continuing faith journeying…

This will be something of a rambling blogpost (understatement!)… some reflections, frustrations and acknowledgements.
Having faith. Obviously, the key is in the word ‘faith’. The trouble is I’m lacking it and I’m struggling in something of a continuing spiritual wilderness.
In theory, I remain part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but I’m struggling faith-wise (which has been the case now for several years). So much so that, for the past 18 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (apart from attending the Midnight Mass at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?).
In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer - which has effectively become my ‘church’.
What DO I believe these days?
I was confirmed in the Anglican Church over 50 years ago. I’ve been a Christian ever since but throughout this time, like so many people, my own spiritual journey has been a long and winding road - often fruitful and compelling, but frequently bumpy or feeling as if I’m in a cul-de-sac. At present, I feel as if I’ve come to yet another crossroad on the journey.
 
I still have a faith of sorts… I still believe in God (but maybe ‘my’ God is different to other people’s understanding of the word?). I believe that Jesus did live and was crucified (but I struggle with the virgin birth and even the resurrection)(I know!). I believe that the New Testament stories in the Bible are essentially true (or in part happened?), but I get very frustrated by many of the interpretations (and added details) that have accrued between when the events took place and when they were eventually written down (the same applies to the ‘actual’ words used by Jesus and his disciples etc… and, for instance, exactly what Jesus was thinking when he was in the Garden of Gethsemane or during his 40 days in the wilderness).
Because of these frustrations, I’ve almost stopped reading the Bible (for instance, a lot of Paul’s New Testament letters – or at least some of the interpretations I’ve heard given them in various sermons I’ve listened to – just make me angry!). To take just one example, I followed one of ‘our’ church services online (about a year ago). The Bible text included the following: “For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either” and “Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them?” - and this message was duly endorsed/repeated in the morning’s talk/sermon. It left me shouting at my laptop screen!
These days (perhaps unfairly, I know), I find other people’s enthusiastic ‘certainties’ when it comes to faith incredibly off-putting (it leaves me feeling both annoyed and exasperated). I don’t believe in an ‘afterlife’ but, somehow, feel that we need to build a ‘heaven’ here on earth (ok, that probably sounds a bit ridiculous to most of you). I can’t really justify or rationalise this, but I do have a sense that our spirits ‘live on’ (again, you’ll probably think I’ve lost my marbles).      
It’s interesting (well, for me at least!) to read some of my blogpost ‘spiritual reflections’ on faith over the years – some dating back 15 years (although my ‘doubts’ go back much further than that).
I’ve been struggling for a long, long time!
I posted the following on my blog in February 2022:
So, on this basis, can I REALLY call myself a Christian? Well, no doubt there will be many who would answer “no” but, interestingly, the BBC commissioned a survey in 2017 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-39153121) and found that a quarter of people who describe themselves as Christians in Great Britain do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus.
The survey also suggested that:
·         17% of all people believe the Bible version word-for-word (not me)
·         31% of Christians believe word-for-word the Bible version (not me), rising to 57% among "active" Christians (those who go to a religious service at least once a month, as I do)(not me)
·         Exactly half of all people surveyed did not believe in the resurrection at all (not me)
·         46% of people say they believe in some form of life after death (not me) and 46% do not (me)
So, I’m not alone.
I appreciate that I could be accused (with some justification) that I ‘cherry-pick’ what I believe in. But what I find really difficult is being ‘told’ by some leaders of our church communities what my faith should consist of – with, apparently, no room for doubt. Effectively, the message seems to be: “this is what the Bible says, so it must be true (or pretty close)… and if you’re not prepared to accept this, then you can’t really call yourself a Christian”. They might not think that’s what they’re regularly telling me, but that’s message that I receive and/or perceive.
Over the course of Lent 2024, I’ve been continuing my faith exploration. I’ve been reading Rowan Williams’s Easter sermons from his time as Archbishop of Canterbury 2002-12 (book: ‘Choose Life’). I regard Williams as someone worth listening to/reading, but even he says things that I find difficult to accept.
He refers to the Acts of the Apostles, where we are told “God raised Jesus to life”… If it did happen, how do we know it was down to God? Williams goes on to refer to the things Peter, John and Mary Magdalene witnessed on Easter morning (which I can accept), but then continues with the words: “When the universe began, prompted by the will and act of God…”. Again, I would ask how do we know this was down to God?
In another of the sermons, Williams refers to Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where Paul says “that we shall die and that we shall be raised as Jesus was raised”.
Really? Is this based on something that was, some considerable time later, promised in the Bible?
Obviously, it all comes down to faith… but perhaps it’s just a case of “me of little faith”?
The other book I’ve been using this Lent is Alain de Botton’s book ‘Religion for Atheists’. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider myself to be an atheist – but Rowan Williams did actually refer to the book in one of his Easter sermons. I duly bought myself a copy and found it surprisingly helpful, optimistic and illuminating. I won’t go into academic detail here, but the chapter headings give a sense of what is discussed: Wisdom without Doctrine; Community; Kindness; Education; Tenderness; Pessimism; Perspective; Art; Architecture and Institutions.
I’m not a mad keen follower of Rob Bell, but I have found his writing incredibly thought-provoking and relevant (for me, at least). Take this passage from his book ‘Velvet Elvis’ (which, in many ways, touches on the things included in Alain de Botton’s book):
As a Christian, I am simply trying to orient myself around living a particular kind of way, the kind of way that Jesus taught is possible. And I think that the way of Jesus is the best possible way to live.
This isn’t irrational or primitive or blind faith. It is merely being honest that we are living a ‘way’.
I’m convinced being generous is a better way to live.
I’m convinced forgiving people and not carrying around bitterness is a better way to live.
I’m convinced having compassion is a better way to live.
I’m convinced pursuing peace in every situation is a better way to live.
I’m convinced listening to the wisdom of others is a better way to live.
I’m convinced being honest with people is a better way to live.
I would say ‘Amen’ to that.
 
