WANTED- people ready for some small adventures…

dscf1510

So- a new year turns.

If you are like me, you will have been indulging in a little self examination- thinking about how life has been, and what possibilities the new year might bring.

Perhaps you have had thoughts of stepping out the old routines, and opening up some new things- finding new places, new connections and deeper spirituality.

Perhaps you are ready for some adventure. Small ones perhaps- not all of us are Bear Grylls!

Anyone fancy some fish by the way?

Assuming that this is not your fancy- how about joining us for trips into the wilderness to find something slightly more palatable?

If so, we at Aoradh would love to hear from you.

We are planning some trips out into the wild places hereabout- to find places where we can appreciate the beauty of the mountains and hills about us, and also to use some of these spaces for group and individual meditation. These will mostly be based within Argyll, Scotland- or in the Cowal Area, where we are based.

Nick and I have been working on some wilderness meditations- some of which are on the aoradh website- here. We would very much appreciate some folk who are willing to be our guinea pigs (or should I say, Red Squirrels) as we give them a wider road test.

As part of this, a few of us are planning a trip to a small uninhabited island on the bank holiday that begins Friday the 1st of May. We have not finally decided the venue for this yet- there are a couple of possibles, and it rather depends on transport. Past trips away have included trips to Coll, Little Cumbrae and the Garvellachs.

The format of these trips has been that people are prepared to be self supporting- with their own camping and back packing gear. We will then make our own small community for a weekend, in a beautiful, wild and uninhabited space.

For the weekend trip, there may be some transport costs- but that is all, we are not interested in profit- but rather in friendship with each other and a deeper relationship with God.

So we are clear about the legalities of this- we offer a partnership- not a package tour. You come at your own risk!

For those who need to be more organised- we have set some dates for later in the year when we hope to organise one day events- which will include a mediation around a ‘found’ space in the wilderness- caves, rivers, mountains etc.

16th May (Family weekend??)

20th June

18th July

19th September

24th October

contact me for more info!

Pull up a log- sit by the fire. The Kettle is on…

dscf1486

A day of mixed blessings…

The fridge grave yard.

The fridge grave yard.

Today was a strange kind of day.

We have a houseful of friends coming to stay for new year tomorrow- around 25 will somehow sleep here I think. This means getting the house ready- cleaning up, making space where currently there is clutter, and stocking up the cupboards with food for the masses.

I am really looking forward to seeing friends, catching up with the stuff of life, sitting round the fire with guitars and slow walks with the kids. It is always a time of blessing.

What was not a blessing was the breakdown of the fridge freezer- full of food for the week ahead! We found a replacement, and I suppose the old one had done it’s job for long enough.

Alongside this, the lights in the kitchen packed in (transformer- now replaced) and Outlook Express has decided I am no longer to be trusted with my own e-mails, asking me repeatedly for my password. Modern technology huh?

However, one e-mail that got through was a blessing.

I had an e-mail from a guy in Chile- Chris Esdaile, who has used one of our wilderness meditations , converted into Spanish, with a group in the Atacama desert!

There are some great photo’s on Flickr– showing a very different kind of wilderness.

Technology can bring blessing then- a connection with something whole worlds away…

atacama-kite

Wilderness on my doorstep…

dscf3418

I am just back from a tramp around the hills above Dunoon. Exercise, I feel, is overdue.

What a lovely day- crispy frosty grass underfoot- bogs the more friendly for a creaking coat of ice. Views opening up over the distant hills and mountains.

For those who are used to walking in England- the hills of Cowal were mad busy today. I saw more people than I saw deer! (For the record- two people, one deer.)

The downside for this lack of use is that there are few if any paths, and so progress is hard and potentially fraught with wrong turnings. Today I found the summit of Bishops Seat, cold and whipped by thin clouds. But an attempt to find a trouble free and easy descent was foiled by fallen trees and areas of clear-felled forest. I emerged very muddy but satisfied, tramping through all the clean dog walkers on the path around the reservoir with pride at my obvious adventure.

