Quakers and Radical Simplicity

During the summer I spent time as an Eva Koch scholar at Woodbrooke – the Quaker study centre in Birmingham. I was researching the subject of Simplicity, which is a Quaker Testimony alongside Peace, Truth and Equality. This is the fifth in a series of six articles that I wrote based on my research and the one-to-one interviews I conducted. These articles have previously been published in the Friend magazine.


Has the Quaker approach to simplicity has become lukewarm?

Simplicity is not an easy testimony. For a start the roots and meaning of the word are unclear. Early friends urged plainness of dress and speech, printing and distributing testimonies ‘against excess in these things’, and in The Priests Fruits Made Manifest George Fox asked of the wealthy clergy ‘are these marks of a Christians life?’ But what does it mean to live out the testimony of simplicity as we understand it today?

Frances Irene Taber, in the 2009 Pendle Hill Pamphlet Finding the Taproot of Simplicity, talks about how the first generation of Friends did not have a testimony for simplicity, instead focusing on stripping away ‘superfluities’ that got in the way of what they experienced as true. ‘It is this radical process of stripping for clear-seeing which we now term simplicity’ she says. In the 1850s, when Friends in Yearly Meeting debated plain dress and speech, people began to speak about being simple in inward ways as well as outward.

Amongst the Friends I interviewed the testimony meant a range of different things, from ‘taking away the surplus’ to seeing the world as it really is, avoiding distorted relationships, and challenging injustice. Some struggled with the testimony, one Friend saying this was because it’s a personal challenge and less easy to see how to change ‘without being very radical’. For one Friend it meant taking what’s happening in their spiritual life and putting it at the centre. These processes chime with ‘stripping for clear-seeing’, but do we act boldly or are Quakers, as one Friend suggested, ‘not radical enough’?

What do we change for simplicity?

I asked participants what changes they had made in response to the testimony of simplicity. Half said their lifestyle hadn’t changed. These people recognized Quaker values as important but said they fitted or chimed with their existing situation before they encountered Quakerism. One Friend said the testimony ‘just seems to be so in keeping with my beliefs’, another that ‘this is what I’ve been doing anyway, all my life.’ A Friend who previously lived in a religious community felt his life was already simpler than Quakers. Only one participant said they had changed their life significantly, describing it as a ‘Quakerly challenge.’

So how were Friends applying simplicity today? Some wanted to dispel the stereotype of a rural life of self-sufficiency or isolation such as lived by Henry Thoreau, famously outlined in his book Walden. The answers given weighed towards the practical, the most popular being: buying less, shopping ethically, using charity shops, travelling on public transport, not owning a car, avoiding flying, and mindful spiritual practice.

Some Friends felt guilt that they should be doing more. For Jonathan Dale, guilt has a positive part to play: ‘If we do not see, or feel, any need to change our conduct, from where will the motivation come to change it?’ he asks in his 1996 Swarthmore Lecture Beyond the Spirit of the Age. He goes on to say that we need not fear guilt, but instead ‘receive it as a messenger of Truth’.

Dale appears to exemplify the testimony in action. He moved with his family from an affluent suburb to the inner-city estate in Salford where he worked, saying ‘…we need to share something of what poverty and marginalization mean if our faith is to be real’. In Quaker Social Testimony in our Personal and Corporate Life (Pendle Hill) Dale explains that the decision to move took ten years due to fear of theft, violence and vandalism. Ultimately, though, he feels the experience was ‘an opening and a liberation’.

Social activism is not for everyone

Of the 26 people I interviewed, seven expressed a dislike of, or disinterest in, activism and politics. ‘There are other ways of getting your voice heard,’ one Friend said, pointing out that ‘lifestyle is the biggest witness you can do.’

Many Friends combined action with a spiritual focus. When asked about the spiritual implications of simplicity, about two fifths of participants spoke of contemplative practices such as meditation, reflection, yoga and non-attachment. There was also an appreciation of the Quaker form of worship and silence.

From the 1930s to the1960s American Quakers seemed particularly concerned about the rise of consumerism and some issued a strong call to a simple life. Pendle Hill output included pamphlets from Mildred Binns Young who wrote about her choice of a life of ‘functional poverty’ and Richard B Gregg’s 1936 essay The Value of Voluntary Simplicity. Gregg acknowledged that ‘voluntary simplicity involves both inner and outer condition’ and described a conversation with Gandhi who advised him against giving up his books ‘in a mood of self-sacrifice’, saying: ‘Only give up a thing when you want some other condition so much that the thing no longer has any attraction for you’. This echoes George Fox’s advice to William Penn concerning his sword: ‘wear it as long as thou canst.’

These accounts remind us that even radical external simplicity originates with something inward – a process of discernment and attentiveness to the leading of God/the divine. One Friend said that ‘the root of everything is the spiritual side’ and another that ‘I don’t really separate spirituality from living.’ ‘Spiritual discipline is important’ another Friend reminded us.

Activist, radical, Quaker?

The role of political action/activism causes discord. ‘It’s the only area that some people… in Quakers feel they’ve got the excuse to wag the finger’ one Friend told me; another felt there’s a Quaker problem of ‘activists criticizing navel-gazers’ and ‘spiritual people criticizing activists’. Personal choices are political one participant pointed out, saying a simple life is about economics – who has and who has not – and using resources wisely.

The younger adults took a more radical stance, seeing the need for a cultural shift and for radicalization to be ‘normalised’. One was interested in ‘anarchist’ and ‘bottom-up’ peace-building and activism. He had lived in several forms of community and felt it was liberating not to own things. He acknowledged, however, the security net of his middle class family but felt security can also be found through relationship networks. In his experience, Quaker meetings did not support radical simplicity and he felt that comfortable middle-class Quakers have lost their radical edge. Another said that to ‘not choose work’ is also radical. A third felt a ‘religious moral imperative’ to ‘live in solidarity’ with the people Jesus called ‘the least of these’: ‘I have everything to lose… from challenging that system, and of course everything to gain from being in greater solidarity with the entire rest of the world.’

Are we practicing ‘safe simplicity’?

