Kingdom of Heaven, Kingdom of Hell.

"People often asked Dr. [Carl] Jung, 'Will we make it?' referring to the cataclysm of our time. He always replied, “If enough people will do their inner work.” This soul work is the one thing that will pull us through any emergency" —Robert Johnson, Owning Your Own Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche (HarperSanFrancisco: 1991).

"The cataclysm of our time." That time was approximately 100 years ago. The word comes from the Greek, Kata (down, against) Klysmo (to wash over or surge). But do we now have a cataclysm? I think we do.

In fact, there will always be a potential cataclysm inside us, let alone in the world, if we don't understand the importance, calling and nature of our soul. The irony is that the vast majority of us don't know our own soul and not that many of us even want to.

It's much easier, isn't it, to live on the edge of chaos, exclaiming at the world 'out there' and blaming it and others for whatever situation you/we might be in.

But if you do want to, then the first thing to do is find the Kingdom of Heaven. This is a real place in the human psyche, a place of peace, self-acceptance and the gateway to your soul. 

Who says so? The ancient Judaic mystical system known as Kabbalah (which is the Hebrew word for 'receive'). This is nothing to do with Madonna and the Kabbalah Center — that's a modern re-working of the system which, in my not-so-humble view has completely missed the pot and potentially misled a lot of folks on the nature of this version of the Perennial Wisdom Tradition. 

You'll probably have heard of the Kingdom of Heaven through the words of Jesus in the Bible. He also spoke of the Kingdom of God which is where you can head for once you've found the Kingdom of Heaven.
Does that mean Jesus was a Kabbalist? In the sense that he knew the ancient mystical teaching and received inspiration directly from the Divine, yes. However, in those days, the tradition was known as 'The Way' or 'The Knowledge.' He certainly knew all about The Way. He never intended it to be limited to those who became what we now call Christians.

In a nutshell, in the Kingdom of Heaven is the place in the psyche where you have spiritual power within your own life and your surroundings. The Kingdom of God is where you have spiritual power within the World. Everyone's Kingdom of Heaven is unique to them and everyone's Kingdom of God is transpersonal — involving the whole of Spirit. That's why Jesus talked about giving up the self; you can do that happily from the Kingdom of God

We need both in these polarised times but more than anything, we need the Kingdom of Heaven, because it is everything within us that is generous and kind and honest and true and beautiful.

And we need to walk before we can run because if you head out seeking the Kingdom of God before we've internalised the Kingdom of Heaven we are likely to hurt ourselves - and others. It's like fire; marvellous when you know how to use it, and incredibly destructive if you don't. In fact, you'd never reach the Kingdom of God but you would believe you have and that's where you've opened a psychic doorway to something very unpleasant indeed, including the corruption of power.

My headline also mentions the Kingdom of Hell. That's where so many of us spend a lot of our time. The Kingdom of Hell is everyone else. It is where other people, family, work, governments, medical diagnoses disempower or incite us us. It is where our lives can be kicked in any direction without our say-so and sometimes even our knowledge. Sounds familiar?

As the lovely Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Eat, Pray, Love (Penguin 2006): "All the sorrow and trouble of this world is caused by unhappy people. Not only in the big global Hitler-'n'-Stalin picture, but also on the smallest personal level. Even in my own life, I can see exactly where my episodes of unhappiness have brought suffering or distress or (at the very least) inconvenience to those around me. The search for contentment is, therefore, not merely a self-preserving and self-benefiting act, but also a generous gift to the world. Clearing out all your misery gets you out of the way. You cease being an obstacle, not only to yourself but to anyone else. Only then are you free to serve and enjoy other people.” 

"The search for contentment," to the mystic in the Judaeo-Christian tradition is the pilgrimage to uncover the Kingdom of Heaven within us. If we won't go within, we must go without and when we go without, we do just that...

What will you find in the Kingdom of Heaven?

Peace, happiness, joy, contentment, the ability to intuit what is needed for your own healing, the ability

not to react continually to the outside world's silliness and craziness and a space within that is open to inspiration and guidance from Beriah the world of blessings; the place we call heaven.

Heaven is not something waiting for us after death if we are good. Heaven is the destination at the end of the hero's/heroine's journey, made famous by the American mythologist, Joseph Campbell. It's where we leave our old habits and patterns and set out for a better life and then, when we have tamed and released our inner dragons, we bring our story back to our tribe so as to teach them how to do the same.

This autumn, I'll be teaching a new online course, The Kingdom of Heaven: How to Live in Heaven on Earth, which will show you the map for your journey. it won't tell you who you are meant to be; it will help you find that for yourself. And when you know who you truly are, then truly, life itself becomes heavenly.

We'll be starting on Monday 7th October for five weeks and the Early Bird price is £75, rising to £99 on 21st September. You won't have to listen live to any of the course. It will all be recorded and sent to you in MP3 format so you can tune in in your own time.

Let me say again: this is NOT selfish work. Finding your own happiness is a gift to the world.

What are my qualifications for teaching it? I'm the author of 18 books, have been widowed and divorced, have emigrated and returned and have studied Judaeo-Christian mysticism for more than a quarter of a century and I'm a joyful survivor of cancer. I'm an independent minister, or Hedge Priest, and I am both very happily married and incredibly content. Most of my time, I live in the Kingdom of Heaven. More details of my life and work here.

"Working with you made me feel alive. The whole of my future opened up; I felt that I had a future. You saved my life" — Salley Farquharson, Birmingham, UK.

Let me know if you think you might be interested in knowing more. Thank you. maggy@maggywhitehouse.com

Oh Edinburgh!

I was going to post a whole load of blogs during White Collar Comedy's stint at the Edinburgh Fringe but my laptop cable died and the replacement I ordered after hastily joining Prime for the one-day delivery, vanished into the ether and never arrived.

Which basically meant I had more time to be out and about, seeing shows, flyering and having fun.
So here's a bit of a catch-up, with some pictures of folk that Kate, Ravi and I met at the Fringe, starting with the winner of Thursday's 'who looks most like a fantasy Jesus?' competition. And yes, we vicars are aware that Jesus would most likely have been a short, dark and definitely Jewish dude. I did say 'fantasy' Jesus, didn't I?

 Kate Bruce and I did a lot of flyering together. Ravi was a one-man flyer phonomenon all on his own and we were just in the way if we hung around while people were being spontaneously seduced by his irresistable charm so we found ourselves a regular spot by the Gilded Balloon and watched out for what we called 'our people' — i.e. respectable middle aged types or spectacular members of the LGBTQ community.

I've been flyering in Edinburgh before but never so successfully or so enjoyably. We spotted our people and launched into our pitch: 'Three genuine vicars doing stand-up. What could possibly go wrong?'

