Nottingham Quotes

I know there's no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks, but I don't care, I am me. My name is Valerie, I don't think I'll live much longer and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography ill ever write, and god, I'm writing it on toilet paper. I was born in Nottingham in 1985, I don't remember much of those early years, but I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tuttlebrook, and she use to tell me that god was in the rain. I passed my 11th lesson into girl's grammar; it was at school that I met my first girlfriend, her name was Sara. It was her wrists. They were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that is was an adolescent phase people outgrew. Sara did, I didn't. In 2002 I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn't have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn't look at me, he told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing. But I had only told them the truth, was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free. I'd always known what I wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I starred in my first film, "The Salt Flats". It was the most important role of my life, not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again. We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew Scarlet Carsons for me in our window box, and our place always smelled of roses. Those were there best years of my life. But America's war grew worse, and worse. And eventually came to London. After that there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone. I remember how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like collateral and rendition became frightening. While things like Norse Fire and The Articles of Allegiance became powerful, I remember how different became dangerous. I still don't understand it, why they hate us so much. They took Ruth while she was out buying food. I've never cried so hard in my life. It wasn't long till they came for me.It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years, I had roses, and apologized to no one. I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch, but one. An Inch, it is small and it is fragile, but it is the only thing the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us. I hope that whoever you are, you escape this place. I hope that the world turns and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you. -Valerie

One of the most memorably unexpected events I experienced in the course of doing this book came in a dissection room at the University of Nottingham in England when a professor and surgeon named Ben Ollivere (about whom much more in due course) gently incised and peeled back a sliver of skin about a millimeter thick from the arm of a cadaver. It was so thin as to be translucent. “That,” he said, “is where all your skin color is. That’s all that race is—a sliver of epidermis.” I mentioned this to Nina Jablonski when we met in her office in State College, Pennsylvania, soon afterward. She gave a nod of vigorous assent. “It is extraordinary how such a small facet of our composition is given so much importance,” she said. “People act as if skin color is a determinant of character when all it is is a reaction to sunlight. Biologically, there is actually no such thing as race—nothing in terms of skin color, facial features, hair type, bone structure, or anything else that is a defining quality among peoples. And yet look how many people have been enslaved or hated or lynched or deprived of fundamental rights through history because of the color of their skin.

And Miriam also refused to be approached. She was afraid of being set at nought, as by her own brothers. The girl was romantic in her soul. Everywhere was a Walter Scott heroine being loved by men with helmets or with plumes in their caps. She herself was something of a princess turned into a swine-girl in her own imagination. And she was afraid lest this boy, who, nevertheless, looked something like a Walter Scott hero, who could paint and speak French, and knew what algebra meant, and who went by train to Nottingham every day, might consider her simply as the swine-girl, unable to perceive the princess beneath; so she held aloof.

IN MERRY ENGLAND in the time of old, when good King Henry the Second ruled the land, there lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest, near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name was Robin Hood.

One condition,” Cilla sniffled through a joyful smile. “We are not naming our child after any of your grandfather’s fonts.” “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gaz said. “The only other one that crackpot invented was called the Serif of Nottingham.

Mostly Robin is in that ‘ex-boyfriend space,’ where you forget he exists for months at a time and then suddenly you remember and you’re embarrassed all over again that you ever liked him, in the first place.

It was Alan Rickman and I was terrified, not because of the menace he exuded as Severus Snape, but because I loved the film Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and was obsessed with Alan’s performance as the dastardly Sheriff of Nottingham. To be in the same room as the Sheriff himself was enough to penetrate even my veneer of schoolboy cockiness.

It's not really fun listening to an insane person. Do you realize that? You're only entertaining yourself. Not much of a host, if you don't mind my critique.

Kidnapping a Reluctant Bride:  Traditional Meet-Cute or First-Degree Felony Abduction? You decide in our insta-poll!

Nottingham’s Rock Cemetery, with its magnificent marble angels and sandstone catacombs.

When the polar ice advanced as far as Nottingham, my school was closed and I was evacuated to Mars.

And so many No's - Bee Holm's film "Awfully Big Adventure", the Rankin film, "Jack and Sarah", directing "The Tin Soldier", running Nottingham Playhouse. Fate is running around throwing hands in the air.

So you who seek for deep truth, for the mystery and sacredness of life, don't give up looking just because the externals seemed to be the opposite of what they should be. Keep searching, for it is to be found. You will find that pearl of great price, in fact you will be led to it. So don't give up! One day, you will be given that which will set your heart on fire and you will become a new person, the person you were always meant to be.

I was told once, years ago, after a trip to the Goose Fair and the waltzers in Nottingham that the way to stop feeling dizzy was to stare at a fixed point in front of you. Karl was my fixed point. I focused on him and everything else stilled.

Jonathon stretched his arms, like he was reading himself for exercise. He leaned back and asked, "Why are you doing this?" Robin was a bit surprised by the blunt question. "Doing what? Laying here, strapped to this table? I'll be honest, I've asked myself the same question.

We are that drop in the ocean of the cosmos which contains within itself the entire cosmos. (p. 12)

Take thy bow in hand," said Robin, "For Much will ride with thee, And all can be together, If no man die for me.

There is nothing standing between us.  If there was, I would knock it down to reach you.  I already did.

London’s an expensive habit, and pretty much a pointless yin unless ye huv dosh; if ye live in somewhere like Dalston or Stokie or Tottenham or the East End, it’s mair like steyin in Middlesbrough or Nottingham. The economics ay the postcode prison make the West End good life just as inaccessible. Not one cunt in our local boozer, bar us, ever drinks in the West End.

Remember always that the goal of awakening, of self-awareness, of living in higher consciousness is always about the very same thing that Christ brought into the world which is unconditional, agape love. (p. 92)

Relevance has a ring Being unknown has a sting Both fame and being forgotten become warped somehow into the same thing Up the charts or down the streets, it’s all a temporal fling A destination! Of Nottingham to Northern Virginia, Doth clipped the jaunt of thine infamous wing To soar, to be known, to go forth and bring, It’s all, at the end, the frown of a crowned handicapped king. (From his collection of unpublished poems)

Darkness is always trying to overcome the light and what we know from Advent and from the resurrection is that darkness cannot overcome the light. And that is a truth that can carry you into bliss and hope all the days of your life. (p. 50)

He always tried to read the same books she did.  The past few weeks, she’d been fascinated with pottery, which wasn’t so bad.  For several months last year she’d been very into quilting, though.  Jesus, that had been a tough time.  Literally, no one on the planet could write an interesting article on quilting.  Nicholas had been struggling to stay awake, as he learned the difference between a four-patch star block and a pinwheel flower pattern. Being an obsessed stalker was hard work, at times.

