Vitality Leaps

A Kenning for 'Her'

2010-06-06T00:55:00.000-07:00

I
Bringer of Vibrancy
Carrier of Sorrow
Giver of beauty
Friend to Crows

Redeemer of hearts
Captivator of minds
Vessel of light
Magnet to kind

Knower of life
Faith-holder in creams
Seeker of truth
Believer in dreams

Lover of friendship
Waterfall of wonder
Bearer of magic
Embodiment of 'Her'.

II
Vibrant Bringer
Sorrow Carrier
Beauty Giver
Corvid Befriender

Heart Redeemer
Mind Captivator
Light Bearer
Kindred Caller

Life Knower
Potion Believer
Truth Seeker
Dream Follower

Friendship Lover
Wonder Casecader
Magic Bearer
Vital Embodier

Return of the Swifts

2010-05-19T13:54:00.000-07:00

Tonight arching over the sky in acrobatical enjoyment the swifts returned. Their scymitter wings slice through the heavens - soaring - elated in the moment - living every second - never resting - the sleek sharks of the skies - piercing harbingers of summer - of life - of joy.
Forgive the flow of consciousness - my spirit rejoices in the return of the swifts!

Proud

2010-05-05T11:16:00.000-07:00

Why nail my flag to the mast of outness when good friends and family know?
This week I had a friend tell me how she was bullied for being gay before she even knew. I have gone through, a pass straight, in the apartheid of sexuality. And yet so many of the remarkable, beautiful people I know in the LGBT community have suffered prejudice and hate. I am a consultant for a religious organisation - being out at work could very realistically mean my contract is 'regrettably' not renewed, but again my friend reminded me that at least now you wouldn't be sacked from most jobs as you would have done not so long ago.
I am lucky I have come out to understanding and approval - I generally wait until people know me well so that they get to know ME, rather than a preconceived, self fulfilling stereotype.The only place that has struggled to accept me as I am and not wish for me to change has been, expectedly but ironically, church. But I am proud to be part of this community of inspirational dynamic people - if you are proud of something it is one of the first things people know about you not the last. So expect to see me rainbow festooned marching head held high through the streets for Norwich Pride - inside I will be wishing I was less stereotypically dressed- but in a minor way - compared to the respect and pride I will have in my fellow journeyers marching on that queer pier of destiny!

Yearning

2010-05-03T09:51:00.000-07:00

My spirit calls out
Across familiar landscapes
Reaching for its kind,
Seeking understanding-
being seen and known.
A cure for this alien ailment:
To be found and to find.

Sunlight on Snow

2010-05-02T23:20:00.000-07:00

Promised winter sunlight shimmers-
quicker than thought it
Dances on the scarred surface-
Raw ridges softened by fresh predawn dusting,
Hardened by the night's sharp Haw.

Spotlights of caressed uniqueness
Impossible beacons within the dazzling glare.
Miragical beauty in the frozen desert-
Promise of carefully concealed treasures-
Truthes to emerge in thaw.

Poetry Group Homework

2010-04-13T14:11:00.000-07:00

I am Vitality
Rejoicer in life - its essence
Spring's elixir rises - celebrating positivity.
Winged phoenix of trust - delighting in truth,
Platonically flawed like Athenian Cracies,
Elating in the journey,
Despite its inevitabilities.
I am "HER" - MacNeice's muse:
"Alive beyond question ...the dazzle on the sea"
The "fugue that keeps moving"
Vitality.

It was hard doing a declaration - it feels a bit too egotistical to be comfortable - but all the demure long winded eccentricities I brain stormed didn't really link to the nature of the project.
Just to clarify, I refer to the poet Louis MacNeice, Plato's Republic and BodyForm ("Con ali" used to be printed on the pack and it means with wings!! (as in con carne with meat) Bet you can hear the deep throaty roar of that Bodyform Advert soundtrack right now!?!?).

Primevera Picnics

2010-03-14T13:07:00.000-07:00

My first picnic of the year was a joy, sitting in the grounds of Langley school, watching hockey enthroned on a deck chair with travelling rug, pouring cups of tea and snacking on baguette and short bread fingers. Shame the game wasn't as civilised!?!
Do you ever feel like you're in limbo waiting for the changes to come and the plans to arrive. In April my life changes completely yet here I am in March treading water?!? Even the weather seems a waiting game - but I have started the mowing the lawn, picnics and using the washing line - just yearning for consistently warmer days. Waiting to be able to say:
"The Sun is shining - I am gardening! Everything is right with the world!"

Confucian Enlightenment

2010-01-24T05:49:00.000-08:00

I read a really interesting article by Grace Moon today about the right to rule - divine/ democratic/ conduct befitting. Are we really more advanced and civilised than 5,000 year old China? Read the article see what you think... www.velvetparkmedia.com/blogs/google-v-mandate-heaven
Here is how I responded:
I am always intrigued by Chinese women - such formidable matriarchs yet such an underclass in China. I never understand women's oppression anywhere - I think we are so formidable I pity the man who tries to cage us - but that leaves me to suspect that we are complicit in our own submission??!?? I often find women to be far more vehement in their sexism and gender expectations/enforcement - even lots of gay women... Straight women are almost always caustically hard on themselves and other women - whilst expecting so much less from a man??

I don't think that you can either fully understand, nor criticise from a superior position, a culture you are not within - there is so much poverty and human rights violations in both our countries - admittedly in a less in your face way - but that doesn't make us superior.
I think so much that happens in China politically is wrong - but Mississippi after Hurricane Katrina and inner city estates in the UK have taught me that there is a lot of dirt under our liberal democratic rugs - more than I ever imagined even as a cynical politics Graduate. We and our governments are ALL wrong. I remember something that Confucius said about learning from everybody - from their irritating or bad ways how not to be - from their good and admirable ways how to be - He said it with eloquence and brilliance. But I try to follow it - How we are is what will change others not what we say.

The North Wind Does Blow and We Shall Have...

2010-01-10T09:55:00.000-08:00

The wind has blown strongly from the North in England and it has bought with it ice and snow, both a delight and a frustration. We are not geared up for any prolonged snowfall in England and schools close at the slightest opportunity - leaving me at home with very hyperactive children for most of the week. Wrapping up warm whilst taking brisk walks, sledge rides, making snowmen and having snowball fights are real winter joys, but a three year old with a chest infection precludes most of them for more than a few minutes. Even roaring log fires and steaming mugs of tea can dull in their delight when they are more of an essential then an indulgence. But the wind has brought with it flocks of field fares and redwings to bejewel the garden in exchange for the berries that they have devoured leaving the barest branches.

Individualism Vs the Need to Belong

2009-11-14T14:07:00.000-08:00

The rise in evangelical Christianity is caused by a rise in individualist
consumer-driven culture. Discuss.
If asked what do I think about this is one thing - add the word discuss and I feel I have to write a text book essay first defining the agreed terms - analysing different general theories concerning these and extrapolating the causal links between them.... but I am going to not be contained by these expectations - whether mine or academia's. I will say what I think in note form as if in a normal conversation over a pint or a pot of tea - Here goes....
I think consumer Christianity is definitely egocentric - it is generally about what one - I - myself - get from church or faith position, although not exclusively - co-dependent worshippers dig how much they can slavishly give or masochistically suffer!?!? But ultimately it is about consuming as an individual rather than worshipping corporately. Catholics and traditional Anglicans, Methodists and Baptists tend to go to church from a sense of community, tradition, duty etc,. and (here I am generalising for the sake of non thesis proportions) less for individual satisfaction with the quality or style of service. Although, arguably people are creatures of habit and therefore often likely to prefer worship in the context of the traditions from which they originate ( I wanted to use the verb Ken?? so which word is my dysphasia groping for??? Call me Spooner and hit me with a Mallaprop) so the issue of personal preference may not be out of play as such - just operating within different expectations??
So I take this as pretty much given and directly relate it to the growth of "supermarket" churches - charismatic, evangelical, modern (ish - they wish!!) Where people drive to large places of worship often away from their geographical community.
BUT I think evangelical Christianity as a whole has grown because of separate factors - there was definitely a tangible backlash against liberal attitudes within culture and a 'call to arms' against pervasive lapses of traditional Victoriana Morals - Mary Whitehouse and others like her resounded the horn of Christian Morality to hold sway over the media and society at large rather than go gentle into that good night - less acceptance and tacit silence, more placard waving and standing outside Jerry springer on cold winter evenings.
The concept of Christians being the moral guardians of the 'lost'!?!? Forgetting that: 'He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world' and 'it is not for us to judge those who are not of the church'. The idea people needed saving from sin rather than a recognition sin was inevitable in all and irrelevant after the cross - that yes we should protect the weak but that God is bigger than sin - I believe what he wants is for Christians to glow with the healthy benefits of being in relationship with him - not try to club a heathen over the head and drag them back into the safe CONFINES of the church!!??!! Nor try, or even think it possible, to make the rest of the world morally right without that relationship with God.A fallen world - or at least a human world is going to be fallible and broken - Eden it will not be - neither is the church, we just pretend most of the time and can be worse under the surface from the pretence. Just like environmental policy people need more than fear or judgement to make them change in any way effectively. Aesop got it with the tale of the sun and the wind - ( pertinent illustration for global warming lectures!!) People respond far better to the carrot than they do the stick!!
I think the evangelical church grew because people wanted more certainty within a dramatically changing society - post modernism, mass media and massive population movement has resulted in many feeling unrooted and insecure - the evangelical church - like Islam offers far more definite certainty and rules - a line to stand one side of and feel safe and sometimes even better than those on the other side. In my mind this regional, national and global social insecurity is the bigger causal factor of both individualism, evangelical Christianity and fundamentalism as a whole - itself caused by the migratory changes in human organisation. Communities are now fluid - generally anonymous and often not geographically based - people are strange when you're a stranger -solution a new tribalism??? Essentially people want to belong and want clear identifiers of that belonging. Culturally it is a fighting battle to see worshipping locally as a viable long term option- communities are now far more about shared interests and experiences than localities - so you cannot just belong because of where you live there needs to be clearer parameters and the evangelical church where it has grown has arguably provided those. Arguably at the cost, and what a cost, of focusing less on Jesus' enigmatic uncertain parables and more on the modernity of Paul's definite teachings.

The Rise and Fall

2009-11-13T13:21:00.000-08:00

"The rise in evangelical Christianity is caused by a rise in individualist
consumer-driven culture." Discuss. It's not often a girl gets asked that in a life time!?!
And when asked a curve ball I do as I am want to - refer to the bizarre random oddities of Google Images to answer for me. Be it planetary healing - The brothers Judd or the anti-green posy ( which is ironic since I was asked the question by an Environmental Scientist). One or two are apt but the rest - I ask you - what could possibly be in those blogs and sites to link to this search!!??!! There really are some weirder blogs than mine - you'll be scared to know!??!

Where were you at the fall?

2009-11-11T09:11:00.000-08:00

This week has seen the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. So where were you and what were you doing when you heard about, and probably witnessed via the media, this momentous occasion? I was 14 starting on my GCSE's having been unable to walk for several months- It was probably one of the first times other than the Falklands war, Royal Wedding, IRA bombs, chernobyl, football riots or Miner's strikes that I was truly aware of more than Newsround news.
It seemed to be an amazing thing that sister was reunited with sister - that people were tearing it down with their bare hands. It was probably at a time of awakening for me - exciting texts in English, advanced algebraic equations, teachers who talked to you like near equals and were interested in your opinion. So to be becoming aware of the world at a time of such tumoltuous (sp?) change was exciting - it is probably when I became aware of politics being a positive thing not just tyranny and backlash - although China was to soon make us aware that tyranny was still live and kicking.

We Shall Remember Them

2009-11-08T15:41:00.000-08:00

The Ambient Wonder Rememberance event went really well!! It was Multi-sensory with a capital M. Rosemary to crush and sniff, poppy seeds to dip and grind your "french bread" into, fantastic soundtrack and the images projected onto a sheet hanging in the room were powerful.
An activity with poppy seeds representing the number of war deaths was profound - so many running through your finger tips - and it did not include the 140 million estimated deaths from democide and genocide that occurred during the context of military conflicts!??!? I was moved by the war poems that were scattered around the room.I also loved the response where you reflected as the crepe paper petal melted into the water and then lay it bleeding onto the canvas.

Rosemary for Remembrance.

