The butterfly effect

Has anyone seen a butterfly yet?

I saw a Red  Admiral drifting over some crocuses in my garden on February 16.

Pure existence.
Pure presence, out on the hunt for nectar, a familiar pastime that we have all engaged in.
And I thought there it was free, much freer than I in so many ways.

Do butterflies worry about repaying their mortgage, do they worry at all?
Do butterflies have to drive to the supermarket?
Do butterflies have to contend with the glories of teenage children?
Do butterflies have to write sermons, wash up, buy new socks?
Butterflies never fall out with Bishops, or have to take a bus when there are engineering works on the line.

Butterflies don’t have to fill in tax returns or endure sea sickness.

I know, as Darwin knew, that butterflies have other trials and tribulations, but they are no greater or lesser than ours they are just different.

By Peter Owen Jones.  See the full Text and be inspired at Christian Ecology Link

to recover the celtic

I have avoided that word for a long time, it has almost become a nothing word to some, speaking of fanciful longings and notions without any depth or heart or soul. ‘Celtic Christianity never really existed’ some say, and to an extent I would agree. The trouble is, it goes deeper than this. “And Celtic Spirituality is only the heart ruling the head” They might go on to say. When I hear some poetry and music quoted as being ‘celtic’ or of celtic influence I always wonder who was the influence to these quaint ditties, some long forgotten saint speaking from beyond the grave perhaps?

Reading Alastair’s book Soil and Soul is illuminating because for once he usurps the general convention of, is there, isn’t there, celtic arguments and says this:

“The issue, I think, is not whether Celtic spirituality ever existed, but the fact that a living spirituality connecting soil, soul and society manifestly can and does exist. This is community in that word’s most holistic sense. … Celticity therefore takes on a meaning that can be bigger than ethnographic and linguistic definitions alone: it becomes code for reconnection with human community, with the natural world and with God. It expresses what I call a ‘metaculture’: a connection at a level of the soul that goes deeper than superficial cultural differences; a connection simply by virtue of our underlying humanity. Such a bedrock of commonality is desperately needed in today’s fragmented world. It arises not from globalisation as a business concept, but from the fact of being ‘one world’ “