Robin of Loxley, Robin of Loxley, England’s most treasured man. He takes delight, in leading the fight, To save good Nottingham. “Unlike the sheriff, Robin is cherished, His heart is pure and true. Loved by the ladies, they want his babies, And love his merry crew. “The sheriff grows scared as Robin prepares, To end Prince John’s regime. If you want freedom, a better kingdom, Then sing this merry theme! “Robin of Loxley, Robin of Loxley, ’Tis no one greater than, Robin of Loxley, Robin of Loxley, England’s most treasured man!

In ancient times, the temple of Delphi proclaimed „Know Thyself“ and the Greek philosophers made it their central theme, because in the knowing of one‘s true Self, we discover not a name or a lineage, but a whole new dimension of what it means to be human. In our very mortality is embedded something of the eternal. Encased within the bones and sinews that are destined to disintegrate is Spirit that comes from beyond and returns home when we are „born into Heaven“ as the Orthodox say, or when we cross that threshold. These ideas cannot be reduced to mere belief systems and dogmas. They have been vividly part of the human experience from the beginning. (p. 8-9)

Deep within the web of pavement and steel, a young boy and girl scurried past an old man, his outdated mechanical limbs shaking and twitching like an addict without a fix. He scowled at the hoodlums, scratching the hole in his face where his nose used to be, sold long ago as a cheap replacement part for someone slightly richer than he was.

In most parts of the world, people go to sleep without fearing that in the middle of the night a neighbouring tribe might surround their village and slaughter everyone. Well-off British subjects travel daily from Nottingham to London through Sherwood Forest without fear that a gang of merry green-clad brigands will ambush them and take their money to give to the poor (or, more likely, murder them and take the money for themselves). Students brook no canings from their teachers, children need not fear that they will be sold into slavery when their parents can’t pay their bills, and women know that the law forbids their husbands from beating them and forcing them to stay at home. Increasingly, around the world, these expectations are fulfilled.

Our world will never be changed until individuals have changed, and individuals will never change until religion as inner transformation has penetrated to the hearts of their beings and made them into new persons. Change happens one human being at a time. It is your transformation, my transformation, that will make a difference in this wondrous but troubled world of ours, as we become who we truly are.

In 1976, a doctoral student at the University of Nottingham in England demonstrated that randomizing letters in the middle of words had no effect on the ability of readers to understand sentences. In tihs setncene, for emalxpe, ervey scarbelmd wrod rmenias bcilasaly leibgle. Why? Because we are deeply accustomed to seeing letters arranged in certain patterns. Because the eye is in a rush, and the brain, eager to locate meaning, makes assumptions. This is true of phrases, too. An author writes “crack of dawn” or “sidelong glance” or “crystal clear” and the reader’s eye continues on, at ease with combinations of words it has encountered innumerable times before. But does the reader, or the writer, actually expend the energy to see what is cracking at dawn or what is clear about a crystal? The mind craves ease; it encourages the senses to recognize symbols, to gloss. It makes maps of our kitchen drawers and neighborhood streets; it fashions a sort of algebra out of life. And this is useful, even essential—X is the route to work, Y is the heft and feel of a nickel between your fingers. Without habit, the beauty of the world would overwhelm us. We’d pass out every time we saw—actually saw—a flower. Imagine if we only got to see a cumulonimbus cloud or Cassiopeia or a snowfall once a century: there’d be pandemonium in the streets. People would lie by the thousands in the fields on their backs. We need habit to get through a day, to get to work, to feed our children. But habit is dangerous, too. The act of seeing can quickly become unconscious and automatic. The eye sees something—gray-brown bark, say, fissured into broad, vertical plates—and the brain spits out tree trunk and the eye moves on. But did I really take the time to see the tree? I glimpse hazel hair, high cheekbones, a field of freckles, and I think Shauna. But did I take the time to see my wife? “Habitualization,” a Russian army-commissar-turned-literary-critic named Viktor Shklovsky wrote in 1917, “devours works, clothes, furniture, one’s wife, and the fear of war.” What he argued is that, over time, we stop perceiving familiar things—words, friends, apartments—as they truly are. To eat a banana for the thousandth time is nothing like eating a banana for the first time. To have sex with somebody for the thousandth time is nothing like having sex with that person for the first time. The easier an experience, or the more entrenched, or the more familiar, the fainter our sensation of it becomes. This is true of chocolate and marriages and hometowns and narrative structures. Complexities wane, miracles become unremarkable, and if we’re not careful, pretty soon we’re gazing out at our lives as if through a burlap sack. In the Tom Andrews Studio I open my journal and stare out at the trunk of the umbrella pine and do my best to fight off the atrophy that comes from seeing things too frequently. I try to shape a few sentences around this tiny corner of Rome; I try to force my eye to slow down. A good journal entry—like a good song, or sketch, or photograph—ought to break up the habitual and lift away the film that forms over the eye, the finger, the tongue, the heart. A good journal entry ought be a love letter to the world. Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar. Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.

The Sherwood Forest Chronicles . 1. If Robin Hood steals from the rich, doesn't that make them poor? Does he give them their money back? I mean, what the point of robbing to begin with if your mission statement is logically flawed? 2. If the Sheriff of Nottingham is such an asshole, why isn’t he the Prime Minister of Nottingham? 3. Why don’t I see elves here? Did all the elves of Sherwood Forest migrate to New Zealand to become extras on the Peter Jackson’s Hobbit films? 4. Does Little John even know what an oxymoron is? 5. If Smokey the Bear came to Sherwood Forest to make a public service announcement about preventing forest fires, would he leave with arrows in his ass or would the Merry Men feast on bear meat for several days? And what makes the Merry Men merry in the first place? 6. What do you think? Does Robin Hood shop at Walmart or Target?

One of the most memorably unexpected events I experienced in the course of doing this book came in a dissection room at the University of Nottingham in England when a professor and surgeon named Ben Ollivere (about whom much more in due course) gently incised and peeled back a sliver of skin about a millimeter thick from the arm of a cadaver. It was so thin as to be translucent. “That,” he said, “is where all your skin color is. That’s all that race is—a sliver of epidermis.” I mentioned this to Nina Jablonski when we met in her office in State College, Pennsylvania, soon afterward. She gave a nod of vigorous assent. “It is extraordinary how such a small facet of our composition is given so much importance,” she said. “People act as if skin color is a determinant of character when all it is is a reaction to sunlight. Biologically, there is actually no such thing as race—nothing in terms of skin color, facial features, hair type, bone structure, or anything else that is a defining quality among peoples.

