On Reflection

From the manse window

ILIKE to collect old books. Not old enough to be expensive, just old enough to have a different perspective on the world.

One essayist, in 1942, wrote of splashing in puddles in the springtime, kissing in the dance hall, the laughter of babies, and picnics in the woods as an antidote to the “temporary dinginess of the world”.

An author, writing just after the war, talked about watching a girl playing in a field in the summer. She came over to the gate he was leaning on to show him the treasures she had discovered.

“‘There was only one of these.’ She held out a bomb fragment, not knowing what it was. ‘But there were hundreds of these.’ In her other hand was a bouquet of wildflowers.”

The point is that while there is always ugliness in the world, there is far more beauty. And what we see often depends on what we look for.

I used to cycle a lot. There was one steep hill on the home straight. It was generally smooth, wide, and quiet and I loved freewheeling down it. Then, one day, my front wheel bumped through a hole in the tarmac. The next half-dozen times I went down that hill I hit the hole, despite it only being maybe six inches wide.

Because I knew it was there, I focused on it, and, unconsciously, went straight to it. It was the equivalent of walking through that field, ignoring all the flowers, just to get to the scrap of metal because it had once been part of something destructive.

It’s an instinctive thing. We think we need to focus on the negative for our selfpreservation. If we spent all our time watching for hazards and avoiding them, it might lead to a longer life. But what about quality of life? How many miracles of creation, how many wildflowers would we walk past because we were looking for something else?

The news will tell us the world is in a dreadful state. But how are you? How is your neighbour? How is that beautiful baby that has just been born?

It’s no bad thing to be aware of what’s happening in the world, but we should devote at least as much of our attention to what is happening in our own street as we do to what’s happening in Syria.

There’s no point in knowing name of the President of the Philippines when we don’t know the names of the family four doors down.

Focus on the flowers that grow around our feet. Look for the kind and the beautiful.

And if your situation isn’t the prettiest one, then the words of Saint John of the Cross might be worth considering.

“Where there is no love,” he wrote, “put love – and you will find love.”

Let’s switch the news off more often and look around at the world we actually live in. Be the wildflowers, be the kissing in the dance hall, be the smile in passing, or the neighbourly visit. If there is no love – let’s be the love.

Next week: Janice Ross takes on some household repairs.