Fifth Day

Yes I think I am refreshed. I am more mentally put together after my psychological crisis Perhaps sometime away near the lakes was what the doctor ordered after all that.

Yes, apparently it was easier for the early Quakers in the north, to maintain their 'thee's and thous', their equality. It was harder in the south for this to continue to be the case.

What does equality mean these days for Quakers in meeting?

I hope as I return south, the same can not be said for me.

Thee and thou to thee, too!

Fifth Day

I am an hour from London now. Not is not so bad. I am feeling refreshed, I suppose, despite the difficulties of 1652 country. I like this new idea of potentially venturing north to live, having been a southerner all my life.

Not an easy decision.

My family were northern non conformists on grandfather's side, but Christadelphians. It would be interesting to look into them again, such a rare sect.

But just because I have northern blood, doesn't make me northern. My mother's people were Portsmouth, Cornwall, and London, so I suppose, London is as much a ancestral home as Cumbria and Lancashire.

Indeed..

Anyway, only musing, I am, nothing confirmed as yet. 

Fifth Day

Here we are...at the end, the end of it all. At least in terms of the 1652 retreat. On the train, I am, heading south. I was sad to leave the north and it's people. There was something that came naturally to be there.

We had a very quiet morning. After some worship sharing, we went out to a Quaker grave yard, with no marked graves. This is the site, there abouts, where Margaret Fell was buried. Completely natural. No institutions lining you up like little boys and girls, marking you off after death, as though school never really ended.

Does school ever end?

The sheep were allowed to roam free, leaving behind the evidences. Fellow Quakers found momentos of leaves to be pressed and dried and treasured. I observed a tree, with a curved trunk. I didn't try to make out the stone inscription, beyond reading through so many winters.

To consider that you might be remembered after death, was for early friends, not humble. After the graveyard, we stood within a stone circle, and looked out to the sands. Yes, the sands. When there was no other way to pass, people walked over the bay at low tide, I imagine, and many people died, drowned in quick sand. Death is never far away, or stories of death, or just the pale trail of such a dangerous by pass. But this was the way to Swarthmore Hall, and George Fox made it through, though his companions thought him dead.

It was silver in the distance. A Friend said how they wished to go out on the sands. Brave.

I knew my friend and his mother once made it across the water between the Isle of Wright and Portsmouth at low tide. I know of no one else.

And onto the local Buddhist temple, which somehow is built in the grounds of a grade one listed building. I wasn't too enthusiastic about the temple, but it was still a peaceful moment to conclude the pilgrimage.

After lunch back at the hall, a few of us went on a walk to Ulverston, and had a wonder around the shops, before I disappeared to catch the train. I was amazed by everything. Perhaps that is living in London for you. I was amazed by the little shops, and the quietness, the 19th century train station. Everything. Everything was amazing. Maybe from absence. Maybe I wouldn't feel this way if I hadn't left the rest of the country behind to live in China or London.

It was even more amazing when the sun came out, but apparently that is not very spiritual of me. I am meant to be appreciating the countryside, even when it left me soaking through, or with a nearly broken hand.

It is tempting to consider moving north, and leave London far behind. Return to the ancestral lands.

I am eating the last of the Kendal mint cake. I had hoped it would last until London, but no chance.

Fourth Day

This blog did put me in mind of the blog I kept whilst travelling with the Thich Nhat Hanh monks and nuns in Thailand...Perhaps a part of me misses those very early spiritual experiences at 23 or 22, or maybe I was just reminded.

We talked a lot about our spiritual journeys, and I found myself speaking about the previous psychological crisis, being forgiven, and mystical experiences I had when I was younger.

I think it is hard to talk about mystical experiences, I don't think many people can understand unless they had those experiences also. It is easy to find yourself judging it or trying to rationalise or explain it with science.

It is harder to accept you probably won't ever understand exactly what happened and what it was about. 

Fourth Day

Today, I also had my photo taken. I was holding a mirror which was reflecting the image of an object. An object which represented what was in my heart.

In my heart....

Fourth Day

I had hoped this blog would be like my previous spiritual travel blogs...sadly I think missing two epilogues, and ending up in A&E for a period of time, made that a little difficult. I have not updated as much as I would like, or written as much as I would like. But such is the way of things. Perhaps it all feels like an anti climax. I am not as rested as I hoped I would be, still struggling with sleep issues, broken hands and coffee addiction.

Apparent coffee addiction.

I have to pack up this little room, now, and it feels like I only just arrived.

No, I don't want to leave. It is too wonderful here.

As for the pilgrimage, I think I learnt a lot about the history of Quakerism, and I wondered if part of the attraction for me had been something to do with Quakerism inheriting some of the culture of Lancashire. I wonder.

Today we went to Sedbergh Church, the place of one of Fox's earliest ministries and disputations, and Firbank Fell. The weather was dreadful most the day, until the afternoon, when it cleared and suddenly brilliant sunlight shone through. I had been reflecting that my ancestors were right to leave this part of the world, I have never seen such terrible weather in August, but once the sun came out, the landscape was the best this land has to offer...

That of course is a judgement made in my small estimation.

We saw the Quaker Tapestry at Kendal, and that is where I was rejoined with my precious Kendal mint cake. Oh so many years we have been apart, Oh Love!

After we returned from a tour of Windermere, that most lovely lake, I went for a wonder in the garden and communed with nature for a while. I am still endlessly thinking of Wales.

And George Fox...

I have thought more about George Fox and Margaret Fell than I had done previously.

I have been chosen to report back to my meeting about the trip. I was the obvious choice, apparently, but I think others are better qualified.

Anyway, I will do as commanded. 

Fourth Day

We are in Kendal, looking at the Quaker Tapestry there. I bought my first Kendal mint cake for probably fifteen years. It was a good moment.

Nothing better than Kendal mint cake.