It can be very helpful if you keep a notebook to record your observations. It helps you to remember them more fully and with more accuracy. What did you say; how did you react; what were your motives; what were your actions; what emotional states were you in; did you pretend; did you lie by omission or by commission; were you insincere; did you justify yourself; did you gossip or slander anyone; did you have any moment of self-awareness at all or did you sleep-walk through your day wasting every opportunity to awaken?

Intentionality is actually the first step toward authentic spiritual awakening and the discovery of new horizons of understanding and wisdom. Intentionality is that baby step that opens the doors of perception. It requires an effort of sustained attention and commitment which is rare in our time, as our minds are distracted and reshaped by the rapid-fire stimulus of media through every possible venue. We are each responsible for reining in our attention, taking command of this power of focused awareness, and purposefully choosing how we will live the moments of our lives. We can waste and dissipate them, like leaking cisterns that can hold no water as the prophet Jeremiah said in ancient times, or we can center ourselves intentionally and live fully in the present moment which then opens a meaningful path into the future, even when our plans are not entirely clear. Intentionality calls forth the best of our human nature and all its potential. It all begins with a decision to live in such a way, a decision that we refuse to betray. We then become useful to the Universe and to our fellow human beings. That is how bliss enters our lives.

Ah,” Robin rolled the sound around his mouth. “That’s been something I’ve meant to ask you. What exactly does the Church think of what you’re doing here?” “The Church?” Friar Tuck threw his hands up in disgust. “Honestly, I haven’t the faintest. I’m sure they’d say any number of things about it, and some would be true, and some wouldn’t, and all of it would mean we hadn’t given them enough tithe last week. If I cared what the Church said about the things we do, I wouldn’t be out here doing them.” He chuckled, massaging the snags of his beard. “I suppose the Church would have us stay true to the laws of the land, but the Lord would have us stay true to our hearts. In better times, aye, those would be the same. Our job is to do our best to keep the two in harmony.

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Parishioners will welcome the assurance, if news of changes and experiments has come their way, that no such changes are contemplated in this parish church; they will not be used as guinea pigs for liturgical experiments. The form used at weddings and at the baptism of their children will be exactly the same as it has been for centuries. There have been changes in the world around – especially perhaps in the Victorian era, which we are pleased to think of as solid – but human needs are very constant and those who study it will find that the Book of Common Prayer, compiled from ancient sources in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries meets those needs in a manner more realistic than more contemporary efforts in this direction. It is difficult for instance to discover any need in 1966 which is not fittingly brought to God in the 400 year old words of the Litany. So the motto for our public transactions with Almighty God in the churches of our parish will be ‘Business as usual’. If any declare that we stick in the mud, we retort that by loyalty to the Prayer Book we stand on a rock.

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Successful con men are treated with considerable respect in the South. A good slice of the settler population of that region were men who’d been given a choice between being shipped off to the New World in leg-irons and spending the rest of their lives in English prisons. The Crown saw no point in feeding them year after year, and they were far too dangerous to be turned loose on the streets of London—so, rather than overload the public hanging schedule, the King’s Minister of Gaol decided to put this scum to work on the other side of the Atlantic, in The Colonies, where cheap labor was much in demand. Most of these poor bastards wound up in what is now the Deep South because of the wretched climate. No settler with good sense and a few dollars in his pocket would venture south of Richmond. There was plenty of opportunity around Boston, New York, and Philadelphia—and by British standards the climate in places like South Carolina and Georgia was close to Hell on Earth: swamps, alligators, mosquitoes, tropical disease... all this plus a boiling sun all day long and no way to make money unless you had a land grant from the King... So the South was sparsely settled at first, and the shortage of skilled labor was a serious problem to the scattered aristocracy of would-be cotton barons who’d been granted huge tracts of good land that would make them all rich if they could only get people to work it. The slave-trade was one answer, but Africa in 1699 was not a fertile breeding ground for middle-management types... and the planters said it was damn near impossible for one white man to establish any kind of control over a boatload of black primitives. The bastards couldn’t even speak English. How could a man get the crop in, with brutes like that for help? There would have to be managers, keepers, overseers: white men who spoke the language, and had a sense of purpose in life. But where would they come from? There was no middle class in the South: only masters and slaves... and all that rich land lying fallow. The King was quick to grasp the financial implications of the problem: The crops must be planted and harvested, in order to sell them for gold—and if all those lazy bastards needed was a few thousand half-bright English-speaking lackeys in order to bring the crops in... hell, that was easy: Clean out the jails, cut back on the Crown’s grocery bill, jolt the liberals off balance by announcing a new “Progressive Amnesty” program for hardened criminals.... Wonderful. Dispatch royal messengers to spread the good word in every corner of the kingdom; and after that send out professional pollsters to record an amazing 66 percent jump in the King’s popularity... then wait a few weeks before announcing the new 10 percent sales tax on ale. That’s how the South got settled. Not the whole story, perhaps, but it goes a long way toward explaining why George Wallace is the Governor of Alabama. He has the same smile as his great-grandfather—a thrice-convicted pig thief from somewhere near Nottingham, who made a small reputation, they say, as a jailhouse lawyer, before he got shipped out. With a bit of imagination you can almost hear the cranky little bastard haranguing his fellow prisoners in London jail, urging them on to revolt: “Lissen here, you poor fools! There’s not much time! Even now—up there in the tower—they’re cookin up some kind of cruel new punishment for us! How much longer will we stand for it? And now they want to ship us across the ocean to work like slaves in a swamp with a bunch of goddamn Hottentots! “We won’t go! It’s asinine! We’ll tear this place apart before we’ll let that thieving old faggot of a king send us off to work next to Africans! “How much more of this misery can we stand, boys? I know you’re fed right up to here with it. I can see it in your eyes— pure misery! And I’m tellin’ you, we don’t have to stand for it!...

Books, whether we write them or read them, serve as markers in our own histories.

Arthur could never pull off nonchalant. Arthur was fucking chalant, is what he was. Chalant as all hell.