It is a luxury to be able to choose ‘voluntary simplicity’ and many are forced to live complex lives juggling insecure work and responsibilities for dependents. One Friend spoke of ‘safe simplicity’ versus living precariously, saying that rough sleepers, prisoners and people struggling with alcoholism are all practicing simple living, and that ‘there is a dangerous smugness in Quakers.’ She spoke of her working class background, and how Quakers sometimes treat poor and working class people as ‘them’. Forced poverty – an ‘evil’ which ‘should be renounced’ according to Richard Foster in his book Celebration of Discipline – was mentioned by several Friends.

The problems we face are systemic and require imagination and spiritual bravery if we are to address them. ‘Simplicity,’ says Parker J Palmer in his introduction to Plain Living: A Quaker Path to Simplicity by Catherine Whitmire, ‘can impel people to plunge into the world’s most intractable problems.’ As Advices and Queries 27 encourages, perhaps we need to ‘live adventurously’ and let our lives speak.

This article first appeared in ‘the Friend’ on 04/11/2016

© Anne de Gruchy


Simplicity: The Twelve Steps

During the summer I spent time as an Eva Koch scholar at Woodbrooke – the Quaker study centre in Birmingham. I was researching the subject of Simplicity, which is a Quaker Testimony alongside Peace, Truth and Equality. This is the fourth in a series of six articles that I wrote based on my research and the one-to-one interviews I conducted. These articles have previously been published in the Friend magazine.


Exploring what we can learn about God and Simplicity from people’s experience of the Twelve Steps.

When I started the series of interviews that I conducted for my Eva Koch scholarship I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t expect to find such a deep well of spiritual simplicity within the realms of addiction.

One of my very first interviews was with someone who described himself as an alcoholic in recovery, and it was incredibly powerful. His responses to my questions were so strong and clear. ‘But it’s simple…’ he said, time and again, of his relationship with God, spirituality, and material things. This Friend was involved with the Twelve Step programme through Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), and it had changed his life. I knew immediately that this was something that I wanted to write about.

Until recently I was unaware of the strong ‘religious’ or spiritual basis of the Twelve Step programme. The stages are outlined in Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, written by a co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, as well as in the AA ‘Big Book’. The initial steps include: Admitting powerlessness and that our lives have become unmanageable, recognition of a ‘Power greater than ourselves’, and relinquishing lives ‘to the care of God as we understood him’. In Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, Richard Rohr suggests that we are all addicts and puts forward the argument that ‘the Gospel message of Jesus and the Twelve Step message of Bill Wilson are the same message’, comparing each step to aspects of Christian spiritual growth.

So what lessons do the Twelve Steps have for us in practising simplicity?

During my interviews I spoke to four recovering alcoholics, two family members who attended Al-Anon, and two co-dependent Friends who had also done the Twelve Steps. One Friend said that the programme was ‘the place that I found the greatest mental and spiritual simplicity… not within Quakers’ because ‘people come to Twelve Step from a place of brokenness’. He spoke of how simplicity is necessary to address pain, which he felt was often treated as a commodity. A co-dependent Friend talked of recognizing pain and then having to ‘let go and let God’, a simple but also complicated practice she achieved through meditation, in nature, and at Quaker Meeting for Worship.

The Twelve Steps are fully engaged with spiritual simplicity and transformation. Step Eleven seeks ‘through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him’; many Friends described these spiritual practices as part of simplicity. Quaker educators have picked up on these links and one Friend had attended a Quaker Spirituality and the Twelve Steps course at Woodbrooke. She found this very helpful, especially the approach of ‘just for today… I’m going to do…’ as an aid to keeping things simple.

Further to this, Quaker practice has a lot in common with the Twelve ‘Traditions’ by which AA functions; set up to answer the question ‘How can AA best stay whole and so survive?’ (The Big Book). The Traditions state that authority lies with ‘a loving God’ expressed in the group conscience rather than with the society’s leaders. This, together with encountering the ‘God of our understanding’, has an affinity with Quaker theology which doesn’t seek to pin down the nature or language of God, emphasizing God as personally experienced and also acknowledging the group experience of God in a ‘gathered’ Meeting for Worship.

The affinity of experience drew two Friends who had done the Twelve Steps to Quakers. One said: ‘in that complicated world that I came from, being able to have a God or Higher Power of your own choice… was really simplifying to a level that I could get to grips with’. For another the ‘keep it simple’ slogan used in AA also chimed with Quaker practice, although he got frustrated by our tendency to talk and felt Quakers could learn from the Twelve Steps by putting love first, not thinking.

Material and structural simplicity

Alcoholics Anonymous also addresses material and structural simplicity. Tradition Six states that AA groups should never endorse or finance other enterprises ‘lest problems of money, property and prestige divert us from our primary purpose.’ Tradition Seven says that AA groups should be fully self-supporting and decline outside contributions. AA also decided to have ‘the least possible organization’ with public relations ‘based upon attraction rather than promotion’.

A willingness to forgo prestige or profit to maintain integrity echoes Quaker testimony and experience, especially regarding business and simplicity. ‘Experience has often warned us that nothing can so surely destroy our spiritual heritage as futile disputes over property, money, and authority’ says the Big Book. Surely this has a message for Friends, who often find that running and financing a meeting house, or employing staff, or making funding choices, can cause conflict or distraction from spiritual values.

The dangers of double addiction

There are inherent dangers in a process that has such a transformative impact on people’s lives. ‘Even the much needed Twelve Step Programs have become their own kind of addiction and avoidance of the painful mystery of things,’ says Richard Rohr in his book Simplicity. This echoes the experience of a Friend who attended the Twelve Steps but felt that people had become addicted to AA instead of alcohol and that thus ‘in some way or another it (alcohol) never left their lives.’

Another Friend felt the Twelve Steps could be dogmatic, ‘like evangelical churches’. The ‘all or nothing thinking’ of dry drunks is a problem says Rohr in Breathing Under Water, citing psychological research that showed many twelve steppers were childish, emotionally selfish and grandiose. Rohr likens this to Christians and clergy who ‘never went to the inner room where Jesus invited us’.

