Advent, Quakers and World-Changers

"Do you try to set aside times of quiet for openess to the Holy Spirit?  All of us need to find a way into silence which allows us to deepen our awareness of the divine and to find the inward source of our strength.  Seek to know an inward stillness, even amid the activities of daily life.  Do you encourage in yourself and others a habit of dependence on God's guidance for each day?  Hold yourself and others in the Light, knowing that all are cherished by God".

(Advices and Queries #3)

This morning I returned to the Quaker meeting in Penzance, to carry on with the whole 'stillness' thing.  I knew a little bit more what to expect after my last visit.  There were less people there and the room was freezing but everyone was very friendly and welcoming.

I spent the time reading some of the Advices and Queries (as above) and also the beginning of Luke.  I love reading about John the Baptist, and Advent is about the coming of Jesus into the world, but today I was more struck by the stories of those that ushered in those two amazing men: John's parent's - Elizabeth and Zechariah, and Mary and Joseph.  It's so easy to skim over texts so familiar and often read.  Today I tried to imagine just how it must have been... especially for Elizabeth and Mary.  Two normal, good-hearted women, going about life, unlikely to be expecting anything out of the ordinary.  And then, in an instant, the visit of an angel, and everything changed.  Two miraculous pregnancies shook their world and their sons changed it.  It's pretty hard to imagine, really, but I reckon I'll be pondering on it more.

Not many people spoke during the one hour of quiet, but what was said focused on the death of Nelson Mandela this week, and stories were shared of joining in anti-apartheid protests, visits to South Africa, and of the minute's applause at the Penzance rugby ground on Friday night.  Here was another man who had a tremendous impact on countless individuals around the world, and on the destiny of an entire nation. It's incredible, really. I know he was not perfect, but none of us are, and he never pretended to be.  Which makes me respect him more.

May we not forget the lessons learned.  May we learn something from these faithful men and women who lived both ordinary and extraordinary lives.  Who spoke up for the oppressed and called for change.

Hold yourself and others in the Light, knowing that all are cherished by God

Slowing down (in a snotty kind of way)

On Sunday I talked about slowing down.  And then that night I got sick, and am still recovering. 

Ironic?

 I've hardly been able to do any of the work I planned to do this week and instead have spent a lot of time under blankets watching the screen with snotty tissues scattered around.  Pretty frustrating -  but I have learned that 'Bridesmaids' wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, 'Kings of Summer' is a lovely film, and that being ill destroyed my intentions of stopping watching 'Made in Chelsea'. Doh. 

I'm also learning that sometimes you have to tell people you can't do something, and that it usually isn't the end of the world, and that most things can wait.

Anywaaays, hubby has been wonderful as ever (he even wiped my brow with a warm flannel, which I don't remember anyone doing before!! i'm sure my mum did once upon a time...).  He's been poorly too though, so we've mainly been giving each other weak pats on the head, making a lot of lemsip/supermarketcheapbrandofsimilarproduct and taking turns sleeping in the living room to give the other person a good sleep. Fun times in our house, as you can imagine... feel sorry for bro-in-law, who's so far managed to avoid the lurgy!

Despite feeling rather sh*tty, I HAVE worn a dress everyday, even if just for a few hours between the baggy t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms.  And I'm quite enjoying getting out the pretty flowery ones I usually reserve for weddings and wearing them under my work shirt to waitress in!  (this photo is before I got ill, and left my makeup bag at a friend's... after that I didn't include my face in the photos!) 

I also did manage to put on the Advent Event I'd planned last night and I really enjoyed it.  A few people came and we spent a quiet hour in the House of Prayer with candles, silence, John chapter 1, Gungor, and prayers.  

This is one of the ones I used, from Ray Simpson's book of Celtic Prayers:

We wait in the darkness, expectantly, longingly.

Come, O God Most High

In the darkness we can see the splendour of the universe – blankets of stars,

The solitary glowing of the planets.

Come O God Most High

In the darkness of the womb mortals are nurtured

And the Christ-child was made ready for the journey into light

Come O God Most High

In the darkness the wise three found the star

That led them to you

Come, O God Most High

In the darkness of dreams you spoke to Joseph and the wise ones and you speak still to us

Come, O God Most High

In the darkness of despair and distress we watch for a sign of hope from the Light of Lights.

Come, O God Most High

Hello December... and Dressember!

Hello December.

November has been super hectic, and hopefully I will actually follow through on intentions to slow down a little a reflect upon Advent this month.

I fear that worries about money, and being 'useful', and of dark thoughts that might creep in should I be still for too long, have kept me rushing about in recent weeks. Hence no blog posts, barely any journal writing, no new poems, and a fair bit of stress.