Now come I, forsooth, from good Banbury Town," said the jolly Tinker, "and no one nigh Nottingham--nor Sherwood either, an that be the mark-- can hold cudgel with my grip. Why, lads, did I not meet that mad wag Simon of Ely, even at the famous fair at Hertford Town, and beat him in the ring at that place before Sir Robert of Leslie and his lady? This same Robin Hood, of whom, I wot, I never heard before, is a right merry blade, but gin he be strong, am not I stronger? And gin he be sly, am not I slyer? Now by the bright eyes of Nan o' the Mill, and by mine own name and that's Wat o' the Crabstaff, and by mine own mother's son, and that's myself, will I, even I, Wat o' the Crabstaff, meet this same sturdy rogue, and gin he mind not the seal of our glorious sovereign King Harry, and the warrant of the good Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, I will so bruise, beat, and bemaul his pate that he shall never move finger or toe again! Hear ye that, bully boys?

You will find that there is a mighty power, a non-exclusive, eternal dimension that actually can change your psychology, your joy of life; it can lift you up, give you a sense of self beyond anything you imagined to empower you to become that child of the universe, a child of God to whom miracles of goodness can come. Take the time to seek; take the time to rediscover the depths of these teachings and everything will change. (p. 20)

Salvation is healing [sozo], fullness of life, and life in abundance. And we learn in this ancient teaching at the dawn of time that this is the kind of Uncreated One and mystery at the heart of the universe who made us. And then we hear a teaching, „Now wait for the Lord. My soul waits.“ Now it‘s not like waiting at a bus stop. It‘s an intentional attentive waiting. It‘s patience. It‘s certainty that God will come to help us. Who dares to wait patiently in the midst of distress? That is the way that we are given. That is the spiritual instruction. Wait for the Lord knowingly, expecting that you will have help. If you don‘t wait, if you run off and give up and say, „Okay, time‘s up. I tried that; I‘m going to do something else“ – that‘s what we call outer darkness, you‘re on your own. Wait for the Lord. (p. 44)

The word Church (Ecclesia) means: The assembly of those who are called out. In other words, each individual who is called out of a godless world gathers with companions on the Way and becomes part of the Body of Christ together – incarnations of Divine Goodness. (p. 45)

Let us come into this holy place cleansed, purified. That's how we honor God. That's how we prove our belief in the arrival of the divine in the midst of our lives. God will help the one who seeks to make those efforts. Finally he says, „Put on (or clothe) yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ. Don't think of that as some other unapproachable metaphor. It means think like Him. Live like Him. Not as a vagrant, but as a compassionate person, a forgiving person. Even if you're the only one in the crowd. Don't let the poison of negativity get contagious on you. Recognize it for what it is. Put on Christ, nothing less. Each one of us is called to that. Because in putting on that understanding of life, you find your true Self, your true destiny, your true joy. (p. 52)

To hold your soul in hell and not despair is to manage to hang on to the faith in the reality of the spiritual realm, even in the harshest time of the physical realm, even when all seems lost and in fact if you want to climb the mountain of spiritual awakening, spiritual consciousness there must be that stage where we are taken to the far edge beyond what we can bear or think we can bear. And if we hang on in faith and trust, if we call upon the help of that spiritual reality, that miracle will happen and against all odds renewal, new beginnings, redemption, can take place. This is a verifiable, magnificent experience that I know personally, that I know others have experienced, and that you can experience. So, from the point of view of the Fourth Way all the difficulties of life become firewood for the fire. In other words, strengthen your consciousness, raise your consciousness to another level of perspective and transcendence so that you can walk calmly through the nightmare and holding on through that dark night you will achieve a new level of faith, understanding, and relationship with the spiritual reality. If some of you are in times of great suffering and all of us walk that path somehow sometime, remember that and take it seriously for it is one of the pearls of great price and discover that the very negative things of life, personal and destructive can turn into the fertilizer for your soul, the awakening of a deeper self, and the face-to-face encounter with the reality of God's help. (p. 142-142)

Sometimes it is when those most traumatic of experiences take place that we have the opportunity to be flooded by that which is called Grace. When the heart is broken, when you are deeply betrayed, when people speak falsely against you, try to find the inner strength not to crack under the injustice and maliciousness of others. Choose not to be filled with rage or despair. Then you are „letting go“ or detaching yourself from this most intimate kind of pain, and a door will open. As the great spiritual teacher Karlfried Graf Dürckheim said: „Open the door and let yourself be found.“ (p. 200)

That „road less traveled by“ is a modern parallel to the ancient mystical metaphor „the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it“ (Matthew 7:14) This less traveled, more difficult „road“ is the living out of a spiritual life rather than a mere survival in our short passage through time […] The less traveled road, or the mystic way as others might call it, is therefore a process of sublimation carrying the relationship of the self with the universe to higher levels than our ordinary states of awareness. But this is no selfish journey. For as the mystic grows nearer the source of true life and participates in the creative energies of the Divine, he or she is capable of greater unselfish activity to the point of unconditional Love […] This is the journey of the one who chooses „the road less traveled“ and there are many who have witnessed to the fact that this harder road, this narrow way, is an inner journey leading to the infinite depths of our True Self, crossing the threshold into becoming a conscious Child of God, a Child of the Universe. (p. 205 -215)

We went to look at Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament which we recognised from the H.P. Sauce bottle. I wondered what brown sauce had in common with the Houses of Parliament. Apparently the recipe was devised in 1895 by a Nottingham grocer called Frederick Garton. He adopted the name H.P. for his sauce when he found out that it was being served in the Houses of Parliament. In 1905 Garton sold his recipe to the Midland Vinegar Company who marketed it widely. Although the company which owns the brand has changed several times and it is now manufactured in the Netherlands, H.P. Sauce remains the most popular British brown sauce to this day.

Britain's oldest turkey is ironically named 'Dinner'. He is over 16 years old and lives as a pet on Stonebridge Farm in Nottingham.

Ah-ha-ha-ha!” Robin Hood threw back his head and laughed heartily. “No, it means Marian scared him off with her sword.” “And I wouldst do it again,” said Marian. “For the scoundrel was sent here by that vile villain the Sheriff of Nottingham.” “Aye,” said Robin, squinting at the shadowy trees. “Methinks there shalt be others eager to earn the price the sheriff hath placed upon my head.” “Well, maybe, I don’t know, you two should go hide in Sherwood Forest or something.” “Forsooth, I like thy notion. Come. Sherwood is over yonder.

100%原版制作學历證书【+V信1954 292 140】《诺丁汉大学學位證》University of Nottingham

also found a new passion in genealogy. I’d received a rush of letters from Ballards all over the country who wondered if they were related to me. After giving a lecture in North Carolina, I dug into the archives at Guilford College in Greensboro. It turns out that eight generations of Ballards had been Quakers there—and most of them had signed their names with X’s—before my great-grandfather had moved to Wichita. I was amazed that someone like me, who had invested so much of his life in military service, had come from a family of Quakers. Indeed, although I was able to trace the whole, long Ballard family saga back to the sheriff of Nottingham in 1325, I could find only one ancestor who wore a military uniform, Col. Thomas Ballard, a member of the British colonial militia in Virginia.

