Day Twenty-four

24th May 2009 WALES

To seek higher things

I lay awake in my hut of many colours, it is still early, too early to make a move. The thoughts of yesterday evening still bouncing around… thoughts of druids, acorns and stars… a faraway stable, heartbreak and new beginnings… and I wonder… wonder who it is we are…

…I have worked on farms… a stable is no place for a child to be born… look up at the rafters and beams, there are a thousand abandoned cobwebs covered in dust and grime and on the floor among the urine-soaked straw and animal dung, rats scuttle along the edges, scavenging for what it is they need to stay alive for another day. In the story of the Nativity there is no talk of midwives, hot water, or soap… instead we have the rejection of Inn keepers… the fear of a young mother to be… followed by the blood sweat and tears of both mother and new-born… three wisemen riding in on camels… shepherds that have walked through the night in worn-out saddles. Both the rich and poor acknowledge and even bow down to the little one… they leave a handful of gifts and then disappear… What was that all about… I have this image in my head of Mary looking up at Joseph, shaking her head and asking, “why is it they did not take us with them… this cold, damp, dirty stable is no place for a new-born… what are those guys like… Wisemen! … I that’ll be right”.

… just another story that has survived the sands of time… a story told on cold December evenings in school halls up and down these islands (…and around much of the world). A story that has been retold again and then again for a thousand years and a thousand years before that… a story that captures the imagination and never grows old… maybe just maybe the story of this child that would one day grow up and tilt the world on its axis… just a little… but enough to cause it to spin in a different and a better direction, yeah maybe this story needed to start at a place of rejection, of blood and tears, and of grime and heartache… A new beginning… rising from the twisted wreckage of the car crash that I had spoken of yesterday… hey, I don’t know… how would I… I’m just a truck driver… a truck driver walking.

I am taken out of my thoughts with a knock on the door, the Reverent Emlyn tells me breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. I quickly get dressed, fold up the camp bed, repack and tidy up… and ten minutes later I’m sat in the kitchen, a big breakfast in front of me, Clarissa making a pot of tea… when the breakfast is finished, the three of us sit a little longer, each with a fresh mug of tea in hand… talking and sharing stories. Emlyn tell me he has spoken to another church minister in Betws-y-Coed and if I’m to get there by the end of the day I will have hot meal and a bed… “Wow… Thank you that is good to know”. Well time is moving on; I have a long day ahead of me. It would have been good to have sat at the kitchen table a little longer… wanted to hear the story of what it was that made engineer in the construction industry become a minister in the Church of Wales. 

At the front door, with my bag over one shoulder I again say thank you to both Emlyn and Clarissa. I don’t know if in the telling of this story, I get across just how amazing, incredible, extraordinary… I don’t know what the best word is to use… to describe the generosity and kindness of the many people that I am meeting… the gratitude that I feel, when somebody opens a door, puts a hot meal in front of me, throws me a towel and points me in the direction of a shower, makes me a cup of tea, wash my clothes…that gratitude is as real as real can be… if only Joseph and Mary had come across such people.

The strange clouds of yesterday are gone, there are no clouds at all, just blue skies… that’s good, I have a long day ahead of me if I am to reach Betws-y-Coed… looking at the map somewhere between twenty-five and thirty miles (a thumbprint and a half). Within an hour of walking and still on Anglesey I come across a small village called Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (…I guess that’ll be me in Wales then)… a canny little place with its own train station and indoor craft centre… I don’t stop. It is not too long before I’m crossing over the Menai bridge and walking into the city of Bangor, I step into a pub called the Black Bull… and again explain myself… and again given a pot of tea… Thank you.

I wind my way through the streets of Bangor, I stop a moment and look into the shop window of ‘Cob Records …when I was stationed at RAF Valley I spent many hours in this place looking through their collection of twelve inch vinyls, I don’t think I ever came out the shop empty handed… best keep walking… not because I have empty pockets… it’s just that I know if I walk in, hours will go by before I walk out again.