At the same time, I am enjoying the jobs I have at the moment, which is a privilege, and a lot of the things I've been busy doing have been worthwhile. I think. It's about balance again, isn't it? And our motivation behind it all.  About finding peace in the midst of movement.  I think perhaps that's been the problem... losing my grip on peace. And forgetting that it's not all about me and what I achieve, or believe that I achieve.

With three weeks until we head north for Christmas with the family (I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!), and rather a lot to 'get done' before then, I don't know how still I'm going to manage to be, but here's to trying.  I am putting on three reflective evenings at the House of Prayer and I'm looking forward to them.  Even if no one else comes, I know it's important for me to start following through more on ideas that I have.

On that note, here's another idea that I'm following through on:

DRESSEMBER

What's that? I hear you ask... Well you've all heard of Movember, and seen the varied hairy experiments on many a man's face, and should know that its aim is to raise awareness of prostate cancer...

Well, Dressember follows a similar idea.  Women all over the world are committing to wearing a dress everyday of December in order to celebrate beauty and femininity (before you cringe too much, these are ideals that I often struggle with, so sure there'll be some ponderings on their meanings coming up soon!) and to raise support for International Justice Mission (IJM).  IJM is a human rights organisation that rescues victims of slavery, sexual violence and other forms of oppression.

So, thanks to the encouragement of a friend, I've decided to sign up and commit to wear only dresses this month.  If you know me, you'll know i'm not a particularly dress-y person, although I do like them.  So this will be an interesting challenge.

What would be amazing is if you sponsored me, which means donating to IJM.  I will be taking a photo each day to prove I'm following through on my commitment, and probably posting them up here every few days.

(The photo above is actually from last night, before a 3 Daft Monkeys gig, but that's another story!)

Exploring Cornwall: Ludgvan to Trencrom (and back!)

Well after yesterday's reflections I got myself out of bed early (ish!) while the sun was shining (ish!) and went off for a loooong walk.  I'd seen signs for the St Michael's Way so decided so walk part of that, starting from Ludgvan, a village near to where we live.  I had a vague route in mind but wasn't sure how long it would take, but I did end up reaching the point I'd wanted to, which is Trencrom Hill - an ancient hill fort with views of both the north and south coast.

Here's some photos and ponderings from along the way...

Until I saw this little sign I didn't realise that St Michael's Way is one of pilgrim routes that lead to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.  There are pilgrim paths all over Europe that are part of this network, so although I didn't pass any people this morning, I enjoyed wondering about who else had trodden the same paths.  Centuries ago, Celtic missionaries who sailed over from Island would have cut across from Lelant/Hayle to Marazion on foot to avoid sailing round Land's End.  Many places in the area are named after these 'saints' who brought Christianity to the land.

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.

Berries: a dash of vibrancy amongst the browns and greens, a sign of hope, tinged with pain

See how the wild flowers grow.  They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.

View of St Michael's mount from the top of Trencrom Hill

The earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world and all who live in it...

Who may ascend the hill of the Lord? Who may stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart...

Sometimes it takes a while to find the right path, and there are dead-ends, and turning back, and even fallen trees blocking the way, but keep searching and you'll get there eventually!

                                       ***

I'll be honest, I was quite tired and hungry by the time I reached the top of Trencrom, and then I still had to get back to the car again.  I could see Ludgvan church far off in the distance and wanted to take a different route as where I walked had been quite up and down and very muddy.  I stuck mainly to tiny back roads, going past big houses hidden away and abandoned farms.  I had to walk very close to a huge herd of cows who mooed very angrily at me (thank God for the electric bit of string that separated us!) and before long my feet were properly squelching in my hole-y trainers.  In typical Katrina fasion I also fell over, which didn't really hurt but kind of jarred my leg and back.

So what I'm trying to say is by the time I was walking up the road back to Ludgvan, after 3.5 hours walking, I was more than a little keen to get home.  And then I thought about people who don't have a home to go back to, like refugees fleeing war or natural disasters.  I thought about people who have to walk for miles each day with no meal to look forward to at the end of it.  I thought about the pilgrim missionaries from hundreds of years ago who were probably also often tired and hungry and wet and cold whilst on their journeys and yet they pressed on.

Although I may be struggling with feeling at home down here in the South West, I am so grateful that I have a house to live in.  Grateful for leftover stew from last night and grateful for a husband welcoming me back. Grateful for hot water for a shower.  Grateful that I have more than one pair of shoes.  Grateful to have the freedom and time to get out and walk the land and take photos and enjoy a peaceful Sunday morning exploring a beautiful little corner of the world.