I am an early riser. I’m usually up by 5am.
At various times in my life, I might have used this time for prayer and/or reading daily reflections/Bible passages.
I no longer do such things.
I can no longer be bothered.
And yet, since moving house, I now frequently find myself in my ‘Thinking Seat’ staring out of the window at the dawn of a new day.
It’s something of a magical time.
Maybe this is part of the journey to rediscover my faith?
“Caught by the light of some small heaven” (as my good friend Ian has described it) perhaps?
Who knows?… I’ll keep searching.

living with nature and uncertainty…

Somewhat ridiculously, I watched two television documentaries a couple of days ago, back-to-back (I know… some people have to go to work!).
If you didn’t get a chance to see the BBC’s “The Great Mountain Sheep Gather” programme (first shown in 2020), it’s currently back on iPlayer and well worth watching. It’s a 100minute documentary about sheep farming on Scafell Pike, England’s tallest mountain. Every summer, half a dozen shepherds and perhaps 20 sheepdogs gather a flock of 500 native Hardwick sheep from some 1,200 acres(?) and bring them down the mountain to the farm for shearing. It’s an event that has taken place in the Lake District for over a thousand years. It’s a humbling account, seen through the eyes of Lakeland shepherd Andrew Harrison – the knowledge of the dogs, farmers and sheep passed down from generation to generation for centuries, the challenges of life in the fells, and the conflict posed by visitors and the 21st century… Some of the smaller farms have been sold and the farmhouses converted to holiday homes. There are less and less experienced farmers and shepherds remaining to pass on knowledge acquired over generations. Harrison talks movingly of the pride and respect he holds for the land and the privilege of doing what he does.
It’s absolutely mesmerising and quite, quite brilliant.
The second documentary was the first episode of Simon Reeve’s “Wilderness” programme - a journey into the Congo Basin (it’s taken me a long to get down to watching the series)… with its exotic wildlife, awe-inspiring landscapes, and terrifying rise of deforestation. It’s a powerful tale of the importance of conservation. Reeve and his ranger/conservationist guide
canoe along the Motaba River, before trudging through thick vegetation to meet the nomadic Baka (an indigenous people with very limited interaction with the western world). Reeve and his guide are warmly welcomed and the women of the village immediately proceed to construct impressive, elaborate huts to accommodate their overnight guests.
In the morning, they’re taken by the men in the village to gather honey. Like every Baka hunting haul, the treasure is, instinctively, equally shared. A telling remark from Reeve’s guide (“They take what they need, not what they want”) stayed with me long after the programme had ended.
Another hugely impressive insight into another world.
Of course, the two documentaries are very different – about lives on different continents and in very different circumstances – but there was something of a humbling connection between them… about how people live off the land with skills and knowledge passed down from generation to generation… and yet both with uncertainty about what the future had in store for the generations to come.

new year reflections: december 2023…

I’ve been scribbling New Year Reflections on my blog for a number of years now (as always – just a reminder for ME). Initially, I decided to drop this rather lame ‘tradition’ but then realised that, because I forget stuff so easily, it made sense to jot things down for future reference! I’ll endeavour to keep it relatively brief this year (some hope!)…
 
WONDERFUL BOOKS:
The Storysmith Book Group (run by our lovely local bookshop) has continued to be brilliant - interesting books, lovely people and good fun too… and I’ve also been part of the ‘Blokes Books’ bookgroup involving some great mates (but, as ever, it seems to take ages for the group to read each book/organise meet-ups!). I continue to read a LOT of books (85 this year) and here are my FIVE favourites (in no particular order):
Small Things Like These (Claire Keegan); The High House (Jessie Greengrass); Devotions (Mary Oliver); Tin Man (Sarah Winman); and, I KNOW I’m cheating here, four ‘Lucy Barton books’ (Elizabeth Strout, my current favourite author): My Name Is Lucy Barton, Anything Is Possible, Oh William! and Lucy By The Sea.
 
GREAT FILMS:
Strangely, I’ve only been to the Watershed eleven times this year (a lot of post-pandemic films haven’t really appealed to me?) but, nevertheless, I saw some brilliant movies. These were my FIVE favourites:
Talking Heads: Stop Making Sense; Tish; Past Lives; Asteroid City; and Lunana: a Yak in the Classroom… (plus, of course, It’s A Wonderful Life!).
 
LOVELY LIVE PERFORMANCES/EXHIBITIONS:
We continue to enjoy going to the theatre, concerts and exhibitions (but, sadly, not many theatre trips in 2023 – although those we did make were excellent) – but still a long way to go! Here are a few favourites (I feel sure there are some exhibitions I’ve forgotten):
THEATRE:
As You Like It (RSC Stratford); Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead (Bristol Old Vic); and Kathy+Stella (Bristol Old Vic).
CONCERTS:
Karine Polwart+Kitty Macfarlane; O’Hooley+Tidow; Three Cane Whale; The Metropolitan Orchestra: Mahler Symphony No.1; The Metropolitan Orchestra: Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No.4 (all at St George’s). 
EXHIBITIONS:
170th Annual Open Exhibition (RWA); Threads (Arnolfini); Force Of Nature Light Show (Bristol Cathedral); Found Cities, Lost Objects: Women In The City (RWA); Oil Fountain: Luke Jerram (Bristol Cathedral); Photography Exhibition (RWA); plus various art at The Ashmolean, Oxford.
SPORTING MOMENTS:
This year has been a sparse year in terms of watching ANY ‘live’ first-class sport (understatement!). I watched just ONE game of rugby (courtesy of Robin) and, I think, only TWO days of cricket at Gloucestershire CC!
Pathetic, I know! Determined to watch more cricket in 2024…
 
ART STUFF:
With no Art Trail participation these days, my ‘Art Stuff’ is fairly limited… and predictable (although it continues to represent a crucial and enjoyable part of my life):
1. I’ve continued to post a drawing or photograph every day as part of my “One Day Like This” blog (now some 4,120 consecutive days – that’s more than 2,000 drawings and 2,000 photographs - since I started in September 2012, more than 11 years ago)!
2. Urban Sketchers, Bristol: I’ve continued to really enjoy this wonderful group (which I joined in March 2018 and am now one of its three administrators)… it’s a worldwide organisation and, here in Bristol, we meet up every month and get anything from 15 to over 30 people coming along. It’s a real highlight and joy.
3. I think I need to paint a bit more than I actually do…
 
HOLIDAYS/LEISURE:
After three years of ‘no holidays’, we actually went away a couple of times this year. We spent a lovely 5 days in Oxford in July – re-living our student days; and then 6 days in Exmouth - it was lovely to see the sea again after so long (just a pity that the weather was pretty grim).
 
SPIRITUAL LIFE:
In theory, I continue to be part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but, as has been the case for several years now, I’m really struggling faith-wise. So much so that, for the past 15 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (although I did attend the ‘Bethlehem Midnight Mass’ at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?). Moira continues to attend pretty regularly. In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). Meanwhile, I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer (which has effectively become my ‘church’) and also attend many of the fortnightly Resonate evening sessions.
 
