wedding, and soon, God willing, Porto. However, sadly, it can take a while after travel to recover my good habits and work routines. Also, I gain weight most times I travel (eating out for every meal can do that to you!) which which can take time to lose. So I am now trying to craft a life in which I travel slightly less frequently for energy, freshness, joy and excitement it gives me, but instead pace myself by taking a stimulating break each week. We went to a Pompeii exhibition at the Ashmolean last week, and recently to a story-telling session of The Kalevala with my book group, and a classic movie night at a friend’s house—Pasolini’s Oedipus!! (Alternatively, I could keep travelling, an activity I adore, and simply became more active to walk off the delicious holiday meals. But some change is necessary.)

Life’s more fun, when we keep revising it.

How Can a Christian Blogger keep Fresh and Green Without Burnout?

By Anita Mathias

Image Credit

Friends from America mentioned that they no longer attend the Williamsburg, Virginia Church that we’d met them at.

The preacher had a knack of cutting to the heart of the matter, of looking at the things Jesus said in a new, startling way.

“Oh, why did you leave,” I asked surprised.

“Well, after listening to him for ten years, you’ve heard it all. Then it’s just repetition.” Oooh.

* * *

Christian bloggers set themselves the same task as preachers do, sharing spiritual truth on a daily basis. “It’s like writing a short sermon every day,” a vicar friend said of my blog, in some awe.

And how then can a blogger keep her writing fresh, when those who speak just once a week find not repeating themselves challenging?

* * *

1 First of all, accept there is no shame in repeating yourself. We are not celebrities who, apparently, wear an outfit once only, so much so that Kate Middleton, interestingly, has been praised for repeating outfits.

We do not need to generate 3650 fresh ideas every ten years. And besides, who needs 3650 new ideas?

My readership has increased ten-fold over the last three years which means that nine out of ten readers will not have read the posts from 3-4 years ago. If I think the same thing today, there is no shame in revising, developing (or, often, contracting) an old post, and resharing it, if it can be more of a blessing that way than loitering in my archive.

Writing entirely new stuff every day while good posts moulder unread in one’s archive makes sense if ideas well up naturally. However, the archive is good to root around in on tired and busy days.

* * *

However, since my blog is a reflection of my spiritual life, I would like it to be fresh and green. Some other ways to bring this about.

2 Reading “Leaders read, and readers lead.” Reading about other’s people’s adventures in the holy wilds of the spiritual life makes me aware of heights and depths of spiritual experience which I have not explored—the possibilities of prayer, of transformation of the deep structure of the personality.

3 Suffering pushes us deep into God. When we are writhing in emotional pain, other people’s platitudes won’t do. We need to find our own truth, our own comfort.

Times of suffering can result in losing faith–or, alternatively, faith can become deeper, more real and life-giving.

(I think, given a choice, I’ll stick with reading rather than suffering!)

4 I am enjoying listening to swathes of Scripture as I walk. I am learning a lot about God, what He is like, what He values, how life works, and how to live life well. Several posts spring from this. The Gospels themselves with Jesus’s slant perspective on life never fail to challenge me.

5 Travel opens up new ideas, new experiences. As Mark Batterson says in The Circle Maker, Change of Pace + Change of Place= Change of Perspective.

I learn the history of another region, and a little about its great men and women, its religion, art and architecture. Travel provides numerous new ideas to explore on one’s return. And blog posts inevitably flow.

6 Prayer, placing myself in the force-field of God, invariably generates new thoughts, ideas and blog posts.

7 As do deep conversations, plunging into other people’s lives, thoughts and experiences.

What do you think? How might a blogger keep fresh and green, producing new posts without burn-out?

On Extra Baggage, Making Peace with Mistakes and Cutting Emotional Losses

By Anita Mathias

So I fly on EasyJet to the Costa Blanca on a retreat at El Palmeral –though a normal heritage airline like BA would have cost the same, the timings are more convenient.