Simon Graves, Nottingham, a teacher with a lot of knowledge in the English world, now decided to write books for his students. He also gives lectures on the internet about the English language and is very good at it. In his years of instructing, he's had loads of tasks. Simon Greaves, Nottingham, started and developed an internet coaching company, mainly focusing on assisting education leaders and individuals searching for career assistance. Keep in mind that he has over 20 years of expertise to draw upon.

You really are the worst possible person, Trev.” “But, I’m the very best at magic and isn’t that what you’re after?” “Fine.  I’ll trade you for the spell.  I have six gold pieces or a stick of gum.  Choose.” “How about a kiss?” “How about you eat shit and die?” “I’ll take the gum.

I will always be on your side, Marion.  No matter what.  I will always back you, over anybody else.  Even when I have no damn idea what you’re up to.

He insulted you.  I’ll break the jaw of anyone who does that.” Marion’s pupils literally dilated.  “I have never been more attracted to you than I am right now.”  She swallowed hard.  “Let’s go home and make babies.  Right now.

He cut her off.  “Something’s going to go wrong with this wedding.” “It better not go wrong.  I have it all planned.  Things will be perfect or heads will roll.  Literally.  Cragg has an axe.

He continued to watch her, his gaze growing more and more intense.  That determined, rock-hard core of him had switched on.  “Get on the bed.”  He commanded. “What?” “Get on the bed.  Unless you want me to take you on the floor.  I’m not waiting anymore for what’s already mine.

The problem with waiting so long to have sex was expectations and insecurities built simultaneously.  She always assumed she’d be a badass at sex.  What if she let him down?

Even when she recognized what was happening, she felt vulnerable to it.

I fuck-up a lot, yes.  Like I did just now and I’m sorry.  I am.  I’m not great with words or emotions.” Nicholas ran a hand through his hair.  “But, I’m trying.  I want you badly enough to risk everything, Marion.  I’ve bet my heart and soul on you.  So, I’m all in.

Witnessing two decapitations in one day seemed excessive.

BOOKS The Alchemist’s Handbook: Manual for Practical Laboratory Alchemy, Frater Albertus (Red Wheel/Weiser, 1987) Alchemy: Science of the Cosmos, Science of the Soul, Titus Burckhardt (Fons Vitae, 2000) Alchemy: The Secret Art, Stanislas Klossowski De Rola (Thames & Hudson, 1973) Ars Spagyrica – being a rendition of the Alchemical Arte of Spagyrics, G St M Nottingham, (Verdelet Publishing, 2005) Isaac Newton: The Last Sorcerer, Michael White (Fourth Estate, 1998) Medicine and Magic in Elizabethan London: Simon Forman: Astrologer, Alchemist, and Physician, Lauren Kassell (Oxford University Press, 2007) On Becoming an Alchemist: A Guide for the Modern Magician, Catherine MacCoun (Trumpeter Books, 2009) Path of Alchemy: Energetic Healing and the World of Natural Alchemy, Mark Stavish (Llewellyn Publications, 2006)

Arteta was devastated when Arsenal failed to win the title. After that painful defeat at Nottingham Forest on the penultimate weekend of the season, he tried to watch Manchester City against Chelsea the following day, but he struggled. He just couldn’t sit through it all. He did tell me, however, that he made himself watch Ilkay Gündogan lift the trophy at the end of the game. Not because he wanted to see his former side celebrating yet another title success, but because he wanted to use it as added motivation to push himself even harder to bring those sorts of scenes to the Emirates.

Flashbacks weren’t just dreams. They were a bridge in the mind to the exact moment the trauma occurred.

The path to hell’s paved with good intentions.

The sub has the power. The dom has the control.

But when you rule on the principle of minimizing harm, the population generally agrees with you.

Our Showroom Have a question or just want to have a look around, feel free to pop by and take a look. Our friendly and helpful staff are experienced and are happy to help you with your enquiry, or send us a message and we’ll be in touch. Address:- Unit 3, Nottingham road, Alfreton, DE55 7GR

This man threatened the volunteer then returned twenty minutes later to beat him up. At a charity bonfire. In Wilford. It’s not the Middle East,” she said, “it’s Wilford, Nottingham. I don’t want to be among these people. They complain about a charity bonfire, and right on their doorstep there are children as young as eleven selling drugs along the river.

New psychological research suggests that air rage, road rage and other seemingly irrational outbursts of wild-eyed, foaming- at-the-mouth fury could be extreme reactions to the violation of a set of rules that choreographs our every waking moment: the unwritten, unconscious system of personal body space. Mounting evidence shows that we all need this space to stay sane. "We walk around in a sort of invisible bubble," says Phil Leather, head of Nottingham University's social and environmental research group. "It's egg-shaped, because we allow people to come closer from in front than behind - an entire language is expressed via the amount of distance we choose to keep between each other.

The biggest away win is Manchester United winning 8-1 at Nottingham Forest on 6 February 1999.

Some people believe labor-saving technological change is bad for the workers because it throws them out of work. This is the Luddite fallacy, one of the silliest ideas to ever come along in the long tradition of silly ideas in economics. Seeing why it's silly is a good way to illustrate further Solow's logic. The original Luddites were hosiery and lace workers in Nottingham, England, in 1811. They smashed knitting machines that embodied new labor-saving technology as a protest against unemployment (theirs), publicizing their actions in circulars mysteriously signed "King Ludd." Smashing machines was understandable protection of self-interest for the hosiery workers. They had skills specific to the old technology and knew their skills would not be worth much with the new technology. English government officials, after careful study, addressed the Luddites' concern by hanging fourteen of them in January 1813. The intellectual silliness came later, when some thinkers generalized the Luddites' plight into the Luddite fallacy: that an economy-wide technical breakthrough enabling production of the same amount of goods with fewer workers will result in an economy with - fewer workers. Somehow it never occurs to believers in Luddism that there's another alternative: produce more goods with the same number of workers. Labor-saving technology is another term for output-per-worker-increasing technology. All of the incentives of a market economy point toward increasing investment and output rather than decreasing employment; otherwise some extremely dumb factory owners are foregoing profit opportunities. With more output for the same number of workers, there is more income for each worker. Of course, there could very well be some unemployment of workers who know only the old technology - like the original Luddites - and this unemployment will be excruciating to its victims. But workers as a whole are better off with more powerful output-producing technology available to them. Luddites confuse the shift of employment from old to new technologies with an overall decline in employment. The former happens; the latter doesn't. Economies experiencing technical progress, like Germany, the United Kingdom, and the United States, do not show any long-run trend toward increasing unemployment; they do show a long-run trend toward increasing income per worker. Solow's logic had made clear that labor-saving technical advance was the only way that output per worker could keep increasing in the long run. The neo-Luddites, with unintentional irony, denigrate the only way that workers' incomes can keep increasing in the long-run: labor-saving technological progress. The Luddite fallacy is very much alive today. Just check out such a respectable document as the annual Human Development Report of the United Nations Development Program. The 1996 Human Development Report frets about "jobless growth" in many countries. The authors say "jobless growth" happens whenever the rate of employment growth is not as high as the rate of output growth, which leads to "very low incomes" for millions of workers. The 1993 Human Development Report expressed the same concern about this "problem" of jobless growth, which was especially severe in developing countries between 1960 and 1973: "GDP growth rates were fairly high, but employment growth rates were less than half this." Similarly, a study of Vietnam in 2000 lamented the slow growth of manufacturing employment relative to manufacturing output. The authors of all these reports forget that having GDP rise faster than employment is called growth of income per worker, which happens to be the only way that workers "very low incomes" can increase.