HEALTH:
My health has been pretty good this year… apart from the normal ageing process (my teeth continue to fall out; I’ve got two hearing aids; I take tablets for my atrial fibrillation plus blood thinners and statins; and have eye drops to deter my glaucoma). My main frustration is my left hip (it’s gradually got worse over the past 3 years); I’ve been walking with a stick over the last 6 months (and my geographical range has vastly reduced!)… and I’m finding it increasingly debilitating. I definitely need a hip replacement (my right hip was replaced 9 years ago) and I’m currently scheduled for an operation in 6-9 months’ time (I’ve got a hospital appointment on 5 January – when, hopefully, I might be given an operation date?).
Meanwhile, Moira continues to deal with her Parkinson’s Disease (confirmed May 2022). She’s generally pretty well and her medication seems to be pretty effective… and she undertakes daily physical exercise via her PD Warrior links (I’m a little in awe of her). Her main frustration is the lack of contact with her Consultants (she’s seen them just once – in May 2022 – and was promised a follow-up consultation within 3-4 months). Despite pressure on the Consultants from her PD Nurse (Moira’s only way of contacting the consultants), she’s still awaiting ANY feedback – 19 MONTHS LATER!
Having lived with the uncertainties of a pandemic over the past FEW years, we’ve become rather used to living with uncertainty!
 
OTHER STUFF:
My early morning walking activities have dropped depressingly over the past 12 months (due to my ongoing hip issues)… but, as alternative dawn ‘activity’, I really enjoy watching the mornings begin… looking through our living room windows.
We gave up the car 6 years ago and, more than a year ago, I gave up driving altogether – so buses and trains are now our default modes of transport. Weirdly, I seem to have developed some form of ‘anxiety’ towards travel.
The world seems to be full of challenges these days (it was probably ever thus)… wars, the climate change, annoying politicians… greed, poverty, lack of funding for the NHS, mental health, education and so much more.
But I DO love reflecting back on the things that have happened over the previous twelve months and, each year, it’s a reminder that there WILL be some very special things that they will happen in the coming year – even though, at this moment, I don’t know what 2024 will bring. No doubt there will be some sad stuff too… and perhaps encounters we feel ill-equipped to face? In such times, families and friendships will, once again, see us through.
For us as a family, it’s been another good year (despite its challenges)… and we continue to count our blessings.
I wish you (and all yours) a very happy, healthy and (hopefully) peaceful 2024. 

nothing changes…

As part of my Advent ‘ponderings’, I‘ve been reading Rowan Williams’s Christmas sermons from his time in office as Archbishop of Canterbury, 2002-2012 (”Choose Life”). I’ve always found him a wise and thought-provoking man…
The following words from Christmas 2008 are a poignant reminder of how little has changed in the Middle East:
“This year, as every year, we remember in our prayers the crises and sufferings of the peoples of the Holy Land: how tempting it is to think that somehow there will be a ‘saviour’ here – a new US president with a fresh vision, an election in Israel or Palestine that will deliver some new negotiating strategy. It’s perfectly proper to go on praying for a visionary leadership in all those contexts; but meanwhile, the ‘saving’ work is already under way, not delayed until there is a comprehensive settlement.
This last year, one of the calendars in my study… has been the one issued by by Families for Peace – a network of people from both communities in the Holy Land who have lost children or relatives in the continuing conflict; people who expose themselves to the risk of meeting the family of someone who killed their son or daughter, the risk of being asked to sympathise with someone whose son or daughter was killed by activists promoting what you regard as a just cause. The Parents Circle and Families Forum organised by this network are labouring to bring hope into a situation of terrible struggle simply by making the issues ‘flesh’, making them about individuals with faces and stories. When I have met these people, I have been overwhelmed by their courage; but also left with no illusions about how hard it is, and how they are made to feel again and again that they come to their own and their own refuse to know them. Yet if I had to identify where you might begin to speak of witnesses to ‘salvation’ in the Holy Land, I should unhesitatingly point to them.”
Fifteen years on, nothing changes… and the prayers remain the same. 

half a mile from home…

In August 2021, Moira and I moved into an apartment in the very heart of Bristol city centre – our immediate neighbours are the Central Library and the Cathedral.
Although we already knew our neighbourhood pretty well (we’ve lived in Bristol since 2003), we’ve become increasingly conscious of just how fortunate we are to have SO many beautiful locations within easy walking distance of our new flat – LITERALLY ‘half a mile from home’.

Here are just a few – in no particular order (ALL within half a mile of our front door):

1. The Cathedral
2. College Green
3. Lord Mayor’s Chapel
4. Balloon Fiesta (the balloons often fly over us)
5. RWA (Royal West of England Academy)
6. Bristol Old Vic
7. Brandon Hill
8. Watershed
9. Berkeley Square
10. The Hippodrome
11. Saint Stephen’s Church (our church community)
12. Saint Nicholas Market
13. Nelson Street (Street Art)
14. Bristol Beacon (formerly Colston Hall)
15. SS Great Britain
16. Queen Square
17. Arnolfini
18. Central Library
19. Saint George’s
20. Harbourside
21. Christmas Steps
22. Bristol Museum+Art Gallery

Not to mention the pubs, bars, cafés, restaurants, hotels and small shops
(and I feel sure I’ve left stuff out!).
 
Since the first Covid lockdown (March 2020), I think Moira and I have gradually both become conscious that “we’ve aged”! We’ve certainly become far less adventurous when it comes to travel and holidays… neither of us currently has a passport and or continues to drive. We now rely on public transport to get from A to B. 
There’s a sense that our worlds have become smaller and, although that perhaps sounds rather negative, it’s also made us incredibly aware of just how fortunate we are to have so much on our doorstep.
Lucky, lucky us!
Photograph: Some images (photographs and sketches) of our neighbouring facilities and resources!