Though this may change as I grow older, I normally don’t put a high premium on great comfort for short flights. I am a cat, I find a bubble of internal peace and internal comfort in most circumstances (though I don’t do well with claustrophobic surroundings, or being in the middle seat.)

So I have the choice of paying £17 to take 3 extra kilos in my checked luggage, or taking a generous carry-on for free. Which I would need to buy. But we already own 4 carry-ons for 4 people, and solving problems and desires by throwing money at them leads to clutter.

So I pay the £17, but when I pack, it’s over the permissible 23 kg. So I stuff all the extra books into my backpack, books which I treat as road maps in my life’s pilgrimage—a spiritual book I am reading for inspiration; a literary memoir I am reading to write better; a practical memoir I am reading to live better etc.; my Bible, my journal etc. Kilos worth!

It is a cumbersome weight– and I am sad as I stagger through the cavernous halls of Gatwick with my spiritual, literary and intellectual aspirations on my back.

Yeah, I made the wrong decision. The £17 for extra luggage was money thrown away with nothing to show for it. I should have bought the biggest allowable cabin with wheels because we’d eventually wear out our luggage, or give it to the kids, one of whom will be leaving to university this autumn.

I am trying a 12 step programme, Overeaters Anonymous (which I have not yet got the hang of). It includes praying and asking God for wisdom over every decision, eating and otherwise. And I am frustrated because I did pray, but somehow still made the wrong decision!!

My husband Roy and I love to get things right every time, and neither of us are gentle with ourselves or each other when we get things wrong. I reproach myself as I take each heavy step, a mile probably, staggering under the weight of knowledge!

* * *

And then I remember that I had decided to be a positive girl, since life is short.

Mistakes and loss and waste are part of being human—part of being limited finite beings. We will grow wiser, God willing and make better decisions—but since only God is all-wise, all of us will make mistakes, and experience loss and waste as long as we live. Alas!!

Socrates, who was one of the wisest men ever known, made mistakes. When his enemies–the envious, the ignorant and the threatened—sentenced him to execution by drinking hemlock, his friends pleaded with him to flee.

But he refused. If he fled Athens, he knew he would ask pointed, inconvenient questions wherever he went, and so get into trouble wherever he went. He had voluntarily chosen to live in Athens and submit himself to the social contract. To flee would negate his life’s choices to date. And he was a philosopher, and believed a true philosopher should not fear death.

So despite all his friends weeping around him, he chose physical death rather than a choice which negated all he had taught and valued when physically alive—a choice many martyrs make.

He drank the hemlock. It was an honourable decision, but a wrong one, most people would say–his friends then, and his admirers now.

* * *

Okay, let’s look at a spiritual giant. Luke records “a prophet named Agabus took Paul’s belt, bound his own hands and feet, and said, “Thus says the Holy Spirit, ‘So shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man who owns this belt, and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.’”

¹²Now when we heard these things, both we and those from that place pleaded with him not to go up to Jerusalem. ¹³Then Paul answered, “What do you mean by weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus”.

Paul does not say that he has prayed and been led to make this decision. It appears to be a unilateral, and perhaps hot-headed decision.

He is indeed arrested, and, I believe mistakenly and impulsively, appeals to Caesar. Who happened to be Nero. Big mistake. He is confined to the Mamertine Dungeoun. He will never be free again.

Should he have listened to the prophet who gave him a warning from the Holy Spirit; and listened to the counsel of his Christian friends? I believe so.

Spiritual giants can make mistakes.

But in the Mamertine dungeon, he wrote letters which comfort me when I feel a little bit crazy. As they have comforted billions of Christians through the ages.

God can redeem anything. It’s as if God says, “Uh-oh, plot twist. Paul should have listened to wiser counsel. And Anita made a mistake. Now let me take those crooked lines, the shattered pieces of Plan A, and make of them Plan B even more beautiful than Plan A, if they will co-operate. Because I love creating new things.”

* * *

Even intellectual giants like Socrates and spiritual giants like Paul get things wrong.