2009-11-08T06:46:00.000-08:00

Rosemary, an ancient symbol of remembrance, the rich oil and perfume derived from the plant have been used for centuries. The ancients believed it strengthened the memory, and on this account it became an emblem of fidelity and a symbol of remembrance.

Rosemary has particular significance for Australians as it can be found growing on the wild slopes of Gallipoli. It has been associated with the ANZAC tradition of being loyal to one's mates and active in honouring the memory of fallen and departed comrades. Sprigs of Rosemary are worn on ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day, by veterans and others attending services and parades in Australia.

Pick a sprig of rosemary and hold it tightly between your fingers, as its leaves release their strong fragrance think of the 35 million servicemen who died in Wars and Military conflict in the Twentieth Century alone and then of the nearer 150 million civilians who died as a result of democide and genocide in the context of these conflicts. Currently 4,677 and 1513 Servicemen and women have died in the conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan respectively, with potentially 100,000s of civilian losing their lives as a consequence of the lawlessness and social breakdown.

As you go through this space and see the faces of just a few of those lost remember that these individuals were fathers, sons, husbands,friends, neighbours, colleagues, lovers, partners. They were somebody - and they died fighting a war they were told was just.

Smell the essential oil warming within your palm and think that each one of those lost had dreams and thoughts and feelings - unique fingerprints, shoes worn to the imprint of their soles, treasured creased letters and photos - grubby from repeated readings slipped in their jacket pockets.

"Remember me when I am gone" Do you believe that God knew each one of them and does not forget them?

Allowing the Majority to Determine Minority Civil Rights

2009-11-06T05:20:00.000-08:00

In Maine the voters have voted No to allow gay marriage in their state. "The question hanging over this is how to decide which questions are matters of right and which can be left to the democratic process?" Would equal rights have been afforded to the black minority in the southern states in the 1960s? Andrew B wrote this comment in response:
"There is a principled argument to the conclusion that civil rights should not be submitted to the democratic process. Rights protect citizens against a tyranny of the majority. In a democracy they are the only such protection. Even if the majority is willing to ratify a right at the time it’s asked, that does not grant sufficient protection. If the majority turns tyrannical later, it can simply repeal the law that once protected the right. And if the majority is tyrannically inclined when it’s first asked to vote on the right, then the vote places a veneer of democratic legitimacy over what is really tyranny.
The idea that there are rights which can override the democratic process is very widespread. It’s advocated by everyone from union busters to abortion rights advocates to the gun nuts, among many others.
Again "The question hanging over this is how to decide which questions are matters of right and which can be left to the democratic process?" Is one I ask you.

I also agree with Virago on the same post: “If voters in Maine had voted yes for gay marriage, would bringing civil rights to a vote been an okay idea?” — I would still say “no.” Allowing the majority to determine whether a minority is afforded its civil rights is grossly incongruous, and I can’t support it."
I say minorities should have them same rights as majorities - and neither should be able to restrict the rights of others. The problem is when you are inside a system benefiting from it you can rarely see the incongruity or unfairness of it - the "I'm all right" mentality is far too much of an opiate.

Casualties of War

2009-10-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

Rememberance?

2009-10-26T00:39:00.000-07:00

href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GLzazh9NNis/SuVaDccrvrI/AAAAAAAAAqw/QmHaXSYu61E/s1600-h/9906_11_9---Remembrance-Sunday_web.jpg">

href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GLzazh9NNis/SuVZJwfTp1I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/9bDqKRrFJPo/s1600-h/0424-shoe-memorial.jpg">

The Developed World?

2009-10-26T00:22:00.000-07:00

Maggie Jochild a regular contributor to the dykestowatchoutfor.com blog has had emergency surgery in the US and is desperate for donations in order to not be thrown out of the ICU. Can you imagine being sent home with open wounds, barely conscious, unable to move? Why? Because of the great failing of not being able to afford healthcare insurance. So I ask all too naively is there anyway that Maggie’s case can be highlighted to the media or Steve’s who is mentioned on her site? Surely no one could know this and think that a public health bill would be wrong!?!? It sounds very Dickensian with the attitudes of “undeserving poor” – People are poor or don’t have health insurance because of personal weakness and undesirable personality traits??!!??
I have stopped listening to the rhetoric that comes from the right about this – so I have no idea if there is any legitimacy in their case – I hope and guess not!?
American tourists in the UK have always given me the impression they feel we have Victorian (if not shakesperean) health care and dentistry in Britain – hence cautionary tale of the “Book of British Smiles”. But Hurricane Katrina and the fallout of information from this bill shows me that America has a clean face but very dirty knickers in the health and social care department. Why does the US give so much in foreign aid when some charities meant to provide health care in the developing world are working almost exclusively in the US because of the desperate need. Surely aid is needed at home – and would be best provided in an effective healthcare entitlement bill. People should not be dying of curable diseases and ailments anywhere in the world let alone in a super power!
Shame all you opponents – SHAME!

We Will Remember

2009-10-19T12:57:00.000-07:00

Ambient Wonder, the alternative worship collective I am involved with, are putting on an event about Rememberance. Being alternative this will be a much more current or counter culture and reflective meditation than a traditional CofE rememberance service. Our planning discussions revolved around the conflict between Christianity and War and the churches culpability in so many wars. Can you be a Christian and not be a pacifist? If so are you truly following Jesus' teachings or that of often conservative nationalistic church bodies?
But I feel that in entering into this argument we miss the true essence of rememberance that individuals - fathers, sons, husbands,friends, neighbours, colleagues, lovers, partners were lost. They were somebody - and they died fighting a war they were told was just. God knew each one of them and does not forget them. Rememberance doesn't need to be about glorifying war but about remembering war is personal -we talk in thousands and millions of war casualties but each one of those had dreams and thoughts and feelings - unique fingerprints, shoes worn to the imprint of their soles, treasured creased letters and photos - grubby from repeated readings slipped in their jacket pockets.
Remember me when I am gone

To Love Wisely

2009-10-07T00:29:00.000-07:00

I have recently had the opportunity to persue relationships with more than one person and it is tempting - to be held and wanted is an appealing and much missed thing. But I am determined to try to love wisely. But having said these words it became apparent they are an oxymoron - to be wise in its very nature suggests controlled thinking - head responses - deliberations. But I am convinced that love by its very nature is foolish - Love fool not Love sage. How else can you explain how blind you are to another's faults when in falling in love - how the very things that will grate in years to come are endearing - even charming? From outside we can see incompatibilities, fault lines waiting to open as familiarity breeds contempt - but from within love it is difficult to heed and negative - albeit realistic - views are rejected - even resented.
So am I likely to be a love wisely or a love foolishly in the future? I am sure if I am not in love then I will act more or less wisely - but I am more sure if I do fall in love again - or continue to be in love foolishly then there is little hope for wise words and actions - and that hindsight will be a glorious thing.

Karma and Cath Kidston

2009-10-02T03:28:00.000-07:00

I'm trialing a SHAPEs course with my small group and this week we were looking at Heart - things you care about/enjoy/excite you etc. On hobbies - I realised my ebay habit of buying bargain Cath Kidston had probably got to large proportions of how I spend my spare time!?! Can ebay be a hobby? I really hope not - maybe it could make a bid to become an olympic sport like Chess. Normally I would put walking, gardening, art, films, reading, cycling and singing - well probably after socialising around tea and cake - but some hobbies are bound to include the sedantry. Anyway I am coming to the end of my escapism through chintz and now only mildly scan pedalled wares for the odd "essential" - which is good because my credit card bill came to day and it is way higher than expected because you can hazily forget the fact each item cost nearly as much in postage as it did in and of itself. As comfort techniques go I suppose it verges on the healthier of addictions - I have neither wrecked my kidneys or lungs nor have I put on any weight - I've also made friends - its like facebook but with pretty things that come in the post as a bonus!!??!
But as good for Karma goes - it has helped me feel happier in my house - but it hasn't even begin to tap the grieving over a lost very good friend - I miss her terribly but she is no better for my Karma than good old Cath Kidston - although maybe better for my fengshui.
To move on I have resorted to anger and condemnation - seeking to demonise the person I treasure and love to get over the hurt and loss - she is a wack job but she was my wack job. I wish her well - seeking to hold her in the positive energy that Quakers envision.
The stupid thing about buying nice things for my house to make it feel better is that I want to show her what I've done and how nice it is looking. I want her to be proud of me for single-handedly putting up shelves - I am woman hear me roar - as I like to proclaim. How do you move on from true friendship - even when it is bad for you - how do you healthily move on? So what I'm hoping for in October is less Kidston and more karma. And the people all said AMEN!

All Singing All Blogging

2009-09-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

I just got a new browser and it lets me add video, spell check and hyperlink in this blog - hoorah - I have entered the C21.
Unfortunately at a slightly dullardish moment in my life - so may not be used to great effect - BUt and I mean BUT it can be used! ( it also lets me embolden- ooh ahh) Such things that you PCs with internet explorer take for granted. I wonder if it will actually let me respond to comments - so the few eager beavers who deign to comment will not feel slighted by my lack of response?!?
I'm sorry - my face is going slightly numb - my new seagrass flooring was stuck down with industrial glue in a freshly decorated room today - so the excitement at basic word processing functions being finally available may be partly due to chemically induced hysteria. I am now going to step out into the fresh air - I may be sometime?

Blustering Barnacles

2009-09-03T13:51:00.000-07:00

Today I had a lovely day with my Aunt. We had lunch at the Overstrand Cafe - I had tasty crab salad and decadent syrup sponge with custard for pud - to gird my insides and stave off the cold and gale force winds that beackoned on the beach. But it was exhilirating - the sand whipped up and stung our legs like in a sorroco wind forcing us down to the glimmering expanses of wet rippled sand dimpled by recent rain. We clambered over rock pools and held up our arms to be blown back by the winds power. It was so refreshing we walked all the way to Cromer and had pots of tea at the Rocket Cafe before being helped back by the winds encouragement - this time our calves getting the brunt of the stinging sand. It felt good to be alive.

All the Fun of the Fair?

2009-09-01T01:30:00.000-07:00

There is a cred T-shirt my partner wore that says “How you spend your money affects what happens on the planet". Each purchase we make has the potential to bolster corporate unfair practices detrimental to national and international producers or support ethical trade that in turn supports local communities.
I feel that apart from letter writing, the way to trully lobby is to think about how we spend our money. There was a lot of talk about coffee shops in a recent post on dykestowatchoutfor.com - which trully do smell delightful - but is your first consideration the taste of the coffee or the ethics of the company/ owner you are buying the coffee from? Is it fair trade - what sort of life have the producers or workers had in providing it at that price?
Thankfully now fair trade products are more available and better quality - it is not always a choice between quality of production and quality of product. I would just love coffee chains to not just supply one fair trade option but commit to only fair trade products. Sainsbury’s and Coop supermarkets in the UK own brands of tea and coffee and chocolate respectively are now only fair trade and show it is possible at a great price. Wouldn’t it be amazing if starbucks not only stopped producing coffee that tasted burnt but also committed to serving only fair trade drinks. Now that could affect the planet.

When Cuttings Grow

2009-08-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

Cecilia (www.ceciliainthecloset.blogspot.com) is once more insightful:
"I remember a doctor saying, once, if pain wakes you in the night, pay attention. I think that holds true for all kinds of pain, physical, mental and spiritual."
I am in pain - it wakes me - I am paying attention...

But I am coping with it much better than I ever thought I would. Loss of good friendship is probably one of the hardest things to deal with. I have lost lovers and partners - I have lost pets and grandparents - all of which are hard and painful - but in the last fortnight I have lost two very good friends - one to move to Scotland to pursue a wonderful opportunity and one - the best friend I have ever known - through stupidity and weakness. As a single parent my good friends are my family and I don't know how I will cope with two volatile children, an ex with anger-management issues and a stressful job with out them.

I hope that distance, anger and hurt will not destroy these friendships permanently - but that they will grow new roots like my penstemon and pelargonium cuttings that had miraculously become little plants when I transplanted them today. Cut abruptly from their mother plants they should have withered and died - but love is a good rooting medium - and crap whilst I am on many levels - I really love and care about my friends.

So
Until the tide turns
Until the ebb flows
Until the cutting grows.