reflections on health, ageing and stuff…

I’ve been mulling over all sorts of health-related matters over recent days… and, hey, I’m well aware that there are LOTS of other urgent world issues that also need our thoughts at the present time.
As you might imagine (if you know me), these reflections are incredibly muddled, inconclusive and incomprehensible… but I felt the need to scribble them down (to prove to myself how little I know about such matters!)(I’m not asking for people to point out that I’m wrong!).
Here’s the context (and these are just three examples close to my heart):
1. Many of us are aware of how badly children’s mental health has been affected by Covid lockdowns and its repercussions. Some of our grandchildren have certainly struggled in this regard. After retirement from my architectural practice, I worked at a secondary school for six years (until 2011) and was frequently involved in making CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) referrals. At that time, waiting lists were in the order of 6-7 weeks. Today, 12 years on, I understand those waiting times are now in the order of 2 YEARS.    
2. Moira was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease (PD) in 2022 (first suspected in 2021). She had an appointment with her Registrar and Consultant in May 2022 and they promised to see her again in 3-4 months’ time. More than 18 months later, this still hasn’t happened (despite pressure from the PD Nurse on her behalf)… so, apart from the PD Nurses’ occasional notes, they have absolutely no idea how Moira is coping. Fortunately, Moira’s medication has proved to be helpful in coping with key aspects of her condition, but nevertheless… Moira and I are regular followers of the brilliant weekly “Movers+Shakers” podcast about PD and it seems that again and again people report that they’ve only managed to see their consultants once a year at the most. It really shouldn’t be like this but, no doubt, resources (staff and funding) are stretched to their limits.
3. I’m currently struggling to walk. I need another hip replacement (my right hip was ‘done’ some 9 years ago – and very successful it has proved). I’ve been ‘referred’, but am currently in limbo land as I await contact from Musculoskeletal (MSK) team (waiting times are now ‘longer than anticipated’). Nine years ago, it took something like 7 weeks from referral to operation. These days, I’m told it’s more like two years (but I’ve actually no idea as to my current position in the queue). In the meantime, I walk with a stick and my ability to walk any distance beyond half a mile is very limited. My condition is both depressing and debilitating. Yes, apparently, I could ‘go private’ for something like £15,000 and be treated within 4 weeks… but this is against my principles (in these days of the NHS, why should we discriminate between those who can afford and those who can’t?). Yes, no doubt there will be many who will disagree with me.

Of course, thanks to amazing scientific advancements, life expectancy in the UK has risen by almost 10 years in the past 50 years (currently 81 years compared with 72 in 1975, apparently). The population is getting older and we have the ability to treat them (in some form or other)… if we WANT to.
But health and welfare is an expensive business and, perhaps unsurprisingly, for the past dozen years or so, the UK’s Conservative government has seemed prepared to underfund the NHS and exert pressure on people to take up private healthcare (thereby jumping the queues etc). So, whilst the NHS has the ability to undertake a wide range of measures, lack of funding has meant that what funds have been allocated are more thinly spread… resulting in staffing levels being reduced (and overworked and stressed workers), waiting times increasing alarmingly and, almost inevitably, staff leaving the NHS (not to mention the EU doctors and nurses who have departed since Brexit).
It’s a nightmare scenario for politicians and administrators alike. What SHOULD the priorities be? Regular evaluations and monitoring of a PD patient, for example, are vital for appropriate prognosis and treatment. Such evaluations aren’t happening at present… A two year waiting list for children with mental health issues is two YEARS of their childhood, for goodness sake… Of course, for example, people awaiting cancer treatment should come before me and my hip replacement, but…
For me (and I appreciate that - in this world of climate crisis, wars and cost of living issues - there are LOTS of areas requiring extra funding!), raising taxes to pay for effective NHS and Social Welfare services seems like the ONLY appropriate measure… and yet we have currently have a government that has a philosophy of actually REDUCING taxes.
What hope is there?

gone fishing...

There have been six series of ‘Gone Fishing’ on the telly… and I’ve watched all of them… TWICE (I know!).
In case you haven’t a clue what I’m referring to, the programme features comedians Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse reflecting on life after their shared major heart problems, while on fishing trips to various locations around Britain. It was first shown on BBC Two in 2018 and has been re-commissioned every year since.
Apparently, Series 7 is being expanded to 8 episodes in 2024 (there’s normally six).
I absolutely love the programme – despite the fact that I have no interest in fishing whatsoever (and have never been fishing in my entire life).
What I find so enjoyable about the programme is that it’s about two old geezers (neither of them even approaching my age – Whitehouse is 65 and Mortimer is 64) out by themselves, enjoying beautiful UK locations, having time to relax and reflect on life… and, of course, fish.
The formula is ridiculously simple… they travel to these lovely places, they fish and they put the world to rights sitting on riverbanks. Whitehouse is the fishing guru (Mortimer frequently ignores his advice). Mortimer is responsible for catering and finding overnight accommodation. The programme is just 30 minutes long (the ‘Christmas Specials’ are an hour long)… I love their silly conversations and banter… and it’s made all the better with stunning aerial views (thanks to drone photography) and occasional appropriate background music.
In some ways, it all feels a bit like meeting up with one’s mate for a pint in the pub.
When I think about why I love the programme so much, I think it’s something to do with escapism – taking a ‘time out’ from this ridiculous, angry, selfish world (or at least some of the major players in it) and celebrating the beautiful, good, simple things that really matter. 

lockdown revisited…

It happens quite frequently for me… scouring the house looking for something (which, inevitably, I can’t locate) and then coming across something I hadn’t looked at for some time. It happened again this week and I found myself reading through my two ‘Blurb’ books covering a year of the pandemic.
At the start of Covid, in March 2020, I was conscious that the pandemic (as it became) was likely to have a dramatic effect on our daily lives… and decided to begin compiling a book-cum-diary-cum-photograph album of reflections and images. I decided that I would do this over a six-month period… Surely, by then, the perceived dangers would have passed? But, of course, it hadn’t and so I continued to record my experiences for a further six months – until March 2021.
In the event, having ‘re-discovered’ my two books (“Love in the Time of Covid 19” and “The Winter’s Tale”), I found myself flicking through the pages… and coming across reminders and a flavour of what those days were like.
I found the whole experience quite poignant and sobering.
It’s only some two-and-a-half since the start of the pandemic (or at least since it started to affect us in the UK) and yet it made me realise how many of those ‘little details’ I’d already almost forgotten.
It made me realise that in, say 10 years’ time, our recollections of a time that had such a devastating effect on so many lives, will be even ‘fuzzier’. Will our grandchildren still be able to recall the effects the pandemic had on their school lives? Will we remember those awful ‘no hugging’ days of isolation? The closed pubs, cafés and restaurants? The early morning walks? Those wonderful sun-filled March days of 2020? The need for ‘social distancing’? The pre-vaccine days and the post-vaccine days? All the government lies (I assume that all the various Inquiries will have reported by that time!!?)? All those lives lost?
Only time will tell.