Finding the atmosphere at AA difficult, one Friend’s solution came through the book Rational Recovery by Jack Trimpey. She was a Quaker prior to trying and rejecting the Twelve Steps, which she said ‘didn’t speak to my condition’. The book worked because she felt the author ‘came from the same place’ and its message was ‘so simple’.

Transformation, bottom up

Is it somehow easier for people who have hit rock bottom to access God? Rohr seems to think so, saying you will not learn to draw on, or even know the existence of, a larger source ‘until your own sources and resources fail you’.

Friends’ experience of the Twelve Steps illustrates the power of letting go of our own attempts to control our lives and handing this to God, and of a simple spirituality. ‘The most precious thing I’ve been given is choice,’ said one Friend of the effect the Twelve Steps had on his life. But we also need to keep our connection to listening and responding to the God we have found. ‘Many twelve steppers settle for mere sobriety instead of a real transformation of the self,’ says Rohr.

Bill W, who developed the Twelve Steps after a friend passed on his own experience of gaining God’s help to overcome alcoholism, clearly experienced transformation. His wish to share the ‘good news’ is born out of this transformation, and returns us to Rohr’s comparison with the Gospel message. But I feel it’s appropriate to finish by returning to that original interview: ‘Belief is a real powerful thing,’ our Friend said, ‘because it works’.

This article first appeared in ‘the Friend’ on 28/10/2016

© Anne de Gruchy


Simple Living: Location and Lifestyle

During the summer I spent time as an Eva Koch scholar at Woodbrooke – the Quaker study centre in Birmingham. I was researching the subject of Simplicity, which is a Quaker Testimony alongside Peace, Truth and Equality. This is the third in a series of six articles that I wrote based on my research and the one-to-one interviews I conducted. These articles have previously been published in the Friend magazine.


Exploring the influence of culture and lifestyle.

What is a ‘simple life’ and how and where can we lead one? An unexpectedly rich seam from the simplicity interviews I conducted came from asking how people’s cultural background and upbringing affected their approach to simplicity.

In the BBC Radio 4 series Great Lives, Ann Limb suggested that the seeds of the testimony of simplicity were sown in George Fox’s experience and enjoyment of the simple lifestyle of a shepherd. Jonathan Fryer said that Fox ‘loved being out on the moors with the sheep because it gave him days of solitude and reflection’. How do people’s lifestyles relate to simplicity today?

Travelling changes people

Firstly, I found that people who travelled came back changed. One Friend spent three years travelling following a redundancy. He described seeing other people live very simply, through poverty or circumstance, and that they often appeared happy and socially connected with others. It made him feel the truth of ‘less is more’, and when he returned he rented out his house, bought a boat to live on, and disposed of many of his possessions. The remote places he visited affected him: ‘When I left I would say I believed in God but I was always a bit sceptical, but through travelling, through being on my own… it made me feel very different about spirituality.’ His new appreciation of reflective time drew him to Quakers.

Experiencing other cultures

In his 1941 essay The Blessed Community, Thomas R Kelly talks about finding fellowship when experiencing ‘overwhelming seas of love of God’, and that ‘in the fellowship cultural and educational and national and racial differences are leveled.’ In one sense this is true, but we live in a world with huge inequality that has become increasingly visible. Participants who had lived and worked in other places often found that facing these inequalities changed them profoundly.

One person had worked with street children in Kolkata for Tear Fund. ‘When I turn on a tap, even now, I’m thankful it’s clear water that comes out of it not brown water,’ she told me. She feels more gratitude for what she has and now buys fairtrade goods. Another, who worked with VSO in Pakistan and the Punjab, said ‘it changed me fundamentally… I came back and I stripped so much back of my life because I’d seen such extreme poverty’.

‘Very few people can live a true simple life in western industrial societies’ say Cecile Andrews and Wanda Urbanska in Inspiring People to See That Less is More (State of the World 2010: Transforming Cultures from Consumerism to Sustainability), insisting that the simplicity movement needs to ‘move to a greater advocacy of public policy change’ and praising projects that protect existing sustainable lifestyles from the impact of consumerism.

A Friend who had lived in China and Japan said that living in other cultures ‘forms you as a person’. Another who had worked in Sri Lanka felt they benefitted from being time rich while we are time poor. We also have lessons to learn about sustainability. In Holiness in the Everyday, David Cadman says other cultures, including Aboriginal and Native American, have a ‘treasury of stories and myths’ that show how to live in harmony with the land, requiring qualities like co-operation, generosity, patience and sufficiency.

Quakers in some countries were less engaged with the testimony of simplicity. One Friend lived in Sweden and acknowledged that Scandinavian culture is naturally quite simple, but said that Swedish Quakers don’t talk about these things much. Another lived in Italy where the convinced Friends at his meeting are new to Quaker traditions and in a learning process about lifestyles and testimonies.

Living in community

Several Friends had experience of living in community as a way of leading simple, sustainable lives. These included Findhorn, L’Arche, WWOOF and Quaker communities. Relationships proved the most challenging element for one Friend who cited Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche, saying that when living in community your worst enemy will be living with you. Another said living in a religious order, despite a simple physical lifestyle, was the opposite of simplicity intellectually.

Young adult Friends were notably more interested in community living. One lived in Nepal as a child and was affected by seeing extreme poverty. He remembered having simple toys like all the other children but ‘coming back (to the UK) and being bombarded… with everybody wanting more.’ He later lived in a L’Arche community and learnt ‘…the wellbeing of a community is dependent on its embracing of diversity… the person who’s most different from you, like this gentlemen who’s totally non-verbal, he was the one who I needed to be with because he could change me in a way that somebody who had a degree from Oxford couldn’t. We’re kidding ourselves if we think that we’re not somehow malnourished because we’re just all basically middle-class, white, highly educated people’.

Where we live: city versus country

Amidst nature was where many Friends felt closest to God/spirit, whether a city garden or the countryside, but a dichotomy emerged as to whether simplicity was easier in a rural setting or the town. One Friend said that simplicity is nurture and going back to the land as people, another that it is being more in tune with nature – the way people used to live. The past had a strongly evocative hold for people, who shared experiences of relatives who had simpler, more inventive, lifestyles when living through the war years. One Friend regretted the loss of the creative smallholder culture on the island where she lived – changes in land ownership and economics meant she could not afford land or that lifestyle.