The walls were draped with banners covered with cabalistic signs, an abundance of owls of all kinds, scarabs and ibises, and Oriental divinities of uncertain origin. Near the rear wall was a dais, a proscenium of burning torches held up by rough logs, and in the background an altar with a triangular altarpiece and statuettes of Isis and Osiris. The room was ringed by an amphitheater of figures of Anubis, and there was a portrait of Cagliostro (it could hardly have been of anyone else, could it?), a gilded mummy in Cheops format, two five-armed candelabra, a gong suspended from two rampant snakes, on a podium a lectern covered by calico printed with hieroglyphics, and two crowns, two tripods, a little portable sarcophagus, a throne, a fake seventeenth-century fauteuil, four unmatched chairs suitable for a banquet with the sheriff of Nottingham, and candles, tapers, votive lights, all flickering very spiritually.

I continued. ‘My mother encouraged me to move up to Nottingham. It felt like it was time for us to make a clean break.’ For a moment I couldn’t speak.

With hindsight, going to Nottingham High School transformed my whole life. I think that six boys and six girls from Highbury Primary School had got through the 11-plus and they should all have gone to High Pavement Grammar School or Manning Grammar School for Girls. But not all of them were allowed to take up their places because their parents either did not wish them to belong to such grand establishments, or possibly – and perhaps more likely – they could not afford the compulsory uniform. And two of the girls were not allowed to go to Manning because their parents could not see the point of girls having a secondary education at all.

But the “Luddite” tag left me wondering . . . who were the Luddites, really? It turns out that the original nineteenth-century Luddites were hardly “Luddites” in our contemporary sense at all. We think of such people as being rabidly and unthinkingly anti-technology. But in fact the Luddites of Nottingham, and Lancashire, and Yorkshire—the textile workers who attacked the “power loom” in 1811 and beyond—were socialist revolutionaries, a group of workers who fought against crippling pay cuts, child labor, and changes to laws that had protected their livelihoods. They were fighting not against technology, but for fair treatment at the hands of a manufacturing elite.

It is said that when times are truly dark, as these times are, when lights have gone out and the culture has become a secular environment, often full of violence, a culture of death some call it - it is in those times of intense darkness that a ray of light can shine brightest. It can be found by those who are seeking, but one must be seeking for it. I would remind you of those marvelous, timeless words from the Gospel of John, that the darkness sought to overcome the Light, but it could not, it cannot overcome it. (S. 120)

I urge you to keep searching. You will find what you seek, because Spirit will lead you to it, and even though there is much disappointment and much chaos out there, eventually you will be led into those rare places where something different is happening, where priority is given to a Way of Being, a Way of Life, a Way of Loving Kindness which is the Way of Christ; a place where people are being sensitized and made self-aware and gentler, so that in the combined community we have truly a body of people joining together for that common purpose of awakening to Spirit, of loving their Creator, and of making a difference in this world.

We come much closer together when the Heart of the matter is unveiled, when the best of Hinduism and Islam and Christianity are uncovered, then we are dealing with people who love God. We're not dealing with inculturated things, with prejudices of different times and places, we're dealing with ecstatic love of God. Think of Rumi the poet, also known as Mevlana, whose delight in the reality of God caused him to dance spontaneously and it gave rise to the Dervishes of Sufism, the mystical dimension of Islam.

We all know people who are constantly negative, always complaining, and will go to their graves like that. Truly you know that this is no way to live. It's not why we were born. It's not why there are sunrises, sunsets and beauty around us. Through our awakened presence, our heightened consciousness, the universe becomes conscious of itself. Our seeing of the beauty of the world makes that beauty more meaningful, more fully what it was called to be, and that is true in human lives all around us, and in all that we do. One philosopher says you can water a plant because it needs water, or you can water it with love.

That's why this matter of inner peace is so important, because it lays a groundwork for that new life, that theosis, that transformation, that link with God, the ultimate destiny of our Spirits - not in the afterlife, but right here and now.

In this age of global interrelatedness and hunger for meaning, it is incumbent upon persons driven by a need to find and manifest peace, to find that which is universal and practical at the core of all spiritual teachings. A Tibetan Buddhist can be enriched by the wisdom of the Christ just as a Christian can develop a deeper inner practice through a study of Islamic Mysticism. Our epoch can no longer accept the artificial walls that have stood for centuries between peoples and cultures. This is a new century, and there is no going back.

Each of us is meant to come face to face with the depths of our being and awaken to our greatest fulfillment: becoming conscious children of the universe, incarnating the unconditional love that created us all.