I have come to love the kind of local walking that follows a known route, then extends it into the unknown- a new peak beckoning, or a clamber alongside a burn as it forces it’s way through the forest. I do not use a map for these outings- they are of little use in the forest anyway (planting and felling changes the landscape all too frequently.) A compass is useful to ensure that a firebreak is in the right direction, but beyond that- it’s about following the nose…

And today, it was wonderful.

I know myself blessed to be able to live amongst such beauty.

Today, it was good to be alive, and easy to worship God.

Argyll just got a bit wilder!

dscf3260

Today I was up very early as I had to be in Oban sheriff’s court for 10.00am.

As I left the house (7.30) the temperature gauge on my car read -3. As I drove away from the Clyde, it dropped to -6. At those temperatures, all the moisture in the air is sculpted onto the tree branches and blades of grass as white ice crystals. It was stunning.

Around the head of Loch Fyne, the water’s edge had frozen solid. In fact, the whole shore line was covered in a blue coat of blue-white ice, all several inches thick. Loch Fyne is a sea loch, so I can only assume that at certain states of tide, the slack conditions mean that the fresh water dominates, raising the freezing temperature.

dscf3254

I drove on past Inveraray, and up into the hills, over towards Loch Awe. And never was a name so apt- with the backdrop of stunning now covered mountains, and the deep blue sky for contrast.

dscf3259

I had a discussion with my friend Nick the other day about the nature of wilderness. We are still trying to finalise a book of meditations for use in the wild places. He had written something based around the Biblical idea of wilderness as desolation- of removal and isolation from God. However, for me, and perhaps for many people who are over used to a domesticated or urban landscape, wilderness is perhaps a wonderful idea- rich with the possibility of a Created place, unsullied and unpolluted- wild and untamed.

This idea became all the more real to me today, as I heard a story.

Standing in Oban court house with some of the other witnesses, I was discussing the journey, and the state of the roads, and the stags I had seen in the white field next to the Loch. A nice woman, who is a ward sister at Oban Lorn and the Isles General Hospital was part of the conversation.

And she told me that a few months previously, she had been heading to a training course in Dunoon, also early in the morning, and had been forced to swerve on the road past Kilchurn Castle as there was a dead deer in the road that had obviously been killed by a car fairly recently. Then she saw a large black shape near the wall.

Stopping the car, she watched in amazement as a large black cat, about the size of a leopard jumped the stone wall, and padded over the fields into the forest. It had been feeding on the dead deer.

There have been stories (Check out this article here.) Half glimpsed shapes at the forest edge. Big heavy deer dragged into the undergrowth by a powerful animal that simply should not be here… There have been sightings in Aberdeen, and many in Argyll. I always doubted them- there was no solid evidence, and after all, there is the bloomin’ Loch Ness monster!

But this lady- she was a nice, sensible person, who was not playing the story for shock value. She was in no doubt as to what she had seen.

dscf3257

As I drove the road on the way home, my eyes kept flicking accross to the forest edge. The possibility of yellow eyes watching me past was always there.

Nature red in tooth and claw. And right here.

jaguar_black_panther_cat

Dressing up light for the dancing…

Snow above Loch Eck, Argyll

Snow above Loch Eck, Argyll

The snow fell very early this year.

Last year, it was after Christmas when the first snow appeared on the mountains around us. We are close to the sea, so mostly it rains.

But last week we had a spell of cold clear weather, and snow kissed the mountain tops.

Winter can be cruel here. Not in the Good-King-Wenceslas kind of way- but nevertheless it can sap at the soul. The dark nights, the constant wind and rain, the wet cold that seems to soak into your bones.

The hillsides become unstable sources of land slips, the whole landscape goes dead-bracken brown and lifeless, the trees skeletal against grey skies and the pine forests become one huge dark moss sponge.

For those of melancholic disposition, such as myself, there is a beauty to these winters. The shafts of cold sunlight that periodically turn the dull browns to shining bronze. The empty wildness of the landscape. But I know I will come to long for the springtime.

I have friends who experience depression. For them, winter is a dangerous time, containing the possibility of the end of hope. The days deny the reality of the coming of soft days and renewal, and just leave a dark tunnel with no distant exit point.

For us all, there is a pressing need for to transcend the darkness. To find light. To put it on like a coat and walk in it.

To dwell in warmth and companionship, to see beauty and to celebrate it.

