Letters from Cyprus: Into the wild

A few days ago I returned to Cyprus after spending a week in Norway. It was truly a gift from Sarah to be able to take some time out for solitude, rest and reflection. Also to enjoy some fine cross country skiing in the mountains and forests of central Norway. I stayed in a sparsely populated area about 30km from Lillehammer, and had to ski 10km to the nearest shop for supplies when needed (which the puritan in me loved). It was a stunning area, with deep forests, frozen lakes and hundreds of kilometres of marked and unmarked cross country ski trails. Norway served up suitably cold weather for the week; the thermometer did not get above -10 degrees for the entire time I was there, and the max temp last Wed was a barmy -18 degrees. It was snowing most days, but very still so was absolutely beautiful. Being mid-winter, the days were quite short but I was able to get out and ski for up to 30km each day.

There is something quite profound about the silence you experience when alone on cross country skis in the middle of a forest or high on a mountain range. Coming from a job and family that is not exactly quiet and subdued, I think my body and mental state was in shock for the first few days as I was able to absorb and dwell in this silence! After three years in my present role in Cyprus, and with a pending transition for us in 12 months time, it was a rare and precious opportunity to reflect and pray about all aspects of life, and to think about the future.

Whilst I was there I enjoyed reading the latest Tim Winton novel in the evenings, and in the mornings a book by Father Richard Rohr (a Franciscan priest) called Falling Upwards. It's all about the 'two halves' of life; the first being the time when we consciously or unconsciously 'prove' ourselves through our work, and may feel driven to achieve or to provide, while the second half of life is the season where we are learning to surrender and let go, to fall with grace and realise that it's actually not about us at all. It's a profound book which I've enjoyed reading a few times over the last few years, but never in the context of unbroken silence and reflection that I was able to enjoy this last week. So this, combined with a daily re-run of the Australian soapie The Flying Doctors on Norwegian TV, provided my staple fodder for thought for the week!

I'm extremely thankful to Sarah for giving me the gift of this time, and I hope very much that she may be able to something similar during the year.

To finish with a brief quote from Father Rohr:

"How can I harbour the legitimate needs of the first half of life, while creating space, vision, time and grace for the second? The holding of this tension is the very shape of wisdom."