So what’s the best course of action once you’ve realized that you have made a mistake?

Cut your emotional losses. Quickly.

Thank God for the good stuff. In this case, for the strength to walk a mile or so with a heavy backpack. For the fact that I’ve learned it’s foolish to pay for extra luggage. Best get the biggest allowable carry-on, and stuff it with books. And, definitely, pack light in future.

* * *

As my life accelerates (two of my prayers for this year were acceleration and exponential—was I crazy?) I am doing more, and am naturally getting busier. Much goes right, but there is a greater potential for mistakes and loss, just as a car on the motorway is more likely to get scraped than a car in the garage.

And I am learning not to allow what goes wrong to spoil a day or an hour. In Cambodia, as I was rushing, the zip of my suitcase broke, so I left it unlocked in my hotel room, with—yuck, my wallet in it!!– with all my extra cash. I had $70 taken from my wallet, and was annoyed, but decided to shrug it off and not let it spoil a very interesting trip.

Yes, that’s the way to live, cut your emotional losses if you can’t cut your physical losses, and go through your day smilingly.

* * *

When I was 17, I wanted to be a nun, and joined Mother Teresa’s convent. Her three cardinal spiritual values were absolute surrender, loving trust and cheerfulness.

I keep coming back to them– loving trust and cheerfulness when you make mistakes. Learn what you have to learn, be grateful for the goodness that remains despite your mistakes, and go trudging on–with the biggest smile you can muster!

Why I want to go to Tonle Batie, Cambodia with Tearfund

By Anita Mathias

I am applying to travel with Tearfund to Cambodia, to the village of Tonle Batie, near Pnomh Penh.

Cambodia endured extreme economic and social devastation during the years of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, which has left a legacy of widows and orphans; of people who find it difficult to trust each other enough to work together; and a generation without the education to swiftly escape poverty.

I have watched interviews with Yiv Toch, a hardworking mum, and with Gneam, 65, who had lost her husband to malnutrition under the Khymer Rouge, and, then, her second husband (given her in one of Pol Pot’s forced marriages). Both have no margin against hunger or sickness, save borrowing at 120%.

However, the local church, largely composed of recent converts, (and their energetic volunteer Pastor Ke Pich, a Tearfund worker Navy, and a Youth worker Thany) is catalysing the community, infusing it with new hope, enthusiasm, and energy to pull itself out of crushing poverty.

The little miracles Jesus describes in his Gospel stories are a reality here. Yiv Toch who was given 8 chicks describes, joyfully, how she now has 50, which she can sell for extra income. The two community pigs are pregnant. Landless families who dream of a bit of land can grow vegetables in the church’s communal garden.

The pump donated by a well-meaning church, was dug so deep that the water poisoned crops and then it broke; there was no money to repair it. The community brainstormed and decided to cooperate to dig a pond to store rainwater so that—in this village without running water–they can grow vegetables, even out of the rainy season.

Gneam inspecting the eggplants.

I love these real-life stories of using creativity, ingenuity and hardwork to escape poverty. It would be a privilege to tell them!

* * *

The roots of my Christian faith are entwined with the poor. When I first committed to follow Christ, aged 17, Christ’s command “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me,” leaped out at me from the Gospels, and I decided to work with Mother Teresa.

I worked with Mother Teresa for 14 months, and truly enjoyed hanging out with the poor, with the “scheduled tribes” in Orissa, whom India’s development hasn’t benefited, and at Kalighat, Mother Teresa’s Home for The Dying Destitute.

However, after I came to England, studying English at Somerville College, Oxford, I have worked as a writer, and in publishing. But each time, I listen to Heidi Baker mention God’s directive to her to sit at the feet of the poor, I uneasily feel as if I am missing out on a vital aspect of the Christian life. The Gospel is good news to the poor, and perhaps the Gospel alive in our lives must, in some way, bring good news to the poor.