oxford recollections…

Moira and I have just returned from a few days in Oxford, enjoying re-visiting some old haunts from our student days. As you might imagine, the trip brought back lots of memories for both of us…
For me, arriving in the city in September 1967 to begin my studies at Oxford School of Architecture… coming from Handsworth in Birmingham, Oxford was a huge contrast (understatement).
Looking back, I realise just how lucky I was to have been able study away from home and, obviously, in such a beautiful city like Oxford. Exploring new places from scratch, meeting new people, facing new challenges… such as coping financially, dealing with problems, accommodation, food… and, of course, making one’s own mistakes (and sorting them out!).
I feel sorry for those in higher education who don’t have the opportunity to live away from home for a while.
Oxford is clearly a very beautiful, small city – dominated by its University Colleges – but also one in which ‘privilege’ has prevailed (and, perhaps one would say, continues to prevail). Fortunately, I had very little to do with the university… apart from watching cricket in University Parks; attending a May Ball at Exeter College; being present at a number of outdoor theatrical performances in various College grounds; standing along the riverbank watching Eights Week activities; and I vaguely remember attending some disco or other at Queens College.
I got to know my way around Oxford quite quickly – thanks to fellow first year students Steve, Age and JohnTrem (who became lifelong friends). We decided to meet up for a cheap omelette lunch (at an upper floor café on the High Street) every Saturday during the first term before exploring various colleges and their grounds. By our first Christmas in Oxford, we knew the city pretty well.
From the start, I absolutely loved the Cherwell and Thames rivers running through the city… Christchurch Meadow was (and still is) a real favourite place; University Parks; Port Meadow; Shotover Hill; Boars Hill; Osney; Jericho; Botanical Gardens; Magdalen Bridge; Iffley; the ‘Turf’, ‘Trout’ and ‘Perch’ pubs.… so many places.
The punting in the summer (I got to become quite a good punter!)… from Magdalen Bridge or the Cherwell Boathouse up to the Vicky Arms.
You could buy half a pint of mild at the White Hart in Old Headington for 6 pence halfpenny (that’s 6.5d OLD money!) and we regularly used to go drinking at the Turf on a Friday night… and each drink 8 pints @ 2s 6d a pint (spending £ONE POUND in the process!)!
There were few ‘Rag Weeks’ during my time at college… one of which included a 24 hour café and an attempt to ‘Drink the Turf Dry’ (which I endeavoured to do single-handed as I recall… and ending up slumped in a fireplace at the 24 hour café having completely failed to do so).
May Morning was a rather special time… huge crowds gathering below Magdalen Tower at 6am while the choir sang. Crowded streets, Morris Dancers, people jumping off bridges… people queuing for breakfasts (and beer!). Mom and Dad joined Moira and me on one occasion and were absolutely mesmerised by it all (in a good way!).
There was also St Giles Fair… taking over St Giles every Autumn.
Of course, crucially, Oxford was also the place where Moira and I first met (31 October 1969!)… she was studying languages at the Poly.
Sunday afternoon walks with Steve, Bev, Age, Jane, Ted and Val became part of a regular routine… and always finished off with our homemade “Mrs Blenkins’ scones”.
Later, when I worked for The Oxford Architects Partnership (35 Queen Street, 1972-76), the office had a cricket team (of sorts) and we were hugely fortunate to be able to play on various College pitches (after the end of the summer term)… Worcester, New College, University/Corpus Christi.
Moira and I married in 1972 and continued to live Oxford until 1982. We rented places in Oakthorpe Road and Osberton Road, Summertown before buying our first home in Percy Street, off the Iffley Road… and, of course, our three daughters (Ruth, Hannah and Alice) were all born in Oxford.
So, Oxford: a very special place!

student days…

It’s exam time of year again (or was) - one of our granddaughters has just finished her GCSEs – it has reminded me of those uncertain, but exciting, days when pupils were coming to the end of their time at school and looking ahead to going off to university or pursuing career options.
A time of reflection and ‘what might have been?’ if we’d decided to follow other paths.

I was the first person in our family to go to university and, coming from a working-class background, I suppose that was quite significant. My decision to study architecture was based on a rather tentative suggestion from my Maths teacher, Mr Jones. Although I made general enquiries about what such a course would involve I frankly had very little idea of what an architect actually did (apart from ‘designing buildings’… whatever that meant!).
In 1966, I applied to study architecture at Aston and De Montfort universities and Oxford School of Architecture (then still part of the College of Technology, now within Oxford Brookes University); my parents were desperately keen that I continued to live at home (ie. studying at Aston), so were not impressed when I opted for Oxford!
My interview at the Oxford School with its wonderful, charismatic Principal, Reggie Cave, was quite an experience. This was at a time when places weren’t awarded on the basis of gaining three A* A-Levels or whatever… the interview was THE crucial part of the process. I completed some IQ tests before being called into the Principal’s office… and then he and I sat and discussed life, art, design, architecture and a whole realm of topics for well over an hour! At the end of our time together, Mr Cave offered me a place… but not for September 1966, but for 1967 (I had been part of the ‘Remove’ stream at school and had therefore completed my O-Levels in a year less than ‘normal’; Mr Cave felt I needed another 12 months’ maturity… and, of course, he was right!). So, ridiculously (this was before the time of ‘Gap Years’!), I stayed on at school for a third year in the Sixth Form – frankly just happy to play football and cricket!
Looking back, I realise how naïve and selfish I was in assuming that my parents would be happy for me to a) spend another year at school and b) embark on a six-year university course (I can assure you, money was tight!)!

I managed to gain a full grant (£360 a year - £120 per term!) and there were no tuition fees; there should have been a parental contribution on top of this, but I was able to manage without it (although Mom+Dad did pay for the odd train fare when I made my various visits home – although I frequently relied on hitch-hiking).
I think there were 80(?) architectural students in my first year, but numbers were considerably reduced over successive years (I think there were just 30 of us by year 6). I think times and attitudes have changed significantly over the past 50+ years (‘bums on seats’ seems to be the key for university funding, so perhaps now being dropped from courses on a year-by-year basis is relatively rare by comparison?).

The architecture course was something of a revelation. It was a mixture of public school-educated students and ‘ordinary’ people like me (I think there were 8 females). We were set a mixture of design projects each term – including perhaps half a dozen ‘one-day-sketch-schemes’. At the end of each project, critiques (‘crits’) were held in which each student had to present his/her scheme to a ‘jury’ of tutors. This was a hugely important part of the course – being able to ‘sell’ your design proposals; to explain/justify the way you had interpreted the project brief; and to defend your design decisions. I was initially struck by how confident the ex-public school students were by comparison with the rest of us… but we gradually developed more confidence and know-how as the course progressed.There are far too many experiences for me to recall in any great numbers (and an awful lot that I have forgotten!), but here are a few:

• On my very first day at college, I got trapped in a lift (together with three other students)!
• After registration on Day 1, one of the other architectural students (RobP – posh and public school-educated) and I decided to walk into Oxford together to do a little ‘exploring’. I was somewhat taken aback that he insisted on walking into town bare-footed (oh, those old hippie days!!).
• One of the other first year students (again public school-educated) introduced himself as ‘Mephistopheles’ and insisted that everyone should refer to him by that name… but I don’t think anyone ever did. He became something of a laughing stock and I don’t think he survived the first year of the course.
• There were no computers, of course! Just ‘Imperial’ and ‘Double-Elephant’ drawing boards, set-squares, T-squares, pens and pencils!
• There was no ‘College Bar’ until perhaps my third year – and, even then, it was only in a small, converted store (current students would no doubt find this unbelievable!). 
• Lots of societies/clubs within the college: FADS (Food+Drink Set) – which for a very modest joining fee ensured that ‘free’ access to food and drink samples at their monthly gatherings; Film Club – excellent, current, weekly films (again for an incredibly modest joining fee).
• We had a 24-hour Blues Festival in March 1969. Excellent artists including: Fairport Convention, The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, Roy Harper, Taste, Pete Brown and his Battered Ornaments, Free, Jo-Ann Kelly, Stefan Grossman, John Peel and others). 
• In my first year, I had ‘digs’ in Headington (Mrs Brown’s B+B for £7/week); 2nd Year: Arlington Drive, Marston (with Steve, Age and JohnT); 3rd Year: Norreys Avenue (with Age, JohnT and JohnTom); 4th Year: ‘Year Out’ at home in Brum; 5th Year: Lodge Hill, Abingdon (with Age+JohnTom?); 6th Year: bedsit in Littlemore until Christmas, then Oakthorpe Road, Summertown (having married Moira).
• Principal Reggie Cave’s infamous ‘Teapot Lecture’ given to first year students; this is a link to one he did in 1990 (we never had to fill in forms in ‘our day’!).
• Second Year students used to be sent on a European Study Trip. In 1968 (as it happens, the time of the Riots!), students went to Paris… but were so badly behaved that they cancelled the ‘European’ bit of the Study Trip the following year (ie. in MY second year!) and, instead, sent us to Pontins at Southport on a holiday accommodation project. The good news (for some, but not us!) was that we were so well behaved that they reinstated the European trip the following year (students went to Athens)! 
• The Architects’ Punt Race: these happened every summer – between King’s Mill and the Vicky Arms pub. Rules were fairly ‘basic’: Le Mons start; punt and six crew had to start and finish the race (as the race became more established boatyards would hide away their punts, poles and paddles the night before – equipment used to mysteriously disappear for race purposes!). The course highlights included negotiating the ‘Rollers’ (punts had to be pushed up ‘rollers’ at a change in water level) and paddling past ‘Parsons’ Pleasure’ (nudist bathing place)! On one occasion, I ended up in the water… I think we were in either first or second place entering the ‘rollers’ and anxious to re-enter the water as speedily as possible. Unfortunately, our heaviest crew member jumped back into the punt right at the bow end and the rest of us jumped in before the punt reached the water… with the predictable result that our punt (and us) disappeared under the water!
• We were required to attend lectures (but there were only perhaps 2-3/week) but, over the course of our time at college, architectural students did most of their work at their respective ‘homes/digs’. Looking back, I feel sure that we worked harder (and longer) than all the rest of the students at the college!! LOTS of all-night sessions, followed by a couple of days of ‘relaxing’ (ie. drinking!) before it all started again.
• One of key things for me (in the first year) was Tom Porter’s art ‘syllabus’. He became a brilliant influence for lots of us (definitely for me)… encouraged us to take risks; experimenting with different presentation techniques; colour; took us on a trip to London and pointed us towards Habitat, Carnaby Street/Biba; the film ‘2001: Space Odyssey’ etc. I won Tom’s poster competition for an exhibition at the Ashmolean in 1968.
• Mrs Barber’s brilliant ‘Art Materials’ shop on the ground floor of the architecture block (she was something of a ‘mother figure’ for lots of us and kept us all smiling!). 
• I won the ‘most improved student’ award (or whatever it was called) at the end of my second year (sponsored by the Oxford Architects Partnership – who subsequently offered me my first job). A huge boost to my self-confidence.

I know I was very fortunate to have ‘survived the course’ (over 60% of my fellow first year students didn’t)… but, hey, I did work very hard! Studying architecture is a long, long process (3 years at college; followed by a year-out in an office; followed by 2 years back at college; followed by a year in an office before being allowed to take ‘professional practice exams’ and become qualified. Because of the system in place in those days (as I’ve explained above), students would be kicked off the course at the end of each year (not because they hadn’t worked hard, just because they hadn’t achieved the required standards in the eyes of the tutors). Two of my closest friends met this fate and, as a result, never qualified.

Today, for those who choose or are able to go to university, the world is very different. There are no (or very few) grants available and, of course, there are also course fees to be paid… student loans are virtually the only way (the consequences of which seem to hang over individuals for the rest of their lives)… unless, of course, you have rich parents! Such matters have seriously curtailed opportunities to study away from home for many (due to lack of money) - a massive shame in my view. Having said all that, I do regret that there now seems to be an assumption/expectation that everyone will end up going to university. I feel quite strongly that this would be the wrong choice for SO many people… apprenticeships and/or specific job-related training would be the better option for huge numbers.

However, looking back on my own experiences, approaching 60 years later(!), I feel incredibly fortunate to have been given a chance to go to university.

It was an amazing, life-changing time for me personally – a time of independence; making decisions (and mistakes!) off my own bat… and seeing them through; meeting new people/making new friendships; adapting to new educational challenges (and growing in confidence in putting over my ideas); growing up(!); and, of course, being fortunate enough to study in a beautiful place like Oxford.

Bon voyage to all those about to leave school and/or continue their studies… dream your dreams!

Photograph: Oxford city from ChristChurch Meadow.

ros...

Our lovely friend has died…
It all happened so quickly.
No time to tell her how much we loved her
And how important she was in our lives.
How wonderful it was that our families bonded
During those formative years for our daughters and for hers.
Their impromptu musical concerts
All the dramatic plays they wrote and performed
(Not to mention the elaborate programmes they drew!).
She was a second mother to all our girls.
The care, the grace, the wisdom that came natural to Ros.
Her love and consideration for others
Her teaching, her citizen’s advice volunteering
Her passion for a more equal society
Her love of nature and her garden
Her glorious art and creativity
Her gentle humour and encouragement of others.
Our wonderful New Year’s Day Walks
Followed by the leftover grub from the pooled holiday fare.
The shared meals and effortless hospitality.
Our daughters have already decided that we need to properly celebrate her life…
With pasta bakes and quilting sessions…
And a concert with all the percussion instruments!
Laughter, joy and smiles.
So many memories… even in this time of grief.
A very special lady who we were all privileged to call a dear, dear friend.
xx 

Photo: from New Year's Day Walk, 1988(?)

special day...