‘When you live in a city you are much more likely to get swept into excess and living a more complicated life,’ said one Friend who previously lived on a boat. Several felt the limited choices offered by rural living reduced the temptation to buy, encouraging local barter systems and co-operation and freeing up time. Community was also important. Thoreau’s choice to live in a hut in the woods raised debate, one seeing it as a ‘selfish choice’, another as highlighting the possibilities for others.

Public transport and not needing a car was the main reason participants felt city living was simpler, along with access to cultural events and work. It is human nature for people to move towards cities for work/wealth said one Friend.

Being where we are

Rufus Jones, in Quakerism and the Simple Life published in 1906, says the simple life he advocates is as ‘good for city as for country, and possible for the millionaire or the city sweeper’. Ultimately simplicity is personal to individuals: ‘Not everybody is going to want a smallholding in the depths of Derbyshire’ said one Friend.

However, if we think that we can change our lives by moving to a place with a simpler culture we are mistaken, says Thomas R Kelly in The Simplification of Life. He tried living the ‘quiet life of the South Seas’ but: ‘I found that Americans carry into the tropics their same mad-cap, feverish life which we know on the mainland. Complexity of program cannot be blamed upon complexity of our environment… Nor will simplification of life follow simplification of environment.’

Wherever we live, Advices and Queries 41 reminds us that ‘a simple lifestyle freely chosen is a source of strength’; something to be reached, says Rufus Jones, ‘not by a bound, but by steady obedience to the well known principles of the moral and spiritual life’.

This article first appeared in ‘the Friend’ on 14/10/2016

© Anne de Gruchy


Simplicity, Time and Technology

During the summer I spent time as an Eva Koch scholar at Woodbrooke – the Quaker study centre in Birmingham. I was researching the subject of Simplicity, which is a Quaker Testimony alongside Peace, Truth and Equality. Testimonies are like codes of conduct – a kind-of blue-print of the values and insights – and resulting actions – that we aim to live our lives by. This is the second in a series of six articles that I wrote based on my research and the one-to-one interviews I conducted. These articles have previously been published in the Friend magazine.


Exploring the impact of technology and the importance of making room for God in our lives.

What are the barriers to leading a simple life? I asked the participants in my research this question and was surprised to find that social media and technology took a distinct back seat. Far and away the biggest concern was trying to practice simplicity with a husband, wife or partner whose values did not sit comfortably alongside the respondent’s own. Second came the pressures of society – the ‘norms’ we are expected to follow and having to go ‘against the flow’.

Where does technology sit in our thinking about simplicity?

For most people I spoke to, technology provides a tool that we need to use appropriately. The internet and computers were seen as having many benefits: keeping in touch with family, learning a language, buying groceries online, finding information, satellite navigation, emails as a form of record and communication and an aid to memory problems. ‘It’s simplistic to say that Facebook is bad,’ one Friend said, ‘human existence is about relationships and a lot of these things are about relationships’. One older Friend, though, found the assumption that everyone has access to the internet was ‘a real burden’, and limited her options.

Technological advances such as washing machines were also generally accepted as making life simpler and saving time. Simplicity is ‘not doing without a fridge/living in a mud hut in the middle of nowhere’ said one Friend. Technological progress is a positive thing, another felt, ‘we are meant to be inventing, meant to be curious’.

The importance of time and focus

One Friend I spoke to had returned to washing things by hand; this felt simpler, she said, even though it took longer. Perhaps this was because she gave time and attention to the task. In Holiness in the Everyday, David Cadman suggests that to change our way of being we need discipline and to accept a slower pace. The greater challenge of simplicity is not to do with possessions but ‘the right use of the gift of time’ said one person in Twelve Quakers and Simplicity.

Making time is important. For one Friend simplicity involved reducing the number of contacts and complications in her life. ‘Having time to be’ is part of simplicity said another, enabling spontaneity and making room for God and other people. By simplifying her life this Friend found that she interacts with her neighbours more, and is open to listening and hearing what other people say and want.

Friends acknowledged the tendency of technology to ‘suck energy’, and limited its use by, for instance, keeping computers away from the lounge, deleting the Facebook app on their phone, and using a weekly podcast to catch up on news. In his book A Sustainable Life, Douglas Gwyn says: ‘We read about different religions and learn new spiritual techniques, for example, through books, the internet, and other outward resources. But ultimately, these resources only scatter our attention, intention, and energies, leaving us exhausted and lost.’

We need to employ such technologies as help us towards our goal ‘without distracting’ says Martin Cobin in Workers in God’s Mine: Maintaining Simplicity in a Society Preoccupied with Technology. Cobin returns us to the territory of discernment, of identifying those ‘few concerns’ that God asks us to be faithful to as outlined by Thomas Kelly in A Testament of Devotion.

Avoiding technological ‘utopia’

A Friend who attended Quaker Quest told me they had discussed whether George Fox would have had an iPhone; their answer was ‘yes’ – he might have used it as a tool but not own the latest model. Most people I spoke to had older versions of technology, resisting the pressure to upgrade. One Friend had chosen not to buy a smart phone at all because mining the minerals needed to make them was fuelling war in Congo.

Some Friends spoke about the cultural and peer pressure their children and grandchildren were under to have the latest technology; however young adult Friends had generally chosen to limit the technology they used, although this isolated them amongst their friends. One was challenged because she felt that most technology is environmentally unsound yet ‘the level of social exclusion you’d experience as a young adult not being on any kind of technology is daunting to say the least.’ She spoke of the conflict between the ‘ecological soundness of it and being part of the (political) conversation’ and sometimes had ‘screen-fasting’ days.

In his essay Technology and Simplicity in The Hidden Door, Mark Burch talks about our ‘enchantment’ with technological progress and how many people are ‘technological utopians’. My interview participants appeared to resist this trend and concur with Burch’s view that we need to bring mindfulness to our use of technology. Burch goes further, saying society needs to explore how technology’s role might change in order to serve simple living.