Some things make this more possible- and for me, one of these things is snow…

First snows

The first snows of winter bring blessing
To the hills and the mountains.
Yesterday bottle-brown
Now blue white crystal and pure

Soon rain will bring spoil and destruction
Turning the white mottled brown
Releasing the streams
Yesterday’s secret tears running down

But for now
My vision is draw to the highlands
Captured by sparkling sunlight
Shining but showing no shadow
Driving the darkness away

Dressing up light for the dancing and leading me on

Dressing up light for the dancing, then it’s gone.

Another wild day on the Clyde…

View along the Clyde

View along the Clyde

Gale force winds last night again…

No Ferries, water lying everywhere, wind bashing at the leaves on the trees and hastening the autumn.

Beautiful.

This time, we decided to watch the waves as they crashed on our little piece of shore.

Spiritual walking and pilgrimage

I had a good evening last night with our friends Nick and Lindsay- Nick fresh from travels to the USA. he had been to a conference for outdoor education/leadership types, and seems to have had a ball.

We have a project underway looking to create opportunities for meditation and reflection in the outdoors- using elements of the spaces we find ourselves in to bring deliberate attention to God, and to our journey with him. Some of this will hopefully become a book, if we ever get our acts together to get it finished.

Some of the meditations can be found here…

As part of this, I have been thinking a lot about the great traditions of pilgrimage.

People of all faiths seem to recognise pilgrimage as an essential spiritual practice. In researching WHY this should be the case, there seems to be very little complex theological reasoning involved. Pilgrimage, it seems, can not be easily deconstructed into theological structures- rather, it has to be walked, and experienced.

Pilgrimage appears to have meaning only in the life of those who walk it. It may have shaped whole counties and cultures, but it has not easy yardstick.

Some walk to escape, others walk towards.

Some walk in companionship, others alone.

Some always have an eye on a destination, others live for a far horizon.

For all- there is the outward symbolism of an inner journey. A decision to walk towards God…

We are all of us, sojourners. A long way from home.

What’s so important is the attitude of the pilgrim. And the attitude of pilgrimage is one of openness, one of allowing the unexpected and the surprise to be present with you, and to not be caught up in what your plans were, or the way things should be going, but rather what’s happening, and what the experience is giving you. I think the sense of coming to a pilgrimage site, it’s so awesome that you can’t but feel complete, or you can’t but feel invited in and a part of the millions and millions of people down through the ages, who have made a sacred track.

Lauren Artress

The Argyll forest in autumn…

Today we walked into the forest at Glenbranter.

It was a lovely autumn day, with the occasional shower serving to polish up the colours.

The trees have not yet given up the summer- some of them are still green. But others have decided to go out with a blaze of glory.

The forestry commission have worked hard to encourage people into the woods. They maintain footpaths, set up wildlife hides, and put on special events. Today there were exhibitions of birds of prey, films of ospreys and information about the experiment to re-introduce beavers to Knapdale. They have been extinct in Scotland since the 16th century, and the idea of them living in our woods again makes me happy.

So we waked past waterfalls and ate sandwiches watching the red squirrels…

And it was good to be alive.

Winter is coming. Soon the trees will be bare, and the nights cold and long. But this too will pass.

Braveheart, Inchailloch and Scottish/English history.

Back in the spring Ali and I took a canoe trip on Loch Lomond, and spent some time exploring the island of Inchailloch. Check out here for some details of this wonderful place…

The island was the site of an ancient nunnery, sacked by the vikings, and for hundreds of years was the burial ground for Clan McGregor- Clan of the famous Rob Roy.

dscf1159.jpg

My Daughter Emily told me that her school, like the good Scottish Grammar school that it is, is studying Scottish history. And in order to aid their 12 year old understanding, the kids are shown the Mel Gibson film ‘Braveheart’.

It is just possible that Emily told me this to wind me up, as she has heard me rant about this film. It takes so many liberties with history that the very idea of it being shown in school is enough to make me grind my teeth! You know the stuff- the wild and free Highlanders, living in high minded moral purity in the pure mountain air, are set upon by the despotic English, who receive their just deserts from the edge of a rusty Claymore…

Ignore the fact that the film Americanises and romanticises the story, re-drawing the characterisations to make the blockbuster market-friendly. Can we really learn anything from this view of history beyond the reinforcement of narrow stereotypes?

