Rev. Greg Little from Ontario Canada reflects…
I first encountered Helen Luke through her writings as did many people. I visited Apple Farm first in the 1980's. I was privileged to meet Helen at that time and cherish the memories I have of that encounter with that very special person. I returned much later in life - older and perhaps a bit wiser in the early 2000's when I was a parish priest and came to Apple Farm for spiritual retreats many times which I found to be most enriching. I was grateful for the sessions I had with Don Raiche as well as the gatherings at the Round House.
I am officially retired from Parish ministry, now an honourary assistant at an Anglican Church in Strathroy Ontario. My traveling is limited these days and I don't travel into the United States any longer and I haven't been able to travel to Apple Farm in recent years.
Apple Farm note: below are two of Greg's writings where he reflects on Apple Farm experience.
To see more of his writing, see the church blog: https://www.anglicanstrathroy.com/pages/blog
I first encountered Helen Luke through her writings as did many people. I visited Apple Farm first in the 1980's. I was privileged to meet Helen at that time and cherish the memories I have of that encounter with that very special person. I returned much later in life - older and perhaps a bit wiser in the early 2000's when I was a parish priest and came to Apple Farm for spiritual retreats many times which I found to be most enriching. I was grateful for the sessions I had with Don Raiche as well as the gatherings at the Round House.
I am officially retired from Parish ministry, now an honourary assistant at an Anglican Church in Strathroy Ontario. My traveling is limited these days and I don't travel into the United States any longer and I haven't been able to travel to Apple Farm in recent years.
Apple Farm note: below are two of Greg's writings where he reflects on Apple Farm experience.
To see more of his writing, see the church blog: https://www.anglicanstrathroy.com/pages/blog
Apple Farm Recollection: Time Stands Still
written 10+ years ago on the 50th anniversary of Apple Farm, by Rev. Greg Little
My introduction to Apple Farm occurred in the mid-1980’s. I was on what I believe was called an introductory weekend with three other Apple Farm neophytes. There are many things about my time there which are memorable and were pivotal in my life which was on the cusp of middle age at that time. My memories of the people I encountered and particularly Helen Luke are to this day important ones as are the dreams I was given while I was there that time and on subsequent visits.
Of the many memorable aspects of that time one event stands out. The four of us neophytes were meeting with Helen in the afternoon of the day after our arrival. Just being with her was memorable and I remember her as a presence that far exceeded her physical size. After some time we were given a fifteen minute break. I decided to walk on the grounds and being very conscious of time I checked my watch to ensure that I would not be late. You need to be aware that I have quite an active complex about being on time so this was not unusual for me. After a while I checked my watch and discovered that very little time had passed and I still had ample time to enjoy the grounds. Shortly after I noticed one of the other newbies calling me to come back as - horrors or horrors - they were waiting for me. I had kept them all including Helen waiting - one of my great fears. I looked at my watch and discovered that it had stopped shortly after I started my little sabbatical. I returned quickly giving my apologies and checking my watch again noticed that it had started working once again and continued to keep accurate time the rest of my stay at Apple Farm.
For that brief interlude time stood still for me – me who has always been very aware of time and being on time. I believe that the one who sends us dreams and synchronicities was giving me that lesson. The trickster was playing with my on-time complex. I still struggle with an overly active desire to be on time to places, as my wife who has no problem in this regard will attest. However, when this happens, I remind myself of the time when my unconscious conspired for me to keep Helen Luke waiting.
My introduction to Apple Farm occurred in the mid-1980’s. I was on what I believe was called an introductory weekend with three other Apple Farm neophytes. There are many things about my time there which are memorable and were pivotal in my life which was on the cusp of middle age at that time. My memories of the people I encountered and particularly Helen Luke are to this day important ones as are the dreams I was given while I was there that time and on subsequent visits.