The Man Who Planted Trees

2009-07-12T07:17:00.000-07:00

"About forty years ago I went on a long hike, through hills absolutely unknown to tourists, in that very old region where the Alps penetrate into Provence.
This region is bounded to the south-east and south by the middle course of the Durance, between Sisteron and Mirabeau; to the north by the upper course of the Drôme, from its source down to Die; to the west by the plains of Comtat Venaissin and the outskirts of Mont Ventoux. It includes all the northern part of the Département of Basses-Alpes, the south of Drôme and a little enclave of Vaucluse.
At the time I undertook my long walk through this deserted region, it consisted of barren and monotonous lands, at about 1200 to 1300 meters above sea level. Nothing grew there except wild lavender.
I was crossing this country at its widest part, and after walking for three days, I found myself in the most complete desolation. I was camped next to the skeleton of an abandoned village. I had used the last of my water the day before and I needed to find more. Even though they were in ruins, these houses all huddled together and looking like an old wasps' nest made me think that there must at one time have been a spring or a well there. There was indeed a spring, but it was dry. The five or six roofless houses, ravaged by sun and wind, and the small chapel with its tumble-down belfry, were arrayed like the houses and chapels of living villages, but all life had disappeared.

It was a beautiful June day with plenty of sun, but on these shelterless lands, high up in the sky, the wind whistled with an unendurable brutality. Its growling in the carcasses of the houses was like that of a wild beast disturbed during its meal.
I had to move my camp. After five hours of walking, I still hadn't found water, and nothing gave me hope of finding any. Everywhere there was the same dryness, the same stiff, woody plants. I thought I saw in the distance a small black silhouette. On a chance I headed towards it. It was a shepherd. Thirty lambs or so were resting near him on the scorching ground.
He gave me a drink from his gourd and a little later he led me to his shepherd's cottage, tucked down in an undulation of the plateau. He drew his water - excellent - from a natural hole, very deep, above which he had installed a rudimentary windlass.

This man spoke little. This is common among those who live alone, but he seemed sure of himself, and confident in this assurance, which seemed remarkable in this land shorn of everything. He lived not in a cabin but in a real house of stone, from the looks of which it was clear that his own labor had restored the ruins he had found on his arrival. His roof was solid and water-tight. The wind struck against the roof tiles with the sound of the sea crashing on the beach.
His household was in order, his dishes washed, his floor swept, his rifle greased; his soup boiled over the fire; I noticed then that he was also freshly shaven, that all his buttons were solidly sewn, and that his clothes were mended with such care as to make the patches invisible.
He shared his soup with me, and when afterwards I offered him my tobacco pouch, he told me that he didn't smoke. His dog, as silent as he, was friendly without being fawning. "

Getting to the Promised Land

2009-07-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

For the Ambient Wonder event at Greenbelt Festival this year we are exploring the overall theme of "Standing in the Long Now" The early church fully expected Jesus to return in their lifetimes and this vision has lived on undying generation after generation standing in perhaps the 'Longest Now' - working towards something they would never live to see fulfilled - "even before the end of this age I shall return..." a moment in time to God, yet centuries to man. We shall be looking at the heritage of example and vision that we have inherited from those who have gone before us: "Standing on the backs of Giants".

My piece will be about looking back to those "unforgettable charcters" of history inorder to look forward to our futures with renewed hope and vigour:

Now as we stand on the brink of the future let us consider the visionary efforts of people that have changed barren landscapes and brought hope, life and freedom to millions. The service of men like Martin luther King Jr. and Willam Wilberforce who planted a vision that inspired radical change they never lived to see fulfilled. Like the great landscape architects who planted miles of saplings to create an inspirational avenue of beeches that could never reveal its potential in their lifetimes. Like Elzéard Bouffier in "The man who planted Trees" by Jean Giono:
"In order for the character of a human being to reveal truly exceptional qualities, we must have the good fortune to observe its action over a long period of years. If this action is devoid of all selfishness, if the idea that directs it is one of unqualified generosity, if it is absolutely certain that it has not sought recompense anywhere, and if moreover it has left visible marks on the world, then we are unquestionably dealing with an unforgettable character."

About forty years ago I went on a hike, through hills absolutely unknown to tourists, in that very old region where the Alps penetrate into Provence. At the time I undertook my long walk through this deserted region, it consisted of barren and monotonous lands, at about 1200 to 1300 meters above sea level. Nothing grew there except wild lavender.
I was crossing this country at its widest part, and after walking for three days, I found myself in the most complete desolation. I was camped next to the skeleton of an abandoned village. I had used the last of my water the day before and I needed to find more...
It was a beautiful June day with plenty of sun, but on these shelterless lands, high up in the sky, the wind whistled with an unendurable brutality. Its growling in the carcasses of the houses was like that of a wild beast disturbed during its meal.
I had to move my camp. After five hours of walking, I still hadn't found water, and nothing gave me hope of finding any. Everywhere there was the same dryness, the same stiff, woody plants. I thought I saw in the distance a small black silhouette. On a chance I headed towards it. It was a shepherd...
(After providing food and shelter) The shepherd, who did not smoke, took out a bag and poured a pile of acorns out onto the table. He began to examine them one after another with a great deal of attention, separating the good ones from the bad. I smoked my pipe. I offered to help him, but he told me it was his own business. Indeed, seeing the care that he devoted to this job, I did not insist. This was our whole conversation. When he had in the good pile a fair number of acorns, he counted them out into packets of ten. In doing this he eliminated some more of the acorns, discarding the smaller ones and those that that showed even the slightest crack, for he examined them very closely. When he had before him one hundred perfect acorns he stopped, and we went to bed.
The company of this man brought me a feeling of peace. I asked him the next morning if I might stay and rest the whole day with him. He found that perfectly natural. Or more exactly, he gave me the impression that nothing could disturb him. This rest was not absolutely necessary to me, but I was intrigued and I wanted to find out more about this man. He let out his flock and took them to the pasture. Before leaving, he soaked in a bucket of water the little sack containing the acorns that he had so carefully chosen and counted...

Having arrived at the place he had been heading for, he begin to pound his iron rod into the ground. This made a hole in which he placed an acorn, whereupon he covered over the hole again. He was planting oak trees. I asked him if the land belonged to him. He answered no. Did he know whose land it was? He did not know. He supposed that it was communal land, or perhaps it belonged to someone who did not care about it. He himself did not care to know who the owners were. In this way he planted his one hundred acorns with great care.

After the noon meal, he began once more to pick over his acorns. I must have put enough insistence into my questions, because he answered them. For three years now he had been planting trees in this solitary way. He had planted one hundred thousand. Of these one hundred thousand, twenty thousand had come up. He counted on losing another half of them to rodents and to everything else that is unpredictable in the designs of Providence. That left ten thousand oaks that would grow in this place where before there was nothing.
It was at this moment that I began to wonder about his age. He was clearly more than fifty. Fifty-five, he told me. His name was Elzéard Bouffier. He had owned a farm in the plains, where he lived most of his life. He had lost his only son, and then his wife. He had retired into this solitude, where he took pleasure in living slowly, with his flock of sheep and his dog. He had concluded that this country was dying for lack of trees. He added that, having nothing more important to do, he had resolved to remedy the situation...

(A war-torn decade later I revisited those deserted lands) The land had not changed. Nonetheless, beyond that dead village I perceived in the distance a sort of gray fog that covered the hills like a carpet. Ever since the day before I had been thinking about the shepherd who planted trees. Ten thousand oaks, I had said to myself, must really take up a lot of space... He told me (as indeed I could see for myself) that the war had not disturbed him at all. He had continued imperturbably with his planting.
The oaks of 1910 were now ten years old and were taller than me and than him. The spectacle was impressive. I was literally speechless and, as he didn't speak himself, we passed the whole day in silence, walking through his forest. It was in three sections, eleven kilometers long overall and, at its widest point, three kilometers wide. When I considered that this had all sprung from the hands and from the soul of this one man - without technical aids - , it struck me that men could be as effective as God in domains other than destruction...

He had followed his idea (and begun planting beeches, that now) reached up to my shoulders and extending as far as the eye could see bore witness to it. The oaks were now good and thick, and had passed the age where they were at the mercy of rodents; as for the designs of Providence, to destroy the work that had been created would henceforth require a cyclone. He showed me admirable stands of birches that dated from five years ago, that is to say from 1915, when I had been fighting at Verdun. He had planted them in the valley bottoms where he had suspected, correctly, that there was water close to the surface. They were as tender as young girls, and very determined.
This creation had the air, moreover, of working by a chain reaction. He had not troubled about it; he went on obstinately with his simple task. But, in going back down to the village, I saw water running in streams that, within living memory, had always been dry. It was the most striking revival that he had shown me. These streams had borne water before, in ancient days. Certain of the sad villages that I spoke of at the beginning of my account had been built on the sites of ancient Gallo-Roman villages, of which there still remained traces; archeologists digging there had found fishhooks in places where in more recent times cisterns were required in order to have a little water.
The wind had also been at work, dispersing certain seeds. As the water reappeared, so too did willows, osiers, meadows, gardens, flowers, and a certain reason to live.
But the transformation had taken place so slowly that it had been taken for granted, without provoking surprise. The hunters who climbed the hills in search of hares or wild boars had noticed the spreading of the little trees, but they set it down to the natural spitefulness of the earth. That is why no one had touched the work of this man. If they had suspected him, they would have tried to thwart him. But he never came under suspicion : Who among the villagers or the administrators would ever have suspected that anyone could show such obstinacy in carrying out this magnificent act of generosity?

Beginning in 1920 I never let more than a year go by without paying a visit to Elzéard Bouffier. I never saw him waver or doubt, though God alone can tell when God's own hand is in a thing! I have said nothing of his disappointments, but you can easily imagine that, for such an accomplishment, it was necessary to conquer adversity; that, to assure the victory of such a passion, it was necessary to fight against despair. One year he had planted ten thousand maples. They all died. The next year,he gave up on maples and went back to beeches, which did even better than the oaks.
To get a true idea of this exceptional character, one must not forget that he worked in total solitude; so total that, toward the end of his life, he lost the habit of talking. Or maybe he just didn't see the need for it...

I saw Elzéard Bouffier for the last time in June of 1945. He was then eighty-seven years old. I had once more set off along my trail through the wilderness, only to find that now, in spite of the shambles in which the war had left the whole country, there was a motor coach running between the valley of the Durance and the mountain. I set down to this relatively rapid means of transportation the fact that I no longer recognized the landmarks I knew from my earlier visits. It also seemed that the route was taking me through entirely new places. I had to ask the name of a village to be sure that I was indeed passing through that same region, once so ruined and desolate. The coach set me down at Vergons. In 1913, this hamlet of ten or twelve houses had had three inhabitants. They were savages, hating each other, and earning their living by trapping : Physically and morally, they resembled prehistoric men . The nettles devoured the abandoned houses that surrounded them. Their lives were without hope, it was only a matter of waiting for death to come : a situation that hardly predisposes one to virtue.
All that had changed, even to the air itself. In place of the dry, brutal gusts that had greeted me long ago, a gentle breeze whispered to me, bearing sweet odors. A sound like that of running water came from the heights above : It was the sound of the wind in the trees. And most astonishing of all, I heard the sound of real water running into a pool. I saw that they had built a fountain, that it was full of water, and what touched me most, that next to it they had planted a lime-tree that must be at least four years old, already grown thick, an incontestable symbol of resurrection.

Furthermore, Vergons showed the signs of labors for which hope is a requirement : Hope must therefore have returned. They had cleared out the ruins, knocked down the broken walls, and rebuilt five houses. The hamlet now counted twenty-eight inhabitants, including four young families. The new houses, freshly plastered, were surrounded by gardens that bore, mixed in with each other but still carefully laid out, vegetables and flowers, cabbages and rosebushes, leeks and gueules-de-loup, celery and anemones. It was now a place where anyone would be glad to live.
From there I continued on foot. The war from which we had just barely emerged had not permitted life to vanish completely, and now Lazarus was out of his tomb. On the lower flanks of the mountain, I saw small fields of barley and rye; in the bottoms of the narrow valleys, meadowlands were just turning green.
It has taken only the eight years that now separate us from that time for the whole country around there to blossom with splendor and ease. On the site of the ruins I had seen in 1913 there are now well-kept farms, the sign of a happy and comfortable life. The old springs, fed by rain and snow now that are now retained by the forests, have once again begun to flow. The brooks have been channelled. Beside each farm, amid groves of maples, the pools of fountains are bordered by carpets of fresh mint. Little by little, the villages have been rebuilt. Yuppies have come from the plains, where land is expensive, bringing with them youth, movement, and a spirit of adventure. Walking along the roads you will meet men and women in full health, and boys and girls who know how to laugh, and who have regained the taste for the traditional rustic festivals. Counting both the previous inhabitants of the area, now unrecognizable from living in plenty, and the new arrivals, more than ten thousand persons owe their happiness to Elzéard Bouffier.

