I am truly amazed but no longer surprised, given the number of miracles I've experienced. "Amazed at what?" you may ask. At the power I have for changing my world.
"Yeah, right!" you may say if you're from Australasia. "You're in England and that place doesn't change. The banking, roading and education haven't changed in centuries, attitudes are rooted in an Empire long since dead and even new homes look old. The plumbing is archaic …" and on and on you might go. And, yes, if you look at any country - the whole world, even - nothing ever changes. We're still fighting and cheating, whoring and beating, loving and generous as ever we were. We just use different toys to do it all with now.
I haven't changed the world.
I've changed my world - a very different thing.
You see, Anna and I came to this unchanging England in April 2008 and, in many ways, we've had a horrendously difficult time. The credit crunch closely followed our arrival, I lost jobs in particularly callous ways, new jobs were hard to find, friends were hard to find and, though we got on and experienced everything we could in this strange and ancient land, it did us no favours.
Then we had one of those moments, those Aha! moments. Actually, it wasn't a short moment but, rather, a slowly dawning Aha! moment. You see, while Olde Blighty was being cruel to us, we realised we were being cruel to it; criticising and harshly judging everything and everyone we came across.
We decided to change our minds and that takes longer than changing your undies. To change our mind took constant, constant vigilance and an undoing of all we've been doing over our combined 110 years. We kept at it, recognising judgement, letting it go, seeing criticism arise within, letting it go … on and on.
As we changed our minds, so our (not the) world changed. We became more loving and accepting of the English and their ways and they became more loving and accepting of us. As we became more generous of them, they became more generous of us. We were even, eventually, invited into peoples' homes for dinners, a HUGE step of acceptance, we discovered, for the English.
As our judgement ceased, our love and acceptance kicked in and we kicked off into a whole new world of deliciously and delightfully enthusiastic and supporting English people, with the people of the Wychwood Project and the West Oxfordshire Writers (WOW) group among our amazing new acquaintances.
We knew all this in our heads but we had to throw ourselves into a foreign land and work it down into our hearts to see the miracles at work. The world we see is a perfect reflection of who we are and we're all shards of the ONE big mirror.
So, next time someone says to you, "I'll look into that," you know they're probably looking into their own mirror to change their world … and yours!
"Yeah, right!" you may say if you're from Australasia. "You're in England and that place doesn't change. The banking, roading and education haven't changed in centuries, attitudes are rooted in an Empire long since dead and even new homes look old. The plumbing is archaic …" and on and on you might go. And, yes, if you look at any country - the whole world, even - nothing ever changes. We're still fighting and cheating, whoring and beating, loving and generous as ever we were. We just use different toys to do it all with now.
I haven't changed the world.
I've changed my world - a very different thing.
You see, Anna and I came to this unchanging England in April 2008 and, in many ways, we've had a horrendously difficult time. The credit crunch closely followed our arrival, I lost jobs in particularly callous ways, new jobs were hard to find, friends were hard to find and, though we got on and experienced everything we could in this strange and ancient land, it did us no favours.
Then we had one of those moments, those Aha! moments. Actually, it wasn't a short moment but, rather, a slowly dawning Aha! moment. You see, while Olde Blighty was being cruel to us, we realised we were being cruel to it; criticising and harshly judging everything and everyone we came across.
We decided to change our minds and that takes longer than changing your undies. To change our mind took constant, constant vigilance and an undoing of all we've been doing over our combined 110 years. We kept at it, recognising judgement, letting it go, seeing criticism arise within, letting it go … on and on.
As we changed our minds, so our (not the) world changed. We became more loving and accepting of the English and their ways and they became more loving and accepting of us. As we became more generous of them, they became more generous of us. We were even, eventually, invited into peoples' homes for dinners, a HUGE step of acceptance, we discovered, for the English.
As our judgement ceased, our love and acceptance kicked in and we kicked off into a whole new world of deliciously and delightfully enthusiastic and supporting English people, with the people of the Wychwood Project and the West Oxfordshire Writers (WOW) group among our amazing new acquaintances.
We knew all this in our heads but we had to throw ourselves into a foreign land and work it down into our hearts to see the miracles at work. The world we see is a perfect reflection of who we are and we're all shards of the ONE big mirror.
So, next time someone says to you, "I'll look into that," you know they're probably looking into their own mirror to change their world … and yours!
Now, how is Arthur's world changing? His story continues from the previous blog ...
"That's Amanda!" said Joan, leaping out in front of Amanda's car, waving her to where their cars were parked. Amanda was wearing civilian clothes under a heavy jacket. Arthur wondered whether she had any police equipment under the jacket as Joan explained to Amanda why the police had not been called.
As Dominik led them on a winding path and behind immaculately trimmed hedges, the maze and from tree to tree, it seemed eerily different, quieter than it had been that morning. Then he realised there were no gardeners around and no machinery noises. They must have stopped work early for some reason. The only sound, apart from his drumming heart and the panting around him, was the crunching of gravel as the two men sauntered to and fro in front of the colonnaded steps in front of the mansion.