* * *

I would particularly enjoy observing and telling the story of the village of Tonle Batie, Cambodia, since I am an entrepreneur. I have founded two businesses with minimal capital, and the second, a small publishing company, now solely supports our family. So I am impressed by the village’s income generation schemes, which will gradually create self-sufficiency through creativity and ingenuity.

* * *

Another reason I am eager to visit Cambodia, one of the poorest countries in the world, is that the primary theme of my blog, Dreaming Beneath the Spires, is the intersection of faith and theology with everyday life. Hanging out with the poor—close to stark reality—you encounter the great theological questions (and perhaps answers): Whether God is indeed just if we contend with him; why God permits suffering, and whether there is anything redemptive about it; whether the Gospel and the power of prayer work anywhere in the world; whether God’s love and care is an ever-present reality for people in Tonle Batie, Cambodia as for those in Oxford, England, where I live.

* * *

I love travelling: visiting new countries; understanding, soaking in, and photographing new cultures; and writing about them on my blog, sensitively and affectionately. Writing about travel is a secondary strand in my blog, and interests my readers. I would love to tell the story of how Tearfund’s partner International Cooperation for Cambodia, and the local church are helping people heal after the traumatic years of the Khmer Rouge; and to learn to trust one another, and work together for the future with hope.

* * *

I have been blogging for three and a half years, and have begun developing a “platform”– about 15,000 page views a month; about 1700 Facebook fans and friends; and about 34,000 followers on Twitter where I am active (and have been a finalist for the Christian New Media “Tweeter of the Year Award.”)

I would be delighted to leverage my story-telling gifts and social media friendships to help raise money for Tonle Batie by telling its story. I regularly exchange guest posts with other established bloggers, and would love to to guest-post about my experiences in Cambodia.

Tearfund would like each blogger to inspire 20 people to contribute £3 a month so that 23 new families could go through the Church and Community Mobilisation process, being able to send their children to school, learn new farming techniques, and put food on the table. I feel certain my amazing warm-hearted audience of committed Christians readers as well as my personal and church friends and family would enjoy supporting this interesting unfolding story. I look forward to doing so myself.

* * *

Personally speaking, the practice of gratitude has been transforming my spiritual life and is an important strand in my blog. I was struck by people’s shining eyes as they described chickens multiplying, vegetables growing, not having to worry about having enough food, or having to withdraw their children from school. Oh I would love to learn and relearn gratitude for the goodness of God, which I can take for granted!

The Gospel is good news to the poor, and is the world’s greatest force for poverty reduction, I believe. Where it roots, people pray, which gives them new hope and precipitates divine assistance. People work with new enthusiasm, for the Gospel catalyses creativity. People act honestly, which breeds the trust on which co-operative entrepreneurship depends.

And since the Gospel is indeed the power of God, it will work anywhere in the world. It will be exciting to observe the Gospel at work, and Aslan on the move, in the community of Tonle Batie, Cambodia–and to tell the story of this new chapter in The Greatest Story Ever Told!

Wandering through a Deserted Garden in Sicily, I Pray to Build Things Which Last

By Anita Mathias

Abandoned garden surround by a wall topped with grotesque sculptures. (Villa Palagonia)

Villa Palagonia, Bagheria, Sicily

I like wandering around the deserted gardens which sometimes surround palaces and stately homes.

I wandered through the Baroque Villa Palagonia in Bagheria Sicily yesterday, whose grounds host massive grotesque gnomes, giants, gargoyles, mutants, and anthropomorphized monsters.

The villa was the home of Ferdinand, Prince of Palagonia, a hunchback, who took revenge on his wife’s lovers by cruelly satirizing them—often depicting them as hunchbacks!!

Hunchback (Wall around Villa Palagonia)

* * *

Oh full of passion and pride and ambition, they built these palaces and gardens, how intensely they lived, and now their gardens are just the habitation of stray cats, and the birds which sing sweetly and loud.

