sudden_serenity

I'm reading a book at the moment - well two... okay, four books.... but the one I wanted to write about today is a book about refugees.

It's called the Bee Keeper of Aleppo and it's a bestseller - you may have seen it around. It's beautifully written and very emotive. The problem is that I hate reading it.

I am forcing myself to continue out of guilt, because the topic, however carefully and delicately framed is the inhumanity of humanity. It's written about Syrian refugees from the civil war that has raged there for a decade but it could be about any displaced people from anywhere. They are just people who had lives and families and homes and jobs and who now have nothing - and worse than nothing, they have those who prey on them for sex or cash or labour, or use them as a political tool. In a lot of ways the reaction to these poor people is as bad if not worse than that which they suffered in their own countries. They were forced to leave and come looking for safety and a chance to heal and thrive but all they find is bureaucracy and contempt and indifference. It is heartbreaking  - this book is a work of fiction, but I know that the author worked with refugees,  so I believe that a lot of what she has put in there comes from real life accounts.

So I am struggling through this book because to look away and to hide from the brutality of a refugee's life would be the easy thing to do - it's awful - everyone knows that, but my awful and what those people have endured are two very different things.

I read a chapter or two, then I put it down - I go outside and I look at the violets pushing up everywhere and I listen to the skylarks, telling me that it's spring and I am grateful for never having had to know the things I am reading, for real. There but for grace, right?

I've been thinking about the things I do in place of ritual. As I explained, I don't go in for rituals or spells. My take on humanistic or naturalistic paganism is that thankfulness, gratitude and thoughtfulness are a good place to be coming from when you live your daily lives - and some of these could be construed as a type of ritual.

Here are a few examples that I noted recently.

1. Making something from natural ingredients - whether it is food or craft or labour, when you make something from the natural things you have collected, you can be mindful in the way you use them. The last few weekends I have made sloe gin. I picked the sloes from the hedgerows around where we live with members of my family and had time to chat and catch up and share stories as we collected. I washed and measured and made my concoction, and all the while was looking forward to sharing the bottles with family and friends next year when it has had time to steep. I thought about times when I have made sloe gin in the past which reminded me of family who are no longer around but whose influence stays with me. I thought about drinking the product at Midwinters in the past with my husband, and how we smile at each other, knowing that we have made this ourselves. I thought about all the places that i have found the perfect blackthorn bush, laden down with the blue/black fruits and I thought about the country law about when to pick and where.

2. Creating gifts for a new member of the family or the child of a friend. I have been crocheting for several new people lately. Into each stitch you make, you are giving time and effort and hopes for the baby's future. You are pouring love and patience into the result of your labour and your best wishes for their life and the life of their parents.

3. Several times in the last week I have stopped and just been grateful. It doesn't hurt that I have been in Cornwall, somewhere I love and somewhere with such an abundance of beauty and nature that you cannot help but be moved by it. On a beach with the wind pulling your hair. In a churchyard in a sea mist, watching the headstones of those who have died drift in and out of view and being astounded at sudden brightenings as the sun finds a gap and turns the world to gold. In a wood, so quiet and calm that you cannot hear another person in the world. In the company of family you have not seen in months, sharing food and stories and laughter. This is the inspiration for the name of my blog - Sudden Serenity - it is these moments that cause you to stop and take stock and be grateful. They come upon you out of nowhere; you can't make them happen. They are a gift.

4. A simple one, especially in my family as there are six of us in a very busy household, is to share a meal. Cook it together if you can, or cook it with love if you are doing it alone. I am guilty of feeling pressured into preparing meals for my family - they are all old enough to cook and look after themselves, but it is me who always stop what I am doing and begins our evening meal. It's hard - I'm tired by this time and in trying to please everyone's palates, I often have to make things I do not care for myself. But once in a while I will bring food to the table and see my healthy, happy, loving husband and children tuck in, and I will remember how lucky I am, how blessed we are, if you like, and I will be grateful.

These are the things that have come to mind since my first post. I hope it is easy to see that the moments for 'ritual' are there in your daily routine and in places you might not think of as likely. This is how I interpret the term, and this is how I perform it, knowingly or unknowingly (until afterwards). It adds an extra layer of meaning to my days.