And just to finish on a light note, I also saw and chatted to some pretty comedy animals on the way.  Like these guys... :-)

Winter coming and nature speaking

hey.

I haven't been writing as much as I would like to, partly due to a dodgy internet connection which means we have to take turns in our house using it - if it's working. AND somehow I am back to having three-and-a-bit jobs.  Part of the reason for taking on a new job (note-taking for people in higher education with disabilities) is because the hours of cleaning and waitress-ing have reduced significantly due to the change of season.

We are entering our first winter in the South West, and already see that Cornwall is a very different place out of the summer months.  I can't say I'm looking forward to winter.  I never do.  I'm not one of those people who enjoy the cold, and getting all wrapped up.  I'd rather it was sunny and warm all year round.  I would not go so far as to say that I suffer from SAD (seasonal affective disorder), but I can't deny the negative effect that the darkening evenings and drop in temperature and general greyness has on me.

As with quite a few things in life at the moment that have the potential to get me down in the dumps, I am trying to see winter from another perspective.  This week I've been thinking a lot about how nature speaks to us about God, and I don't mean just the obvious things like sunsets and stars.  I recently listened to a Nomad Podcast in which they interviewed a man called Bruce Stanley about 'Forest Church'.  The first time I heard of 'forest church' was at Greenbelt in the summer, but I must admit I dismissed it as toooo far out there and didn't go to any of their activities or 'rituals'.  But actually, I was judging something without learning about it and I really enjoyed listening to the interview in which Bruce talks about connecting with God through nature.  But more than that he reminded the listeners how Jesus so often referred to the natural world around him in his teaching and parables ... "look at the birds of the air... the wild flowers... the sparrows... the farmer sowing seed..." etc.  Clearly there's lessons to be learned if we just pay a bit more attention.

The day after listening to the podcast I happened to read chapter from my new book of thoughts from Rubem Alves*, which is right along the same lines:

"Have you ever seen any kind of anxiety walking through the countryside?  Or any wrath sailing side by side with the clouds?  Or any fear chirping like the birds? Never. These things do not exist in the countryside. They only exist in one's head. Thus, if my thoughts were identical to what I see, hear, smell and feel, walking through the countryside, my inner world would be like the outer world, and my mind would have the quiet simplicity of nature" (p.91)

I do love walking and find being out on my own by the sea or on a hill often far easier places to talk to God than in a church building.  But I think there's still a lot more to take in than I realise and I am challenged to take my time while outdoors to notice things, and perhaps to go with others to share the experience.

I'll be honest though, it is easier said than done.  I went for a walk the other evening mainly to clear my head after being on the computer all day.  Although we live in the middle of the countryside, going for walks from the house is actually quite difficult as there aren't many footpaths nearby due to a big quarry behind the house.  So really the choices are which narrow, winding country road to walk down - with no pavements and the risk of being run over by speeding cars!  The only view I had for most of the way was grey road, grey cloudy sky with the threat of rain, and high hedges that began to look menacing as daylight faded.  Not exactly inspiring.  More than anything it heightened the sense of loneliness that has been hovering over our house lately.  I talked to God as I walked but I can't say I felt very 'connected' to anything.  At the same time it was kind of refreshing not caring about getting wet as the rain started, and the wind did blow away a few cobwebs.

Then the flowers of the grass spoke up: The winter comes and with it the cold and the drought. It will look as if I am dead. But my seeds will have already been scattered. The spring will return, and with it the joy of children and games... (Rubem Alves/Alberto Caeiro)

"unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed.  But if it dies, it produces many seeds" (John 12:24)

Winter and death and the ends of things are necessary for new life to grow.  The changing of seasons is not something to be feared.  There is beauty if we look hard enough. And when spring comes, we'll appreciate it all the more!

one thing i do love about autumn,,, fireworks night!

*Transparencies of Eternity, 2010. Convivium Press

Sparrow song

His eye is on the sparrow
does that mean that no sparrows will fall?
I don't think so
winter whispers violently through crisping leaves
branches break
black hunters threaten
times to hide
times to take cover

But
His eye is on the sparrow, little one
And your song is in his ears
He sends the morning sun to caress your feathered head
and grows shining berries for your delight
Like the keenest of birdwatchers
He can tell you apart from your sisters and brothers
recognises your call without hesitation

His eye is upon you, little one
His eyes
He watches you
Watches over you
His hands are safer than the trees
He won't trap you
or stop you from flying
He will help you be strong
So don't let the winter
silence your song

for Phoebe, from Katrina, November 2013