Cat on the wall of Villa Palagonia

Cat in the garden of Villa Palagonia

All dead. Him who hated and satirized; him who was hated…

Hating. What a waste of a life!

Walking through the garden, I felt eager to align myself with what matters, for one day through our empty gardens too, stray cats might stroll, and birds sing loud and sweetly, unmindful of all our pride, passion and ambition.

People, despite their wealth, do not endure;
they are like the beasts that perish.

Their forms will decay in the grave,
far from their princely mansions.
¹⁶Do not be overawed when others grow rich,
when the splendour of their houses increases;
¹⁷for they will take nothing with them when they die,
their splendour will not descend with them.
¹⁸Though while they live they count themselves blessed—
and people praise you when you prosper—
¹⁹they will join those who have gone before them,
who will never again see the light of life. Psalm 49

A row of grotesque figures adorns the wall of Villa Palagonia.

Figure on wall of Villa Palagonia.

Crowned figure guarding the gate of Villa Palagonia.

I thought too of Shelley’s “Ozymandias.”

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away”.

I am building things. I have built a small business which now solely supports our family. I am building a book. I am building a blog. I am building a platform on Twitter and Facebook so people read my blog. I am building a family life, and friendships, and a network of warm relationships here in Oxford, and with other writers elsewhere.

* * *

Arch crowned with grotesque figures. (Villa Palagonia)

But…

If the Lord does not build the house,

In vain do the builders labour.

In vain is your earlier rising

Your going later to bed. (Psalm 127)

I want to know what the Lord intends me to build with my life, and I want, oh how desperately I want, to build with Christ, to be aligned with his flow of ideas as I build, so what I build, whether books or a family business or blog may last longer and be more life-giving than the deserted books and palaces and gardens which litter our globe.

Hall of Mirrors, Villa Palagonia.

Formal Entrance to Villa Palagonia

My Big, Fat, Frivolous Prayer Which Made Dreams Come True

By Anita Mathias

: Towers surrounding Piazza Cisterna, San Gimignano, Tuscany.; “Dreaming is a form of praying, and praying is a form of dreaming,” Mark Batterson

I was wandering around Tuscany last week, loving the tiny walled cities, the watch-towers (torre), bell-towers (campanile), the warm, funny people, and the excellent, gargantuan feasts, six and seven course meals. The elegant hotels and the massive repasts, the table littered with fine wines, were organized by the tour group, ATG. I would normally have contented myself with two courses, and good-enough accommodation, but I enjoyed it, as a one-off treat!

Oh, I suffer from wanderlust, a craving which got into my bones from reading, and watching movies, and looking at art, and I have travelled as much as I could afford throughout my adult life.

* * *

Piazza Duomo, San Gimignano, Tuscany.

I founded a small company in July 2007, an immensely stressful experience at first, as I had no business background.

A few months later, a Swedish friend described Stockholm, and the elegant canals that ran through it with Baltic palaces and mansions on either side. I longed to see it, but could not see how we could ever afford it, with all the money from the business going to pay private school fees and the mortgage, or being ploughed back into the business.

But as our friend spoke, the thought struck me like an electric shock, “Anita, pray. Pray that your business will provide enough for you to see Stockholm.” And suddenly that impossible dream seemed entirely possible.

And my eyes filled with tears, because I immediately knew that, of course, if I prayed, it was possible. It definitely was possible.

* * *

And over the next couple of years, we had lots of orders for the unusual stuff we sold from Europe. And each time I stuffed envelopes to Copenhagen or Stockholm or Oslo, or Malta or Corfu or Granada or Ravenna or Bologna or Donegal or Brittany or Strasbourg or Corfu or Istanbul or Geneva or Slovenia or Finland, I’d pray, “Lord, ‘my’ stuff is going to these places. One day, may I sell enough of them that I myself can visit these places.”

But our product list was then small, and the costs of the business were high–economies of scale and experience not having kicked in–that I could not see how it could ever be possible.

But I kept praying.