There were three types of responses: 'I'm sorry, I've gone deaf and you are invisible,' gestures that meant 'I'd rather go straight to hell than come to your show' or laughter. If they laughed, then we had a conversation starter and it's the conversations that sell shows, not just the flyers. Sometimes the conversations went on for about ten minutes and maybe they never ended up coming to the show but they were all great conversations and we wouldn't have missed one of them.

What was really rather special was that we recognised most of the people who did come to the show from the flyers we handed out, especially the middle-aged 'respectable' ones who turned up at Sofi's Southside in good time to get themselves a drink and dry out a little from the thunderstorms. That meant that we were able to meet and greet and that, in turn, meant they were happier to talk with us after the show when we forced them to do the traditional 'shake the vicar's hand after the service' routine. Except this time, the vicar's hands had a collection bag and a free 'get out of hell free' card. More than 200 people ended up with one of those after just 10 days. My work here is done!

Before we went to Edinburgh, I posted on Ravi's, Kate's and my behalf on most of the Facebook Edinburgh fora that we were willing and able to be any backup needed for anyone in the LGBTQ community who faced any discrimination while at the Fringe. We can play 'Bible tennis' with anyone who wants to try and say that sexuality is something that Jesus gave a flying fig about or who wants to quote St. Paul (who, incidentally, is one of the misquoted teachers there is and clearly thought that gossiping and being rude to your parents was just as bad as 'abnormal acts' which is generally mistranslated as 'homosexuality.'

It's a bit weird writing this after the event but there are more stories to tell including the one about the Great Gay Story Slam and meeting Eddie Izzard ... so I'll be back...

Capacity crowds and no one more amazed than us!

Edinburgh is beautiful but it is not flat. Until you've got your bearings, you will be doing several cardiac work-outs just trying to get from your bus stop to your venue. They say that J. K. Rowling got her idea for the moving staircases at Hogwarts from the stone steps in Edinburgh that seem to lead somewhere different every time — but always to more steps.

We're four performances in now and, thanks to Fringe Central's excellent 'how to make your show noticed' session, we are flyering like pros. To flyer someone successfully, you need to pick your people carefully and engage them in genuine conversation. For us, picking 'our people' is quite simple: middle-aged couples and groups. Obviously some of them aren't our people and give us the equivalent of a flip while passing on but, hey, we're vicars. We can forgive them. :-)

I even managed to forgive the woman dressed like the most stereotypical witch you've ever seen, including green make-up. I thought I'd say 'hi' and complement her outfit but she swore at me in either Czech or Slovakian and waved her broomstick at me threateningly. Bloody foreign witches, coming over here and stealing our jobs...

Kate had the brilliant idea of flyering a troupe of middle-aged singers performing on the Royal Mile. Every single one of them took a flyer (and they were, at the very least, the types who would recycle them). And as for Ravi - well, he's a natural! About every ten minutes we lost him because he was deep in conversation with someone, charming the M&S pants off them.

Sofi's Southside is a lovely little bar just five minutes from the Fringe Central with seating for about 40 people max. Um ... we may have a venue that's a little too small! On our first night, we had six people, which is not bad for starters but that trebled on night no. 2 and for the last two nights we've been at full capacity! Can't tell you how delighted we are about that.

It's lovely that people have simply found us in the brochure and thought they'd take a punt, it's wonderful that old friends and friends of friends are turning up out of the blue and it's just great that people we've given flyers to, actually turn up! It's also terrific fun to experience ourselves referencing back and forward to each other during the show as we get to know each other better. We are not only performing together, we are living together too. And nobody has died yet!

But God, is it tiring! I went down with a cold on day three so not at my best but it's also hot here and we're not as young as we think we are and are slightly prone to hysterical laughter when Google maps tells us that our destination is ten minutes' walk away 'mostly flat.' That's flat if you have a helicopter. Or a broomstick.

Another part that's fun is getting feedback from Kate when she and I are going somewhere together (Ravi is always strides ahead, engaging with everyone). Kate can see the expressions on people's faces when they see my rainbow dog collar and relays them back to me. They vary somewhat drastically at times. :-)
However, I was stopped by one young man and practically begged to go and take part in The Big Gay Story Slam one evening. Can't wait! (it's for LGBTQ folks and allies so I do qualify).

As we settle in, we're starting to have the energy to go and see other shows, although it's astonishing how many shows I'd like to see are on at the same time as we are. Will have to work on the bi-locating.

We know we're getting at least two reviews — from the in-crowd, Premier Christian Radio were in two nights ago and both Kate and Ravi wisely suggested I dropped all my 'Dartmoor witch' material... And we have Church Times on our last night so I guess that will be witch-free too. Still, the great thing about so many years of comedy is you can always drag up a properly ancient joke and drop it into a gap. It will be fascinating to see what other reviews we may get.

Edinburgh Fringe 2019 - White Collar Comedy.

It was a wet October morning and I was wondering what the next step might be in my comedy career. I was doing okay, but meeting a few dead ends along the way and it felt as though some new impulse was needed.

So, I did what I usually do each morning, gave it to God (who pretty well had to pin me to the ground and wrestle it out of my head as per normal) and sat in meditation. The answer was swift and clear: "If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together."

It's an African proverb so neither God nor I were being particularly original that morning but then God did make Africa along with everything else (including dinosaurs) so I guess He/She can still claim it.

"Go together" meant performing comedy with other vicars. Fortunately I knew two who were intentionally funny, from a show we'd done for Christians in London called Holy Guacamole. Not one of my best gigs: a load of folk staring in horrified outrage at my heresy (and less than perfect timing) but at least I'd got to meet Revs. Ravi Holy (yes, that's his real name) and Kate Bruce.

They take up the story in this article in The Wee Review.  Originally, there were to have been four of us — Rev. Mark Townsend is a talented magician as well as an author — but that will have to wait until another year. Perhaps if Mark were with us, Pontius Pilate would have given us four crosses?

Getting a load of vicars together outide their parishes is like herding cats (we are well trained in plausible avoidance techniques by our Parish Councils) and we live in Devon, Kent and Oxfordshire so we couldn't just meet up after work for a drink. But suitably tempted by the offer of supper cooked by my Jewish friend Adam — all vicars should have at least one Jewish friend who invites you for supper, obviously — we met up in the holy city of Aylesbury and started to plan.

Our first show together was at Leicester Comedy Festival in February. We were doing just one night on the first day of the festival — and none of our promotional material had been brought along for us to do any flyering. It was all done just not delivered. So, we had a pizza and a quick word the the One Upstairs and to our delight, thirteen people showed up. Now, 90% of those were friends of Kate's but no one was complaining about that and we never told the Holy One we wanted strangers. You do have to be very specific in prayer...

Our second gig was at Bath Comedy Festival, eight hours after Lion and I landed at Heathrow from three weeks in the USA. I don't sleep well on planes and was a tad nervous about the effects of tiredness. But the delight of seeing more than 50 people turn up (together with a few of Kate's friends), was enough to help the adreneline and we all did better than on the first night.

So, two gigs together before we headed for the Edinburgh Fringe. Seriously under-prepared? Yes and no. We're each doing our own set which we already know well and allowing ourselves to refer back to each other spontaneously from the day's events and it just works.

Edinburgh isn't cheap and, as we are at the Free Fringe, we rely on donations to keep us going. For most comedians, accommodation is the biggest cost but, bless him, Ravi got in touch with an old friend from his wild-child days who lives on the perfect bus route to our venue, Sofi's Southside, in Buccleuch Street. She's obviously quite crazy because she happily invited all three of us to stay for the whole 11 days we are here.

So here the adventure begins for real. And no better start for three middle class, middle aged comedians to sit with our hosts the night before we begin our run. Ravi and Pauline are discussing their wild days of drugs and punk music (Ravi was lead singer in Satan's Bitches and yes, he'll tell you about that in the show). As they remembered some of their more unravelled times, with "E" and other illegal substances ,Pauline came up with a classic about the seriously mad, bad and dangerous to know "Joe":  "I well remember the day Joe introduced me to Earl Grey tea." You can take a girl out of the Middle Class, but you can't take the Middle Class out of the girl...

Dear Republican America: Don't you DARE call yourself Christian.

It has come to the point where I want to apologise for being a Christian; where I feel embarrassed to be a minister in a sea of prejudiced, inaccurate and archaeic law-quoting hypocrites.

It's not just Alabama and Georgia ... it's all the people who love to worship Jesus without taking the time, courtesy and energy of trying to follow him. Christ never once asked us to worship him; he did ask us to do what he did. Following him is bloody hard work; worshipping him is a piece of cake.

You do not get to call yourself a Christian just by worshipping Christ. I'm sure someone would like to quote Ephesians here as in "you cannot get to heaven by good works alone" but even that is a selective quotation. It makes it clear that we get to heaven through Grace and Grace alone and the signature of Grace is that it cannot be deserved. Grace is radically unfair; Grace is God's unconditional love for us. The woman having an abortion and the doctor aiding her are equally likely to receive Grace as the pro-life Christian. If you even want to consider calling yourself a Christian you have to allow Grace even when you really don't approve of it. God gets to call the shots and God is always love. Read the dratted Prophets! No one ever does but they make that abundantly clear.

N.B. Heaven and hell are states of the psyche. There isn't any nice land up there that's exclusively for Christians ... or Muslims ... or anyone else. We're all going to be surprised who we meet in the reality after death.

But to the point: I'm not the first person to call out Kay Ivey, Governor of Alabama for saying the ruling on abortion comes from, "Alabamans' deeply-held belief that every life is precious and that every life is a sacred gift from God." Really? REALLY?

Apart from the fact that Alabama has the death penalty — and Kay Ivey has presided over the killing of six people — you cannot, cannot, CANNOT say you are pro-life and not challenge the NRA on assault rifles and, frankly, you cannot even go to war. Ever.

If you are "pro-life" you do not agree with the taking of any life, obviously including the life of a child in a school classroom. You truly do not even consider sanctioning the bombing of other people's children (of any age) in countries across the world.

If you support pro-life, then you must be pro all life. Otherwise you are exactly the kind of person that Jesus fervently condemned, even if you think you are a Christian. Especially if you think you are a Christian. You are the equivalent of the Pharisees of his day - hypocrites of the highest order making sure they were seen to be following the law while holding no compassion whatsoever.

Jesus said "I come to bring a sword" (Mathew 1034) but it was not a sword to use to kill, it was the sword of truth, to cut through hypocrisy. Jesus was a pacifist. He restored the ear cut off one of the Temple guards who came to arrest him in Gethsemene. He really, really didn't have to do that; everyone would have understood. But he did. Yes, I know he knocked over the tables in the Temple and chased the merchants with a knotted cord but there's no report anywhere of any of them actually getting hurt. I'd quite like to do the same in Alabama right now.

What I find truly shocking is that people, like Kay Ivey, who think they are Christian obviously haven't even read the Gospels.

How about this: "Truly, I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."  (Matthew 25:40)

Every single person every single one of us has hurt in any way is Christ. We cannot do anything to harm another (or for that matter ourselves) without doing the same to Christ. That's because Christ is in all creation.

I can just hear Kay Ivey respond that she has done just that to save aborted fetuses. But if you are trying to be a Christian you don't get to pick and choose. You don't get to condemn the woman who knows she is carrying a baby who has already died to keep carrying it so it rots in her womb. You don't get to condemn the teenager who thought she was in love and the condom broke; you don't get to condemn the family which already has too many children to provide for and no benefits.

Even more, if you're a Christian, surely you should know something about souls? That souls are immortal and that souls do not fully attach to the fetus until they are good and ready? And that souls aren't affected by abortion and can - and will - return another time. Why is nothing about souls ever taught in seminary, in church, in the world? Why? Why? Why?

The answer to that is because we are all too tied up with our bodies ... "the sins of the flesh" but both the Prophets in the Bible and great mystics teach that the first, and most insideous form of evil is "the world." It's the system, it's the way things are, in the modern world, it's generally what's called "mammon" - the pursuit of money as opposed to spirit.

But the greatest of all evil is when we present this system as being virtuous. The system that disallows abortions is virtuous. Of course it is! It is all for the good! From what I observe, the Republican "system" absolutely loves to tell us how good it is. Democrats are far too busy arguing among themselves to get on quite such a high horse.

The first demon in Mark's Gospel is found in the synagogue and that's not a coincidence. You find evil very easily in our churches, mosques, synagogues and temples. That's its favourite place to hide, looking all shiny and virtuous and full of glamour. These are the forms of evil that present themselves as the light. To truly succeed, evil must always look necessary or virtuous and it will encourage us to support and need it by broadcasting how good it is.

For more on this, please click here.

If you want to ask me if I'm pro-life, then honestly, I have to say "no." I still eat meat and fish; I visited the statue commemorating Bomber Command, in honour of my father, and I think it was a necessary evil to fight Hitler. I don't think abortion is a good thing and I am glad for better forms of contraception but I would never condemn a woman who had one (how could I?).

And in the meantime, I will continue to apologise for Christianity each time I do stand-up and each time I minister anywhere. Truly, fellow Christians, we have absolutely no excuse for not knowing better.

Easter 2019. The Too Small God.

The Cosmic Christ - Toledo Cathedral.

A good man dies in the most horrible way because his father (God) requires his sacrifice in order to atone for human sin.

This is the wholly unsupportable Christian orthodoxy that we have lived with for more than seven hundred years. No wonder people turn away from churches in droves now that it is no longer a community requirement to attend. Only the ego can support such a theory and only the tribe can maintain it.

It is not the point of the crucifixion and it never was. And it's not just me saying that. Great theologians such as John Duns Scotus and St. Bonaventure have been saying it for centuries. It has always been part of the Franciscan Orthodoxy and, now, Richard Rohr, says it magnificently in his new book The Universal Christ.

In a nutshell, all this "substitutionary penal atonement" came about because of theories by St. Augustine (354-430 CE) and Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109 CE). It's important to emphasise that these were only theories - but they were gobbled up by Christianity like chocolate eggs at Easter - because they fitted so neatly into the ego's desire for blaming and shaming. If you can make other people wrong, you really don't have to do anything about the plank in your own eye. And you can worship Jesus Christ and thank him while doing diddly-squat about following him, healing and loving as he did. N.B. Jesus never once asked us to worship him. He did ask us to follow him.

St. Augustine came up with the theory of "original sin" — that humanity is born sinful because of Adam and Eve's disobedience and that Jesus died to save us from that. From what I've read, his point appeared to be that Jesus had saved us from that so it was over ... but good old Christianity preferred to pick up the idea and run with it. Blaming people and making them wrong is just so much fun, isn't it?

Incidentally, Judaism has no concept of original sin so it's fairly unlikely that the human known as Jesus did either.

St. Anselm's theory was that "a price had to be paid to restore God's honour and it needed to be paid to God the Father by one who was equally divine." (Cur Deus Homo? 1094-98). The ego is fully programmed to leap onto this kind of idea and promote it - that authority is angry, punative and violent and that we must either fight and resist it (atheism) or appease it even if that means rejecting or killing "unbelievers" (fundamental religion). For both sides this makes the genuine spiritual journey impossible. As Richard Rohr writes, "why would you love or trust or desire to be with such a God?" (The Universal Christ.)

Franciscans, on the other hand (and I would call myself 100% a Franciscan), do not see the incarnation of the Divine in a human body and the crucifixion as a reaction to sin. We see the cross as a freely chosen revelation of God's love. God is spilling Its own blood to reach out to us and tell us that It understands and experiences our pain with us.

Life on Earth is painful. Where there is love there will always be loss and sorrow. Where there is food to find or grow, there will be hard work and sometimes injury. Where there is a child to be born, there will be blood and pain. That is not a punishment; that is just how physical life is. And God is in there with us, living it with us and helping us when we remember to be conscious enough to allow that.

God is not a distant authority figure who could choose to stop our suffering but won't (like our abusive parent/teacher/boss). God is in us, in creatures, in plants, in the land, in the water, in the air, in the fire. The choices WE make are God's choices. That's what free will means. The message of the Hebrew Testament prophets is, again and again, that God may be astonished and even horrified by our choices but that God will love us through everything. Don't believe me, read Samuel and Jeremiah ... and read them as metaphor for your own life because then they will make sense.

The whole Eden story is about teaching humanity about choice - we can choose good or evil - and every day, we do.  What's more, we choose what we (or more accurately, our egos) believe to be what is good and what is evil. And like Adam and Eve we deal with it by blaming others ("The woman gave me the fruit"/"the serpent tricked me" Gen. 3:12) instead of taking responsibility for our own beliefs and actions.

Look at the rage over the donations to restore Notre Dame for example. The energy of blaming and shaming those who choose to give to restore a building rather than to the rainforests or corals or poverty is far more damaging to the life-force of the whole planet than the wealthy's well-intentioned donations. It is entirely possible that our pollution of the planet follows directly on from our culture of blame and hatred — particularly of those who have wealth and whom we deny that we envy so we can feel virtuous for criticising for their choices — and we could heal the Earth simply through the long-term application of love.

Richard Rohr again: "A religion based on necessary or required sacrifices, required primarily of Jesus and later the underclass, is just not glorious enough for, hopeful enough for, or even befitting the marvelous creation that we are a part of. To those who cling to Anselm's understanding, I would say, as J. B. Phillips wrote so many years ago, 'Your God is too small.'

"Far too many evils have been committed in history under the manipulative cry of 'sacrifice,' usually violent and necessary sacrifice for an always 'noble' cause. But I believe Jesus utterly undoes the very notion of sacrificial requirements for God to love us — first in himself and in all of us. 'Go, learn the meaning of the words, what I want is mercy, not sacrifice' (Matt. 9:13, 12:7).

"It is not God who is violent. We are.
It is that God demands suffering of humans. We do." (The Universal Christ.)

So, what is the point of the crucifixion and the resurrection? It is transformational not transactional. We all suffer "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" ... and by dying to that suffering, "Father, forgive them; they don't know what they are doing"  (allowing it rather than resisting it or fighting people over it or blaming people for not saving us from it), then resurrection is a done deal. How? Because we let go of our own judgement of the situation and allow Grace in.

I can't say it any better than Richard does:

"The cross was the price Jesus paid for living in a 'mixed' world which is both human and divine, simultaneously broken and utterly whole. He hung between a good thief and a bad thief, between heaven and earth, inside of both humanity and divinity, a male body with a feminine soul, utterly whole and yet utterly disfigured...

"... Jesus the Christ agreed to carry the mystery of universal suffering. He allowed it to change him ('resurrection') and, it is to be hoped, us, so that we would be free from the endless cycle of projecting our pain elsewhere or remaining trapped inside of it...

"...We are indeed saved by the cross — more than we realise. The people who hold contradictions and resolve them in themselves are the saviours of the world. They are the only real agents of transformation, reconciliation and newness.

"Christians are meant to be the visible compassion of God on earth." (The Universal Christ.)

Thank you for reading to the end. Happy Easter.

The Weaving of Life - a response to the shootings in Christchurch.

A woven butterfly on my evening dress which creates new
beauty after the sleeve was damaged by moths.

We must try to understand
the meaning of the age
in which we are called to bear witness.We must accept the factthis is an age in whichthe cloth is being unwoven.It is therefore no good tryingto patch. 
We must, rather,
set up the loom on which
coming generations may
weave new cloth according to
the pattern God provides.



Mother Mary Clare, The Sisters of the Love of God (Anglican community founded in Oxford 1967).

Today we heard about the deaths of 49 people in the mosque shootings in Christchurch, New Zealand. In a world that seems to become more and more chaotic, we feel sorrow and send love and prayers and healing and yet, it is so tempting to think that it is hopeless, that we can do nothing tangible to help the world to heal.

There's the environment too ... and knife crime ... and (dare I mention it?) Brexit. Seemingly chaos everwhere.

And yet... and yet... Things break so that we can look inside them.

I'm about to go to Albuquerque, New Mexico, to a conference on The Universal Christ - Another Name for Everything, led by Fr. Richard Rohr, John Dominic Crossnan and Jacqui Lewis. About 1800 of us will gather to hear that Christ is not Jesus' surname; that Christ is not limited to Christianity - that Christ is the whole process of creation and that every single one of us is a part of it. Christ began with the creation of the Universe and is one with every rock, plant and being in it. The whole purpose of creation is for God to give birth and all of creation is that baby.