Last Thursday, I was privileged to enjoy a rather special day with various family members.
In the morning, I’d caught a train to Birmingham to meet up for lunch with my lovely brother Alan and cousin Barry (at the Old Joint Stock ‘Ale and Pie’ pub). We had a very lovely time catching up on stuff, putting the world to rights(!), comparing ‘old age moans+groans’ and reflecting on all the memories and experiences we’d shared together over the years. Our families were very close during our childhoods and we regularly got together at weekends – for Sunday ‘teas’ (which frequently included a projector and holiday slides!), picnics and games (Sutton Park, Cannock Chase etc) and various sporting encounters (Albion, Villa and keeping quiet when our grandfather Fred was listening to the football results on the wireless and filling in his pools coupon!).
We reflected on how lucky we’d been to have lived in what seems to have been something of a golden age… we hadn’t been asked to fight in any wars; the NHS came into being; university education was free (and, in my case, also came with a full grant); housing had been ‘almost affordable’. It seemed to be the case that every subsequent generation would ‘have it better’ than the last one… but, sadly, that was no longer the case.
It really was a rather wonderful lunchtime (over several beers, of course!) and we laughed an awful lot remembering lots of the silly, embarrassing things we did together.
In the late afternoon, I trained home to Bristol (feeling somewhat relieved that the train was relatively empty, despite the imminent holiday weekend, and that I hadn’t drunk too many beers!) and managed to arrive home by 7pm.
Alice and Dan were down from Lancashire for three days and Ru, Stu, Iris and Rosa were round for supper… and it was a very lovely, relaxed evening (again lots of laughter, playing catch-up etc etc)… and, afterwards, Moira and I reflecting just how ‘grown up’ our grandchildren had become (Dan is now over 6ft tall and Iris+Rosa were both looking rather beautiful!).
It was really great to get together again (Han+Fee+Ursa were away on holiday in Scotland, so weren’t able to join us) and lovely to hear more about the various things they’re all up to. It almost felt like Christmas!
 
Over the past few days, I’ve subsequently found myself reflecting on all that happened last Thursday… a morning spent with people ‘my age’ - looking back - recalling tales from our younger days and reflecting on all that’s happened in our lives… followed by an evening with people of the next two generations (apologies to Moira!) - looking forward - talking about their hopes and dreams (but also about all the challenges that they face – both now and over the coming years).
The sort of very special, privileged day that doesn’t happen very often… and one that I need to cherish and ‘drink from’ over the coming days, months and years.
Photo: Sadly, I don’t have any photographs from our evening gathering (understandably, our grandchildren, in particular, are very protective of their public images!)… so you’ll just have to put up with this one from our morning ‘session’ (featuring Barry, Alan and me in the pub!). 

new year reflections: december 2022

I’ve been scribbling New Year Reflections on my blog for a number of years now (as always – just a reminder for ME… because I forget stuff so easily!). This now all seems a little tedious and repetitive, so I’ll keep it much shorter than in the past!
 
WONDERFUL BOOKS:
The Storysmith Book Group (run by our lovely local bookshop) has continued to be brilliant - interesting books, lovely people and good fun too… and I’ve also been part of the ‘Blokes Books’ bookgroup involving some great mates (but it seems to take ages to read each book/organise a meet-up!). I continue to read a LOT of books (70 this year) and here are some of my favourites (in no particular order):
What Just Happened? (Marina Hyde); Walking Back Home (Ricky Ross); The Diary Of A Provincial Lady (EM Delafield); Plainsong (Kent Haruf); Eventide (Kent Haruf); The Help (Kathryn Stockett); Let Me Tell You What I Mean (Joan Didion); The White Album (Joan Didion); Back In The Day (Melvyn Bragg); Being Mortal (Atul Gawande); Saltwater (Jessica Andrews); The Beekeeper Of Aleppo (Christy Lefteri); Bad Apples (Will Dean); I Am I Am I Am and The Marriage Portrait (Maggie O’Farrell); plus I’ve enjoyed reading lots of Donna Leon’s Commissario Brunetti Mysteries.   
 
GREAT FILMS:
I’ve been to the Watershed rather more frequently in the past year (compared with ‘Covid years’). These were among my favourites:
The Worst Person In The World; Moonage Daydream; Belfast; The Banshees Of Inisherin; Brian And Charles; Vortex; Living; The Duke; and Eric Ravilious: Drawn To War.
 
LOVELY LIVE PERFORMANCES/EXHIBITIONS:
We’ve gradually been getting back into the ‘swing’ of going to the theatre, concerts and exhibitions this year – but still a long way to go! Here are a few favourites (I feel sure there are some exhibitions I’ve forgotten):
THEATRE:
Doctor Semmelweis (Old Vic, featuring Felix – had intended to see Belle and Sebastien but ended up having a hospital appointment on the day!).
CONCERTS:
Ricky Ross; Steeleye Span; Ellie Gowers; and Chineke! Orchestra with Evelyn Glennie (all at St George’s).  
Also: Maggie O’Farrell (interview, St Mary Redcliffe).
EXHIBITIONS:
Me, Myself, I: Artists’ Self-Portraits (RWA); Earth: Digging Deep in British Art 1781 – 2022 (RWA); 169^th Annual Open Exhibition (RWA); ‘Practice Assembly’ (Association of Unknown Shores at Saint Stephen’s); and 20^th Century Scottish Art exhibition(?)(Edinburgh City Art Centre?).
 
SPORTING MOMENTS:
Once again, this year has been pretty sparse in terms of watching first-class sport. Again, I didn’t renew my season ticket for the Bristol Bears (rugby), but did manage to get to 3 or 4 matches (thanks to Robin’s generosity – eg. handing me his season ticket while he was away in Australia/New Zealand). I watched three (I think) first-class cricket games at Bristol… plus a couple of games at Bedminster Cricket Club.
 
ART STUFF:
Following our house move and after participating in the last 15 consecutive South Bristol Arts Trail, we’ve now officially retired!  
Another busy year as we try to get back to pre-Covid times, including:
1. I’ve continued to post a drawing or photograph every day as part of my “One Day Like This” blog (now over 3,750 consecutive days – that’s more than 1,875 drawings and 1,875 photographs - since I started in September 2012, more than 10 years ago)!
2. Urban Sketchers, Bristol: I’ve continued to really enjoy this wonderful group (which I joined in March 2018)… it’s a worldwide organisation and, here in Bristol, we meet up every month and regularly get more than 20 people coming along. After the pandemic, it’s been great to be able to meet up with lovely friends again. It’s a real highlight and joy.
5. Blurb book (‘Ten Years Like This’): celebrating 10 years of my daily blog postings.
 