And we worked hard, too hard perhaps, because having taken on the challenge of building a business, it became our main, obsessive interest which absorbed all our energy and passion.

* * *


Il Campo (the main square), with town hall and bell tower, Siena.

In 2009, two years after starting the business, we explored the whole of Norway, which we had long wanted to; and in 2011, we explored Sweden, and, yes, Stockholm, and canoed down the river, with the Baltic palaces on each side; and in 2012, Denmark. I love Scandinavia.

Last week, as we walked the streets of Montalcino, Tuscany, I told Roy about the prayer I had prayed in 2007 as Goran had told us about Sweden, and about how it has been lavishly answered. Since 2009, we’ve taken the girls to all those magical places I mentioned earlier.

* * *

Why did God answer that totally frivolous prayer?

Well, why not?

I think that is how the Lord of Universe sometimes views our prayers. Much as we should view our child’s request for an ice-cream on a hot day when we have money in our pocket.

Why not?

And perhaps he will use my love of travel in the story of my life. I have three big prayers about how I want him to do so!

* * *

Perhaps my prayer was answered because God is a father, and delights in giving us what we ask for.

Think of a child climbing into her father’s lap, saying, “Papa, may I have a doll house for Christmas?”

And if there is room in their house for the dollhouse; and if the father can buy it while meeting his other obligations; and if the child can be counted on not to scatter the doll’s house furniture throughout the real house; and not to swallow bits and pieces; and if it will be a pleasure, not one more stressful bit of clutter, sure he will give it to her.

And so, when I figuratively climbed into his lap, in 2007, and said, “Father, I want to see Scandinavia. Father, open up Europe and the Europeans to me. Father, please ensure that this business I am establishing will provide our family enough money to travel widely in Europe,” he could have said, “Oh, Anita, your business really is writing. Wait. Your writing will enable your travel. And that will give you more joy.”

And in retrospect that is what I should have prayed for.

But I asked for my little business to prosper so my kids could go to the best school for them, which was expensive and private, and so he said, “Yes, child, okay,” and it happened to me as I prayed for.

* * *

He is our Father, and he encourages us to pray outrageous prayers, and because he is a kind, even indulgent father, he often grants them.

Not always, of course, but climbing into his lap, and whispering our heart’s desires into his ears, is one of the things which will change the course of our lives more than anything else! I am convinced of it.

What you pray for consistently has a tremendous, seismic, thoroughly under-estimated effect on the course of your life.

On Long Walks, Spirituality and Creativity. And Images of Lucca, Tuscany, Italy

By Anita Mathias

I discovered a new pleasure this year which has become vital to my spiritual life and my ability to hear and God; my emotional balance and shalom; my psychological well-being; my ability to deal with stress; my creativity, and my happiness.

And no, it’s not prayer, though prayer, theoretically, offers all these benefits.But we are body as well as spirit, and so it is something akin to prayer–long walks.

* * *

I started long walks in January because I had signed up for a pilgrimage to Tuscany on the Via Francigena.

I was not fit, and have not found it easy to acquire the new habit of long walks every day. There have been many, many days lost because it was cold, icy, rainy, or I was too absorbed in my writing.

But I have got back to the stamina I had 16 years ago, when Zoe was 2, and I used to walk with other mums, pushing her in her stroller, for the whole 4 mile trail in Kingsmill, the beautiful resort-like community in Williamsburg, where we lived for 9 years.

* * *

It’s just a first step. Having been sedentary for so many years, four miles is a challenge! And my speed, I have discovered is not yet normal-person-speed.

So here I am on this pilgrimage in Tuscany on the Via Francigena, and I quickly discovered that I hadn’t trained sufficiently!

So I am doing a “pilgrimage lite” which has included exploring: San Gimingnano on Sunday, Volterra on Monday, Monteriggioni and Siena on Tuesday, more Siena today.

* * *

One of my personal mantras is, “If you can not succeed, fail better.” Success is the result of a dozen, or a hundred “better failures.”