We should also ask: Does technology increase our joy? Joy is one product of experiencing the ‘Eternal Now’ according to Thomas Kelly in A Testament of Devotion. Writing in the early 1940s, Kelly said the era was one of ‘this-sidedness, with a passionate anxiety about economics and political organization’ and that this was causing people to ‘neglect the Eternal Life springing up within our “ordinary experience of time”.’ Is technology taking a similar role today? As one Friend told me: ‘my mobile phone doesn’t make me happy… It does complicate my life, to be on Facebook… and to have all sorts of ways of people contacting me at my fingertips’.

Media and a sick society

Friends were uncomfortable with the media. It ‘confuses people’ said one Friend, because it can ‘get the weightings wrong between the traditional wisdom and the need to make it controversial.’ Another disliked the pressure of advertising and said that you ‘could very easily get swept away by the forces of the media… that you need things… and that to be happy your life should be more complicated almost’. In Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster says: ‘The mass media have convinced us that to be out of step with fashion is to be out of step with reality. It is time to awaken to the fact that conformity to a sick society is to be sick.’

But fashions do impact on us and lead to changes in the ways we learn and practice spiritually. Douglas Gwyn writes about how Rex Ambler based his Experiment with Light meditations on a mix of George Fox’s advice and methods used by psychologist Eugene Gendlin. ‘Living in an era dominated by technology and technique, many today find a series of steps more helpful than the traditional Quaker palette of evocative images and metaphors’ says Gwyn.

Framing the problem of distraction

A Friend in his late twenties felt sad that young people appeared to feel there is something better going on elsewhere, constantly looking at their phone rather than experiencing the moment, the here and now. ‘I’m so fortunate I grew up just (before) that time… all this social media stuff became so in your face, it’s now like kids are hard-wired to it from a young age.’ He said that it is when he feels unable to ‘express himself to the full’ in ‘more powerful ways’ that he uses Facebook most, becoming addicted to it even though it doesn’t nourish him.

Thomas Kelly says that ‘the outer distractions of our interests reflect an inner lack of integration of our own lives.’ It is hard to believe that attentiveness, slowness, silence, and compassion will improve our wellbeing, says David Cadman, but we have to learn to ‘let go and dwell in the Divine with an open heart.’

This article first appeared in ‘the Friend’ on 07/10/2016

© Anne de Gruchy


Complex Simplicity

During the summer I spent time as an Eva Koch scholar at Woodbrooke – the Quaker study centre in Birmingham. I was researching the subject of Simplicity, which is a Quaker Testimony alongside Peace, Truth and Equality. Testimonies are like codes of conduct – a kind-of blue-print of the values and insights – and resulting actions – that we aim to live our lives by. Over the next six weeks I will share with you a series of articles that I wrote based on my research and the one-to-one interviews I conducted. These articles have previously been published in the Friend magazine.


Looking at the complexity that goes hand-in-hand with simplicity and the interplay between the Quaker testimonies.

Why is simplicity so complicated and how do we define it? This question arose repeatedly during my Eva Koch scholarship at Woodbrooke.

For my research I was privileged to conduct one-to-one interviews with twenty-six people – mainly Friends aged from their twenties to seventies from a variety of backgrounds. ‘What comes to mind when I say the word “simplicity”?’ I asked. Friends were often more sure about what it was not: complicated, ritualised, cluttered, getting hung up on material things, a weakness, conflict or extravagance.

In Testimony: Quakerism and Theological Ethics, Rachel Muers talks about ‘negative testimony’ – ‘testimony against’ that developed in resistance to patterns and structures of life. Thus early Quakers were advised against wearing wigs (which showed pride) or the swearing of oaths (which implied ‘a double standard of truth’ Advices & queries 37).

Today, Friends felt the testimony involved: ‘leading a simple moral life’, silent contemplation, thinking ‘more carefully’ about what is important and commitment to only these things, practical lifestyle changes such as decluttering and owning only what we need, a simple belief in God and spirituality, political action, and ‘being aware of what we’re doing to the planet and not overconsuming things so that there’s more for others.’

Complicated simplicity

The difficulty of interpreting and acting out simplicity was a common theme. One example given was that when we decide to buy ‘ethically’ we need to research how things are made and transported; another that we should find businesses that share wealth with their employees. Having so many choices makes you feel ‘stuck’ said one Friend, and too much money overcomplicates things. What is sufficient and does motivation matter? George Fox himself defended William Penn for wearing a wig because he lost his hair through smallpox and needed warmth.

The Oxford Dictionary’s definition of simplicity is: ‘the quality or condition of being easy to understand or do’; or of ‘being plain or uncomplicated in form or design’. The theme of ‘clarity’ was important to Friends. For one, simplicity involved ‘the distilling of knowledge… taking a lot of information and making it into something kind of manageable’. Elaine Prevallet, speaking of both simplicity and God in her Pendle Hill pamphlet Reflections on Simplicity, says ‘one sees it more clearly when not looking directly at it’.

The 1803 Extracts from Advices of the Yearly Meeting asked early Quakers to ‘keep to that plainness and simplicity in apparel, speech and behaviour, into which the Spirit of truth led our forefathers’ amidst concerns they would be led from ‘the simplicity and plainness that becomes the gospel’. Early Quakers like John Woolman found their values lead to complexity. ‘If anything, Woolman’s simple living and single-eyed knowing makes his world more complex,’ Rachel Muers says, because ‘he cannot allow his immediate wishes or partisan interests to… limit his field of vision and responsibility’.

One Friend pointed out that businesses Quakers used to be involved in, such as banking, are no longer simple because of multinationalism and globalisation. ‘Our sophistication and complexity are self-destructing’ noted Richard Rohr in Simplicity: The Freedom of Letting Go. Another Friend said ‘do not mistake the simple solution as necessarily the right one, because life is complex.’ One mother, overwhelmed with clutter, a busy lifestyle and a child with multiple needs, found creative solutions in time out at Meeting and sitting quietly with her children as they slept.

Connecting the inward with the outward

Tuning in to God helps outward decisions become simpler. In Plain Living: A Quaker Path to Simplicity, Catherine Whitmire says that her life began to simplify as she ‘learned to listen within and to focus my time and energies on what I discerned to be God’s will instead of my own.’ As a result, ‘changes that had seemed difficult and complicated were suddenly clear.’

