Quiet, Desperation and Bliss.

This is a photo of our James, after landing fish in Baltimore in brutal weather a few days ago. His crew these days frequently consists mainly of Egyptians. He says that when it is foggy, one of them will come up to the wheel-house first thing in the morning, to look at the compass so that they can say their prayers facing east. Is this a clue to what gives them the inner resilience to be good fisherman, so far from home and in such an alien climate? Or is it a case of sheer desperation? I do not think the desperation by itself would suffice! I am reminded of the Donegal men with whom I started to fish, who would trace a Sign of the Cross on the water with their boat as they put to sea, and shoot their nets ‘in God’s name’.

Now I am retired, and back in my island home with Fiona; it is very quiet here, the weather is lousy, we have neither radio nor tv nor any electronic racket in the house. We do have the internet and keep ourselves reasonably well informed about this troubled world. There is not much to cheer one up there. It is even more depressing than what has become of the Irish fishing industry. Yet in spite of it all, we find ourselves often in a state that can only be described as blissful!

I generally end each internet session by some little reference to something encouraging. One can always fall back on what the Pope is saying; I am amazed and enthralled by his knack of pointing up the astonishing experience of God’s merciful love, which seems to be erupting in so many hearts even as the turmoil of the world worsens. The rich may be being ‘sent empty away’, to use Our Lady’s words, but just what is it that can fill ‘the poor with good things’?

Surely it is that spring of living water within, that astonishing inner sense of bliss; an extraordinary gift. It is the treasure beyond price, a little seed within us, the one thing needful that unites all people of good will; the experience of God’s love, the assurance that despite all the appearances to the contrary, our lives are not in vain, but will enjoy some scarcely imaginable consummation beyond death. The Gift lights up this world too, making us appreciate what a wonderful place it is, still full of amazing possibilities!

At the same time, it makes us more sensitive to the appalling results of greed, pride, lust and stupidity; and not to put too fine a point on it, it really is odd how much of these appalling results these days centre on just one commodity; oil. Take the fields of doom which particularly get to me; the Sea, the Climate and the Orient.  Leaving climate change aside, by a completely different evidence chain, excessive co2 largely ends up threatening the oceans with acidification, as if over-fishing (powered by oil) and plastic waste (produced from same) were not threatening their once teeming life badly enough.

As for the Orient, pouring all that oil money into the hands of those desert tribes has been catastrophic, compounded by the fact that developed nations recoup some of it by selling them modern weapons. The news that the British sold over a billion pounds’ worth of bombs to those Saudi Wahhabis last year is profoundly disturbing. Just supposing that instead of bombing  and selling bombs, the world agreed to shut down the oil and the arms trades with the Middle East, and concentrate all possible resources on developing the alternatives, would not the prospects for our grandchildren be radically transformed overnight? And why should it not happen?

Erza Mary, the latest grandchild.

Well one way to nourish that little seed of bliss, I have found, is to make sure one gets to nurture it with plenty of silence. This of course is by no means easy, especially in this oil-fired world, but that is one of the main reasons why we have organised our lives the way we have, between our house on Sherkin Island and that old sailing boat; and I just wish family and friends would avail of them more!

Anyone can get in touch to see how they might do so. In particular, coming up, I hope to get the shell of the new sun-room here up in March, then later on to cruise eastwards from the Guadiana in May and June; and then back to Ireland, if the summer is reasonable, to hopefully finish the sun-room and reorder the kitchen, with access out into the sun-room, in July and August. Then it will be time to sail back south again. For anyone who would just like a chance to be quiet, especially if they are gardeners, it would be a great opportunity; we would love to have someone living in the house and tending the garden while we are away in May and June. Any of our old wwoofers hearing me?