UK Diary, Day 4

In which we climb a foggy mountain and dine in a proper Scottish Pub

Above is all eight Dallmans on the top of Arthur’s Seat. This is the peak of a group of hills, in Edinburgh, and it rises to 822 feet. We climbed it in a very thick fog. This was both quite fitting and a bit of a shame. Quite fitting, because it made for magical ambiance; a bit of a shame, because as we are told, the views from the peak on a clear day are outstanding. While it is the case that when we climb the spiritual mountain, we indeed are more able to see, yesterday was proof that in the material world, that is not always the case.

As this day’s entry begins, and I sit with a newly poured cup of Earl Grey tea, let us again hear the teaching of Evelyn Underhill, from her little book, Worship:

“In our corporate worship we stand again with the awestruck Isaiah in the Temple and hear the ceaseless cry of the seraphim. We join the long line of Hebrew and Christian saints in using that poetry of the Psalms which was so often on our Lord’s lips. We confess that like lost sheep we err and stray from a flock that is always one. We perform the same humble and sacred acts that have been handed down to us by the long succession of lovers of Christ. We can hear again in their primitive freshness the mysterious story of the Gospel, or the letters of S. Paul; can discover that the joy of the first Christians was just the same joy as our own ought to be, because based on an experience that continues still; and that we are being led an identic goal—God, the unchanging country of the soul.”

And now to the recap: