Each and every one of us has the instinctive need to belong to someone or something - at least for some of the time - and to be accepted by others so we may feel good about ourselves.
Not so many years ago I became a member of a Spiritualist church which was not too dissimilar to the local stamp-collectors' alliance or chess club where associates of like-mindedness would engage in frivolity and other out-of-the-ordinary activities. In due course, a bond of momentary friendship or more lasting association would develop in the midst of the group.
Not so many years ago I became a member of a Spiritualist church which was not too dissimilar to the local stamp-collectors' alliance or chess club where associates of like-mindedness would engage in frivolity and other out-of-the-ordinary activities. In due course, a bond of momentary friendship or more lasting association would develop in the midst of the group.
The age range of the members varied between 18 and 80. And like countless other clubs, the socio-economic makeup was a mixed bag of wealth and poor alike. One outstanding feature of the group was the ratio of women to men - approximately six to one. Our group would meet once or perhaps twice each week at an established venue in the heart of old town Brighton; a community which is celebrated for new age idealism and forward thinking arguments.
What sticks in my mind is the very ceremonial procedure at the heart of our association whereby a guest speaker would be invited, twice weekly, to grace our presence with the human ability of wisdom, laughter and song. Of interest, I recall, were the guest-speakers who made a lifelong impression on me. One such speaker in particular spoke for almost 45 minutes on the topic of gardening and endeavoured to liken the arranging of flowers with the life-challenges that all of us must face. Another speaker opted to share with us her very singular account of personal success in family and work-life and attempted to compare this ‘material’ success with spiritual accomplishment. To this day I fail to see the analogy.
I started as an ordinary member, the main function of which focused on the need to be visibly present on a weekly, if not in twice-weekly basis. Then, as time passed, I was assigned greater responsibilities such as collecting money from ordinary members and manning the music system and lighting controls for the purpose of entertaining our members, committee and guests alike. These assignments, like any other stepwise responsibility, grew to be out-placed by more senior tasks that consisted of booking our guest speakers and raising funds from time-to-time. Several years into my membership, I too become a guest speaker on the platform which I shared with a very experienced group-member. Finally, in the second part of my membership within this group, I was entrusted the vice presidency; a position which required the most tactful diplomacy at all times.
Another sacrament of the group's was the informal gathering of members and guests alike immediately after the closure of ‘official business’ - the serving and eating of as much home-made cakes and tea as possible before the end of the evening. The cakes were meticulously baked by our President who possessed the ability to craft the most spectacular ‘eats’ that anyone could conceive of. From time to time, the committee would co-ordinate a day trip outside of the town for the ordinary members, families and friends.
Some of the more admired venues included public gardens, visitor centres, and shopping malls, to mention a few. I call to mind the actual planning of the day amongst the committee members, many months in advance which included the momentous responsibility of booking the coach, collecting members at prearranged halts and making contingency plans in case the final head count on the return journey confirmed a missing person. Some of our excursions would customarily end in a sit-down meal, affectionately known as the 'psychic supper'.
So now you know how I spent five ritualistic years of my life, every week for six hours, every week applying the rules that governed our group like so many other groups of similar make-up. I thoroughly enjoyed being a part of the Spiritualist church and by offering my help wherever I could be of service and partaking in the ceremonies and excursions afforded by the church, I benefited enormously. As did so many other people, from the friendship, warmth and feeling of belonging. Curiously, however, I eventually distanced myself from the association after so many years of service and after so many years of friendship, warmth and feeling of belonging.
On reflection, I recognise why I had to dissociate myself from orthodox spiritualism and therefore reject the friendship, warmth and feeling of belonging. I was very aware that finding the centre ground within our group was without a solution and that if I cast off one part, I was to all intents and purposes rejecting the whole lot.
I therefore opted to cast-off the deeds, which govern the people that support the seven spiritual principles, on account of my own sense of the way forward - in favour of uncertainty ahead and unchartered terrain.
I do not reject Spiritualism's optimism and the belief that the soul continues after bodily death. Quite the opposite, I consider that I have witnessed sufficient evidence to confirm the existence of the ‘spirit world’ and the people that live within that world.
For that reason I reject the tea and cakes, the day trips, the belonging and the cosy set of connections which drive the spiritualist movement today and I choose to embrace change and discover the challenging unchartered terrain.
Above all else, I accept the priority to improve mediumship and to discover new ways to work. To cut a long story short, I have abandoned the comfort zone.