In Jewish mysticism, that baby is called Adam Kadmon, the Primordial Being. Each of us is one cell in the body of this Divine baby. And so are the creatures and so is the land and the sea and the sky and the stars. We will all become perfect, one day. Not for a while yet... And then the baby will be born and the process of creation fulfilled. What happens then? Who knows! Let's deal with now.

This teaching within Christianity is a radical awakening (and much needed) and a shattering of the vessel that has trapped and made exclusive a profound perennial teaching. WE ARE ALL CHRIST. We are called to follow Jesus' teachings and example not to worship him or make a religion out of him. Most of us are damaged, weak, disbelieving Christs who haven't come anywhere near our full potential yet, but we are being called ... and called again ... to pick up that yoke and walk this world as if we were Christ.

As Teresa of Avila put it so beautifully: "Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours”

So what do we do? We WEAVE.

To use a metaphor from the Book of Proverbs and from many teachings of the world's faiths, it is all about weaving.

Dr. Margaret Barker teaches that the early chuch father, Origen, in his Greek translation of the Hebrew of Genesis 1.1 states, 'by means of the net, God created the heavens and the earth.' 

Jewish mysticism also teaches that all of creation is a tapestry, known as the Pargod, woven by all of creation. Each of us is a thread and each of us is vital to that weave. God is the loom and weaves the warp and we weave the weft. We can choose to create holes through anger and fear if we choose, but someone else will always re-weave them to recreate the pattern.

The shooter in Christchurch, other killers and people of cruelty have torn holes in the weft of creation but the Universal Christ - God's weave - remains. It is our work constantly to re-weave that weft. It is what we are here to do.

We weave it through our sorrow and our tears. We re-weave it with our blessings and our hope. We

re-weave it with good works and deeds, with a gentle hand on someone's shoulder; with a listening ear. We also look through the broken pieces to see the complete beauty of the warp still strong, still sound, still open and receptive to our new weaving.

So weave today, please. Weave as the Christ-Consciousness that you are (even if only in potential!). Weave by loving, by creating beauty, by honouring our Mother the Earth. By knitting or crochetting something beautiful, by drawing or writing or painting. By planting a seed, by cooking a delicious meal, by stroking a pet, by smiling at a stranger, by making love rather than having sex, by listening... By doing anything you possibly can do today which is both Universal and creative. It is that simple to be an essence of the Christ Consciousness. It does all count; it does all matter. It is a part of the weave.

Judaic mysticism teaches that humanity as a species is still very young: approximately two years old. We are still having tantrums and breaking our toys and fighting 'the other.' But we are in it for the long haul. We will learn; we will heal. The Universal Christ will be born one day. And every one of us is a part of that great, sacred journey.

She stretches out her hands to the distaff, And her hands grasp the spindle. Proverbs 31:19.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 18, Part One. Arfur Smif.

Today I went to see Arthur Smith Sings Leonard Cohen Volume Two. Lion and I had seen an excerpt from vol. one at the Bath Comedy Festival back in the spring when I was one of three people opening for Arthur's set. He was such a delightful man, friendly and open and nothing like as miserable as he likes to appear. Or at least he was putting on a very good front. And he was very encouraging about my act — and even follows me on Twitter. Not that he ever does anything else on Twitter...

Anyway, I'd tweeted that I was going and that I hoped to get a hug. I'd had an Arthur Smith hug before and it was a good one. And I'm missing my dear, lovely scruffy bloke and our cuddles and I thought it would be really good to have a hug from another dear, scruffy bloke.

So I sent him a direct tweet that said 'Coming to see you tomorrow. Any chance of a hug?' No reply but none expected.

I went to the show — and frankly I was blown away. Arthur is backed by an excellent girl group called The Smithereens which really transforms the show into a concert and he mixed comedy with tragedy with anecdote with song.

Now I love Leonard Cohen's songs. I just never liked Leonard Cohen singing them. One of my favourite albums of all time is Jennifer Warnes' cover album, Famous Blue Raincoat, and the duet with Leonard on Joan of Arc is one of my favourite songs of all time.

But oddly enough, even though he sounds like Leonard Cohen, I really like hearing Arthur Smith sing his songs. And I just sat there in this big, black theatre for an hour entranced. I can't emphasise enough just how good this show was. It took us to hilarity and then made the stars bow down for pity minutes later.

And there's lots that's rude about Leonard Nimoy's poetry.

At the end, I hesitated and wondered if I should just leave with the others. Apart from anything else, Arthur had looked impressively smart and star-like on stage whereas he had been really scruffy in Bath. It was a different thing approaching someone more distant and obviously famous.

I waited for the crowd to leave and asked God what He thought. And then I saw Arthur wandering backstage, on the phone to someone. So I waited a little longer.

Three other people were waiting to talk to him and he came out and chatted with them all in the way that celebrities do; very polite and interested but carefully detached. I just waited. Then he turned to me and I said, "Maggy. Bath Festival." His eyes lit up with recognition and he just held his arms out.

It was a lovely hug. And I noticed that he was wearing his smart tee shirt inside out. Thank you Arthur.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 17 — Memories and Laughter

I could live here. I think that every time I take the 44 bus into town and as we go down the hill from Colinton I can see the whole city and its castle before me and onwards to the sea. I think that every time I take the 44 bus out of town and the moorland hills emerge through the houses and the trees to my right.

Though I'm not sure I'd want to live here at Fringe time. It's like Oxford Circus at Christmas out there at the moment!

Today I went to see a "Rock 'n' Roll Radio" with Roland Gent at the Free Sisters Pub in Cowgate. That was a bit of a challenge given that there was at least one very drunken wedding reception taking place and Roland's room 'The Staff Room' had no windows, made a prison cell look attractive and was right next to the lavatories. It was so hot that we had to keep the door open so not a peaceful gig, you might say.

But it was fun. I thoroughly enjoyed Roland's comic reminiscences about music and radio stations when DJs were actually allowed to play their own choice of music. Being ten years older than Roland, I remember it well — I was allowed to play my own choice at both Hereward Radio and BBC Radio WM. The management didn't like it so I'm probably partially responsible for the modern-day regime where all the music is selected across the board for about six stations at a time.

I enjoyed remembering the first 45 I ever bought (The Carnival is Over by the Seekers) and the first LP (The Monkees) and as Roland was also a newsreader that brought back some good memories too. I was a newsreader at BBC London when the esteemed Chris Morris of The Day Today fame was a DJ. He was a total liability back then because he'd go straight into the news with a joke instead of a record and a jingle. On days when there had a been a tragedy or something similar, that was a bit hard to deal with...

And I remember the day that Andy Peebles was in a complete hissy fit because there was no engineer to run the tapes for the show after his and he was not prepared (quite rightly) to stay on and change the tapes on the hour. Fortunately, having been a DJ, I was able to volunteer to do it for him and I did. I wrote a memo to the then boss, Matthew Bannister, telling him that there had been an oversight so that it wouldn't happen again and never got another shift at that station so I obviously pissed someone off with my helpfulness that night...