When I consider that a single man, relying only on his own simple physical and moral resources, was able to transform a desert into this land of Canaan, I am convinced that despite everything, the human condition is truly admirable. But when I take into account the constancy, the greatness of soul, and the selfless dedication that was needed to bring about this transformation, I am filled with an immense respect for this old, uncultured peasant who knew how to bring about a work worthy of God. "

By faith Elzéard Bouffier planted a life and hope bringing forest that rejuevenated a whole region; By faith Moses led his people out of slavery to a promised land he was never to see, but never doubted; By Faith William Wilberforce worked tirelessly for the abolition of slavery; By faith Martin Luther King Jr. faced hatred and death to call for freedom. By Faith what will you do....?
(watchhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_7K4SxrfRs)

We are standing on the brink of our future, shaped and inspired by what has gone before, faced by the challenges of now: "These are the hands...what will you build with them "
By faith what will you do?

Take a cherry - as you hold it feel and see its smooth shiny skin, stippled with crimson. Know that what has gone before in your life is still important - still valuable - but in the past.

Now as you bite into it focus on now - this moment - as its juices bleed into your mouth know this is a point totally in the present - a place of decision - the brink of the future.

As you are left with the hard stone in your mouth or hand, feel its rough ridges with your tounge or fingers and imagine this seed that is about to be planted by you growing into a sapling - this is the future for this wooden seemingly lifeless pip full of the potential for growth - what lies ahead for you is unknown but shapable by your hopes, dreams, plans, prayers and efforts.

Now take a pot and plant your stone -whilst doing so reflect on what Martin Luther King dreamed of and what you inturn hope and plan to have done and be doing when it is 10 years old and 12 feet tall;
when it is 50 years old ladenned with blossom, fruit and glorious autumn colour - who and what will still be affected by the legacy of our lives;
when it is 100 years old in the twenty second century, will the hope we had to make the world a better place have a monument to it still in this trees swaying branches - will your dream have become reality - a promised land?
(During this time of reflection the music will play a speech and images of MLK http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGXeA8tsJ2c)

Painting At The Old Cottage

2009-07-05T14:25:00.000-07:00

Today I visited the garden of a friend who died suddenly last year. The Old Cottage at Colby Corner in Norfolk was and remains a beautiful inspiring garden full of charm and design. Judith Clarke had a wonderful eye for colour and structure and combined plants to show them at their best through the juxtaposition of complimentary or contrasting shapes, forms or hues.
Before leaving I felt encouraged by my pilgrimage to one of my favourite places to reach for my art supplies. Handling them between my fingers - the familiarity of the brushes and paint boxes, still covered by the patina of paint residue from their last use years ago, communicated a desire to use them again. I found an old bottle with a stopper and a jar that sat comfortably on its neck, a part used sketch pad and my lovely watercolour case and carried them with me to the car... Just in case.
The garden was remarkably similar to memory and it seemed as if Judith was in some way still there. I wandered lazily, noticing possible compositions and lingered over a delicious cream tea. After spending much time and money on the bargain plant sale - picking up exotic treasures like a catalpa, crimuns, olleander, and a beautiful old terracotta pot brimming with eucomis - I decided I would just get out my sketch book and maybe take my paints along and might just do a few sketches in honour of Judith. And dear reader I painted - not well - not remarkably - but a watercolour sketch nonetheless of bergamot, lillies, delphiniums, persercarias and a cool lemon yellow hollyhock. I may even have presented a romantic picture myself in my floppy brimmed rafia sunhat crossed legged on a picnic rug surrounded by brushes, paints and jam jar.

Johnny Depp, Swine Flu and Fossilised Hyena Poo

2009-06-17T14:04:00.000-07:00

Jeopardy Answer for 20 - "Things that are currently to be found in North Norfolk"??!?
At The dig on happisburgh Beach they are looking at a layer of gravel that was once a forest floor over 400,000 years ago. In it they have found hippo and mamoth bones and hyena coprolite. How do they know it is fossilised Hyena poo I hear you cry - well the guy is an expert in Hyena coprolite from the Natural History Museum and apparently it is a) text book in shape and size and b) there was nothing else doing poos like that in that location in that period.
Johnny Depp is rumoured to be buying a farm in or near Mundesley - but the facts have yet to be substantiated - I just can't imagine Johnny and the inhabitants of Mundesley coexisiting somehow - It is not the most cultural and bohemian place in North Norfolk and celebrities are few and far between - but maybe just maybe he has heard about John Major living in the area.
Sadly a little girl at my son's school has contacted Swine Flu as in the N1H1 strain. She has just got back from a holiday in Florida - had a jam packed birthday party and then fell ill her first morning back at school. I pray that her and her family will be well and that the spread of the epidemic here will be contained. My little boy's school is closed for a week in hope of controling the spread.
Having been chastised when sneezing in the supermarket, a few weeks ago from allergies by a hypersensitive shopper, for not using a tissue. Now when I sneeze in the supermarket aisle from hayfever, I will have to be extra careful to have a tissue with me - as the wider public will be jumpy and trigger happy to say the least. I may not be a carrier of the plague but I get a feeling I may be lynched inbetween the bulgar wheat and the porcini mushrooms if not circumspect.

Jesus Vs a Velociraptor

2009-06-14T14:09:00.000-07:00

On Cecilia's Blog she has posted about her children's discussion on "epic face-offs" - which I will copy you into because it is great:
"I waltzed in the kitchen door late Thursday and announced to my children: I'm going to cook dinner. Alert the media!
And I did, and when we were at table, after having said grace, my children said unto me:
Petra: So at church some of the kids and I were talking about, you know, epic face-offs.
Larry: Pirates vs. Ninjas?
Petra: Yeah, stuff like that... Batman vs. Spider Man, Spider Man vs. a velociraptor...
Cecilia: A velociraptor??
Petra: Yeah, and then someone said, What about Jesus vs. a velociraptor?
Larry: Oh! Score!
Petra: And all around the table, everybody was saying, Oh Jesus, of course, Jesus.
Cecilia: Mmm hmmm...
Petra: And I said, the velociraptor!
Larry: OH! PK strikes back!
Cecilia: (laughing)
Petra: I mean, think about it. Jesus didn't resist when people tried to kill him... so he'd just let the velociraptor kill him, and then come back from the dead. But they were all saying, Well he would perform a miracle. And I said, What kind of miracle? He never zapped anyone with his power, right?
Larry: Yeah... unless he, you know, multiplied the velociraptors... so that there were like, 5000 of them. In which case...
Cecilia: (helpless laughing) "

It reminds me that I was just talking tonight about Jesus Vs Paul.
I was at a party last night and most people now know about me and my girlfriend - so the icy reception from some rather judgemental Evangelicals should have been expected. One had a heated argument with me about expelling the immoral brother before she knew I was not straight. So no surprises she would not meet return my smile or credit me with a presence.
And now I get to the point - Why is it the judgemental side of the evangelical church put so much weight on Paul's teachings and rules - no women in leadership - expelling those who are sexually immoral etc. etc. - when they miss Jesus' example of realising that we are called to love one another as he has loved us - not turn our backs on those we diasgree with - excommunicate those who do not conform.
Pauls is amazing - wisdom beyond nearly all - but he lived in a culture and an historical period - was OCD - or at best OTT. Why do so many Christian's use his letter's to specific churches at a specific time to beat others up with?
So in the battle Paul V's Jesus - I hope and pray - as would Paul - that Jesus wins... But in the evangelical church Pauls seems to win out more often than not - or at least his most opressive rules.

Please win Jesus in the church as you would against a velociraptor - because it would know it's Lord and maker and would lie down as the lion will with the lamb.

P.S. When looking up images to add to the post I found some pertinent and some very crazy stuff about Jesus and Velociraptor's - I could never have imagined in a million years let alone a Jurassic period...

Transgendered Vs Cisgendered

2009-06-13T14:45:00.000-07:00

I think it is important for people to have a space to admit they struggle with things they feel they should be fine with. It is only when we deal openly and honestly with prejudice when there is a safe place to admit our limitations that we can grow towards more understanding and acceptance. So when on DTWOF a gay person admits they are uncomfortable with a lesbian wanting to transition - although that might not be the most supportive or politically progressive attitude - it needs to not be jumped on. The world can be so politically correct - it is easy to present a veneer of progressiveness - it is what is expected in liberal intelligent circles - but it is only when we are honest about where we are and allowed to make mistakes that we can trully develop. I am sorry that being different is so hard in this world - the human race are ultimately a herd animal - but I don’t apologise for giving people the freedom to admit they struggle with difference. I live in a remote part of the UK where until recently there were very very few people that were not WASP - so when a musician from Zimbabwe visited to do a dance workshop - the children needed to feel free to ask questions about her hair and skin - although as their teacher I was cringing inside - she was fine about it and they realised it was ok to ask questions - that is the only way to break down ignorance and the prejudice that accompanies it. I was always told not to look or ask when I saw a disabled person as a child and felt that there must be something deeply wrong and embarrassing about disability - It wasn’t until I dragged myself a long to volunteer at a holiday camp for young people with disabilites when I was 15 that I realised the strengths, gifts and wonderful contribution people of diability make in the world. It wasn’t something to worry about or feel embarrassed about - it was normal and natural - if sometimes both a gift and a curse in an able bodied world.
So I say where better to say ” why hasn’t that man got any clothes on?” as in The Emperor’s new clothes - to look stupid but be honest - than in the wonderful, challenging blog that dykestowatchoutfor.com is.

Hailing in Happisburgh

2009-06-11T13:54:00.000-07:00

Today I was on the beach in the middle of a thunder storm with lightning firing over the sea. It changed in seconds from the odd spot of rain to be weathered in an anorak, to howling winds and biting hail. I suddenly felt very exposed as the lightning rove the sky in two and I felt much taller on the flat beach than I would have liked. But it was awesome -what a place to experience the power of a storm - I got wet through to my undergarments despite a craghopper waterproof and had pools of water in my shoes. I did not flee the beach alone after ten minutes of braving the wind and hail finding my largest belemnite yet -serendipity indeed. The archeaologists on their dig also admitted defeat and carted their wheel barrow of finds up the many flights of metal stairs. They are from a medley of museums form the Natural History to the British and searching for evidence of early man on these shores. The handaxe found on a previous excavation showed that some of the first humans on British shores lived and hunted along the Norfolk coast. They know that where Happisburgh is was the mouth of an important river and the hunter gatherers would have opportunied on the watering animals and tidal foods. It was a pleasure to talk at length to an archaeologist from the Natural History museum. He was interested in my belemnite hunting and encouraged me in my pursuit. I also found a fossilised sea urchin that looked like a beautiful flower imprint on a pebble upside down. From that angle it is easy to see they are related to starfish.

A Fascinating Foray into Photos of Friendship

2009-06-09T11:36:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about friendship and its value. How one of my friends emigrated to the other side of the world for love but the loss of friendships have left a huge hole in her life. That you can spend your life looking for a romantic significant other and fail to notice that close friends can be, and often are, the significant others that partners are a pale imitation of. How when a friend becomes a lover you risk losing that friendship. That friendship - especially accompanied by cups of tea - can make the world seem a much better place. Despite many deep and meaningful thought processes -I found that lyrical poetry and witty anecdotes fail me and so I express myself through the oddities of a google image search. How friendship is expressed in different forms from Amish friendship bread to Rwandan Friendship baskets, from paintings by Picasso to American friendship quilts, from schmaltzy kitten posters to dayglo slogans, from ancient skooners to Norwich swing bridges, from Charlie Chapman to the hairy arm brigade - not to mention the full frontal nude melange of the friendship village - not displayed here for reasons of followers sensitivities. Friendship is a universal and incredible thing not to be taken or let go of lightly - but boy does it make some people a little loony in the Hallmark department. Hope you enjoy mes amies.