Of the many memorable aspects of that time one event stands out. The four of us neophytes were meeting with Helen in the afternoon of the day after our arrival. Just being with her was memorable and I remember her as a presence that far exceeded her physical size. After some time we were given a fifteen minute break. I decided to walk on the grounds and being very conscious of time I checked my watch to ensure that I would not be late. You need to be aware that I have quite an active complex about being on time so this was not unusual for me. After a while I checked my watch and discovered that very little time had passed and I still had ample time to enjoy the grounds. Shortly after I noticed one of the other newbies calling me to come back as - horrors or horrors - they were waiting for me. I had kept them all including Helen waiting - one of my great fears. I looked at my watch and discovered that it had stopped shortly after I started my little sabbatical. I returned quickly giving my apologies and checking my watch again noticed that it had started working once again and continued to keep accurate time the rest of my stay at Apple Farm.
For that brief interlude time stood still for me – me who has always been very aware of time and being on time. I believe that the one who sends us dreams and synchronicities was giving me that lesson. The trickster was playing with my on-time complex. I still struggle with an overly active desire to be on time to places, as my wife who has no problem in this regard will attest. However, when this happens, I remind myself of the time when my unconscious conspired for me to keep Helen Luke waiting.
Growing Old
Rev Greg Little, long-term friend of the Farm, reflects on aging. This article was published September 24, 2024 in the Huron Church News, the Diocesean paper of the Huron Diocese of the Anglican Church of Canada, based in London Ontario.
American essayist and wise woman, Helen Luke, in her book Old Age: Journey into Simplicity, writes of the challenge of growing old as opposed to aging chronologically - her emphasis being on ‘growing’. I first read this work, along with other works by Luke, when I was in my early sixties. I embraced that approach, and it has been a goal of mine to do just that – grow old with the emphasis on growing. I have done this haltingly with very mixed results. Now that quite a bit of time has passed since then and I am old by most definitions – turning 75 recently, I think it would be useful to revisit what I wrote in my reflection on that work. This was a reflection on Luke’s imaginings of a journey taken by Odysseus following his epic return home from the Trojan war. It is a journey in which he grows old – a true hero’s journey.
Here the symbol of his former life—the oar which cut the water and propelled him through the hero’s journey of his youth—has now taken on a new symbolic meaning—a winnowing fan. The winnowing fan that separated the wheat from the chaff will enable us to see clearly and differentiate the wheat, which provides the bread of heaven to nourish our souls, from the chaff which feeds our egos with empty calories.
The journey of growing old is one of increasing humility—where we see clearly the folly of youth—the striving and the conquests that youth is inevitably err to. Will we give in to the temptation to hold onto the dream of recapturing our fading youth or will we seek the new way in which our oars will become winnowing fans. Again, we face a challenge—to plant the oar of our last journey in a new land that will grow as we continue to explore the new land of our growing old.
As the signs of aging creep up on me and I resign myself to the increasing challenges of greeting a new day with less vigor than usual and I have what seems to be more “senior moments”, I can see that this new land of growing old is not for the faint of heart. It will bring new challenges as my horizon shrinks – and not just because I need a new prescription for my glasses. I find myself a stranger in a strange land. This new land requires a new way to navigate through it which I am just beginning to explore, and I haven’t discovered a GPS that truly works yet.
As the signs of aging creep up on me and I resign myself to the increasing challenges of greeting a new day with less vigor than usual and I have what seems to be more “senior moments”, I can see that this new land of growing old is not for the faint of heart. It will bring new challenges as my horizon shrinks – and not just because I need a new prescription for my glasses. I find myself a stranger in a strange land. This new land requires a new way to navigate through it which I am just beginning to explore, and I haven’t discovered a GPS that truly works yet.
Atul Gawande, a physician and author who has explored this land with his patients and himself with great patience and wisdom, writes:
And what I realized is, we were not really talking about death or dying.
We were really talking about: How do you live a good life
all the way to the very end, with whatever comes?
And that’s where you begin to unpack.
May we be blessed to all grow old on our journey in this new land.
And what I realized is, we were not really talking about death or dying.
We were really talking about: How do you live a good life
all the way to the very end, with whatever comes?
And that’s where you begin to unpack.
May we be blessed to all grow old on our journey in this new land.
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