This is me, sitting in the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden in Tokyo. I’m on a three-month sabbatical, and though I haven’t ‘blogged’ before, I’m enjoying taking a little time each day to write a quick reflection on something or other that’s caught my imagination in each place I’m stopping en route. Sometimes these reach a form that could be shared. And rather than send these individually to those who’ve asked, I decided it would be simpler to publish them here, so that – if you want to – you can subscribe (below) and keep up-to-date with my journey and what I’m noticing. You can start reading now by clicking ‘reflections’ in the menu that’s on this page, top right.
Reverie means day-dreaming or being lost in thought. The Japanese call it 夢想 (musou). REVerie is a play (ha ha!) on the fact that I am a person ordained for over 33 years who has become deeply rooted in a particular tradition and who – I guess – has come to think in a particular way about life. Inevitably some of this, therefore, may occasionally be mildly theological or spiritual – but I hope it isn’t too enthusiastically ‘churchy’ because although I am a deeply committed priest, I enjoy thinking ‘on the edges’ of Church life, and though I value enthusiasm, I’m with Ronald Knox in seeing that it is an ambivalent force in religious life.
So, REVerie is a random collection of thoughts inspired by encounters and conversations, by stand-out experiences or just things that seemed unimportant at the time but that later have caught my attention. The posts are meant for me as an aide memoire and an encouragement not to be a lazy thinker – but some people seem to enjoy reading what I have written, and if that’s you, you’re welcome. You can comment at the bottom of each post.
In case you don’t know who I am, I’m an Anglican priest, facilitator and coach based in Central London. I love Anglicanism’s approach to the business of responding to God. I’m fascinated by people and contexts, and I’m driven by a desire to make meaning and to achieve greater clarity in an often opaque world.
Alan Gyle