So though I have failed in my training for this pilgrimage—I did not get my stamina up to 11-14 miles a day (more like 4!) or my speed to 2. 25 miles an hour on hills—I am going to continue long walks, which give me the opportunity to spend long concentrated hours with God, and tie in with my love of travel.

* * *

Oh, I love travelling. I am, sadly, somewhat addicted to books, reading, writing, and the internet, and getting away is the only way to unhook myself from these things.

Getting away re-sets my mind. Left to myself, I begin to run down after some time. It takes me longer and longer to get going, and longer and longer to get my work done.

After a break, however, I come back with a new mind. Refreshed, able to read fast, think fast, write fast, and write for long hours.

* * *

Also, it is, sadly, easy for me to get my life, my heart, my spirit, and my schedule slightly unaligned with God. And, if one is even slightly unaligned with God, if you lean slightly away, what you land up with is the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Very beautiful still, but, well, if it were not shored up by engineers and millions of euros, a disaster in the making.

But when I travel, when I walk alone contemplatively, when I walk in the hills or on the beaches, praying, I slowly re-align myself with God. I ask if I am on the right track. I ask him to reveal the plans he has for the next six weeks of my life, and the next year, or decade.

* * *

We explored bits of Switzerland, France and Italy last month in our camper van. And just on our way to Dover, we were caught in the most dreadful traffic jam and were barely crawling. I’m reading Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz, which was also on my iPod, but I can no longer easily read in a moving car.

So Zoe suggested listening to the book, and following along, as a dual pleasure which I did for a bit, and enjoyed

And then, I thought, “Heck why all this striving? I am the child of a good God. Let me just rest in his love.”

I thought of Wordsworth’s poem, “Expostulation and Reply,”
“Nor less I deem that there are Powers

Which of themselves our minds impress;

That we can feed this mind of ours

In a wise passiveness.

“Think you, ‘mid all this mighty sum

Of things for ever speaking,

That nothing of itself will come,

But we must still be seeking?

Ah, doing nothing, resting, waiting. How alien to this modern world of scrambling, doing, achieving!

I closed the book, turned off the iPod, lay down, and rested. If God were to speak to me, fine. If not, I was content to rest in his love.

* * *

And he did speak that holiday, in fiction. Short story after story came, holy and mysterious, and I rapidly wrote them down. I told them to my husband and children; they got emotionally involved and totally drawn in. One was heart-breaking and ethically ambiguous, having come in a dream, and the children were outraged and saddened by it. I think the stories were lovely, and they came in their own tone and voice.

They belonged to a sort of dream-time, written in our camper van in Switzerland, Italy and France. I returned from holiday on August 15th, and I have not looked at them since.

What’s going on? Fear that they were not as good as I remembered? Interestingly though, letting first drafts sit is standard creative advice.

* * *

And now again on this holiday, short stories are coming, one or two or three a day, and I am rapidly writing them down.

Anyway, I need to have a plan if I am to finish in addition to my blog and my memoir. And part of having a plan is to have a trigger, a specific time/slot when I am going to write them.

So on my return from Tuscany, I am going to devote the first half-hour or so of the day to working on these stories. Quiet time, I will still have, even if I put it second; and the memoir, I am deep enough into that I will still write even if it’s in the semi-comatose last hour of the day.

And I might also work on my stories last thing at night for as long as my mind works. The writer Andrea Barrett once told me that her most creative times are first thing in the morning, and last thing at night.

So I might experiment with last thing at night, the sleepy, in-between phase, when the stern critic, the assaulter of creative work, is off dozing, and the muse appears, in her voluminous garments, and says, “Come, Dance.”

Anyway, enjoy images of Lucca which we visited last month. I particularly enjoyed walking around the city walls.

Aerial view of Lucca. The green strip round the old city is the top of the very wide Renaissance wall. (credit)

San Frediano

The Duomo (Cathedral)

San Michele in Foro

photo

Re-opening the Ancient Wells which will Save our Lives Right Now

By Anita Mathias

In arid ancient Israel, access to artesian wells made all the difference between prosperity, survival, or famine.