Faith and sexuality unedited

2009-06-07T10:58:00.001-07:00

A good friendship developed and I was introduced to his church. It was an exciting time, a church plant on a new estate, it had vision and leadership and passion. The people were some of the most happy and inspirational people I had ever met and I wanted to be part of it - belong. So I was confirmed, became a member of the family and a surrogate child to many of the great people who went to the church. However, despite having loved the Jesus of a pictue bible I had as a child, I really thought of him as just that, a hero from a fairy story, a knight in shining armour. So I thought we all knew really that it couldn't be true, but it was nice to believe in.
So you can imagine when times became hard I found solace elsewhere, buried myself in drugs and sex. Going away to university enabled me to hide even better, especially from myself. The church still cared, were worried but stood by me without judgement when I let them close enough.
It was at university I had my first encounter with a beautiful girl called Ruth. She was beautiful and I mean Gwenyth Paltrow beautiful and I became friends with her and her boyfriend on a Student coomunity Action Project. We socialised and then spent nights as threesomes, not really doing much. But when abandoned in the bed with Ruth as boyfriend sought the greater comfort of the sofa. The dynamics changed. We had a brief affair, she loved her boyfriend but still sought me out. The it was over. Labelled a sexual experiment. A rite of passage - nothing more.
At the end of my second year of university - I was flunkingout, having a break down - years of coping with my father's mental illness, continual suicide attempts, my own sexual and substance misadventure had taken their toll. I was at the end of hope and failing all my courses due to fact I now found it practically impossible to leave the house or talk to anyone.
One night after another suicidal cry for help from my father - I had had enough. I remembered one key thing from my time in the church - "Ask and you shall be answered, knock and the door shall be opened, seek and you shall find". And so I started shouting- if not screaming at God - If you are real you've got to show yourself or I'm jumping off Clifton suspension Bridge.
In the middle of this tiraid, the whole room filled with light and I could feel a force, that can only be described as a whole stadium of Manchester United Football supporters cheering for me. It was love - the most powerful thing I have ever experienced.
It was the middle of the night - I had on orange tartan pyjamas, scary bed hair - but I pulled on my trainers and ran to the local church through the civilized Clifton streets. Inside the porch I found a bible and read and talked to God??!!
I knew I needed more than experience though and returned on sunday to listen to, of all things, a sermon on reasons for belief. Through support and Alpha - I began to know you could believe through your head and your heart - you didn't need to turn off reason to believe. In fact you could embrace your minds questions and delve deeper.

it is hers full version

2009-06-07T10:55:00.001-07:00

This summer I met this girl, the girl who had left a scent on my life since I was so much younger. I met her in a friend I began to know differently. I found her in Hebe's vitality, her irridescent beauty, her courage and conviction - the magic. As "Sleepless in SeatIe" put it. "It was like coming home. Only to no home I had ever known before" (please forgive misquotes all you pedants out there).
Louis MacNeice also prophescied about her :

You who to me among women, stand for so much that I wish for,
I thank you my dear for the example of living like a fugue and moving
For few are able to keep moving they lag and flag in the traffic
But you are alive beyond question, like the dazzle on the sea, my darling.

I am admittedly a born romantic - an escapist truth be told. But I didn't waste my life away waiting or looking for this girl - I lived - fully and with integrity ( most of the time - at least that was my aim). I never knew she existed but I was surprised to find her. As C.S Lewis said "Surprised by joy". The cynics of you out there will think this a silly blog - perhaps me a silly woman. But it is in that sentence that you realise all is not as it seems. I was a married primary school teacher, a christian no less. Struggling to make a marriage scarred by domestic violence work for 9 years, believing marriage was for life, suffering was to be endured, there were no let outs except adultery on the other partners side. I didn't leave my husband for Hebe but sitting in therapy listening to the profound depth of his problems and the shere incompatibility of our expectations and personalities - I realised I could work at my marriage for a life time and stil not want to be with him because I now knew what it was like to feel respect, admiration and inspiration for someone - someone who took my breath away.

I wrote this my own verse to try in part to extrapolate ( sorry for the plagarised line). To capture her - her beauty - her vibrancy - her light :

Irridescent beauty flickers
At the corner of vision,
Reflecting on the constant undulating tide.
It plays lighter than thought on the waves,
Unhindered, without ebb:
The dazzle on the sea.

It has not been a smooth ride, nor always one of which I was proud. But I am proud of her. I wish you all could know her. I hope that I will continue to know her. Being good friends with her - I began to write poetry again, play the guitar and sing again, dance again, enjoy my children again, be excited by my faith again, and connect with my core values and beliefs. Do not be mistaken she is not perfect, by no means. She is infuriating in many ways but admittedly far less than me. I am sure I will moan about these in time, but right now, I wanted to start blogging by telling you all what a precious, beautiful, inspirational person Hebe is and that I will always be glad, no matter what, to have known her.

Encountering God through Belemnite Beachcombing

2009-06-06T09:44:00.000-07:00

"Your activity is: Silence. Be deliberately silent, in a way you wouldn't usually. How you choose to approach this is entirely your call, but try to step out of your comfort zone a little, and notice what happens. All we ask is that you do it regularly (every day potentially) and do it mindfully / being open to encountering God through the activity. This is your act of worship, as it were."
Silence is a challenging thing for the mentally unwell. Very little is still or silent. Infact the attempt to be Silent made me more aware of the thoughts and concerns racing through my head. By chance I was collecting belemnites on Happisburgh beach and I realised I had been silent, calm and at one with God... So began my daily vigil of flasks of tea and beachcombing, accompanied by the awe inspiring crashing roar of the rough seas off this coast.
In belemnite hunting I have learnt more than I ever could have imagined about God or as New wine 2008 taught us "Isn't Jesus just like ... belemnites"

1) Belemnites are sometimes easy to recognise - sometimes surprisingly difficult to recognise
They come in 3 main shapes - conical, cylindrical and nippled- and lots of sizes, surprisingly different in colour and texture, but so often a glowing amber like jewel. One can often mistake rounded pebbles on their side or half buried stones with only a ridge remaining for belemnites. There is also a type of quartz found on Happisburgh beach that emulates their colour perfectly. So they are the veritable needle in the haystack albeit the pointed stone in the pile of similarly coloured stones. Sometimes belemnites themselves will appear encased in rock or too dark, too damaged, too rock like to attract instant recognition. Isn't seeking God just like that?! Sometimes he reveals himself as we are expecting, but sometimes will appear in forms and outworkings we do not immediately recognise. I even think that this is his preferred way of communicating with us - like parables - less than straight forward but far more rewarding in the contemplation and uplifting in the unexpected.

2) Belemnites are sometimes easy to find - sometimes surprisingly difficult to find
Often you will find belemnites scattered on the edges of small shingle banks near the low tide line, under the ageing sea defences and grounded in piles of pebbles left by the retreating tide, but not always. Sometimes they are proud and true on their own, well clear of the tide line, uncamouflaged waiting to be spotted, other times clustered together in a cache - finding one will lead to another and another. After certain tides they will be deposited by the benevolent sea in abundance, littering the shore. But on other days there will be a thick deposit of sand with few shingle piles to search and fewer belemnites to recover. Faithful searching has always rendered some reward - miraculously three tiny fragments one very high and blustery tide and 101 glorious fossils found by systematically searching over the banks on a more bountious day. Once there was a perfect one found when lifting up my foot, other times I felt led to fine or unusual specimens. Once I felt that if I kept searching in a particular place faithfully I would be rewarded and sure enough I found a beauty. Whether I was guided or would have found particular belemnites regardless is up for discussion but still isn't Jesus just like that?! Sometimes so easy to find, so willing to be found and sometimes, as in the Song of Songs, teasing in remaining just out of reach, challenging us to make a greater effort, trust, remain faithful, find more of ourselves to search. Revealing both more about ourselves and Him in the journey or pursuit. "When you search for me with your whole heart you will find me".

Belemnites swam in shallow seas in the cretaetsus and jurassic periods, they lived alongside the iconic dinosaurs millions of years ago. These fossilised relics may have been untouched by a living thing from that time, until washed from the eroded cliffs and smoothed by the sea, they are deposited - glowing amber gems on the shingle of our beaches to be found and stored in glass jars of curiosity. A precious pearl indeed - Isn't Jesus just like that?!

Picnics and Hats

2009-05-23T08:21:00.000-07:00

I went with my two children to Hoveton hall again today. We had a lovely hike around - My little girl (3) even walked all the way to the ice house - albeit a bit perturbed by both the family of geese and nursing sheep in our path. All the rhododendrons were out in full scenting the air and filling the skyline with colour. We then had a late picnic, from my new basket, of wraps, grapes and homemade carrot cake. The flask of tea was a very welcome treat indeed after a morning with two tired children. There really is nothing like tea and cake - the one without the other is still nice but there is a certain magic of the two together - more than the sum of its parts. I wore my new raffia sunhat and felt fitting sitting on the picnic rug surrounded by the beautiful English countryside and strolling along flower borders.

2009-05-22T07:40:00.001-07:00

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory -
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Shelley (1792-1822)

XXI

2009-05-22T06:40:00.000-07:00

XXI
The dark lintels, the blue and foreign stones
of the great round rippled by stone implements
the midsummer night light rising from beneath
the horizon - where I said "a cleft of light"
I meant this. And this is not Stonehenge
simply nor any place but the mind
casting back to where her solitude,
Shared, could be chosen without loneliness,
not easily nor without pains to stake out
the circle, the heavy shadows, the great light.
I choose to be the figure in that light,
half - blotted by darkness, something moving
across that space, the color of stone
greeting the moon, yet more than stone:
a woman. I choose to walk here. And to draw this circle.

Adrienne Rich

My Wonderful Weekend

2009-05-17T14:15:00.000-07:00

Freedom?2

2009-05-13T13:20:00.000-07:00

I had a discussion with a liberal feminist friend the other day about women's freedom to wear what they want. Her sister works in Kuwait and has to cover up and she sees muslim dress codes for women as oppressive. I do not disagree with her in essence but we do disagree about the relative freedom of being able to wear what you like. On a saturday night my local city is full of young girls wearing next to nothing - even on very cold nights. I question that this is an expression of freedom - as many of them are chained to behaving in certain ways to pick up a man. If a woman dresses as she wants for herself it is one thing, but if it is to attract a man and this often involves being freezing cold or uncomfortable, then to me she is potentially less mentally free than a muslim girl who chooses to take the veil. Obviously, living in a free state to pass comment may seem trite, but still I think there is often the illusion of external freedoms, when actually mentally we are far from free.

Freedom?

2009-05-12T11:15:00.000-07:00

At the Publishing Triangle Awards event last week in New York Martin Duberman received a lifetime achievement award, and spoke about "how assimilation isn’t the point, and how the gay and lesbian community's focus as a movement on inclusion in institutions like marriage distracts them from more systemic problems like poverty, education, and health care."
If freedom to marry a distraction from the bigger issues and are those other battles being lost because of the diversion? Sometimes you can focus so much on one battle you can lose the war.

Amigurumi and The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

2009-05-07T14:27:00.000-07:00

Today I learned that:
1)"Amigurumi is the Japanese art of knitting or crocheting small stuffed animals and anthropomorphic creatures. The word is derived from a combination of the Japanese words ami, meaning crocheted or knitted, and nuigurumi, meaning stuffed doll. Amigurumi are typically cute animals (such as bears, rabbits, cats, dogs, etc.), but can include inanimate objects endowed with anthropomorphic features. Amigurumi can be either knitted or crocheted. In recent years crocheted amigurumi are more popular and more commonly seen." Thank you Aunt Soozie and wikipedia.

2) There exists a website for the Church of The Flying Spaghetti Monster - with excellent posts of sightings of this omnipresent pasta diety: http://www.venganza.org/
3)A swift is a knitting tool so you can not look up knitted swifts - without seeing hundreds of many armed apparatus upon which to wind wool. So to mark the return of summer's swift I leave you with a knitted swallows instead:

Knitted Dung Beetles

2009-05-06T12:00:00.001-07:00

Not to be out done by the wooly Belemites, I was determined that Dung beetles would have their day in crochet. So I did a google search and what came up was the sublime to the ridiculous. Genuinely all these images ( and many more) came up for the search "knitted dung beetles". Enjoy!