But I digress...

When I went to see The Lunchtime Ferrets a few days ago I was impressed at how their compere, Paul Wogan, encouraged the audience to laugh. It was a simple technique: he told us to laugh. Then he got us to practice.

Now, I know I'm funny, but I was getting a lot more quiet chuckles than outright bellowing so I've adapted his practice and done a short introduction before I start my routine. It has made an astonishing difference!

For the last three nights, I've had belly-laughs, cheering, clapping and snorting (good snorting). So I am a very happy bunny. When the audience laughs out loud, the comedian gets better. It was a lovely crowd tonight with two Facebook friends ... one of whom, Dee, is reading this blog and knew the saga of my absent, rampaging socks. No, they have not turned up. So Dee had bought me a new pair.

I'm very touched and, as with most presents, they are not a pair I would ever have bought for myself (having cats on them). But I love presents like that. They will always be easily identifiable as "my Edinburgh socks." And I'm not letting them out of my sight.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 16 — Tickets for Arfur and Half-Price Food.

I'm trying to get to see Arthur Smith. We performed together at the Bath Comedy Festival back in May with Tracey Collins and James Michael Alderson and had a great time. Arfur is doing his 'Sings Leonard Cohen' act, part two, starting today. But for some reason it's getting to be a bit of a challenge to get tickets.

I tried online but for some reason the Edfringe website decided that it totally hated me and everything my debit card stood for, so I decided to go into town and buy them at the Fringe office on the Royal Mile.

Before that, though, I had to get over my excitement at my first review. It's for a site called TVBomb and I remember the young man who came along a few nights ago. I think it's an excellent review. It includes some good constructive criticism too. Here it is:

There is a great need for a performer like Maggy Whitehouse – an outspoken, slightly sweary female Catholic priest (don’t worry, she explains how this is possible) – it makes a refreshing counterbalance to the Robin Ince/Brian Coxatheist axis that has been in unchallenged ascendancy. Not that she’ll be taking them on directly anytime soon, mind you. As she herself admits before the performance, she’s not in Edinburgh seeking stardom, just an experience.

Hers is a light intellectual humour of the QI or Radio 4 variety, ripe for the knowing smirk rather than the belly laugh. More conversation than stand-up routine, it would play well to a village hall or provincial studio theatre, if not perhaps the sparse pub back room crowd she faces here.

Given the setting, it would of course be tempting for her to fall into the ‘funky vicar’ stereotype. Thankfully, despite the occasional cursing and insistence on how much she loves alcohol, she stays just the right side of that. Instead, material includes a nice dissection of the Catholic church’s stance on homosexuality and an interesting anecdote about her near namesake Mary Whitehouse’s knickers from her time spent in TV broadcasting. Yet not everything is that accessible. A decent working knowledge of religion is a distinct advantage in audience members and, even then, it is easy to lose the thread during her lengthy alternative readings of Bible passages.

She could also afford to be more confident at the mic. There are some good lines which would be enhanced if only she seemed sure she was going to get a laugh. A little more light and shade to her delivery would help too, so that the boundaries between gag, anecdote and theology lesson leap out more.

By no means, then, is this a show for everyone, but the Fringe is a richer place for people like Maggy Whitehouse going against the comedy grain. Who would have thought that religion would become the new ‘alternative’?

Thank you TV Bomb.

On the way in to town, I stopped off at a couple of charity shops I'd spotted on the road into Ryrie's (as you do) and found a lovely brand-new tee shirt in a shade of pink I'd never even have looked at before I'd done Carol Tuttle's Dressing Your Truth online course a couple of months back. Also, the perfect belt for my denim outfit. And I saw a couple of shops with comedy posters on the walls and windows and was able to add a couple of posters for my show. Hooray.

All my brochures and posters were delivered straight to Ryrie's, where they (with the other performers' stuff) are kept in the cellar with the beer kegs. We're meant to get permission to go down there (health and safety, I expect) and some of the staff will go for us but some of the staff won't so we go through the creaking door halfway up the stairs and clamber down into the depths of hell ourselves.

First you have to do a limbo dance under a bar across the top of some raggedy steps, then you have to duck so as not to bang your head and, when you're down there, you have to try and avoid not only a maze of silver barrels but also the drips and treacherous puddles from the lack of damp proofing.

This time, as I was down there, the grumpiest of the staff turned up too (the assistant manager) and did a sort of 'hurrumph' of annoyance when he saw me. A bit tired of his ongoing surliness I smiled at him and said, 'would you mind my asking if you find us performers a bit of a pain?'

He replied, 'yeah, a bit.' So I said, 'How ironic to have to pay £300 just to be a nuisance to the people at your venue.' I didn't say it nastily, I said it just to give him the information. He looked surprised.

'You pay to be here?' he said.

'Yes, I thought part of that money went to Ryrie's for rent,' I replied.

He shook his head. This was all news to him. 'You pay to perform here?' he said again.

'We do. And on top of that we have to pay for transport to Edinburgh, accommodation and food,' I said. 'It's a labour of love.'

He shook his head again and then gave me his first ever smile. When I got back to the pub later it was to be informed that soft drinks were free for performers ... and that we could eat there half price. I think that's a win.

Anyway, the next thing I did was take the tram and then walk to the Royal Mile to get my tickets for Arfur, only to find an enormous queue. If I'd stood in it long enough to get my ticket, I'd have missed my own show.

Somewhat discouraged, I returned to Ryrie's, only to find the Lunchtime Ferrets and sundry friends and relatives were my audience for the night. This was an utter, utter delight because these people know how to laugh. They didn't do the quiet chuckles of the polite middle-aged people who are my usual audience, they did guffaws and snorts and bellows of laughter. I had a ball and, I think, so did they.

Back home in my little turquoise sanctuary, I made one final bid to get tickets online for Arfur. After lying to me that there were still tickets for tomorrow and then spitting me out at the very last moment because that show is now sold out, the site graciously condescended to allow me to get me one for Sunday. I'm proud of my perseverance ... but he'd better give me a hug when I get there...

Oh, and finally, in response to FB friend Jane Clement's anxious enquiries, yes I did get the flannel. It was reduced in price at Boots. We Taureans do like a bargain.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 14 — The Dreaded Helpful Heckler.

Have to admit it's been a bit of a weird day. None of it went as planned but then why should it?

I was planning to do some washing and then go into town for a potter, a bit of leaflet distribution around some hotels and to buy a new flannel (I can just feel your excitement rippling from here).

It's cleaner day, new bedding day so it's a bit like childhood 'clean up your room' morning. I tidied everything up, got everything off the floor and stripped my bed. Every single day at that time, so far, I'd been in the room doing some writing or reading in the morning but today I was outside in the garden playing with the dogs.

Which is why I wasn't there when the painting fell off the wall, smashing its glass and sending it in all directions.