Pretty custom killed by vulgarity" Nottingham Evening Post / 1921

Meeting the Marches *Hector March, the Earl March (b.1817) His beloved wife, Charlotte, is deceased. He divides his time between his Sussex estate, Bellmont Abbey, and his London home where he is active in Parliamentary debate, particularly over the question of Irish Home Rule. His hobbies are Shakespearean studies and quarrelling with his hermit. His children are: Frederick, Viscount Bellmont “Monty” (b. 1846) Married to Adelaide Walsingham. Resides in London. Represents Blessingstoke as a Member of Parliament. Lady Olivia Peverell (b.1847) Married to Sir Hastings Peverell. Resides in London where she is a prominent political hostess. Hon. Benedick March (b.1848) Married to Elizabeth Pritchett. Manages the Home Farm at Bellmont Abbey and is acknowledged to be Julia’s favourite brother. His two eldest children, Tarquin and Perdita, make an appearance in two of Lady Julia’s adventures. Lady Beatrice “Bee” Baddesley (b. 1850) Married to Sir Arthur Baddesley, noted Arthurian scholar. Resides in Cornwall. Lady Rupert “Nerissa” Haverford (b.1851) Married to Lord Rupert Haverford, third son of the Duke of Lincoln. Divides her time between London and her father-in-law’s estate near Nottingham. Lady Bettiscombe “Portia” (b.1853) Widow. Mother to Jane the Younger. Resides in London. Hon. Eglamour March (b.1854) Known as Plum to the family. Unmarried. A gifted artist, he resides in London where he engages in a bit of private enquiry work for Nicholas Brisbane. Hon. Lysander March (b.1855) Married to Violanthe, his turbulent Neapolitan bride. He is a composer. Lady Julia Brisbane (b.1856) Widow of Sir Edward Grey. Married to Nicholas Brisbane. Her husband permits her to join him in his work as a private enquiry agent against his better judgment. Hon. Valerius March (b.1862) Unmarried. His desire to qualify as a physician has led to numerous arguments with his father. He pursues his studies in London. *Note regarding titles: as the daughters of an earl, the March sisters are styled “Lady”. This title is retained when one of them marries a baronet, knight, or plain gentleman, as is the case with Olivia, Beatrice, and Julia. As Portia wed a peer, she takes her husband’s title, and as Nerissa married into a ducal family, she takes the style of her husband and is addressed as Lady Rupert. Their eldest brother, Frederick, takes his father’s subsidiary title of Viscount Bellmont as a courtesy title until he succeeds to the earldom. (It should be noted his presence in Parliament is not a perk of this title. Unlike his father who sits in the House of Lords, Bellmont sits in the House of Commons as an elected member.) The younger brothers are given the honorific “The Honourable”, a courtesy which is written but not spoken aloud.

and refrigerate. Tip: Serve this with veggies, crackers, or rice cakes, or try on Sunny Day Flatbread (here) for lunch. Nottingham Sandwich Spread By Jane Esselstyn Say the word “Nottingham” slowly three times. The sound should be reminiscent of “Not-Eating-Ham.” This recipe is by no means a ham spread, but it sure does have the consistency and texture of one! Try this on none other than the Nottingham Flatbread (here) for lunch. Prep time: 10 minutes • Makes 1½ cups spread 1 cup chickpeas, mashed with fork ¼ cup chopped onion ¼ cup chopped pickles or pickle relish 1 celery stalk, finely chopped 1½ tablespoons mustard 1½ tablespoons applesauce ½ teaspoon fresh dill, chopped Pinch of salt Pinch of freshly ground black pepper Mix all of the ingredients in a bowl using a fork—make sure to smash the chickpeas. Spread on sandwiches, or serve as a dip. Spinach-Artichoke Dip and Spread By Kimetha Wurster Kimetha used to make her patented spinach-artichoke dip every February for a friend’s birthday party. True to her new, dairy-free E2 lifestyle, she was determined to make the recipe dairy-free, too. The guests had no idea it wasn’t the traditional one and gobbled it up. And there’s no baking necessary. Try this on the St. Nick Pizza (here) for lunch or dinner. Prep time: 10 minutes • Makes around 4 cups dip 14 ounces artichoke hearts, packed in water 2 to 6 garlic cloves 9 ounces fresh spinach, or 1½ cups frozen spinach 1 ripe avocado 1 cup nutritional yeast 6 shakes hot sauce Pinch of freshly ground black pepper (optional) Pinch of salt (optional) In a food processor or blender, pulse the drained artichokes with garlic until chopped. Add the raw spinach (or drained frozen), avocado, and nutritional yeast and pulse until well mixed. Shake in the hot sauce and season with salt and pepper as desired, and pulse again. Transfer to a bowl and serve with 100 percent whole wheat crackers or veggies,

Surely, you are a bit surprised when you hear Jesus say, “Woman…” Let me  point out that he says “woman” at another time, on the cross, saying, “Woman, behold your son,” speaking of apostle John standing there in despair. So the term “woman” is not a negative, although it is an objectification because this new beginning represents Jesus of Nazareth, son of Joseph and Mary, becoming Jesus the Christ, son of the living God.  He is moving from his natural identity into his true identity.   This is a message telling you that you are not merely the product of your Mom and Dad. You are not the result of whatever mistakes they made. You are not just the imitation of their ways. You are not just what your environment created. You are more than your DNA. You are child of the living God. As the Gospel of John says: “What is born of flesh is flesh; what is born a spirit, is spirit.” When you awaken to your true identity, to your spiritual self, you find that you are much more than just that person you thought you were.   Jesus says, according to this translation, something like, “What does this have to do with you and me?” You will find all sorts of politically correct, cleaned-up, watered-down versions of that statement.

In spiritual symbolism, there are three levels of truth: stone, water, wine. Stone truth is seen found in: Thou shall not kill and if thou killest, we will kill thee. It is literal truth, often a truth with no mercy, a truth that we must obey, and much religion is simply truth of stone -- Follow the laws or else. Water, which also stands for Truth, is found when we begin to recognize the good of the Teaching, the good of God’s Word, the good of not killing -- not because we are afraid of what will happen but because it is the right thing to do. It is the beginning of transformation. Christ tells us, “You have heard it said…but I say to you; you have heard it said ‘Do not kill,’ I say to you, do not even think deadly thoughts about your neighbor in your mind.”   Understand that since it is wine, it is the kind of truth that intoxicates the soul. It gives you joy to live the teachings of Christ. That is wine. This is what Jesus brings into the world, not a religion of laws, not a morality of obligation, but a delighting in spirit. This kind of Truth naturally makes us good people, forgiving people, caring people.   Now we come to the meaning of the marriage, the union. It is a marriage between what we know and what is in our character. When knowledge and being come together, a new understanding is created.   So the secret formula to spiritual transformation is the application of what you know through living it out. This is the union which creates the person we are called to be. Jesus changes us into wine. When you bring the teachings into your life, you can bring flavor and joy that were not there before.   This is the miracle. Not out there in Cana at a wedding but right in the middle of your life. Living out the power that the Christ has brought into the world, the renewal of what religion is meant to be. There is the secret in the very first step, the very beginning of Christ’s ministry in the Gospel of John. On that “third day” comes a new beginning, not just for Jesus, for all of us.