And so when God blessed Isaac so that his crops reaped a hundred-fold return (Gen. 26:12) and he became very wealthy, out of envy, his enemies, the Philistines “stopped up all the wells that Abraham had built, filling them with earth.”

Today, there are almost weekly accounts of the Israeli occupation forces destroying Palestinian wells, farms and orchards. Destroying wells, sources of life, is always a very effective enemy action, leaving aridity and poverty.

* * *

Barbara Brown Taylor popularised this question: What is saving your life, right now?

Prayer and scripture and communal worship is certainly part of it.

But other things are keeping me alive too: long, slow, contemplative walks out of doors with my beloved collie Jake, my body getting into a rhythm of movement, my mind relaxing, still as a pool, until I am no longer thinking, but just being, and then suddenly a golden carp of thought pops up, unexpected and welcome.

And travel, which is complete relaxation. My mind rests from conscious thought, planning, strategizing, worrying. I shrug off my to-do list, and my uneasy Puritan imperative of ambition and must-achieve. I am just am, and am purely happy and relaxed, wandering the streets of a beautifully preserved medieval town like Troyes, France, which we visited last week, just looking, or wandering aimlessly on the alpine meadows of Switzerland, to which we drove earlier this month.

Blogging is saving my life, in that it pushes me to think, to observe, to express, to strive for beauty.

* * *

But life has blocked up several life-giving wells for me, as for all of us.

And I am opening up these wells.

Before I married, I was a voracious reader. Reading was my escape from the world, and my greatest source of joy, and I felt I needed to be alone to really disappear into a book leaving the world behind me, and I found that hard while living with other people.

I have been steadily reading less through the 23 years of our marriage, though I have recently re-launched a reading recovery programme—reading 1 page more each day than I did the day before, aiming to hit 45 pages a day, or a book a week. Concurrently, as a back-up plan since I have many books on the go, I aim to finish each book in 1 day less–30 days for book 1; 29 days for book 2, etc. This plan gets anyone to reading a book a week in 23 months.

And with reading, I have lost other sources of joy. As a child, I loved myth and legend and fairy tales and children’s stories. Sadly, I have not read much in these genres as an adult, because, well, I was an adult and thought I should be reading serious, grown-up stuff.

It’s strange that I didn’t realize that children’s stories and fairy tales and myths and legends were invented by adults, who were putting themselves back in touch with the sources of joy and delight. And we can step there with them, if we give ourselves permission to.

On holiday earlier this month in Switzerland, Italy and France, it was as if God switched a switch on in my brain, and children’s stories poured out of me, two and three a day. And writing children fiction–ah bliss, gives me “permission” to read it.

* * *

Poetry was something else I loved to read as a child, and the first genre I wrote in as an adult. My masters in creative writing was in poetry.

But then, making the correct or incorrect assessment that I probably would not have a career as a poet, I gave it up in my late twenties. It is something else I would love to resume, first reading it exhaustively, then writing it.

* * *

Our large garden was a huge source of joy as a child. I have a large garden now, even larger than my childhood garden, but in fact, though I write looking at it, it is hard to recover the habit of working in it consistently.

I would like an extraordinary garden, and would love to make time to work in it every day, for an hour, like I used to. But I have made peace with the fact that when it comes to it, I prefer writing to gardening. So, since it is better to take just a few steps in the direction of one’s dreams than none at all—I am gardening just once every few days for now.

* * *

What will re-open the wells of life and joy for us?

Examine your life. See what you are doing out of duty and habit which is not life-giving for you. (Too much internet usage? On too many rotas at church? Staying up too late doing nothing much?)

Then begin to shoehorn joy into your life, starting small—in the smallest measurable increments, steadily rebuilding

What is saving your life now? Are there wells of joy which have closed for you? Tell us in the comments.

anita.mathias