I head out of town… pass through the village of Bethesda, it’s not long before I pick up the Nant Ffrancon pass… the mountains of North Wales I know pretty well (more so back in the day)… I have the Carneddia hills to the left of me! the Glyder to the right! … and here I am stuck in the middle with you guys… a head full of memories and faces from my mountain rescue days… I think it’s fair to say we were not the best-looking bunch of guys in the world… but as for our physical fitness, we were premier league material... and that is no boast… ah but what of that… those days were twenty years ago and more… with hands pushed into pockets, kicking stones and with the memories of days gone by, I steadily climb the pass… and when reaching the top it is good to see the old carpark and tea shack are still here… I am given a tea… thank you. I find a quiet boulder to sit on… no idea why but the motto from RAF Cranwell (another place from my childhood) comes to mind… ‘We Seek Higher Things’. It is all well and good being at the top of our game physically… but we are not just physical beings… we are also beings that have a spiritual and moral dimension… how is it we top that game?... hmm… how indeed.

I’m sitting at the top of the pass… sitting here resting my bones… two thousand years I roam…to a child that started life in a stable…. the thought of who it is he became won’t leave me alone…

… and I’m thinking how hard it is for us to see Jesus as just a man (or come to that, any of the other figures that founded a religion… be it Confucius, Buddha, Abraham, Guru Nanak, Muhammad… and no doubt others)… we push these guys to the very top of the ladder and then beyond… turning them into semi Gods or even into God himself… How can we begin to imitate the founders of our faith… when we put them in a place, so far away, so high up from where it is we are standing… I don’t know but, in my head, faith should have the ability to bring together in the one physical body… the spirit of a man (or a woman) and the divinity of God… if faith cannot do that, I’m not sure what the purpose of religion is…

… I cannot sit on this rock all day…I finish my tea and push myself up from this boulder… my arms, my legs, my body ache… I am painfully aware that I am no longer in the premier league… with hands behind my head I stretch, twist and groan… it feels as if I’m in the relegation zone of the third division… oh boy, how did that happen... I start to head down the other side of the pass to a place called Capel Curig… above still blue skies and sunshine… and again I start to walk…its far easier kicking stones downhill … I again wonder who it is we are… but more than this, I wonder at the potential of who it is we could be.

I am glad of the clear skies… to be able to see the top of these mountains is good… many times I have navigated up and around these hills of North Wales in thick fog, wind and driving rain… never seeing much more than a hundred feet in front of me … the mountains are good in all the four seasons… but as I say, today I was glad to of had the chance to see them in all their splendour.

At the bottom of the pass, I walk into the small village of Capel Curig… and just round the corner, Cobdens Hotel… and again memories come flooding back, the bar of this place (when in North Wales) used to be the main watering hole for the mountain rescue troops. I walk round the back and into the bar… and again I am given a pot of tea… again I say thank you, I find a seat in the corner. The place is pretty busy… only it feels empty… where are the troops when I need their noise. I half close my eyes and take a step back as it were… and I hear the guys crashing into the bar after a hard day on the hills… laughing, joking, shouting out, wanting to know who’s round it is, the clinking of glasses… they settle down and the stories of the day’s adventures begin… with each telling, the story become a little more dramatic… fact and fiction become muddled… but hey that’s ok… the more daft the stories become the louder the laughter… I hear myself chuckle at the memories… I look up only to see the troops are no longer there… the pint glass in-hand is again a mug of tea… I look around the bar only to see strangers… I think best make a move… I again say thank you for the tea, push the door open and head outside and back on the road with a head full of memories… of good days…and of brothers in arms boots… with hill bags and ropes thrown over their shoulders.

