What are the rules we’re playing by?

Evoking awareness through traffic jams and coffee machines

Words seem to be escaping me!

I’m told that’s one of the ways that Neptunian energy can impact us. And Neptune’s influence is strong right now! As of-course is the full moon – shining its light on what was previously hidden, bringing the lunar cycle to completion. And then there’s the lunar eclipse – powerful new beginnings.

Mercury’s retrograde too, so, whilst I might feel a little frustrated by the redirect after my energy and enthusiasm seemed to have found both a forward trajectory and momentum, I’m practicing graciously accepting this slow-down and opportunity to go back over, moving with the flow, rather than trying to push against it. Perhaps the reflection will help me to gather some words!

Since my last post, I’ve travelled north and west, driving roads I’ve never travelled before, visiting places that are new to me, before what turned out to be a long drive home.

After years of enjoying blissfully empty highways, sweeping across Spanish countryside, I’m back sharing packed roads, disruptions, traffic chaos and the creaking demise of the struggling infrastructure. Repeated information boards coaxed drivers to stay on the left unless overtaking, commanded us not to “hog the middle lane”, yet the desperate need to get ahead seemed to define the mood, with consideration for other drivers a rarity.

When the need for a comfort break called me into one of the many anonymous motorway service stations on my way home, I felt like an alien in an unknown world.

Disoriented, having been guided by my satnav onto a route that I wasn’t anticipating, tired from tail to nose traffic, road works and accidents, with no baskets in sight, I balanced a sandwich and bottle of water in one hand and grappled with an automatic cup dispenser, with the other. My attempt to serve myself coffee was a pitiful sight!

Asking for help, the customer attendant was sympathetic, but she didn’t really know how to use the coffee machine either! With a two-handed twist and pull manoeuvre, we eventually acquired a first, then second brimming cup of hot water, and stood, incredulous as we watched the final burst of coffee overflowing into the drain.

A second attendant bustled over, telling me that I’d chosen the wrong cup and I snapped!

The scenario could have turned into a comedy sketch, but in all our Britishness, we each retreated and averted further drama! A little laughter would have broken the tension, it would have helped!

Not only was I left, longing for Spanish coffee shop hospitality, the choice of café americano normal o grande, with accompanying slice of cake, I was left questioning What are the rules we’re playing by?

With our sloppy lane discipline and resulting overtaking on both sides, my fellow travellers and I had demonstrated that we were not playing by the traditional rules of the highway code.

And now I was required to adapt my coffee taste to the dictates of a pre-programmed machine!

It’s one of those questions that will likely roll around my head for some time.

By extension, the obvious next question arose, who is serving whom or what?

My motorway service station experience left me feeling as if I was serving the system, I was doing the serving, rather than being served.

Jesus’s teaching about the impossibility of serving two masters came to mind – how we will grow to despise or hate one and love the other. And I can see how I could easily take sides!

But I’m seeking a more integrated approach, not more dualisms.

Of-course, just as my custom served the system (and I understand the limitations of coffee machines) I was also served in the motorway service station. It wasn’t simply a one-way operation. My needs were, to the greater extent met.

I just didn’t like the way they were met. I didn’t like the process.

And I didn’t like my snappy response!

So, what to do?

My intention is to let this question What are the rules we’re playing by? raise my awareness, expand my consciousness and inform my moment-by-moment discernment. To respond, rather than react.

Perhaps it will result in a personal “highway code”, something like St Benedict’s Rule for Life – but one that emerges from within, rather than one suggested from without.

Before this fated service station stop, my travels had taken me north, through the city of Lincoln, where a vast, impressive Gothic cathedral stands at the top of a narrow, cobbled road, aptly named Steep Street.

Originally built to Norman design and consecrated in 1092, the Cathedral, like so many others has a life-death-rebirth story of fires and earthquakes and rebuilds. Its current life, an intermingling of parishioners, visitors, pilgrims and the dedicated team of stonemasons sustains both the structure and its reputation as one of the most impressive Gothic buildings in Europe.