‘Simplicity is something that you find out of complexity… there is no easy shortcut,’ one Friend told me. ‘What, in a way, we’re doing in meditation/contemplation/Meeting for Worship is trying to clear out all those kind of addictions… distortions… we have in relation to life.’

Silence was also important to Friends in helping ‘turn down the noise’. For one, the ‘simplistic, silent, expectant’ environment at Meeting for Worship helped him to ‘tune in’.

A corporate challenge

Translating spiritual leadings into action also affects communities. In Simplicity, Richard Rohr describes a discussion with a friend about why so many communities fold, suggesting that ‘they had a hard time integrating spirituality and commitment to social justice issues.’

The title of Pam Lunn’s 2011 Swarthmore Lecture Costing not less than everything appears in T S Eliot’s Little Gidding, drawing on the fourth step of humility in the Benedictine Rule. She challenges us to respond to our ‘planetary emergency’, saying: ‘The crucial and underlying question for us as Quakers is: are we content to be merely a support group for people on their individual spiritual journeys, or are we able to rediscover solidarity as people of God?’

Quakers should be ‘keeping the balance between a radical questioning and a weighty group that has respect and depth,’ one Friend told me, emphasising the importance of our history and traditions.

Interconnected testimony

Simplicity cannot be separated from other testimonies, and Friends noted links with sustainability – often seen as a fifth testimony. Many participants prioritised concerns connected to this, including transport, production methods and energy-generation waste. In Testimony, Rachel Muers concludes that, although sustainability has the hallmarks of testimony because it’s ‘collectively owned’ and a ‘settled result’ of Quaker discernment and decision-making, it actually links with simplicity, and that environmental concerns do not present a new set of practical imperatives.

One Friend said that the separation of the testimonies feels ‘false’, but they serve the purpose of expressing to others what matters to us as Quakers, defining corporate concerns. Jonathan Dale, in his talk on Economic Justice and the Sustainable Global Community at Friends House in London, noted the paradox that although ‘each great issue, whether inequality or sustainability or true democracy, seemed unrealistically Utopian on it’s own, now, taken together… they reinforce each other’.

Ultimately it is the relationship to truth that highlights what simplicity asks of us – a connection mentioned by several Friends. ‘Speaking truth is a manifestation of simplicity,’ one said, ‘if you find a truth you then have to live by it.’ And another: ‘We’re maybe not looking at the simple life right – we’re distorting it.’ She thought hard and added: ‘It’s more about what’s inside of us and coming out, rather than what’s outside of us and coming in.’

This article first appeared in ‘the Friend’ on 30/09/2016

© Anne de Gruchy


In Praise of Trustees

The role of trustee, specifically in relation to Quakers, seems to be in the mix for me at the moment. The possibility of allowing my name to go forward for this role via my area meeting nominations committee has been something I have been considering for a while, especially now another role I have within the area meeting is coming to an end, but suddenly trusteeship just seems to be in the air.

For a start, our Reading Quaker Faith & Practice programme hit the chapter on Trusteeship in August. I’m a bit behind with my reading schedule, but it has certainly proved timely to be reminded of the importance of this role and also its rootedness in spiritual practice. Secondly, we had a presentation at our last area meeting by our link representative and supporter from the Quaker Stewardship Committee who gave information about the role of trustees.

In a recent post on his excellent blog Silent Assemblies, Mike Farley talks about the spiritual dimensions of stewardship and good governance – you can find the full piece here: https://silentassemblies.wordpress.com/2016/08/17/reading-quaker-faith-practice-ch-15/. He speaks about his surprise at his name being brought forward as a trustee because he is ‘a person of prayer’ and has little financial or administrative experience. It is brilliant that his nominations committee discerned the wider needs and aspects of this role, but what surprises me is that they appeared to find it ‘relatively easy’ to pinpoint Friends who had relevant professional experience and were willing to serve.

It has always been hard for charities to find trustees. I have worked in the voluntary sector over many years and have never met an organization that did not struggle to fill these roles and remain quorate. Indeed, this is partly why we had the excellent presentation at our area meeting – our nominations committee is struggling to find names to bring forward and people willing to serve as a trustee. We had a group exercise following the presentation where we looked at, amongst other things, the reasons people may be put off the role of trustee. It made me think hard about why, despite considering whether this could be where my service lies and feeling a leading in this direction, I have not yet taken the step of letting my name come forward. Setting aside the rather sad observation that trustees are often seen as ‘them’ – a body that is separate and different from other Quaker roles and service – a big part of my reluctance is the responsibilities that the role involves.

Trustees are wonderful, and highly undervalued, people. They have oversight of an organization and legal responsibility for the affairs of the charity. This includes responsibilities with respect to charity law requirements, property, employment and employees, health and safety, and child protection. It is not an easy list. Trustees are also ‘volunteers’ – unpaid and, in many organisations, not provided with the training that they need. Because I would take these responsibilities seriously I find the prospect of being nominated as a trustee a daunting one.

But it is also exciting. The few trustees who remain in our area meeting are excellent, able and dedicated people. One of the requirements for Quaker trustees is that they ‘must be well-grounded in the life and concerns of the meeting for which they act’ (Quaker Faith & Practice 15.07), and there is joy and creativity in being part of a group who uphold and enable this life and these concerns. Quaker trustee business meetings are held in a spirit of worship, and the meeting that appointed them is asked to support and uphold them and their work. The other requirement for a trustee suggested both by Quaker Faith & Practice and by someone at our presentation is for a person who has basic common sense – of course some of my Ffriends may say this rules me out!

So let’s celebrate our trustees, Quakerly or otherwise. Let’s demystify the ‘them’ and remember that they are ordinary people who give extraordinary service and an underpinning to everything that a charity does, whether religious or not.


Every day! Just juggling dad stuff, job searches, writing promotion, and completing my work on simplicity.


The joy of welcoming someone new into Quaker membership – hearing about the spiritual and life journey that has brought someone to Quakers is always special, and it feels like a privilege to be part of this process.

