Simon & Garfunkel Concert, Central Park

Slow down you move too fast‘ was one of Simon and Garfunkel’s anthems that charmed us all in the late sixties. Wow! If the sixties were fast, then how would we describe today? Everyone working frenetically, more in search of survival than their dream or self realisation. How times have changed. Well up until ‘Lockdown: Covid-19, 2020’.

Now I am, if nothing else, a throwback to the sixties that framed much of the contours of my worldview. Certain foundational understanding was also established. So today I feel I live in a permanent state of retroversion, having the appearance of somethone that existed in the past. I guess that the hippy that took hold of my persona has never left; one reason I feel something of an alien at times within contemporary life.

Does this matter? Well, not to me. I’ve grown quite content, now that I have stepped away from the realised and hidden persuaders that mount a consistent assault upon my self esteem as I entertain a vacuous need to conform to some vague notion of what we are all meant to be/become. I have lanced this illusion, for illusion it was and forever will be.

However, even as I pursue my choice of life as a contemplative, a semi hermit devoted to prayer, the Lockdown has opened my eyes to how much more I need to, or at least might, slow down.

Here in St Cuthbert’s, Jayne and I have a wonderful garden we are slowly developing. In normal times it offers welcome, peace and pleasure to those seeking quiet contemplation – simply put, a time to step back and be still. This is something that Lockdown has imposed upon us all, whether we’re ready or not.

What I’ve appreciated is that the emergence of spring blooms, blossoms and flowers slowly emerge by degrees. Bare branches overnight sprout buds, yet those buds then take time slowly to open. Every part of that opening process is in slow motion. Day by day we walk and observe each tree and plant and marvel at the beauty of this opening process. Like a child, each stage is precious and perfect in itself, yet the adult who emerges is the perfection of all the frozen time frames, mental photos captured in our hearts and heads.

The simple learning is that discovering the beauty in slowing down is itself a product of deliberate action. It takes work and effort. Lockdown is a deliberate policy, enforced upon us. I know for some it’s tough to endure; no garden, crowded living spaces, tense relationships between adults and children. Yet, I’ve also heard wonderful stories of families who’ve completely reconstructed their lives. Praying together, playing together working alongside each other.

Indeed, one family even made a movie of their version of Red Riding Hood which they sent round to their friendship group to cheer us all up. They found the time to create something memorable together, embracing the time and seizing an opportunity from the midst of our present crisis.

Naturaly Lockdown will end. Life will resume. Will we breath a sigh of relief, ‘back to normal’? Yet, a normal that is in reality no more than a persuader, sometimes realised, more often than not hidden, that drives us. We react and respond to external assumptions that are presented as the rational proposal for successful living. Maybe, we might consider the birds as Jesus suggested. In my case I’ll be considering the trees and the plants, although the birds are also busy about feeding their young, so worthy of consideration.

I wonder if this ‘selah’, although imposed due to horrendous circumstances in which so many suffer and lose their lives, is perhaps an international call to pause, draw breath and decide if the objectives and reaities that made up our lives when entering Lockdown are those we choose to carry into the future that awaits us?

You and I alone can decide. I have my re-entry refrain ready; ‘Hello lamppost, what’cha knowing, I’ve come to watch your flowers growin