Deviations

I went to Loudun today.  It was supposed to be a simple journey on a road that any Roman would have been proud of - arrow straight, and never mind the hills that got in the way. 

Unfortunately, somebody definitely anti-Roman has installed an un-Roman roundabout just on the outskirts of the town, and the un-Roman roundabout was in urgent need of repair.  So I met a yellow sign that said 'Deviation' in black letters.

Any self-respecting Roman would, of course, have laughed heartily and stepped over it.  Unfortunately, it's obligatory to follow a sign that says 'Deviation' if you happen not be to a Roman and are driving a car. 

This particular deviation took me down a long, narrow, winding road to a crossroads.  There was no sign there to tell me which way to go.  I took a chance and turned right - which happened to be the right decision.  So I arrived - by chance, and with luck, where I wanted to go.

That was on the way there.

On the way back, I got hopelessly lost.  I followed the first sign that said 'Deviation', and travelled through an endless, green, signpostless landscape for 20 minutes until I finally saw a very small signpost that said 'Sammerçolles'.  I don't know 'Sammerçolles' - but I do know that the village abuts the main road, and that the main road would take me to where I needed to go.  And eventually I got where I needed to go.  But it took me longer than it should have.

Life is full of 'deviations' - but it isn't obligatory to follow them.  And it will take a whole lot longer for you to get where you want to go if you do follow them.  And getting there at all will depend on whether or not  you see a signpost to some kind of 'Sammerçolles' somewhere along the way - and it's by no means certain that you will.

If you keep you eye on where you want to go, and what you want to achieve when you get there, you can avoid deviations.  Or - like a Roman - you can step over them. 

Emily - http://www.therapypartnership.com/

What's Good to Know?

Years ago I watched a programme about gardening.  Actually, it wasn't quite about gardening. It was about plants and whether they were able to think and feel what we call 'emotion'.

The plants were in a greenhouse, and hooked up, of course, to various monitors that would register their reactions.

As part of the experiment someone walked into the greenhouse and burned one of the plants with a lighted cigarette.

Plants can't move, but afterwards whenever that same person entered the greenhouse, the monitors showed that all of them really did do their best to move and to get away.  They did that because they were frightened that something that they didn't understand was going to hurt them as it had already hurt someone just like them.

The experiment taught the experimenters a lot about plants, and how they relate to each other.  It taught me that there are some things that are best not known.

Currently, the fashion is that one should read and understand everything about whatever illness one is suffering from - and many therapists recommend that their clients read books and try to learn about their 'disease'.  I'm not sure that's always a good idea, and I rarely recommend it myself. 

Some things are best not known, because if they are not known they cannot be imagined, and if they cannot be imagined, they cannot be destructive.

There are some things that it isn't good to know too much about.

Emily - http://www.therapypartnership.com/

Among Those Dark Satanic Mills - And Everywhere Else

Those of England's athletes who are taking part in this years's Commonwealth Games in Delhi chose 'Jerusalem' as the team anthem.

We were delighted. 'Jerusalem' - like the 'Marseillaise!' - is one of those pieces of music that seems to belong to everybody.

The Marseillaise is, of course, very militaristic, but William Blake's constructive and hopeful poem speaks of a Jerusalem of the mind, a place of peace and love that could be anywhere - and never mind that Blake happened to visualise it in 'England's pleasant pastures' and among England's 'dark satanic mills', or that his outlook was (unsurprisingly for those days) that of a Christian man.

Blake's poem is based on what may, or may not, be the myth that, as a young man, Jesus accompanied his Uncle Joseph of Arimathea on a voyage to England, and visited Glastonbury - and hence 'And did those feet in ancient time walk upon England's mountain green?'

It really doesn't matter whether the myth is a myth or the truth. Jesus is a Messiah to some people and a Prophet to a lot of other people - and whilst that difference does matter a great deal to some people, what matters most is that most people agree that he was an extraordinary individual and worth listening to.

And what matters most to us here is that England's athletes chose a piece of music that belongs to everyone and is hopeful and constructive.

'Jerusalem' is a metaphor for a place of peace and love.  Building a new Jerusalem that isn't a place, but a state of mind, is no small ambition.

Aux armes, citoyens,

Formez vos bataillions,

Marchons, marchons!

But don't bring a gun.

Bill