© Anne de Gruchy


A ‘Thank You’ to Eva Koch

Today is the last day of my six-week stay at Woodbrooke Quaker study centre for my Eva Koch scholarship.

It has been an amazing and privileged journey to be a research scholar here. I have worked alongside three other wonderful Eva Koch scholars, all with their own special areas of interest. We have (nearly!) completed our studies and done presentations of our work at an open meeting for those who were interested.

It has felt good to be part of the community here: to see people come and go as courses finished and new ones started; to meet people simply staying for a nights B&B because of a work commitment or family wedding nearby; to get to know some of the staff and tutors a little better.

Just before I came, I was offered a new job and thought that I would be returning home to the world of employed work again. Then the job offer was withdrawn because of a disagreement between Human Resources and the appointing officer about what constituted an ‘or equivalent’ qualification. I found myself wrong-footed and a bit rudderless, and have tried to use my time here to reflect, and to discern the way forward. I know this is still something I need to ‘sit with’, especially given my father’s increasing needs.

While I was here I read a wonderful book by Verena Schiller called: A Simplified Life: A contemporary hermit’s experience of solitude and silence. Of all the multitude of books that I have read since starting my studies, this has spoken to me most clearly. Verena writes of her life as a hermit in a small cabin on the Llyn Peninsula in North Wales. She describes, with a huge depth of humanity and spirituality, her lifestyle, the landscape around her, and the draw of the islands and coastline to monks and hermits across the ages. It is a deeply evocative book, as well as a deeply human one.

It was not Verena’s isolated life as a hermit that spoke to me – though I often have wishful visions of a tiny place somewhere beautiful and away from things – but the fact that she was able to wait for the leadings she was given to crystallize and become clear. I am an impatient person who tends to move back into my ‘thinking’ head-space when I should be waiting with God for the clarity that will come if only I would make time. Time and simplicity – my Eva Koch study area – go hand in hand I have found.

Simplicity is a deeply complicated area. If you are interested in my work there will be a series of six articles in The Friend starting in early October, and later on the Woodbrooke blog. I will also be sharing a piece of artwork that derived from the many beautiful words and meanings that simplicity had for the people I interviewed as part of my research; they were so rich and varied that I felt I could not simply represent them in writing. In the meantime, a big ‘Thank You’ to our tutors and the staff and guests at Woodbrooke, and to my fellow Eva Koch scholars – Rhiannon, Jane, and Joycelin (who couldn’t be there for the photo) – it has been wonderful getting to know you and working alongside you.

annedegruchy.co.uk image: Eva Koch scholars 2016


Just doing this! Just applying and going for six weeks of immersive Quakerly research!!


Actually being here at Woodbrooke and the deep, rich seams that have emerged from my work and the interviews I conducted.

© Anne de Gruchy


A Blessing for Woodbrooke

This is a blessing I used at one of the evening ‘Epilogue’ sessions at Woodbrooke. It was inspired by the connection I felt to Celtic spirituality while I was here – the relationship this place has to the gardens and nature, and to the rhythms of work and the year.

At the rising of the sun,
when the night disperses with a whisper
and we welcome the promise of day,
let us embrace this place and the people in it:
welcoming their work
welcoming their leisure
welcoming the Spirit that travels with them.

At the height of the sun in the sky,
when community gathers to share food
and news of their efforts and of each other,
let us celebrate the harvest of our hours,
welcoming bounty
thankful for friendship
humble in the face of the beauty of this world.

At the slow, red, setting of the sun,
when the light spreads into crimson wonder
and our hearts are opened wide,
let us drink from the well of the silence,
living only in this moment
drawing deep
lighting our souls from within.

© Anne de Gruchy


Reflections on Simplicity

A sadness fell on me over the weekend – I realized that I had reached the half-way point in my Eva Koch study scholarship. I had to remind myself to focus on each moment in the day, and not hook into the recognition that there must come a point when I leave.

It is an immersive experience being here at Woodbrooke. You are part of this loose but close-knit community, whose membership ebbs and flows as courses and conferences come and go. There is the constant backbone of the staff and tutor teams, alongside volunteer teams who help in the garden and in welcoming and looking after guests. I have met so many interesting people, including some who simply wanted a different type of Bed and Breakfast for a business commitment in Birmingham.

You feel like an old hand here when you have seen several changes in the rota of Friends in Residence (FIRs!). But the whole is held together by the rhythm of the days: a half-hour Meeting for Worship after breakfast, coffee and tea breaks with home-made biscuits, mealtimes with wonderfully wholesome and imaginative food and a bell to request a moment of silence for thankfulness, Epilogue in the evening where we enjoy fifteen minutes of silence and reflection.

The rhythms of this place remind me of Celtic spirituality; of the focus on the spiritual connectedness of work and nature and community.

There are four Eva Koch scholars staying here this summer. We form our own ‘community within a community’ and it is a joy to get to know others who are immersed in their own fields of study. We have got to the point where we can break down in giggles together and make risky jokes (not at all a Quakerly thing, surely?). We are knitted into our little research community by a support network of tutors and meetings. We will be sharing our work soon in an open presentation for those who wonder what these weird wandering researchers are actually doing with their time.

When I started this blog post I had intended to tell you a little about my work – about the research I am doing into the Quaker testimony of simplicity and what it means to people today. I find that the work is less important than the process, and that I am learning to listen to the leadings God gives me from within and to be patient in allowing them to come to fruition in their own time.

Along the way, my research has involved conducting one-to-one interviews with 26 people, and these, alone, have been a revelation. The connections I have felt, and the openness and honesty people have entrusted to me, have really moved me. Many people thanked me and said how much the interviews had shifted and opened up things in their own lives. It is a two-way process – this research, this simplicity thing.

Eventually I will have written six articles for The Friend magazine and to be used as blog posts later, and I will have designed workshops and a weekend course. People have shared with me things that have inspired them in their thinking about simplicity – books, and blogs, and hobbies, and podcasts, and websites, and poetry, and even cookery suggestions – so I will also have an inspiring Resource List to offer people. You may have guessed by now that I might need a little more than my six weeks here to complete everything!

