Season's Greetings & Reflections, 2023

Season’s Greetings to you, dear?friends, from Anne Billen and I on a dull, damp and reflective day here in Belgium. As I write the nearest church belltower is calling Catholics to Christmas Mass.

This Christmas morning, as I lay in the liminal zone between sleep and rising, I wondered which image to post with this message.

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·?????? It’s too warm for a white Christmas…

·?????? The trees have already lost most of their leaves and colour…

·?????? The fungi I love are mostly hiding undergound…

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So, to honour the lack of colour I settled on this black-and-white edit from summer (August) as the one that perhaps best sums up some of my experiences and reflections for 2023.

The Back Story

In the background you might be able to see the afternoon sun striking the (gold-coloured) face of the clock in the belltower at Abdijvanpark (Abbey on the Park) in Leuven.

This painstakingly restored Norbertine Abbey was founded in 1129. Anne and I regularly walk nearby for exercise and reflection. We often visit De Wikke (the organic produce shop in the ancient Tithe Barn) to top-up the veggies we don’t grow in our own garden. We are privileged to have such a sustainable food hub and their friendly staff and farmers as part of our local food security mix. We also walk around the lakes/ponds, created for aquaculture, two in the Middle Ages and two more in the 1700’s. One of the ponds has been ecologically regenerated in the last two years, draining and removing invasive species and then letting nature do her restorative work. The biggest European Oak in our part of the world also lives here—she’s survived two world wars—so we visit her tree-lined cathedral whenever we can to pay our homage. Then there are the bells, tolling every quarter hour; and on many an afternoon we reveled in the tintinnabulation as visiting bellringers provide musical concerts. This is one example of what was an ‘island of sanity’ for many—the sort we will need again.

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The Foreground

The inflorescence of white flowers is Queen Anne’s Lace – the wild form of the domesticated carrot. It demonstrates that inherent wildness still exists close to places where it was systematically bred-out, over centuries, to favour humans over natural form. It survives in this spot by growing from under a fence line—an artificial boundary between where recreational joggers trample the path outside, and the Abbey’s well-tended (domesticated) dairy cows graze inside—and where neither mammals wish to risk the soft flesh of their legs, or tongues, in trampling or consuming.

I find the juxtaposition of barbed-wire and lace— Wild & Domesticated / Fierce & Tender / Soft & Harsh / Protective & Vulnerable / growing in alignment, between realms—symbolic and timeless.

Perhaps we need boundaries to frame our existence, yet if/when they are contested, especially in times of war and genocide, innocent lives are destroyed… I have seen too much destruction in 2023… things are not that Black & White.

The Present

Then, to even my surprise, even though I had looked at the image many times, another element came into view. I had not noticed the lacewing (insect) on the flowers. We think we know our subjects… until, well… until we take some distance from what we thought we already knew. Every image is a snapshot in time. Every experience of NOW is a snapshot in time. If and when we are present enough to deeply observe we can see a lot. And, if and when we are present enough to deeply reflect, even more can be revealed; if we are open to it. How fitting it is that this lacewing was my Christmas present. It was there all along, and is only one of a couple I saw all season. I have previously written a poem about them… Lion’s Hearts with Wings of Lace

My wish, for you, and for all you love, all you know, is that you find/make the time to pay attention to the world around you in each moment, each NOW. When you do you will see the polarities, the differences, and the edges between then, and you may find and appreciate the potentials that are still there, in the differences that make a difference.

So, my wish, for you, and for all you love, all you know, is that you find/make the time to pay attention to the world around you in each moment, each NOW. When you do you will see the polarities, the differences, and the edges between then, and you may find and appreciate the potentials that are still there, in the differences that make a difference. May you seek the beauty and life potentials that still exist along the edges, despite the barriers, and find ways to honour it, and create the conditions conducive for it to flourish—little islands of sanity in seas of destruction.?

As our friend Phil De Fer said “it seems to be exactly what Life and Love are all about, in all of their continuous presence and promise through every single split moment of time.”

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… I think I might have another poem coming.

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If you do find yourself with time to reflect, I am interested which image—of yours or mine—best sums up your own experiences and reflections for 2023?

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May 2024 be kind to all of us—it is shaping up to be a tough one for many.

Much love, Neil