HOLIDAYS/LEISURE:
No proper holidays again this year (for the third year running) – although we did have a couple of lovely 3-day trips to Cardiff (June) and Edinburgh (September).
 
SPIRITUAL LIFE:
We continue to be part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but, rather like the previous couple of years, I’ve been struggling faith-wise. So much so that, in late October, I decided that I would take a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services. How long this will last, only time will tell (indefinitely?). In the meantime, I’m trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (not always convincingly!) – although I did take part in a thought-provoking, fascinating joint Advent blog with Chris Goan and a couple of others. Meanwhile, I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer and attend the fortnightly Resonate sessions on Tuesday evenings.
 
HEALTH:
My health has been pretty good this year… apart from the normal ageing process. My teeth continue to fall out; my left hip keeps telling me it’ll need replacing fairly soon (jealous of the previously-replaced right hip?); I’ve now got two hearing aids (Moira’s delighted!); I take tablets for my atrial fibrillation plus blood thinners and statins; I’ve finally (after 5 years) been discharged from my annual check-ups at Southmead Hospital in connection with lung fibrosis concerns; I take eye drops to deter my glaucoma; and I’ve been attending ‘Leg Club’ (I know!) on a weekly basis for the past few weeks in an effort to sort out my on-going leg ulcer issues (the staff there are brilliant; they sorted me out over a couple of months and I was discharged just before Christmas).
Meanwhile, Moira has been diagnosed as having Parkinson’s Disease (first suspected in May 2021 – so it didn’t come as a particular surprise). She’s generally pretty well (puts up with some shaking, the fact that she’s ‘slowed down’ and that gets tired more quickly) and her medication seems to have been pretty effective.
Having lived with the uncertainties of a pandemic over the past couple of years, we’ve become rather used to living with uncertainty!
 
OTHER STUFF:
We continue to be a no-car household (we gave up the car 5 years ago)… and, during the course of the year, I made a decision to stop driving altogether (I’d previously used a local car club very occasionally) – so buses and trains are now our default modes of transport.
During lockdown, I used to take regular ‘dawn walks’ to and around the harbourside but, strangely (given that we now only live 5 minutes from the harbour), my walking has probably reduced a little over the past 12 months – a combination of laziness and old age perhaps?

I love reflecting back on the things that have happened over the previous twelve months and, each year, it’s a reminder that there WILL be some very special things that they will happen in the coming year – even though, at this moment, I don’t know what 2023 will bring. Clearly, I’m also aware that there will inevitably be some sad stuff too… and perhaps challenges we feel ill-equipped to face? In such times, families and friendships will, once again, see us through.
Over the past couple of years or so, I sense that our activities have become rather less adventurous and our ‘horizons’ set much closer to home. Another case of laziness and old age perhaps?
Moira and I certainly think we made the decision to move house (in August 2021) at exactly the right time for us – the idea of us down-sizing in say 5 years’ time feels hilariously beyond us now! We’ve certainly settled into our new location really well and city centre living suits us very nicely.
For us as a family, it’s been another good year (despite its challenges)… and we continue to count our blessings.
I wish you (and all yours) a very happy, healthy and peaceful 2023. 

advent conspiracy 28

This from Chris Goan  https://thisfragiletent.com

And so the advent journey comes towards its apotheosis. Thank you to those who have made the journey with us.
 
We have not put up a tree this year...until today.
It will not be a traditional spruce, we will follow a recent tradition of choosing some bare branches from a birch or willow the woods at the bottom of our garden. Emily is always a little disparaging, calling it our 'twig', but I love it for several reasons.
 
I love the fact that we are bringing something inside the house from just outside.
 
I love the fact that no tree has died to make our Christmas celebration more decorative. Birch and willow adapted to the activities of large herbivores, mostly not here any more- the giant elk and the hairy elephants that tore through these parts when the woods were wild. removing a few branches just encourages these trees to coppice.
 
I love that we are doing this on Christmas eve, to mark both the first incarnation (creation) and the second one in the form of Emmanuel.
 
I love too that this is a tree in winter, without leaves, but with tiny buds. It is a tree that reminds me that what is now dark will find the light once more.

Everything was created through him;
    Nothing - not one thing! -
    came into being without him.
What came into existence was Life,
    and the Life was Light to live by.
The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
    the darkness couldn’t put it out.
 (John chapter 1, from the Message)
 
A couple of days ago, I tried to describe the first incarnation as the Great Becoming, starting with the great explosion of love that was the Big Bang.
 
Perhaps we might describe this second incarnation as the Great Compassion, in which what was zoomed out was now zoomed right in.
What was distant was now near.
What was heavenly was now human.
 
On this Christmas eve, it is appropriate to allow space for wonder.
 
It is appropriate to speak of this great mystery that we call God.
 
Let's hold those around us whilst we do it.

advent conspiracy 27

Today’s post is from Chris Goan https://thisfragiletent.com

Photo by The Humantra on Pexels.com

I hope you have enjoyed this little ‘conspiracy’ as much as I have. It has been lovely to share this space with different voices whose words took me places I would otherwise not have gone. Thanks so much to Bob, Graham, Steve B, Yvonne and Steve P for your thoughtfulness and companionship.

All of which made me think about how we encounter other voices, other thinking. It occurred to me that our social-media-shaped brains are increasingly inoculated against other views. Rather than freeing our brains for exploration and encounter, the internet seems to have set us up as oppositional avatars, whose purpose is to find the error in the ways of the other, not to listen and learn. Even when I try to NOT do this – to not engage – my brain still falls into familiar comfortable groves, thrilling to the failure of my intellectual/religious/political enemies…

…who are mostly not enemies at all, just people with different perspectives, doing their best to make sense of the complex broken world in which we live.

Advent could easily be a version of the same in which we wait only for what we know, from those who are from our tribe. This would certainly be a comfortable experience, but it seems to me that this would not do justice to the radical disruption that always seems to happen with the coming of the light.

An aurora blankets the Earth beneath a celestial night sky by NASA Johnson is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0

I was thinking too about the head/heart thing.

Increasingly I appreciate how an encounter with anything that matters is whole-body. In other words, when I am fully engaged, I feel it in my bones, my gristle, my heart. This is a very different kind of engagement than an intellectual titillation, in which I strengthen my own ego by bolstering my sense of intellectual agency.

In my limited experience, these kinds of embodied encounters are typically about two things:

1. Compassion – when we feel deeply drawn to the heart of another

2. Mysticism – when we sense the undefinable mystery that I will call ‘the divine’

Head and heart. I often find it difficult to go beyond the first, but I am getting better at the second.