It is a joy, being here, and I am trying to be truly present to the gift I’ve been given. I wish you similar blessings in your own lives.


Joining a wonderful Five Rhythms dance course and dancing the wave through ‘Chaos’ with calf muscles that felt like someone had tightened them in a torture device!


During the same dance course: the intense peace of a walking meditation through the labyrinth; dancing outside on the grass with the sun shining down on us; the simple and deep connection that I developed with the other participants on the course.

2016-07-30 09.28.25 2016-07-30 09.30.20

© Anne de Gruchy


Ripping up the Relationship Rule Book

I have been thinking about relationships.

It started with romance – or rather the lack of it in my life. Do I go back to a dating website or settle for the lovely network of friendships that I have? Is it realistic to expect to find a relationship that actually works after all these years?

Then there are the ups and downs in my family connections. Coping with my father and his needs has not made it easy to keep our family relationships running smoothly, especially given the stressful situations we regularly have to face, but I value my sisters and their partners and children and want to remain close to them.

Recently, in my reading of Quaker Faith & Practice, I reached the section on marriage. This describes the Quaker view of marriage in such tender and spiritual terms (and, typically, also very realistic ones) that I felt like ripping up the relationship ‘rule book’ I have come to know. I found myself moved by the portrayal of what a marriage can be; of the loving companionship that is possible, and the growth – both individually and together – that can happen over a life-long relationship. Yes, the difficulties and complexities that are part of a marriage contract are acknowledged, but the wondrous possibilities of a love that is spirit-filled rises above these.

I have been married. In fact, I have been married twice. I have also been divorced twice. This, for many years, was something that I was actively ashamed of. How could I, a Christian, fail to keep my honestly and sincerely taken marriage vows to love and honour until death parted us? It didn’t matter that I am still in touch, even friends, with both of my ex-husbands – and also with their new partners/wives. It seemed irrelevant that, in one case, the marriage failed when we were still overwhelmed with grief in the wake of losing a baby; or that, in the other, we tried for many years to work at the relationship and went to marriage counselling together. The guilt still sat, heavy and black, on my shoulders.

Later, when I became a Quaker and read the understanding words about divorce and separation that run alongside the uplifting words about marriage, it did not altogether get rid of the sense that I had somehow ‘failed’ to maintain these relationships but there was some comfort there – the recognition of our humanity and the need to be kind to ourselves when we do not live up to society’s, or indeed spiritual, ‘ideals’. There was also the acknowledgement of the possibility of ‘re-birth’ and renewal following divorce.

I am not good at being kind to myself. Every day I rue my inability to remain loving and gentle to wards my father as I cope with his needs and the increasing aggression that accompanies his Alzheimer’s. I find that I get irritated easily, that I start niggling at him, that when he snaps at me sometimes the tension hits the surface like a geezer and we find ourselves shouting at each other. I dislike his sense of entitlement, his assumption that I and others will cover his needs with no reference to what is lost in our own lives in doing so. At the moment of writing this I find myself, yet again, two hundred miles from home in response to a ‘dad crisis’ – a sad, sad situation where conmen tried to swindle a vulnerable old man with dementia out of money for unnecessary roofing work. I willingly dropped everything to respond – finding support for him locally while making arrangements to travel down – yet when I arrived my good intentions were not enough to ground me and, yet again, our relationship is pitching between ease and tension as the strong undercurrent of emotion gets the better of me.

Today, following the latest grumble and snap between us, I found myself kneeling next to my mother’s memorial stone in the graveyard near my father’s house, touching the lettering that bears her name and the date of her death, missing her. I sat down on a bench nearby and meditated, centering myself in prayer, feeling the cool wind on my face and God’s balm in my soul. I opened my eyes twenty minutes later to the views of the fields and the Blackmore Vale beyond and I wondered at the contrast between the naturally easy love I still bear my mum and the tangled, removed, duty-fuelled love that drives me to continue to try to care for my dad and give him the life that he wants while mine feels like it is collapsing around me.

I miss my mum every day. There is no denying that our similar personalities and deep spiritual faith contributed to a love and understanding between us. We both ran on our emotions, unlike my father. When I was depressed she was always available to me, no matter what. She sent me prayers and poems to bolster me, to direct me to God’s love for me. Is this why we were closer – that we had a spiritual sharing as well as a familial one? Yet my dad, too, has a faith; a quiet, stoical faith that is underpinned by his Christian values and his regular church life. And, partly through my newly acquired appreciation of silence and Quakerly stillness, we share a need for inner calm – though my father is a master at maintaining this whatever life throws at him while mine gets toppled by the slightest wave.

Re-seating our relationships in spirit seems to me to be something that has incalculable value, whether that relationship is marriage, or a blood connection, or friendship. Neither of my husbands fully shared my faith, and perhaps my need to root our relationships in God-given values that they did not experience in the same way was one reason we did not manage to translate our marriage-saving efforts into genuine progress. Quaker Faith & Practice explores this element of a marriage and enshrines it at the centre:

‘It is first and foremost a spiritual union, not merely an emotional or physical or legal one…’ Quaker Faith & Practice 16.03

Thinking about relationships this way – with spiritual values at the centre – reminds me of the hope that remains at the heart of my complex relationship with my father, especially as his dementia progresses and his physical health declines. It also reminds me that my efforts to maintain this relationship have value in themselves, despite what I perceive as my failings. In Quaker Faith & Practice I still find a source of comfort and encouragement, and in Jesus’ teaching, too: ‘Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her’ Jesus said when presented with the case of a woman caught in adultery (Bible, New International Version, John 8:7).

I am going to try to stop throwing stones at myself, and instead appreciate ‘that of God’ which binds me and my dad together.


Surely the recent crazy, crazy weather has to count? All that rain, then hot sun, then freezing and wet again. Deluged out. The poor plants in the garden don’t know what to think!

annedegruchy.co.uk image: Gritstone rocks at Derwent Edge


Walking up on Derwent Edge – huge stacks of gritstone, dark peaty bog, buttercups and bedstraw, and the good company of fellow travellers.

annedegruchy.co.uk image: View from Derwent Edge 2016-06-18 15.02.10

© Anne de Gruchy