"I think we need to go round the back, Dominik," whispered Arthur as he tapped Dominik on the back.
"I think this too, Mr Arthur," said Dominik, stopping to confer. Arthur bumped into him and then heard two more oofs as more bumping-into-others occurred down the line.
"Damn! My glasses!" said Martin, two people behind Arthur.
"Martin, do be quiet!" whispered Arthur urgently.
"But they're my Bolé glasses, bloody squashed!" said Martin, quieter now. "Sorry …"
"Amanda, can you please come up the front," whispered Arthur, waving her forward.
"Yes?" she asked as she crept forward.
"Perhaps you stay just behind Dominik; it might be important for you to identify those chaps over there," whispered Arthur, pointing to the two men in front of the mansion, apparently guarding it. He wondered why he suddenly thought of this. "They may relate to your investigation."
"Mmm, good thinking, Arthur," whispered Amanda, smiling. Arthur noticed her right hand went to her belt, under the left side of her jacket. He wondered even more about what she might have under that heavy jacket. He shuddered in the warm afternoon sunlight.
"Everyone else alright?" whispered Arthur, looking back down the line of the smiling, nodding people. Joan seemed to be a little out of breath, wiping sweat from her brow, but he knew about her determination when pushed into a corner. Toby was looking remarkably calm, almost meditative, seemingly untroubled by his trussed-up shoulder. What an interesting bunch of saboteurs, Arthur thought … The Magnificent Seven came to mind as a name. So did the Seven Swashbucklers.
"Right, Dominik, let's go," whispered Arthur with unaccustomed authority.
They started off and, just as quickly, stopped and Arthur realised they'd come to the end of the hedge and they were about to step into the open, with occasional trees dotting the expansive lawn.
"We need make running to side of house," whispered Dominik. "How we not be seen?"
"Everyone find stones," whispered Amanda to everyone. "The bigger the better."
Everyone looked puzzled but Toby and Martin set to picking out flint stones from the perfectly-weeded soil. They came up to her with a handful each.
"You keep your stones, Martin, and I'll take yours, aah …" whispered Amanda.
"I'm Toby," said Toby.
"Thanks Toby, I'm Amanda," whispered Amanda, smiling and taking his stones. "When I give the word, we'll throw them over there, past those guys, Martin, and then we'll make a dash for the side of the house. Right?"
Everyone nodded. Martin, a happy, glazed look in his eyes and Amanda, serious and composed, braced themselves.
"One at a time, quickly, and as far as you can," she whispered to Martin. "One, two, three!" A volley of stones flew over the other side of the park grounds and thudded to the ground. The two guards turned suddenly and rushed towards the sound as the Seven Swashbucklers dashed across the open space and crashed, one by one, against the tall plastered wall of the west side, bumping into each other, smiling and panting like a group of naughty school children.
Given that anyone with a modicum of common sense will realise that stones landing must have arrived from somewhere not in the sky, the guards quickly surmised which direction these mystery stones flew from. As this realisation took effect, fractionally slower for them than the average toddler, they turned, looked at each other quizzically, pointed in various directions, grunted intelligently and then ran back in the approximate direction from which said stones may have originated. They stopped at the front steps, like returning homing pigeons, uncertain whether to leave their accustomed nest or to venture on. This second option seemed like a good one so they took off again in the same approximate direction they were headed.
Thankfully, the Seven Swashbucklers had departed this particular spot, thirty seconds before, and they were now dashing along the west wall, trying not to bump into each other, not always with success. They all attempted to follow Dominik's lead, crouching below windows and dodging around topiary trees - again, not always with success as sharp shrubbery impacted with soft skin, bringing forth oomphs and aahs. Soon an alcove presented itself and they followed Dominik into its small, shaded sanctuary, just as the two guards reached the corner of the house. Difficult though it is to pant madly with no sound at all, they all managed it with moderate success as Dominik struggled with the solid oak door with its rusty, medieval ironmongery. Opening the door was relatively easy for a man of Dominik's strength. Opening it quietly was another matter as rust, unaccustomed to moving, screamed its discordance into the sunlit gardens.
The guards heard the graunch of metal and looked at each other as if to say, with one accord, "Well, do we run after that sound or, like the stones, realise it's a ruse and run the other way?" No immediate answer emanated from God, the gardens or any other source and so they faltered, unable, it seems, to consider the possibility of one remaining and the other investigating the sudden sound. Siamese twins had nothing on these two for synchronised movement.
These precious moments of indecision gave the alcove-huddlers just the time they needed to squeeze through the small opening Dominik was able to effect and to allow the door to be slammed shut and the inner bolt secured, barring further entry from outside.
"That's Amanda!" said Joan, leaping out in front of Amanda's car, waving her to where their cars were parked. Amanda was wearing civilian clothes under a heavy jacket. Arthur wondered whether she had any police equipment under the jacket as Joan explained to Amanda why the police had not been called.
