At least it does for 106 year old Hetty Bower.
I saw this clip on the news this evening. How wonderful it would be to sit down and talk to this remarkable lady.
Perhaps if we all lived to be 106…
With age comes… peacemaking…
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Bruce Cockburn does Alan Ginsberg…
Very few people write lyrics that catch in my brain like Bruce Cockburn.
I am sat listening to some old vinyl this morning, toast in hand, before we head out into the lovely Sunday morning, and was captivated by this song again.
It is an outpouring of images and words from the road.
Silver wheels
High speed drift on a prairie road
Hot tires sing like a string being bowed
Sudden town rears up then explodes
Fragments resolve into white line code
Whirl on silver wheelsBlack earth energy receptor fields
Undulate under a grey cloud shield
We outrun a river colour brick red mud
That cleaves apart hills soil rich as bloodHighway squeeze in construction steam
Stop caution hard hat yellow insect machines
Silver steel towers stalk rolling land
Toward distant stacks that shout “Feed on demand”100 miles later the sky has changed
Urban anticipation — we get 4 lanes
Red orange furnace sphere notches down
Throws up silhouette skyline in brownSundogs flare on windshield glass
Sudden swoop skyward iron horse overpass
Pass a man walking like the man in the moon
Walking like his head’s full of irish fiddle tunesThe skin around every city looks the same
Miles of flat neon spelling well-known names
USED TRUCKS DIRTY DONUTS YOU YOU’RE THE ONE
Fat wheeled cars squeal into the sunRadio speakers gargle top 40 trash
Muzak soundtrack to slow collapse
Planet engines pulsate in sidereal time
If you listen close you can hear the whine
Very Ginsberg. But Ginsberg never played the guitar like this…
Call me a groupie (I do come close to hero worship with this man) but I came across these clips the other day and could not resist re-posting. He is talking about an album that I reviewed here– and to be honest I was not very kind. By way of some slight redress, I offer these two clips…
Then a little more nodding to Ginsberg-
Wilderness retreats 2012…
Here’s a bit of advance notice of a new thing we are doing next year. I would appreciate any help getting the message out there…
For many years now, along with a group of old friends, I have been escaping to wild places in order to recharge. Nothing unusual about that I suppose- but over the past few years, we have been ever more deliberate about the spiritual practice of retreat that can be experienced in wild places.
We have gathered ideas and activites, as well as developing lots of our own ideas, usually taking specific locations- caves, rivers, abseils down cliffs, mountain tops- and shaping thoughts, prayers and actions to the surroundings. We wanted to find ways to worship, and to wonder, and to share the depth of our experiences.
At least once a year we have tried to escape to a small deserted island- there is such a wonderful selection within reach of where we live in Argyll. Each one seems to have a different character and a different history. Many have ruins and remains left behind by the monastic gatherings of the Celtic missionary saints. We in Aoradh have been keen to share these experiences, and have already hosted a number of weekends with invited guests.
You can read about some of our previous trips here here and here.
However, in the spirit of seeking simple collaborative means to making a living, some of us are planning to organise a number of 3 day retreats on a slightly more commercial basis.
Two of these will be based at Sgath an Tighe– one of which will be more ‘adventure’ based, and the other for those of us who appreciate wild places in a more restful way.
The other two will involve wild camping on uninhabited inner Hebridean islands- in one of the most beautiful places in the world. This kind of camping allows us to appreciate wild places in a much purer way, and also allows us to be in places that few people ever visit, let alone linger.
Over the next few weeks we will be working on final destinations, costs and dates. For the camping trips we will provide boat charter, organisation, activities and leadership.
So- next year, ditch the package tour to the Costa’s. Go somewhere where few people have been before.
If you are interested, then we would love to hear from you…
In-out-up…
My old friend Graham sent me some stuff about the theme of the teaching in our old church Calvary Christian Fellowship back in Preston. Graham is about to do a season looking again at making and forming small missional communities.
It is going to be an interesting journey for them, as they are starting out not as a disparate band who ‘find’ each other then start with all the forming and storming. Rather they are starting out as ‘Church’ and seeking to become ‘church’.
I wish them every blessing.
Graham shared this model which was their staring point-
This is not Graham’s picture though- this is from the middle of our table from the Aoradh meeting tonight. Because we had already been speaking about a similar dynamic.
We do this thing at our planning meetings that I like- we cover the table with paper, and the doodles and coffee spills and scribble become the record of our gathering.