The narrow views that live on in football rivalry, and a kind of anti-Englishness that is understandable in part, but is a prejudice that is justified in many circumstances where people should know better.

But I am an incomer- born in England, with an English/Irish ancestry. Therefore this talk will get me into trouble…

I am well aware that I can never fully understand what it means to grow up as a Scot, and to learn to define yourself against the old enemy… with hostilities now ritualised and categorised according to the modern age. But I grew up as a working class northern English lad, in Thatcher’s fractured Britain. My English forebears experienced forced industrialisation and unrbanisation, and became the workers who fueled an empire, but reaped none of its benefits. The death of the UK as an industrial power was our story too. I say this because we all have out stories of ancestral hardship. Some of them are shared…

And my father is Irish, a Catholic from Northern Ireland. He comes from a town called Strabane, scarred still by bombings, shootings and violence, and polarised into groups defined by skewed historical inherited memory.

This redrawing of history to suit a particular prejudice is often the recourse of the powerful. In our case in Scotland, it seems to me that it is also something indulged in by our small nation, in order to justify chip-on-the-shoulder victim mentality. Ouch. That is harsh- but is there truth in there somewhere?

Scotland, in this view of history, is the proud wild nation, whose heart is to be found in the mountains of the North West. It has been beaten down and oppressed by the neighbourhood bully from the south for hundreds of years, but still, it’s heart beats strong and proud.

But when you look at the realities of history- these things are not so clear. The clearances were perpetrated by the English were they? Or was it the English-centric Scottish nobility? Were the famous and tragic battles fought in the name of Scotland, or were they as much Scottish civil wars, with only one outcome possible when one grouping has a modern, well equipped army on its side?

And what of these pure proud Highlanders?



On Inchailloch one of the graves is marked with the Clan McGregor motto- interpreted on the board above.

If unsure or if there is any back-chat, kill.

These were the times that the mythology of Scottish history sprang from. Desperate times, when old Clan loyalties may as easily been applied to local rivalries, or cattle stealing as to the cause of noble Scotland. Where life was brutal, and brutalised, and the domesticated folk in the south grew up in fear of the Highlanders coming south to raid and rampage, in perhaps the same way that we fear terrorist attack today. The Highlanders could be said to be Al Quieda, the IRA and the Taliban all combined into one for 17th and 18th Century lowlanders…

And we know that this was the mythology that was eventually exploited and wasted by the weak and foolish Bonnie Prince Charlie, as he followed his own power-hungry agenda, in the hope that France would support his cause. Resulting in a time of terror, then of terrible and vengeful persecution by the victorious English army that casts its shadow even today, 200 years later.

I love this country. If we move towards greater independence then let us do it with honesty and respect for the shared history of these islands.

And let us stop this small minded prejudice, that interprets everything through a set of distorted goggles. These sorts of narrow mind sets have been the cause of violence and hatred, and may yet be again.

We Scottish Christians, let us be people of peace and reconciliation. Where there is hatred, let us bring love.

Even to the English.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Ornithology meets Les Dawson

All along the banks of our part of the Clyde there are clusters of these shy ducks around this time of the year. The females in particular will group together almost like gossiping schoolgirls out for a trip to the shops…

They also have this other endearing trait. As you walk along the sea shore, they tend to make this noise that always reminds me of the late great Sir Les Dawson. It goes something like this (imagine a rising and lowering pitch);

ooooOOOOoooooo!

These sounds often make me chuckle, as the sound can imbue any thought, or any sentence with a kind of camp gravitas that lifts the spirits… particularly if the ducks get their comic timing right.

It occurs to me that many of you will never have heard of Les Dawson. He was a kind of Yorkshire comedian-laureate, who had many different comedic skills- such as playing the piano brilliantly badly, or the inevitable mother-in-law jokes. In fact he managed to survive long enough in the business for his mother-in-law jokes to be ironic nods at a past genre, but still funny.

But it was one particular character he did that always remind me of the eider ducks and their oooing- it is this one. Enjoy.