Again, kicking stones and lost in thought… the same questions from this morning still rattling around in my head, wondering who it is we are and what it is we have in common (if anything) with a boy that was born in a barn and slept in a trough (a manger)… my head tells me he was not a God and yet the same head tells me he was more than just a man… could it be that he was what we should have been… did not God say He created mankind in His own image, both male and female He created them… yeah I know, I’m just a truck driver walking, I don’t want to sound like a preacher… but what if, what if we did ‘Seek Higher Things’… If I take the compass out of my pocket, open it, and look into the mirror… do I (we) see the reflection / image of God looking back at us… probably not… I know I don’t… but that’s the thing, we should… created in the image of God right… So, what does it mean to seek higher things… I think it is to recognise that we are not just physical beings… we need to work on who it is we are and who it is we want to be… the internal stuff, our values, virtues and morals… in short to cultivate our character… to be the very best we can… to become people who have in equal measure, the divinity of God and the spirt of mankind within us… if only we could get that mix right… wow, that would be something…

Not far out of the village my phone pings and thoughts are broken… a guy I have known for thirty plus years (we were in the Air Force together), He is in Wales for a handful of days with his family and somehow knows but is not too sure… that just maybe I am also in North Wales. It turns out he is only five or six miles away. Steve turns the car around… and twenty minutes later the four of us (Gillian, young Mathew, Steve and myself) are sat on a wall, catching up… Theres a lot of stories I could share about Steve… but I won’t… well maybe just the one… it kinda fits with what it is I’m talking about… There was this one time I was driving a van up from down south back to Scotland, with a bunch young people, we had been to some kind of an event (don’t really remember what it was)… anyway it was getting late, we were not too far away from Blackpool (this is where Steve was now living). I gave him a call asking if it would be possible for us to stay the night… the answer “Yeah, no problem”. Within the hour we turned up outside their front door. I remember standing in the hall, watching both Steve and Gillian making welcome all of these young dudes with their sleeping bags in hand. Gillian was making teas, coffees and a stack of toast, Steve was showing everyone which rooms they could use for the night… You know how once in a while you see someone from the corner of your eye… only you don’t see the person, instead you see their soul, the heart, something of their original nature, the spark of divinity… I’m not sure what you call it… Standing in the hallway that evening I caught a glimpse of whatever that stuff is, in both Steve and Gillian… it made me smile… I felt it a privilege to be able to call them my friends… best not tell Steve that… don’t want him thinking I’m soft.

Before heading our separate ways, Steve offers to drive me down to the south coast of England… “You don’t have to tell anyone… you could just pretend to have walked it”. “Yeah ok”… “Really”… “No go away”... we both laugh, Steve climbs into his car and I pick up my bag... as they drive of I see both Gillian and Mathew waving... I wave back... it was good to see them.

The last part of the walk into Betws-y-Coed was pretty tough… today, I think has been my longest day of walking, but cannot grumble, a full day of blue skies and also knowing that I have a place to stay the night, thanks to the call Rev. Emlyn had made this morning.

Once in Betws-y-Coed I make contact with the Rev. Clive Hillmen. He welcomes me to his parish and tells me he has put me up in a small hotel, the ‘Park Hill’ for an evening meal, bed and breakfast… it’s a short walk away. We talk about this and that, at the hotel the Rev Clive books me in… wishes me well “Sorry can’t stay, need to be someplace else, all the best”. “Thank you”. The hotel is a grand place up a small hill surrounded by trees. After a meal and a shower, I head out and find a quiet place to sit within the grounds… and like the end of each day I feel a huge about of gratitude. I again say a thank you to the two reverends… the Rev. Emlyn that started the day and the Rev Clive that closed the day.

Sat on this bench, watching the sun (…a sun that is on the other side of the river Conwy, from where it is I’m sitting) a star that is over four and a half billion years old… watching it slowly sinking behind the settlement of Betws-y-Coed… I cannot but help ask the same question I asked myself this morning… Who are we? … if we believe that God created all of the stars and the universe and that we were created in His image… then does it not follow that we stand in the position of co-creators… again I don’t want to sound like a preacher, but the part about being co-creators… I don’t think we can argue with that.

We create the world we live in… Good and evil, love and hate… it is only through the hearts of mankind that these things can enter this world… we have a choice, we can hold out a hand to those who are different to us, or we can use the same hand to push them away… build a better world or create hell on earth.

Me… I don’t think it’s a bad thing to seek out the son of a carpenter or the prophets, saints and sagas or the many good people throughout history and have the humility to sit and listen to what it is they have to say.