Ok someone might need to pull out some action points and e-mail it round later, but we often do not take other notes.
Tonight I shared my sense of frustration that we were doing a lot of the inward stuff- the gathering and eating together and sharing (all of which is great) and also some of the upward stuff- in terms of worshipping together. But we were not doing so much ‘outward’ stuff- the uncomfortable business of ‘mission’. This is not really fair of course because we have been doing all sorts of things this year, but I am always longing for the next creative adventure.
Mission no longer means ‘evangelism’ for us. But I think it still means risk, vulnerability, and the deliberate connection with the other- in various kind of ways- seeking to serve, to make peace, to share art, to display love and to seek to be agents of the Kingdom of God.
Anyway, my friends pointed out gently that we all have different levels of need for this kind of adventure, and that the very fact of living our lives in the midst of all this messy humanity is always going to be ‘out’ there. And I said yes- BUT…
And bless them, we spent the rest of the night dreaming of missions we might adventure on. Art in the hillside, quiet gardens, meditation benches, trips away together, retreats etc…
Let the Spirit call us out.
But let us also be blessed in the togetherness.
As we worship.
All things decay…
The ultimate Christmas…
This was the name of the Sunday supliment in last weekend’s Herald newspaper.
A strange title indeed, as buried on page ten in an article entitled ‘A time for others’ was a discussion about the work of Alternativity– in which development worker Margaret Paul was quoted as saying this-
We know that our communities women bear the main burden of Christmas and what should be a happy time can be very stressfull, especially where money is concerned.
Some women see Christmas as a chance to make things up to their children because they live in poverty all year round.
The article also quotes a Samaritans volunteer, who said
People can be very affected by the imagery portraying the perfect Christmas when the reality is that it is different for everyone.
So much more so if you are on your own, or unwell. I know many people who just want to shut their door on Christmas, and wait for the season to pass on by.
What then might be the ultimate Christmas for these folk, and for us?
Does it depend on a colour coded table, set in front of a huge log fire in a picture post card cottage covered in snow? Do it need to be punctuated by the sharing of the perfect presents around the designer tree? All of these things are good- but are they really the measure of what is ‘ultimate’?
My ultimate Christmas celebration involves family, friends, food and an appreciation of the coming of the King of peace.
The rest is just decoration.
Biutiful film…
I have just watched this film…
It is the story of Uxbal – a single father who struggles to reconcile fatherhood, love, spirituality, crime, guilt and mortality amid the dangerous underworld of modern Barcelona — all before his life is over. He must deal with his loving but unreliable, reckless, and bipolar wife (from whom he is separated and who poses a threat to the safety of their children), and a large group of illegal immigrants for whom he obtains material so that they may not be deported. In the middle of all of this, he is diagnosed with terminal cancer, which he tries to hide from his two children.
It is a gut wrenching masterpiece of cinematography, and is soaked with a wonderful kind of broken loving humanity.
It also tells the story of globalisation, and the poverty on the frontiers of capitalism.
Watch it- but be warned. It will open something up inside…
Bonfire pics…
We are just back from a lovely evening at Simon and Helen’s. Here are a few pics…
When my morning comes…
Here we are, sat drinking tea and listening to music. Sabbath blessings abound, and outside the foghorns are still sounding on the Clyde.
Specifically we are listening to a CD sent up to us from our old friend and neighbour, Terry. Terry is a lover of Bluegrass music, and regularly digs out music that he thinks I will like- he is usually right.
This time he sent an old Iris DeMent album- The way I should.
The first track made me cry- it somehow hit the Sunday morning spot. It is saturated with longing and hope- all the more so as it is associated with the kindness of a friend.
See what you think- click here to play…
When my mornin’ comes around, no one else will be there
so I won’t have to worry about what I’m supposed to say
and I alone will know that I climbed that great big mountain
and that’s all that will matter when my mornin’ comes aroundWhen my mornin’ comes around, I will look back on this valley
at these sidewalks and alleys where I lingered for so long
and this place where I now live will burn to ash and cinder
like some ghost I won’t remember
When my mornin’ comes aroundWhen my mornin’ comes around, from a new cup I’ll be drinking
and for once I won’t be thinking that there’s something wrong with me
and I’ll wake up and find that my faults have been forgiven
and that’s when I’ll start living
When my mornin’ comes around
The fastest fireworks ever!
Apparently the display of Fireworks just up the road in Oban did not go so well last night. The display was supposed to last for half an hour, but…
Ooops.
this fragile tent 