The nail's still in the wall so there was no reason for it to happen. And the painting's of a peace dove with the caption 'give peace a chance' so that's a bit ironic. My healer and homeopath both said (when I told them) what basically amounted to this: "Bugger peace — you are supposed to go out and smash it, have the adventure. You are learning to harvest and use the energy."

There may be a little more to it than that. The last two nights have been very restless with the feeling that something was trying to get out. Maybe it has. Time will tell.

Anyway, the lovely Anne-Marie cleared it all up — wouldn't even let me help — and the picture's back on the wall. I've got some holy water and some cleansing essence so I'll just make sure before all the same.

So, the next step was to go into town. But my friend Adam got in touch on Skype and that was two hours gone before I knew it.

Adam is coming to Edinburgh for the rest of the Fringe next Monday. He's a dear, dear friend and he'll be coming to the show, treating me to lovely suppers and accompanying me to a load of shows. Lovely. But he's a bit of a worryer. So we spent most of the afternoon tracing routes between where he will be staying, where I'm performing, where we'll eat the first night — and the second night — and looking at some shows online.

Before I knew it, I was going to have to get going pretty darn fast even to get to Ryrie's on time! The best laid plans etc...

Tonight I thought that I'd dress up a bit. I've been wearing jeans but I've got a lovely peacock jacket and silk trousers with me so I wore those instead. And two people turned up. There's no rhyme or reason to it given last night's numbers!

I didn't mind; one of them was the most gorgeous lady and it would have been worth it to do the show just for her. The other was a guy I've seen in the pub most nights, always slightly worse for wear.

Unfortunately,  he is obviously a bit of a put-off for others because I saw at least seven other people come into the room in the first five minutes, see he was there, and turn away.

He was a nice guy; lonely but intelligent but the comedian's nightmare — the helpful heckler. He offered clarifications some on jokes, asked for explanations on others, started talking about his relationship with Christianity ...  all reasonable stuff but when you take a comedian off their line, a lot of the jokes get lost because you simply can't backpedal in a lot of cases.

So I missed probably seven points in the show which led to a joke ... and was grateful that I did have extra material that I could throw in to fill the time.

Jane, however, laughed and laughed and laughed. I don't think I've had a better audience member any night. So many people of our age chuckle or purr with amusement. Jane laughed. She threw back her head and laughed. She was wonderful. And she was generous too. Odd how the money you collect in donations (so helpful in buying lunches and suppers!) often bears no resemblance to the numbers.

So an odd day but, in all, nothing bad about it. I am content. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Edinburgh Fringe Day 14 — Lunchtime Ferrets and the Largest Audience Yet.

I was slightly uneasy about today as it was going to be a long one. I've been so careful with harvesting energy that I've not gone into the city before lunch if I could help it. But today I wanted to see Cate Mackenzie, Paul Wogan and their 'Ferrets' and that meant the 11am bus.

It was worth it. Not only did I chuckle a lot and really enjoy the magical bits ... and find everyone truly funny ... but I was the audience member with absolutely the best snort (you had to be there) and I got given a free fig roll.

Cate, who's a love coach — and pretty darn sexy with it —her partner Paul, who I think is probably an even better comedian than compere, and a guy from the audience called Alex who turned out to be an astrologer, and I all ended up going for a cuppa and a flat out chatter-chatter. While Paul was getting the drinks we all interrupted each other with sun signs, moon signs, trines, oppositions, stories and comparisons (for example, Cate's Moon is conjunct my Venus so we could chat for hours). And I had one of those wonderful detached but amazing realisations: Alex was the guy I would have slept with in Edinburgh if I'd been single.

Oh he was very attractive for sure and vaguely in the right age-rage (just call me Cougar—or at my age Panther). But the astrology was what was speaking. His Scorpionic aspects would speak directly to my own, his Moon opposed mine by degree (which always sets up a frisson of some kind) and several other aspects indicated that, had it been another universe, there would have been a logical result.

But I no longer live by my blueprint (which is what astrology is). I have enough knowledge of my ego and the blueprint of my sexuality that I can detach and observe—and laugh. I can use my free will. But it was totally fascinating. And being who I am now, I could say to Alex, so happily, 'look, I'd love to see you again; maybe have coffee but actually I want to talk to Paul now.' I wanted to talk Taurus-to-Taurus with Paul about possibly working together. And Alex, who was also old enough and wise enough to be completely on the same wavelength, agreed, changed places with me and continued chatter-chattering with Cate.

Even 15 years ago, I'd have gone for the kill. I'd have used all my wiles to block Cate out (even though she's in a good relationship and wasn't the slightest bit interested). I'd have gone into conquest mode and played every card I'd got. Tonight, instead, when I've finished writing this, I shall have fun discussing the whole situation (astrology and all) with Lion. I really, really love my life.

This afternoon I had a meeting with Chris in the Media Office about what I could do to get some radio coverage of the show and where else I might contact who might be interested. Whole meeting took 15 minutes because we were both efficient and quite understood the issue I wanted to address.

And the show was a delight. Again it tried to run over so a bit more clipping had to be done. Again my audience outnumbered the Tickled Pigs (by 250%, if I'm permitted to brag—my largest yet). All this just being happy and letting go and letting God is ace stuff, for sure.

To finish a perfect day, the bus driver on the 44 stopped the bus for me where it was the most convenient place that I could get off to shorten my journey ... not at the bus stop where he should have stopped.

I said, you've been noticing where I walk,' and he just said, 'yes I have.'

I love Edinburgh. I love, love, love it.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 13 - Halfway Point

The city is packed with performers and happy crowds

I think Edinburgh is my most favourite city ever (excluding most of the ones in Italy, obviously). Yes, it's exceptionally vibrant (not to mention stuffed) right now with the Fringe and the Tattoo going on but it has huge personality. Not only is it beautiful with that incredible castle and the elegant stone buildings but the people are so very, very nice. They chat. They help. They smile.

As I was sitting at the bus stop with the beginnings of a hot flush, I got out my little fan to cool me. Five minutes later, the woman at the other end of the bench solicitously asked if I was feeling better.

I'm not sure that would have happened even in Devon. Certainly rare in London. And it's  an interesting point too because not only have the hot flushes decreased dramatically since I've been here but, yes, generally I am a lot better. I'm following my heart's desire and I feel wonderfully well. I've got a bit of a swollen neck which may be new homeopathy or may be pounding the streets and that's uncomfortable and not particularly beautiful, making me look rather lopsided when my hair's not perfect but I'm well.

And so far no one has thrown anything at me when I accidentally lapse into a Scottish accent when I do the sketch about Eve and the serpent. I do do the serpent in Scottish elsewhere for the simple reason that I'm rubbish at accents and our 'adopted' son Tim is Scottish so I get to hear that accent most often.

I can hardly believe that I'm halfway through the festival already.