As Dominik led them on a winding path and behind immaculately trimmed hedges, the maze and from tree to tree, it seemed eerily different, quieter than it had been that morning. Then he realised there were no gardeners around and no machinery noises. They must have stopped work early for some reason. The only sound, apart from his drumming heart and the panting around him, was the crunching of gravel as the two men sauntered to and fro in front of the colonnaded steps in front of the mansion.
"I think we need to go round the back, Dominik," whispered Arthur as he tapped Dominik on the back.
"I think this too, Mr Arthur," said Dominik, stopping to confer. Arthur bumped into him and then heard two more oofs as more bumping-into-others occurred down the line.
"Damn! My glasses!" said Martin, two people behind Arthur.
"Martin, do be quiet!" whispered Arthur urgently.
"But they're my Bolé glasses, bloody squashed!" said Martin, quieter now. "Sorry …"
"Amanda, can you please come up the front," whispered Arthur, waving her forward.
"Yes?" she asked as she crept forward.
"Perhaps you stay just behind Dominik; it might be important for you to identify those chaps over there," whispered Arthur, pointing to the two men in front of the mansion, apparently guarding it. He wondered why he suddenly thought of this. "They may relate to your investigation."
"Mmm, good thinking, Arthur," whispered Amanda, smiling. Arthur noticed her right hand went to her belt, under the left side of her jacket. He wondered even more about what she might have under that heavy jacket. He shuddered in the warm afternoon sunlight.
"Everyone else alright?" whispered Arthur, looking back down the line of the smiling, nodding people. Joan seemed to be a little out of breath, wiping sweat from her brow, but he knew about her determination when pushed into a corner. Toby was looking remarkably calm, almost meditative, seemingly untroubled by his trussed-up shoulder. What an interesting bunch of saboteurs, Arthur thought … The Magnificent Seven came to mind as a name. So did the Seven Swashbucklers.
"Right, Dominik, let's go," whispered Arthur with unaccustomed authority.
They started off and, just as quickly, stopped and Arthur realised they'd come to the end of the hedge and they were about to step into the open, with occasional trees dotting the expansive lawn.
"We need make running to side of house," whispered Dominik. "How we not be seen?"
"Everyone find stones," whispered Amanda to everyone. "The bigger the better."
Everyone looked puzzled but Toby and Martin set to picking out flint stones from the perfectly-weeded soil. They came up to her with a handful each.
"You keep your stones, Martin, and I'll take yours, aah …" whispered Amanda.
"I'm Toby," said Toby.
"Thanks Toby, I'm Amanda," whispered Amanda, smiling and taking his stones. "When I give the word, we'll throw them over there, past those guys, Martin, and then we'll make a dash for the side of the house. Right?"
Everyone nodded. Martin, a happy, glazed look in his eyes and Amanda, serious and composed, braced themselves.
"One at a time, quickly, and as far as you can," she whispered to Martin. "One, two, three!" A volley of stones flew over the other side of the park grounds and thudded to the ground. The two guards turned suddenly and rushed towards the sound as the Seven Swashbucklers dashed across the open space and crashed, one by one, against the tall plastered wall of the west side, bumping into each other, smiling and panting like a group of naughty school children.
Given that anyone with a modicum of common sense will realise that stones landing must have arrived from somewhere not in the sky, the guards quickly surmised which direction these mystery stones flew from. As this realisation took effect, fractionally slower for them than the average toddler, they turned, looked at each other quizzically, pointed in various directions, grunted intelligently and then ran back in the approximate direction from which said stones may have originated. They stopped at the front steps, like returning homing pigeons, uncertain whether to leave their accustomed nest or to venture on. This second option seemed like a good one so they took off again in the same approximate direction they were headed.
Thankfully, the Seven Swashbucklers had departed this particular spot, thirty seconds before, and they were now dashing along the west wall, trying not to bump into each other, not always with success. They all attempted to follow Dominik's lead, crouching below windows and dodging around topiary trees - again, not always with success as sharp shrubbery impacted with soft skin, bringing forth oomphs and aahs. Soon an alcove presented itself and they followed Dominik into its small, shaded sanctuary, just as the two guards reached the corner of the house. Difficult though it is to pant madly with no sound at all, they all managed it with moderate success as Dominik struggled with the solid oak door with its rusty, medieval ironmongery. Opening the door was relatively easy for a man of Dominik's strength. Opening it quietly was another matter as rust, unaccustomed to moving, screamed its discordance into the sunlit gardens.
The guards heard the graunch of metal and looked at each other as if to say, with one accord, "Well, do we run after that sound or, like the stones, realise it's a ruse and run the other way?" No immediate answer emanated from God, the gardens or any other source and so they faltered, unable, it seems, to consider the possibility of one remaining and the other investigating the sudden sound. Siamese twins had nothing on these two for synchronised movement.
These precious moments of indecision gave the alcove-huddlers just the time they needed to squeeze through the small opening Dominik was able to effect and to allow the door to be slammed shut and the inner bolt secured, barring further entry from outside.
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