Beetle Safari

2009-05-05T01:42:00.000-07:00

The woods are beautiful in the England at the moment. So many shades of green in the emerging leaves. The Horse chestnuts are in flower and the oaks must be too because there is an almost deafening buzzing coming from their canopies. My not so little boy Noah (5), Litle girl Lucy ( 3 last month) and I went for a minibeast hunt in the local woods to find dung beatles - just like medium sized scarabs - rolling dung into balls and all. I just thought they were of African origin so was amazed the first time I saw them stumbling slowly over the paths with their loads or even behaving amorously ( spring is in the air afterall!). But sadly they are so slow moving there were far more dead than alive - crushed by unobservant walkers and cyclists. They are irridescent - seeming black but glowing midnight blue in the light. Lumbering like gentle giants. May be we should follow South Africa's example to protect our rare and wonderful wildlife:

Loss

2009-04-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

Promises broken
Truth diminished
Beauty forsaken
Hopeless love finished.

Blossom

2009-04-29T01:25:00.000-07:00

It would be a hardened soul who could stand beneath the canopy of a cherry tree right now and not be moved by the beauty of the blossom. The way the petals fall like gentle rain is enchanting - taking you back to childhood ideas of fairies and magic places. I was always scornful of the trunks of cherry trees - they are ringed, knobbly and often gnarled - but I must have forgotten to look up and be transported... Loveliest of Trees the cherry.
I would like a cherry tree planted at the site of my burial be it ashes or body. So my nutrients may burst into life twice a year for the cascading beauty of the blossom and the glowing autumn leaves. I just feel that even when every one living had forgotten, some of the energy and beauty would remain - live on touching people’s lives. I guess I am incurably sentimental (or just mental). But still I say - Loveliest of Trees the Cherry!

Artful Gardens

2009-04-25T09:47:00.000-07:00

Today was really warm and sunny so the children and I spent lots of time in the garden. The best bit was when I unrolled a a long line of lining paper weighted down by bricks and rocks and we did lots of wonderful drawings all over it -from pirate boats to giant "minibeasts". Until I popped inside and Lucy decided that to draw all over our slide, herself and her brother would be much more fun. Noah tried to help by cleaning up with my white hand towel from the bathroom - or should I say now - not so white. Blink and they are up to mischief. I looked up garden art to find an image to go with this post and came across this gem of a photo among the many google images - it's called "Tomato man and cucumber catepillar" - looks like there is more artful goings on ripe for the rest of the spring and summer. I think I should send it to Rock Cookie Bottom for a song request - but I am not convinced cucumber catepillar won't be made polyamorous or a fetishist!!!!!

Who are the terrorists?

2009-04-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

In the US waterboarding is a legal practice because it is deemed to not cause "pain and suffering", as these accordingly, are not two separate entities. Jonathan Mann www.rockcookiebottom.com did a fabulous song just singing the memorandum on Waterboarding released by the government that summises that waterboarding is not torture:
"the detainee is lying on a gurney that’s inclined at an angle: 10 to 15 degrees, a cloth is placed over the detainee’s face cold water is poured on the cloth. The wet cloth creates a barrier through which it is difficult, or in some cases not possible, for the detainee to breathe. If the detainee makes an effort to defeat the technique by twisting his head to the side and breathing out the corner of his mouth, the interrogator may cup his hands around the detainees nose and mouth in which case it would not be posible for him to breathe... The waterboard is simply a controlled acute episode, lacking the connotation of a protracted period of time generally given to suffering.

Torture is always pshycological - so pain becomes the fear of pain, waterboarding the fear of not being able to breath and ultimately death. That it could be done without “pain and therefore suffering” would make it a pointless exercise - surely it is done to extract information - I doubt this would be possible without real fear on the part of the detainee. Why would anyone even try and rationalise this. If it is a necessary evil stand by this, not by trying to make it sound like a harmless occurence. I don’t think any thing can justify torture - behaving in a dehumanising way - it delegitimises claims to moral superiority. The threat from Alquaeda is based in the hatred they have of the west and westerners. So torturing detainees and supporting this through moral and legal arguments - shows the west to not only be corrupt but hypocritical. The very governments that condemn the Taliban -who openly carry out torture and murder - make their involvement in such nations to support the creation of liberal and democratic regimes even more spurious. Is there ever justification for torture? Is waterboarding a more acceptable form of torture? Will what has happened in Cuba make the world a safer place?

Climbing Trees

2009-04-20T01:56:00.000-07:00

As a child I loved climbing trees - being scared of heights increased the thrill - there was not a place I played that there was not a tree with a den in it. I often got stuck, sometimes fell down - the worst was a sprain ( although, my brother did break his arm falling out of a tree trying to avoid being stung by a wasp!) but you feel like king of the world in a tree above the heads of adults - sometimes walking underneath unaware of the adventurer lurking in the leaves and branches. The trees all had names ; Bertie was a pollarded oak tree with a hollowed out crown in his upper trunk - reached by a ricketty rope ladder. My childhood was liberated - free to roam and adventure - often miles from home in remote places surrounded by the wind and the wild. This life was probably fraught with potential risks but the real damage didn't lie in burnt out pill boxes, abandoned railway carriages, smashed up war shelters, mud flats, creeks or fallen tree bridges over deep ponds - it lay in the words and actions of my family. To escape to the swaying top of a tree did not pose the risk, because broken bones can be mended in nearly all cases, but spirits are much more fragile and much harder to heal.
On the Dykes To Watch Out For Blog they are discussing airport security reactions to the risk of terrorism. I understand that it is responsible to have greater security to adapt as risks become apparent - just like it is worthwhile having risk assessments when you take children on a school trip - But somehow I am sad - children are discouraged from climbing trees - playing outside without an adult. We are suspiscious of people resembling stereotypes of Muslims - even Brazilians - just in the same way every Irish person was suspected and questioned during IRA attacks on the UK. Probably Basques are treated with the same suspiscion in Spain, Tamils in Sri Lanka etc. etc. So many governements are concerned with seeming to do something to react to risks - but much of this is crazy and pointless as if closing the house door after the horse has bolted out of the stable - like banning beef on the bone after the Mad Cow Crisis in the UK - when the risk was infintessimle (sp?) whilst having allowed animals to be ground up and fed to other herbivore animals had previously been legal.
I don’t know how the world can become less mad - full of concern over what might happen - so that we often stop living life to the full today. Everything seems more likely, somehow closer with Media coverage bringing it right into our homes every day.
I know I find it hard not to want to caution my children to the point that they are nervous of strangers and worried about potential hazards - but where is the balance? What would be a sensible way to deal with the threats of: terrorism, peadophiles and accidents waiting to happen? How can we live life to the full, without worry holding us back, and not be reckless in the face of real risks? How can I enable my children to climb trees and feel like kings of the world - without communicating wordlessly my concern about what might happen?

A Brief Study of Belemnites

2009-04-14T10:13:00.002-07:00

In the Garden

2009-04-14T09:53:00.001-07:00

My Lord Derby apple tree is in flower. It has beautiful blossoms with red tinged backs to the petals - reminiscent of raspberry ripple when open and mixed with the pure white inner petals. The solomons seal is unfurling day by day, strangely reptilian as it emerges from the warmed spring soil. Where there is growth and life there is hope.

Love and Sex

2009-04-14T05:32:00.000-07:00

Last night my girlfriend muted the fact that she would like a threesome - being a Christian I was appalled at thought of sex without love - the harm this has already done me in my life. But she thinks that there is nothing wrong with it - that sex is just sex - it is not to do with love and that God wouldn't mind a threesome.
I balked, fell apart - it has taken me so much to have a relationship with her when I have been taught for so long homosexuality is wrong - even when I didn't agree it still took a huge amount of love to be intimate with her.
She has ended things this morning because she doesn't want to deny her sexuality the way she has for so long - all of it both the homosexuality and the fantasies. She feels most Christians will say all of it is wrong, from masturbation to sex aids so the morality of it is irrelevant. I am a victim of sexual abuse as a child and for sex to be anything other than love is like torture for me and she doesn't want to hurt me more.
But to lose her like this is a horror in itself - bringing constantly to the surface the feelings of being dirty - that what we had is diminished - tarnished. I know it is all very dysfunctional but we have grown so much together - come so far - through so much. How do I deal with this? What is and isn't right sexually and in what contexts?

MILK

2009-04-12T15:03:00.000-07:00

I saw Milk last night ( Finally!!!)- I had no idea about the history of discrimination against homosexuals in US - how barbaric their treatment was until comparatively very recently… that their lives and livelihoods were constantly at risk in even progressive ares of the country. Can I just say that I am so sorry - I had no idea! I am ashamed to say after watching it that I am a Christian and now want to be a closet Christian!!!!! I felt so proud of the gay rights movement and so ashamed of the church. I really struggle with faith and my sexuality and feel like I have a split identity. So is it possible to have faith and be gay and not compromise on either??? I feel slightly schizophrenic. But I am humbled by the man Harvey Milk was and the courage he and the gay community in San Francisco showed.

All Shall Be Well

2009-04-07T12:51:00.000-07:00

Mother Julian of Norwich is famous for saying: "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." Today Vermont legalized same-sex marriage and the joy of so many in the US is trully uplifting. It has survived the governors attempt to veto and joins Massachusetts, Connecticut and Iowa as the four states who allow gay marriage. Although, it is the first state to have a statute passsed by the legislature and not have the decision imposed by the states' high courts. So I would say Vermont is definitely not a redneck kind of place. Other news just in... Same sex relationships are recovering in Norfolk this week, and there is hope of them beginning to thrive.

Take 5

2009-04-04T23:57:00.000-07:00

I cannot explain what a spiritual home Take 5 Cafe Bar is to me. I first started going there over ten years ago when it was the bar to Cinema City. Relaxed Saturdays spent nursing cups of coffee, lazily absorbing newspaper text and people's lives, maybe a good book or poetry. Sometimes writing obscure observations or sketching a passing frame. There have been few places in my life where I can be so me - nurtured by the positivity and great atmosphere of the place. There is a background buzz of creativity and culture - as if you were standing beside a hive of bees. Although on a Saturday night it still gets a few drinkers unaware of the cultural milieu that surrounds them, overall the customers are an ecletic mix - touched by the energy and positivity of the place.
But then you get to the staff - they are like family ( an assortment of familiar photos taped to the wall)- engaging, interesting and personal. It takes very little for them to know you and even less for you to like them. And don't get me started on the two lovely Davids...
Its location now just down from Tombland is slightly less architecturally prestigious than its former medieval hall - but the space is great and, bar slightly yucky toilets, feels very much like before with utilitarian tables and chairs, stripped wood floors and walls bedecked in art and photography - unpretensious but aesthetically pleasing.
Now I go more for the night life - somehow drinking or eating there is more fun than anywhere else and their vegetarian options are great ( their less vegetarian options go down well with others too).
So I raise a glass to Take 5 and thank God she was spared from the elegant understated makeover Cinema City had in mind for her. Maybe a lazy Saturday is on the horizon soon.

Alteration Finds

2009-04-02T10:19:00.000-07:00

Freedom and fear two elements of the universe with profound power. The one blinds the other gives sight. Fear can not be the end - perfect love drives out fear.
I believe - I believe in love - I believe it drives out fear - I believe in her.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep,
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Walk in Closet

2009-04-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

Cecilia put these thoughts on psalm 69 on her Closeted Pastor blog today: "Do not let others be put to shame because of me... that hits me pretty much right where I'm living today. Most days I'm able to put aside my severe anxiety ...but very real fear surfaces. People may well feel ashamed. They may well feel dishonored by my presence in their midst. I can only hope that will be a passing thing... But I feel that I will be called to account for hiding my true self from them. It is a betrayal they may have a hard time forgiving."
This spoke to me so much today - My girlfriend has or is very close to breaking up with me because of the fear of the consequences to her children and the fear of telling them about herself. It is hard - on one hand I believe you should be who you are and teach your children by example to accept people, be honest and celebrate who they are - but the school yard is a hard place for the child of any parent who is different let alone - gay. But vicars children get a certain amount of ridicule - does that mean their parent should not enter the ministry???? I just feel that if it wasn't for the lesbians who have stood up and been counted not hidden in a closet, the hope for the rest of us to ever be honest about ourselves would be a lifetime away. We stand on the backs of giants of trully brave women - who faced oppression and the constant risk of actual bodily harm - is it a choice to be honest about who we are and not act ashamed or a responsibility? I'm trully not sure! I am sure though, that walking back into the closet won't help anyone respect us now or in the future. What say you?