The re-worked show is doing very well and today, for the first time, I had more audience than either the Tickled Pigs or George Firehorse who followed me. It would appear that my audiences are building slowly and steadily. Mind you, I do wish they'd all get here relatively on time! One couple said, 'could you start at the beginning again?' because they were obviously enjoying themselves but there are repeat references which kind of need you to have been there at the start.

They say that Twitter is the medium to use to promote your show but I'm a bit of an old fart with Twitter. I find it tedious whereas I find Facebook fascinating and it's Facebook which is bringing me part of my audience. Tonight it was Katie Murphy who said 'Oh, aren't you wee?' when she met me which was enchanting and sat in the front row smiling broadly and chuckling audibly. I do like an audible chuckle; most of my audience are around my own age and they aren't guffaw kinds of people. Still, they are amused and that's what matters.

What is interesting me is that I'm having to cut more and more material out of the set because it's taking longer than it used to do. I'm not quite sure why but it's probably because I'm more relaxed and chatty. Yes, there are some extra jokes but I didn't think they would take up quite so much time. So I am alternating 'wanky bollox' spiritual stories as I now can't fit in both of them and one of them has completely re-written itself anyway ensuring that I've had to change the order of part of the show because it now has a lovely potential follow-on bit.

And I'm adding a little at the beginning about being menopausal and not picking on people in the audience because 30 seconds after they've told me their names, I've forgotten them again. Heck, there are times I walk into that room and forget why I'm there...

It's been a long time since I've been this happy. That is both wonderful and cautionary. I must continue to have adventures and I have to accept that is part of my essential DNA. I'm having too much fun to waste time worrying about planning another one. That's God's business. I know and God knows that adventures (not crises) are required. They will come.

Edinburgh Fringe day 12. Keep Smiling!

No, that's not a fixed grin because things have gone suddenly downhill or anything like that. It's a fixed grin because I went to a comedy show at the free Fringe today that really wasn't funny. It was full daylight so you could see everyone in the audience's faces and the guy had done a lot of research and was trying very hard and our eyes kept meeting so I kind of felt obliged to have a bit of a smile.

There were three bits I found funny in the hour ... but that was about it. And the rest of the (packed) audience weren't that amused either. The applause at the end of the show was fairly minimal.

I'm not going to name him because ... oh bugger, should I? I don't know. It's perfectly fair to write a negative review and if it stops other people going and not being amused either... It seems a bit mean. But for goodness' sake woman! All's fair in love and comedy.

Okay, it was a show called All the Jokes in the Bible. I went along because I'm interested in that kind of stuff and I love hearing it made funny. Wouldn't be doing my own show, The Maggy Whitehouse Experience if I didn't now would I?

I will confess that I was noting any Biblical inaccuracies (five) but that's fair dos really for a vicar. But
I didn't go in order to criticise it. It just wasn't funny. And he didn't even mention donkeys apart from Samson's smiting his enemies with an ass's jaw. There could be a lot of good humour in the Bible from the donkey stories...

Anyway, going in to watch a show on my own was great fun in itself and now I'm more experienced in buses and how to get around the city I'll do it as much as I can. Today though I was starving ... having said that staying in The Dell is wonderful (and it is) today, Anne-Marie had a client in her healing room which is off the kitchen and you're not allowed in to the kitchen during those times.

And I'd left it too late to have lunch.

So, having walked from All the Jokes in the Bible to Ryrie's I was close to performance time but I had to stop off at M&S at the station to get their nut and seed energy food package before I could perform. Which of course left seeds in my teeth so I was picking those out frantically beforehand!

However, tonight was a lovely show. It flowed pretty well with a very good audience for a Monday - 15 people - including two Facebook friends, Gillian and Carole, who had come all the way from Glasgow. I just knew them ... having spoken so much on Facebook it wasn't like meeting people for the first time at all! Such a pleasure. What's more the audience were generous financially (and Gillian and Carole gave me tea bags and fruit too!). It's just great to get back to your digs and be able to hand over the night's rent in takings and have more than enough for food and fun tomorrow.

Happy day. Lots more of those to come. Just wish that guy had been funny.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 11 part two. Honing, honing, honing

Day 11 was a Sunday. I was planning to go into town and see a show but the remains of Hurricane

The view over our front gate.

Bertha meant torrential rain which was a tad offputting. If I'd been 100% I'd have gone but it's wise still to rest with the possible homeopathic flare-up in my neck.

Lion of course has had gales down on Dartmoor; that makes me slightly homesick—I've come to love the roaring winds we get at home. Here's a picture of home BTW. Not so different from the moors on the hills outside Edinburgh.

So instead, I've been working on improving the set. It was beginning to feel stale the last few nights.

That's one of the best things about having comedy notebooks and comedy files on the computer. Whenever I think I need to improve, I have piles of ideas to go back to. Not that new ideas don't come out of the blue either ... and not that I don't collaborate with others. Today for example, I had a wonderful Facebook chat with Deb Rowley in New Zealand who came up with the ideas that made up two terrific new and current jokes that I could drop into the act apropos of nothing at all.

And some lines from previous sets jumped out at me as being better for the kind of audiences that I've been getting than the newer ones I'd been using. So it was mix and match, re-order and start again.

So, what with oceans of lemon and ginger tea for my sore throat, I was feeling pretty chipper when I took the bus into town. The Tickled Pigs had a reasonably good turnout and were very happy. And when I started, I had one.

Incidentally, I don't use the phrase 'just one.' What's just about it? When I had supper at a local restaurant the other night, the waiter said, 'just one?' I replied 'entirely one,' which was probably somewhat too smart-alecky for him but it's a valid point. I spent many years travelling the world by myself and I was never 'just one.' It's a bit of a patronising saying isn't it?

Tonight, he was the sort of One who wanted to sit in the front row and engage and, to be honest, that is exactly what you need if you are trying out some new/old-new stuff,  you have a sore throat and aren't feeling 100%.

Even better, he chuckled. He chuckled all the way through ... and he asked questions when he didn't quite get it which will help me hone again. His name was Jez and he'd spent the day tidying up his flat before his wife came home so that there was no evidence that he'd had any parties whatsoever ... and he enjoyed it so much that he came along and joined my Maggy Whitehouse Spirited page on Facebook later that night.

Turns out he's a direct descendent of R. D. Blackmore, author of Lorna Doone and countless other novels.

Later in the show another seven people turned up (although, according to George who followed me another woman stood listening in the doorway for a while and then marched off exclaiming "outrageous!" Could be my first offended customer? Hooray! So there were eight or nine. A bit strange for a rural vicar to be so outnumbered on a Sunday!

It must have been fairly good because the couple who arrived 20 minutes before the end asked me if I could start over and do it again (no...not without seriously inconveniencing George) and a fine time was had by one and all.

I'm so happy that I'm sanguine about not having huge audiences. There's no point in fussing; the right people are coming; I'm having fabulous conversations with the folks who do come and it's still early days anyway. Most of all, I'm loving every second of it. And how does it get any better than that?