Newsletter: May 2025
Greetings again, dear web friend
And I start with some breaking news from the 14th century which you may have missed. And I dare use the click-bait favourite, ‘breaking news’, because while the story is 700 years old, it keeps repeating itself in different clothes. It’s still breaking today.
The news concerns the Dominican convent in Otenbach near Zurich, where Elizabeth of Beggenhofen is the sub-prioress. (You probably knew that.) And today she has an issue she wants sorting as she sits down with her spiritual guide, Meister Eckhart, who has pastoral responsibility for this convent.
She wants his take on Leidensmystik, or the ‘mysticism of suffering’. It was a hot topic at the time. Another Elizabeth in the convent, Elizabeth of Oye, had rather set the tone by carrying a cross of nails on her back, which caused considerable pain and severe bleeding. Elizabeth of Beggenhofen admired such devotion and commitment. How could she not? But wondered whether it is the best path for her. Yes, she’s confused.
Eckhart is aware of the self-punishing tendencies in the convent. And while he doesn’t forbid them, he is concerned by the absence of any inner dimension in the practice. If outward practice doesn’t bring inner change, then it has no value, however keen and earnest it may appear.
Eckhart placed the secret inner life some way ahead of public outward practice. It was the internal monologue of the ego which needed dissolving. And in this instance, we’re told, Elizabeth of Beggenhofen followed his lead, eased herself away from outward acts of self-punishment, and found an inner life she didn’t know she had.
The story remains fresh today in the wellbeing world, where striving and self-punishment can sometimes be sensed. We may not be advised to carry a cross of nails on our back, but we might be told we must practice meditation for an hour a day, or drink more vinegar, or read the Bible a lot, or go cold water swimming, or attend mass weekly, or sign up for another course on something or other, or count the calories, or read another self-help book, or find a hobby, or join a choir – well, this list could go on a while. And each of these could be good. They could be wonderful!
But we note a world where doing something appears the key virtue, as in the Dominican convent all those years ago, with the inner world, which shapes and defines everything, often left untouched. Stalin liked to have tea with his daughter, Svetlana, a public practice of virtue. But his inner monologue remained tragically untouched. To this extent, public virtue can often be a grand exercise in avoidance.
Take Elspeth, for another glimpse of this story. She is a deeply unhappy woman. The thing she most wants in the world is an intimate relationship with someone. And what she does is sabotage every relationship she has. She is crying now, furious with herself. Through her behaviour, she has just destroyed the affection of a good man, ‘the best man I have ever known’. He feels he ‘can’t do this anymore’. And I feel a bit like Eckhart with Elizabeth of Beggenhofen.
Elspeth is confused. She has been trying to be more intentional, adopting some good habits. She is attending to her self-care, such as cleaning her teeth and caring for her nails. She is addressing her gambling addiction with the help of Gamblers Anonymous, and her debt issue, brought on by unwise spending.
But she’s not attending to the influence of her cruel and vindictive mother who, in a moral universe, would be in prison, and who left her with the feeling that she is worth nothing. She’s still just ‘a stupid little bitch who just causes trouble’ and doesn’t deserve happiness. Hence the sabotage on display, because despite her outer practices, her internal monologue remains unchanged. ‘Aren’t we meant to honour our mother and father?’ she says. I wonder if she’ll have the strength and courage to leave her mother’s voice behind.
I believe in both outward practice and inner work; in a scattering of intentional acts throughout the day, both physical and psychological. And when things are working well, they work together. They support each other, like two friends walking hand in hand.
When I do my ‘planks’ in the morning (not compulsory, but I and my body find it helpful), I breathe in the physical discomfort and breathe out strength for all who will feel discomfort today. Or perhaps strength for myself in the discomfort I may feel as life unfolds. So the physical act becomes an inner work. I am invited to engage with emotional discomfort, rather than run away. I am able to acknowledge it, breathe it in and then turn it into something good and strong either in myself or the world. My physical practice caresses my suspect internal monologue. It may turn grit into gold.
But that’s enough breaking news. Topicality can be exhausting. Though if you’ve enjoyed the 14th century, I have written a blog about Julian of Norwich to celebrate her saints’ day in the Anglican calendar on May 8th. This is the anniversary of the 16 visions she received in 1373, which she turned into the first book written in English by a woman. It’s called ‘That shocking woman from Norwich’ – the piece, not her book. And she certainly combined outer and inner practice. Read it here:
That shocking woman from Norwich
I’ve also written about the ageing process in a piece entitled ‘How do we grow old?’ It may ring bells with some. In paleolithic times, the average lifespan was 33 years. These days, it’s rather longer, which can be both blessing and curse. Here’s the piece:
And a final reminder about a retreat I’m leading at Sheldon in August…
But now, as I close, my thoughts are with you. I don’t know the reality of your life at present; neither the outer nor inner dimensions. But I like the image of dull stained glass brought to stunning life by the sun. And somehow, and in some manner, may it be so for you.
Here comes the sun.
Simon x