we see here that Jesus comes and teaches people from the boat. But did you notice that it doesn’t mention what he said? There is no teaching expressed here. That tells us that the story itself is the teaching. As 21st century people, you know that when you take a four gigabyte file and turn it to a 100 megabyte file, you have compressed a great amount of information.   That is what we have here. This is sacred wisdom containing universal truth and one of our great mistakes is that we only take it on the surface. Do you know that for hundreds of years, for centuries, all the teachers talked about different levels of understanding holy scripture and yet, somewhere around the 1800s, scholars locked in to merely the surface, so it is just about Peter and the guys out fishing.  Yet, this is only a picture to touch us at an emotional level that can understand better than our mind. Jesus is going passed our mind to a place where we can understand in another way.   Let me give you an example of a picture that stirs the emotions. You notice that the fishermen were washing their nets and a bit later, we find Peter saying, “We’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything.” Have you ever tried something with all your efforts and gotten nowhere? Have you ever run out of steam or lost hope? Have you ever given up on something because you’ve given it all you had and nothing came of it?   Jesus is addressing us right there in that frustrated place, in that unhappy place, in that depressed place, whatever it is that caused it. Jesus is giving us a spiritual remedy to our sense of failure.

We too spent the night fishing and did not catch anything, each in our own way. He gives us the key to how we can get past that failure, that hopelessness. You will notice that Peter addresses him as “Master” but has never met him before. Here is the simple fisherman looking up at this man covered with dust from Galilee and, somehow, he knows he is looking at a holy man. Can you imagine for a moment what must have been radiating out of this man that caused the fisherman with no education to say “Master”?   Yet even though he called him Master, he knew his business when it came to fishing. He knew that fishing should take place at night when the fish were up by the surface, rather than in the day, when they scatter down into the depths. Yet this holy man, who is not a fisherman, is telling him his business. All of us think we know something about something, don’t we? We have our little corner carved out that we know all about,  and here comes Jesus messing with our business, telling us something that is not logical. Nevertheless, Peter says, “Yet because you say so, we will do it.” That is a sacred teaching: I don’t understand it, I don’t know where it’s going to lead me. it’s not familiar, it’s not what I know but because you say so, I will do it.   Consider a situation in your life where, in applying this teaching, another door will open, another opportunity will arise “because you say so.” Look at the fruits of the Spirit: Because you say to be patient even though I’m so upset and it makes no sense and I’m right and they’re wrong, yet I will be patient.   Try

Try it some time. This is the effort that opens the door to the other side, to a new life, to God’s way in our life. If you want to get out of a dead end -- spiritual, emotional, intellectual -- this is how you do it: Do what God tells you to do even if it makes no sense. Can you manifest enough faith, enough trust in the God revealed by Jesus to say, “If you say so, I will do it”? I will have faith.   Peter responds: “Okay, makes no sense but if you say so, I’ll do it.” And what happens? They go out in the middle of the day time and the net gets so full, it starts breaking. There are so many fish that the other boat comes out to help and the two boats start sinking. Now what does this picture tell us? That is the mercy of God! That is the abundance of Grace with which God wants to fill our life. That is what God wants to give you.   If Peter had not said “if you say so,” if he had said, “I’m sorry, rabbi. We tried it. We can’t do it,” Jesus would be on his way to find himself another fisherman, another community, another set of people who might just be willing to go out and take the risk. But Peter did say it and the simple fisherman is known to us today as one of the great world transformers. God will take anyone of us and use us for His purposes if we are willing like Peter to say, “Okay, I’ll do it.” That decision opens the door, and makes the impossible possible.   We

We love those words – “For God all things are possible.” But the application is another matter: I’m in a terrible relationship. We’re going to get divorced. It’s never going to work. That is when those words need to become real for us. That is when you must think of abundance that fills the ships and the nets to overflowing. That’s the word of Jesus. This is not a fantasy, nor poetry. It is the power of God.   Peter sees this astonishing miracle, phenomenon, manifestation of the Holy and he falls on his knees, not to worship but to beg Jesus to go away. He wants Jesus to get away from him! What does that mean? When you and I are faced with Truth, with purity, with goodness, it is like placing a mirror right up to everything that is not so pure within us.  We do not want to see ourselves. Our response most often is: “Get away from me, please. I would much rather be comfortable in my old ways, in my darkness.” Jesus is too much to handle especially if you do not want to follow his life-changing teachings.   So here is this man who is so ashamed of himself, of just being a human being that he says  – “You shouldn’t be around me.” And what does Jesus say to you, to me? “Do not be afraid.” God loves us anyway. The Holy accepts us despite ourselves and will use anyway in all our fragmentation, brokenness, confusion and mistakes. If we are willing, God wants us to sign up and be part of God’s activity in the world no matter who we are. That is why we were born.

comes the next lesson: “From now on, you will catch people.” The Greek words translate more literally as: “From now on, you will revive people, bring them back to life.”   He is telling us: From now on, you will go out into the deep, the dangerous, where people don’t believe anything, are lost, are in turmoil, are surrounded by sharks. Go out into the deep and go get them. That is the mission of the disciple. I will send you into all the depths, starting with next door. There are many fish out there who are hungry for God, who are lost without God. Perhaps more than ever before, we are a disintegrating society, a broken civilization. The words of Jesus tell us: Help them find God, help them find peace, help them find joy and sanity. The assumption is that we find sanity first so there is a sane place for them to come.

That is the message of Jesus in black and white: Bring people into contact with God and you will be feeding thousands. And what happens? The disciples leave everything and follow him. This means that the disciples freed themselves of everything. To follow him, you have to deny yourself, release your elf from your own need to be right all the time, to be in charge all the time, to have your own way all the time, all those desires that make you inaccessible from the Holy Spirit.   This is how you are transformed. This is how you become a light in this world so that others want what you have found.

Terror thrived in solitude,

Because ye willna accept me for who I am! I can only be the Duchess of Nottingham now, not permitted to wear wool or speak with a burr or believe what I have spent my whole life believing. I canna turn around without your oldest friend lecturing me on superstition or you calling me daft for believing in curses " His usually gut reaction beckoned--- spin away, refuse to engage in what he deemed a ridiculous argument. But a quiet Stay resonated within him, and this time he didn't think he was misunderstanding. He shoved his hands in his pockets to anchor himself. " I love to hear you speak. I care very little what you wear, so long as you have what you need and are happy in it." She snorted. " Your society disagrees " "Yes, they do. And you can either conform to their expectations or defy them. Whatever your choice, I will stand beside you. But it is the other that really bothers you, and that is my fault. My failing. Your opinions and beliefs are worth no less than mine.