Dykes To Watch Out For

2009-03-30T11:26:00.000-07:00

I have had the immeasurable pleasure of discovering this political feminist comic strip - sadly after it has entered a sabbatical without obvious end. Despite (or maybe because of its title) it is so much more than a voyeurs eye view of lesbian acrobatics or the between the sheets lives of its characters. I have found it one of the funniest, thought provoking and stimulating reads of my life. Even reading it out of its real time political context it analyses political ideas, conduct and morality in an incredibly balanced way by juxtaposing different characters viewpoints and experiences. I, a politics graduate, feel like something has come alive in my brain again - oh yes that questioning and thinking for yourself and speaking out about attitudes and actions that are wrong matter. All this amidst Martha Stewart fetishes, Sex Toys R Us and hatches, matches and dispatches. But much much more than that it is hilarious - who'da thought you could be a political feminist and funny!!??!! So this is my Tip o' the nib to Alison Bechdel - God Bless her and all who sail in her! Follow Alison's Blog here: http://dykestowatchoutfor.com
View archive strips here: http://www.planetout.com/entertainment/comics/dtwof/archive/splash.html and here: http://dykestowatchoutfor.com/category/strip-archive

John Lewis, Friends and Honesty

2009-03-26T10:50:00.000-07:00

I have a good friend, she is training to be a vicar in the pioneering arm of the Church of England. No one talks sense like her - honest but caring. I feel a poor friend by comparison but am thankful she feels I am worth being friends with. Today ( as you may have guessed from the previous posting) I hit a black patch and even a trip to John Lewis with its cultured staff and customers, its pristene products that stand at a kind of moral attention, its reliability and commitment to customer service and quality - even this eden within the high street could not raise me out of my gloom. And then on the way home - dreading coming back to a grumpy husband (albeit separated) and screaming children - I thought of having a chat and a cup of tea with Heather. And she reached me. Thank you.

Drifting

2009-03-26T03:32:00.000-07:00

I am what would be technically termed not good. Losing myself somewhere in the uncertanties. Feeling that I am drifiting on an unfriendly sea. I want to anchor, tie on, be held on to; but still I drift. Ocassionally sighting the promise of safe haven, only to find rocks and sharp coral reefs in my path -lurking beneath.

Faithful one so unchanging.
Ageless one you're my rock of peace.
Lord of all I depend on you
I call out to you again and again.
I call out to you again and again.

You are my rock in times of trouble
You lift me up when I fall down.
All through the storm your love is the anchor
My hope is in you alone.

It is not what I feel. But is what I choose to believe- to hold onto. Where there is no human to depend on trust in there is God. Shame he can't come round for a cup of tea now and then.

Emerging

2009-03-24T02:56:00.000-07:00

Today I sent my Dad an email telling him about Hebe and that I treasure her. On Sunday whilst taking communion in my church flooded with golden morning light, a butterfly newly emerged from hibernating sunned itself on the altar. A coincidence? Just Nature? Or a gift? However you want to see it. That Tortoiseshell symbolised hope, re-emergence and peace to me. Sunning itself tired and battered in God's light. I a newly emerging butterfly of homosexuality hope and pray for the same warmth to greet me. Afterall who could not understand loving Hebe!

The Uncertainties of Being a Lesbian

2009-03-22T00:39:00.000-07:00

I follow a blog called Closeted Pastor about, believe it or not, a pastor in a small town who is a a lesbian and is closeted. She has had much angst over several years wether to come out to her congregation in a church organisation that is against using the gifts of gay people in leadership. She loves them wants to share her life with them but has waited all her life to find love with another woman, and rightly or wrongly, feels she has to choose between coming out and continuing to serve God as a pastor in her church organisation. This is changing - she feels God's proding - is less and less comfortable to keep a secret about the one she loves from the ones she loves.
And where am I ? I am not all that closeted - infact without curtains or blinds downstairs due to redecoration - I am far from closeted - but I have uncertainities, rightly or wrongly, I feel there is a cost I must count and I am not sure what it is or will be. I am not uncertain about Hebe - although she is habitually uncertain about me, about ending a 16 year marriage, about doing the wrong thing either way " Should I stay or should I go? If I go there will be trouble, if I stay it will be double!"
I didn't realise until yesterday, when the reality hit that her husband was looking at getting a new job elsewhere, that she considered going back. That infact the sand on which I stood was quick sand. I know that morally this is a very grey area, but I have discussed elsewhere the ins and outs; the failure of marriages badly - for myself foolishly- chosen; the relationships broken down beyond repair before we met. But children put a different slant on things - a greater fear of getting it wrong - of consequence. But I, from a "family" that stayed together "for the children", know that to grow up in a home of unhappiness and dysfunctional relationships is a poisonous pill for a child to swallow. But even straight uncomplicated parents will get it wrong on a ginormous scale -we are human - we are fallible - we are limited, tired and weighed down with expectations. Perfection is what a child expects of a parent - they settle for so much less, forgive so much - but subconsciously when younger and then glaringly consciously when teenage - they want infallibility, no embarrassment, no disappointments. And we do and will disappoint; embarrass; fall short; get it wrong.

This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

I, unlike Phillip Larkin, do not think the defacto that we are fucked up by our parents and in turn will fuck up our own, means that the joy and love and fun and bizarre that comes from having children is pointless. The great plus side that Larkin never experienced, is that when in turn our children become parents, they will realise, as have we, that it is a hard job and making mistakes is part of the journey, but most are not deliberate and we like them are just trying to do our best for the children we love to an inexplicable depth.

So back to the uncertainties, but knowing somethings are certain and that those uncertainites... ( as mathematical science puts it) "these uncertainties are important".

The Safest Place

2009-03-19T11:59:00.000-07:00

As I lay with you here
In the safest place I have ever known
Your breast beating in my ear
My cheek brushing the softness of you
I wander, in a half-dream
chasing wisps of ideas as they float all around me.

With my eyes closed
I flirt with the world
Inviting it to partake of me
Know me for who I am
and accept me.
I court the danger of its wicked mind
Its vicious tongue
and its damaging beliefs.

I take its hand
Talking to it as I would a child
And show it a gentler place

A place in my woman’s arms
Where there is no hatred
No pain or worry
The safest place I have ever known

Jo Malone

Copied from thissideofsanity.com

Time Stands Still

2009-03-19T11:22:00.000-07:00

Dissolving in warmth,
Melting into liquid honey.
Bathed by the setting sun,
Golden hypnotic ecstasy.

Bliss

2009-03-17T11:49:00.000-07:00

Today I spent the day with Hebe at Beth Chatto's gardens in Elmstead Market in Essex. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, full of spring flowers - a perfect pallet. Leaving early for the long journey we skipped breakfast and happily brunched on a cozy picnic blanket. Hebe made a wonderful spread of mint, corriander and apricot bulgar wheat, potato salad with fresh dill and gerkhins and tiny cherry tomatoes bursting with flavour. She must have read my blog because she also made spicy lentil soup with lovely fresh rolls. A feast for a queen! I know she made it especially for me and I felt loved and valued and that I really matter to her!
It was bliss!

Pegging out washing on the line

2009-03-15T12:34:00.000-07:00

I love to take time to peg out the washing on mild mornings and listen to the birds and insects. The bumblebees newly emerged were sleepily binging on daffodil pollen, once again I marvel at the size and wonder what miracle it is at the best of times, let alone half asleep, that they can take flight. The brimstone butterflies danced through the garden this weekend - they are the most beautiful sulphur yellowy green - true gymnasts of the air. As I pottered a woodpecker was drilling in the distance and the robin sat and watched me - head cocked on one side. Who would tumbledry and miss this eden.

En Plein Air

2009-03-14T00:48:00.000-07:00

The more you follow blog links the more you realise there are circles wihtin circles - the poets link to the politics - the art to the gardeners - the faith to the sexuality and yet I have discovered within them something that pops up in the most unexpected places - food bloggers. Some about packed lunches - even vegan (veganlunchbox.blogspot.com/), one exclusively on veggie burgers and of course so many more on afternoon tea - I wonder why that would attract my interest?!

I love the fact the vegan lunch boxer - loves to eat 'en plein air'. I share that passion - even ordinary food seems special eaten in the fresh air -add sunshine and a view of the sea, woods, streams or fields - and it is a feast that feeds the soul. Waxing lyrical I know, but the risk of a damp bottom (admittedly very high) and sand in the sandwiches -apparently lessened by giving children their own separate box - are so small compared to the enjoyment that bubbles up from a picnic. My friend has a passion for flasks and cake on the beach - one I am hoping to cultivate. How lovely to make the stronghold of seasonal summer sojourns, a retreat for a treat even in winter months - my mind is already thinking of soup in those flasks ( preferrably spicy lentil with the hint of coconut - yum), scarves wrapped round chilled cheeks and ears facing into the biting wind - feeling alive - living not hibernating: a picnic on winter beaches - you can always come home to a roaring fire.

But now we are looking ahead as the sod warms and buds burst forth, a mildness permeates the air - the chance to linger longer -while children paddle in the sea or streams - jars of collected treasures - oh yes!

I think a flask and some biscuits will accompany us on our walk this afternoon - and tomorrow... the hamper gets an airing!

Devotion

2009-03-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

Devotion is a heavy cross,
but you are lovely and direct;
the mystery of your attractions
is powerful as the key to life.

Scuffling of dreams is heard in spring,
rustle of news and truths. And your
family sprang from such beginnings.
Your mind's impartial as the air.

Lightly to waken, see again,
shake from the heart its wordy litter
and live in future days unchoked,
surely all that needs no great cunning.

Boris Paternak (1890-1960)

BODY, REMEMBER

2009-03-12T15:46:00.000-07:00

Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
not only the beds on which you lay,
but also those desires for you
that glowed plainly in the eyes,
and trembled in the voice - and some
chance obstacle made futile.
Now that all of them belong to the past,
it almost seems as if you had yielded
to those desires - how they glowed,
remember, in the eyes gazing at you;
how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember,
body.

C.P.CAVAFY (1863-1933)

Love is not love

2009-03-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown,although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom;
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

William Shakespeare

becoming me

2009-03-03T12:31:00.000-08:00

Today I saw a beautiful animation of the book Becoming Me. A multifaith creation story of how God created unique individuals out of himself in love and wonder. I am not sure about all the theology, but I do agree with its description of the relationship between people and God. That he constantly loves and watches over us.
Have a look at the video yourself at www.becomingme.com.
I work within the RE world and a book like this that can reach to the spiritual core of so many people, in so many situations, cultures and faiths, is a remarkable thing.

The Fugue

2009-02-28T08:46:00.001-08:00

It bubbles up gurgling with enjoyment,
Encouraging itself forward,
Propelled by enthusiasm.
Atom catches atom
Pulling each other onward,
Unguardedly grasping with shared excitement.
Cascading over rocks boyd by its momentum;
Teasing, caressing, taunting the stubborn surfaces.

And then it...
jumps -
Leaps forward
Arking into the free fall -
Exhilirated.
Soaring then plunging
Embraced by self.
Summasalting, roaring,
Gouging out halls.
Immersed it remembers,
Hears the call
And turns once more its thoughts to its end.

Slower now - burbling and sighing
Tickling through pebbles and reeds.
Communicating its pleasure in the journey.
Joined by sisters and brothers
The family grows - swells,
Flows powerfully in numbers.
Synchronized in smoothness,
Sleekly pulled by the immense purpose.

Contained, hemmed in,
Controlled but not tamed.
It pushes on ignoring the rude
hindrances to its spread.
More sure now of its approaching goal.
And finally...
It feels its reaching fingers
Entwined in loving tenderness,
Wecomed, absorbed, consumed.

Tea

2009-02-23T13:31:00.000-08:00

My closest friendships are based on a mutual love of chatting over cups of tea. Chats without tea - not the same. Tea without chats - just wouldn't happen. Tea is as important culturally in modern Britain as it always has been in traditional African culture. The astute visitor to Ethiopia or Sierra Leone is schooled in the essential good manners in accepting the offered hospitality of a drink of coffee or bush tea. A refused drink could cause offense for a generation. But even good friendships in England can be challenged with the refusal of the welcome that is embodied in a cup of tea or coffee. Relationships are cemented in the giving and receiving of hot drinks. Office politics smoothed by the generous offers to make drinks for your colleagues.
Tea, whilst admittedly not healthy to drink in excess, is also at its most charming when flowing freely. Pots seem to improve the tea fourfold, making it more rounded, mellow and fuller. Although here I should advise that to warm the pot is to bless the brew. Caution should also be taken with milk jugs, which tend to flow freely even into the cups that prefer of all things soya milk or even black tea. As I said much to Hebe's amusement, "The problem with jugs is you get carried away".
I will continue my musings on tea soon.