Pilgrims started flocking to the site from about 1200 onward, in search of healing at the shrine dedicated to their beloved Bishop, sainted after his death as St Hugh. And it was pilgrimage that drew me here – although not specifically to visit the relic of St Hugh – a large part of his cranium, that was, in medieval times (and to a lesser extent today), thought to have significant healing powers.

My visit to Lincoln is somehow – although not clearly, connected to a more personal pilgrimage that I intend to take this year; a journey to the Scottish Lowlands, home to my paternal ancestors and where my grandfather served the Church of Scotland. The village in which he served happens to also hold Merlin’s resting place and the site of the last Druid stand against encroaching Christianity. How could I resist exploring all that!

I’m also following the sense that I mentioned in my last post, that for me, humanitarian work and pilgrimage are intertwined. So, whilst clarity evades me, I’m looking for breadcrumbs to follow.

Lincoln Cathedral didn’t disappoint!

History has never been my strong point.

I like patterns and processes and remember things through understanding their rhythms and stories.

Back in the day, my schoolgirl history classes somehow manged, ironically, to disconnect the content from the story, leaving a lot of dry lists.

There were lists of Monarch’s and the dates they ruled. When it came to Henry VIII, there was the rather heartless – divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived list, recounting the demise of his numerous wives.

Then there were the lists of battles and wars – dates and place names.

Try as I might, my brain was not going to remember such seemingly random facts.

I still remember the personal insult I felt, in my South of England school on being informed that one battle was caused because the Scots were revolting.

My cheeks flushed, burning with shame and anger. My Scottish heritage silently bristled.

And with the limited vocabulary of a child raised to be compliant, my only understanding was of “revolting” being synonymous with “disgusting”. How could there be a battle because the English found the Scots disgusting? How was I to reconcile my Scottish/English heritage when such repulsion existed?

It was much later that I understood revolt could also mean to take action against.

And I’m wondering now if part of my difficulty was because my inherent sensitivities were disgusted by, even revolted against the destructive, greedy, oppressive, domineering, warring lineage that I was being told about – and from which I’ve (we’ve) emerged.

Whatever the reason, my teachers clearly saw that I held little if any aptitude for history and in a rare move, allowed me to drop the ordinarily compulsory subject in favour of one more suited to my interests and learning style.

So, it’s somewhat surprising to me that I’m not only actively tracing my family history but also exploring the history of pilgrimage in the UK.

And, that the breadcrumb that caught my eye in Lincoln Cathedral was a historical fact.

It turns out that Lincoln Cathedral was a hub for rebellious (revolting?) barons.

Seemingly, they too had been asking What are the rules we’re playing by?

They decided they didn’t like the answer and that they were no longer prepared to tolerate the injustices they faced. Our beloved St Hugh advocated for their cause and was present in 1215 at the signing of the Magna Carta – the iconic Great Charter that limited the power of the King and gave some rights to the people – well, to the aristocracy.

What a fantastic pivotal moment!

The monarchy could no longer rule arbitrarily but was made subject to the rule of law.

Along with the 1217 Charter of the Forest, which amplified certain clauses in the Magna Carta, “commoners” were once more allowed to access lands that had been taken as Royal Forests, enabling them to continue traditional practices like rearing pigs, making charcoal and collecting firewood. Individuals, common people were deemed to have some rights – the right to a fair trial, punishment by imprisonment – not death, protection from illegal imprisonment, and limits on taxation.

While much has changed since the signing of these iconic documents, they were later named “the charters of liberties” and left a profound legacy. They continue to be a global symbol of liberty and freedom and the basis for constitutional law.

Foundational legal documents have been inspired worldwide, including the U.S. Constitution and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – described by some as an international “Magna Carta” for all humanity.

Perhaps my visit to the Shrine of St Hugh was healing after all, taking me back to one of the seed points for justice and human rights.

With all that is going on in the world, it seems the question What are the rules we’re playing by? is as pertinent today as it was in the Middle Ages.