Harbingers of spring

2009-02-21T05:12:00.000-08:00

Today feels like spring. The air has a mild freshness to it and the late winter flowers are stretched wide in response to the sunshine. The snowdrops bob around in the breeze and the scent of the winter box ( sarcococa) is heavy in the air. Hellebore flowers open like jewels waiting to be lifted and treasured and everywhere shoots are emerging.

Opportunity

2009-02-20T01:24:00.000-08:00

He who bends to himself a joy
Does the winged life detroy;
But he who kisses joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.

If you trap the moment before it's ripe,
The tears of repentance you'll certainly wipe;
But, if once you let the ripe moment go,
You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

William Blake 1757-1827

Faith and Sexuality

2009-02-20T00:14:00.001-08:00

When I was 16 I met a boy who was different. He shone, was kind, exciting and wasn't obsessed with getting in my knickers. A good friendship developed and I was introduced to his church. It was an exciting time, a church plant on a new estate, it had vision and leadership and passion. The people were some of the most happy and inspirational people I had ever met and I wanted to be part of it - belong. So I was confirmed, became a member of the family and a surrogate child to many of the great people who went to the church. However, despite having loved the Jesus of a pictue bible I had as a child, I really thought of him as just that, a hero from a fairy story, a knight in shining armour. So I thought we all knew really that it couldn't be true, but it was nice to believe in.
So you can imagine when times became hard I found solace elsewhere, buried myself in drugs and sex. Going away to university enabled me to hide even better, especially from myself. The church still cared, were worried but stood by me without judgement when I let them close enough.

At the end of my second year of university - I was flunkingout, having a break down - years of coping with my father's mental illness, continual suicide attempts, my own sexual and substance misadventure had taken their toll. I was at the end of hope and failing all my courses due to fact I now found it practically impossible to leave the house or talk to anyone.
One night after another suicidal cry for help from my father - I had had enough. I remembered one key thing from my time in the church - "Ask and you shall be answered, knock and the door shall be opened, seek and you shall find". And so I started shouting- if not screaming at God - If you are real you've got to show yourself or I'm jumping off Clifton suspension Bridge.
In the middle of this tiraid, the whole room filled with light and I could feel a force, that can only be described as a whole stadium of Manchester United Football supporters cheering for me. It was love - the most powerful thing I have ever experienced.
It was the middle of the night - I had on orange tartan pyjamas, scary bed hair - but I pulled on my trainers and ran to the local church through the civilized Clifton streets. Inside the porch I found a bible and read and talked to God??!!
I knew I needed more than experience though and returned on sunday to listen to, of all things, a sermon on reasons for belief. Through support and Alpha - I began to know you could believe through your head and your heart - you didn't need to turn off reason to believe. In fact you could embrace your minds questions and delve deeper.

Uplifted Flight

2009-02-18T06:56:00.000-08:00

Vibrant beauty,
Free winged spirit,
Cresting in uplifted flight,
Rising above the hard winter landscape.
My spirit soars with you,
Bound to you.
Held by love.

Bright Meadows

2009-02-18T03:24:00.000-08:00

To lie in bright meadows
The damp bed of early summer grasses
Beneath our backs
Reminding us that there can be
Reality within happiness.
Shading our eyes
To search against the sun
For the larks
Singing in beauty,
Suspended in the liquid skies.
Lazy bees bumble over
The carpet of meadow flowers,
Unperturbed by the human form
In their path.
Heavy with golden pollen,
Accepting of the gifts
That we are so mistrustful of.
So let us lie in bright meadows
And be as a bee.

It is her!!

2009-02-18T02:10:00.000-08:00

Not only have I found my own muse. I have also found Louis MacNeice's (pictured). Her name was Nancy Coldstream formerly Sharp, laterly Spender, an artist and friend and collaborator with some of the most famous names of 20th Century Britain. (See her portrait of MacNeice at http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/largerimage.php?LinkID=mp09538&role=sit&rNo=0) Or search for it at the National Portrait Gallery. She had the most exciting and tragic life - a book and film of her life would be sensational. The world knew that she had lived in it. Fellow artsist Nicolette Devas recalled Nancy Sharp as "a long-legged bouncing girl with a lively intelligence who seemed to carry the zest of her native Bude sea breezes in her blood". Their studio was "a barrack-like place with a glass-domed roof. And there we slept and had parties. We lived in squalor. The beds were like old dog baskets. Our dirty washing and laundry piled up in a corner for weeks.
"The stews were wreathed in fungus and the food rotted in saucepans. The washing up fouled the sink until we washed up in desperation so that we could eat. The mice approved of our way of living and multiplied. We were terribly happy."

She even inspired Auden to consider an affair, despite being gay, he opted instead to remain her lodger.
Read about her and MacNeice in some of the obituary extracts below ( she died in 2001).

"Early in 1936, Auden introduced Nancy Coldstream to Louis MacNeice at the Cafe Royal. That autumn, MacNeice came across Mrs Coldstream pushing her pram back from Hampstead Heath and they stopped and talked. His "black velvet voice" brought to her mind a sentence from Isaiah, "Aha, I am warm, I have seen the fire." "I felt cheered, not to say warmed, for the next half-hour," she recalled.
The next January, Auden had MacNeice to supper at the Coldstreams, and after several more meetings - including a visit to Crufts Dog Show - Nancy Coldstream and MacNeice began a passionate affair.
When MacNeice was commissioned to follow in the footsteps of Dr Johnson in the Western Isles, he took Nancy Coldstream with him to provide the illustrations for his book, published as I Crossed The Minch (1938). William Coldstream raised no objection, perhaps having in mind Auden's candid observation that "Louis could be very convenient" keeping Nancy happy, while he got on with his painting.
The romance of the Hebridean trip was tempered by the rain - their beds were so damp that they slept in their greatcoats - and when she later read MacNeice's book she was struck by the grim memories that did not appear. But they delighted in each other's company and even talked of marriage, he promising her a bull mastiff bitch puppy for a wedding present.
As soon as they got home, however, she telephoned MacNeice telling him that she could not leave her husband. The affair nevertheless continued for some 18 months, much to the disgust of the nanny who looked after MacNeice's young son. This woman was besotted with her employer and would start doing the washing-up, with much banging and crashing, whenever MacNeice brought Nancy home for the night. "Louis got in a frenzy and couldn't operate at all, and I got furious," Nancy remembered.
MacNeice later returned to the Hebrides on his own and wrote for Nancy Coldstream the poem Leaving Barra: ". . . you who to me among women/Stand for so much that I wish for,/I thank you, my dear, for the example/Of living like a fugue and moving." He dedicated his new volume of poetry The Earth Compels (1938) to her, and included a powerful tribute in the poem many consider to be his masterpiece, Autumn Journal.
Nancy was beginning to find MacNeice tiresomely importunate and possessive. In the long poem he was working on, Autumn Journal, he included a long and evocative tribute to her. "September has come, it is hers / whose vitality leaps in the autumn," he wrote, but by then Nancy had met and fallen in love with Michael Spender, a scientist and explorer, and the elder brother of the poet Stephen. "The thing about Michael was that he had a foot in two worlds," she said, "which made Louis's world seem more and more claustrophobic." The affair with MacNeice was over, though they remained friends all his life.

On the outbreak of the Second World War, she left her children with her mother and became an ambulance driver, driving her vehicle bravely - if erratically - throughout the Blitz. The Coldstreams were divorced in 1942, and the next year she married Michael Spender, with whom she had a son, Philip. Her husband became a squadron leader in the RAF and an expert in aerial photography, but was killed in an air crash in the last week of the war.

Read the rest of the tale of her exciting life http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qn4158/is_20010625/ai_n14398785 or http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1310454/Nancy-Spender.html or http://www.guardian.co.uk/news/2001/jun/25/guardianobituaries.arts

She who binds to herself a joy

2009-02-17T12:14:00.000-08:00

Hebe introduced me to great blog when we first started to realise we had feelings for each other and decided for the first of many times to try to do the "right" thing and have no contact. Cecilia ( nom de blog) is a pastor in a small town who is in a same sex relationship. She wrote this recently in response to some people's disgust at lesbian love: "But part of sexual identity isn't just who you want to make love with: it's who sparks your soul, who makes you get lost in a conversation until the wee hours of the morning because you can't get enough of their sweet company, who makes you laugh and forget all the terrible things about yourself you walk around believing most of the time. Attraction isn't just physical. It's emotional. It's affectional. (A real word? Who knows?)"
Hebe is this to me -she sparks my soul!
We have come a long way in the last month - finally making a decision to be a couple - not just very good friends that screen!?! I found this hard - not because of what people might think - although that is always a factor - but because being a couple in my mind is about being everything to each other- I had no concept of being this in love and not wanting to spend every minute of the day with that person. Filling the time until I can be with her again. Wanting her to want to be with me as much as I want to be with her - so that I know I am loved. But this is neither realistic or possible for either of us and yet my heart and mind can't make sense of someone loving you this much and not making as much time for you as they possibly can. So I doubt. Doubt myself, doubt her, doubt the relationship. Freak out slightly, test the boundaries, question.
You can imagine how frustrating it has been for her on the other side of the mental impass. She has wanted to feel free and independent since entering into a heterosexual marriage for 16 years after losing the love of her life in a car crash. She has wanted to be the centre of another woman's life - to be loved completely - but has also craved independence and freedom from emotional expectations.
I need to trust her love, enjoy the time we have together and live fully inbetween. I hope she can be patient with me still and gentle in her defense of her independence. Ironically, I am not dependent on her, I am even quite self reliant and blessed with many good friends. But somewhere in me is a self-destruct button, that when I am in a relationship I feel the subliminal need to test it to the limit. Perversely if she wanted much more I may feel pressured and trapped, would probably react by pulling away. WHY ARE WE ARE OWN WORST ENEMIES? WHY DO WE WISH FOR WHAT WE WOULD PROBABLY STRUGGLE WITH IN REALITY?
So I pray for grace, patience and love. May we find a way through insecurity and personal demons and get back to enjoying just being without unrealistic expectaions and doubt.

I Ask the Wind

2009-02-16T12:25:00.000-08:00

I ask the wind
It is not that I am loved
But that SHE loves me
And so...

I ask the wind to caress her with the gentlest of breezes.
I ask the sun to bathe her in its comforting warmth.
I ask the moon to adorn the surfaces surrounding her in silver.
I ask them to tell her...
To tell her that I love her
And always will.

My Spirit Calls to You

2009-02-16T12:05:00.000-08:00

I lie awake and think of you
Your bubbling beauty.
My body calling to you across
The oblivious ploughed fields and still muddy lanes.
Insistent, perceivably silent, yet shouting still.

The stars undimmed by surburban glow
Shine down in their billions
On the space between,
Illuminating the innocent distance.
Lighting the journey of my spirit's voice
As it calls to you come home to me.
It will be heard and silent it will not be:
Come home to me.

Labyrinths

2009-02-16T11:35:00.001-08:00

"A Labyrinth is not a maze. There is only one entrance, one path and no choices, tricks or dead ends. A maze is designed to make you lose your way; it is a game. A Labyrinth serves the opposite purpose; it is designed to help you find your way. By encouraging you to walk without having to think about where to go next, it can enable you to be still, to let your mind escape the bustle of everyday life and reflect."
I first encountered Labyrinths at a Cathedral workshop. I find them an inspirational and moving experience. They can be created out of nearly anything, nearly anywhere and used in hundreds of ways. As an teacher I was fascinated by the potential to reach children and help them develop spiritually and emotionally through these sacred spaces.

I am reminded by the poem Leisure by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

So few children now are encouraged to look around them to appreciate the world and their place in it. The 'awe and wonder' children used to experience is often now lacking in their lives. But even the most deprived children when given the opportunity to experience sacred spaces are stimulated.
Some good websites for labyrinths are:

http://www.lessons4living.com http://www.labyrinthsociety.org/
Give them a go!

It is hers.

2009-02-16T08:28:00.000-08:00

This is my first blog post. I chose vitality leaps as my address from my favourite poem by Louis MacNeice from Autumn Journal:

September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fire-place;
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy;
Who has left a scent on my life and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow,
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls,
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.