Abandon

A soundtrack today caused something to stir in my tummy. It was this thought about someone giving themselves in abandon to be alone with another person, whatever the cost. The soundtrack is Sufjan Stevens, 'To Be Alone With You' from Seven Swans. The track is a beautiful love song written between humans, but then takes a humbling twist turned between humans and god, describing in terms we understand quite how far god would go to say, "I just really, really love you." It's so hard to resist this kind of abandon when it's brought to you, but quite a challenge to let yourself go to it at the same time. You have to trust that all your fear and doubt and need to control an outcome will be triumphantly overshadowed by something else that won't be articulated in any language we understand. No, it's another language altogether, spoken in quiet, physical, eye to eye presence. You do know what I'm talking about. It is completely at home in contradiction and repelled by possession. Someone else abandons themself for you so that you can live free.

I could write about this for hours, but am not an expert, far from it.

True love is a force beyond reckoning. To grow strength enough to hold love you must abandon, not posses, and to hold this in your hands is (to quote Father Richard Rohr) 'the most heroic thing you'll ever do'.

Be still my beating heart.





{Today's soundtrack: Sufjan Stevens - Illinoise/Seven Swans}

Softening

Hmmm... sorry that things are a bit slow guys.

I'm feeling a bit soft at the moment so am retreating a little to chew a few things over. Also, I have heaps of work to do, and so lightbox thoughts aren't really getting the space they crave.

I had to rewrite this post because I felt last draft I was being way too honest! I think being soft and tender is a very special thing, but also realise how untrue that is for so many people, with softness seen as a sign of weakness by so many. The reverse is true. It takes great courage to meet tenderness and stay with it a while.

Anyway, today's picture is from the recent 'special job' shoot. It's my friend Pete pretending to be an angel, because for a little undefined while I'd like someone else to help with the thinking and praying. Thanks Pete.


{Today's soundtrack: Stevie Wonder - As}

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Sorry, I know we're supposed to be back on Homeland but I really need to say this.

David Cameron is just wrong to incentivise commitment to the family unit by financial carrot dangling. Suggesting the way to strong relationship is through pound signs in the eyes is so, so misleading. Building family like that–both locally and nationally–will only breed a culture of bloodhounds, and the social problems we currently face will only become more severe because young people will grow up believing avarice is the only way forward. Advocating family because of the money it earns you is a rotten seed to cultivate.

And no, Mr. Cameron, Britain will not win, as you claim. It will lose, very slowly and irreversibly, as the effects of these ideas stream down from generation to generation.

I know the 'family' buzzword is not new in party conference world, and I know they're all as bad as each other. But it makes me sad that yet again, here are supposedly fresh ideas promising change, but actually there is absolutely nothing radical about them, and were we to say 'yes' to this we would just rub more salt in our existing cultural wounds.

I know it's boring being skint, and that having cash really helps, but money does not make the world go round. Only love can do that, ultimately.


{Today's soundtrack: Sufjan Stevens - Illinoise}

Previously, on Homeland...

"It'll turn up," they say, and it did, the precious CD of Homeland pics. So we can resume the musings on a place called Home, but before that, here is a reminder of where we've been so far:

Introduction

Episode i

Episode ii


{Today's soundtrack: PJ Harvey - A Place Called Home}

The Race

"It's not how you start, it's how you finish..."

But then "every end has a start."


I'm on a train to london with the pod. It's nice to be out.



{Today's soundtrack: The Hours - Narcissus Road}

Thankfulness

Sigh. Today I'm feeling a bit miserable because the foot injury is flaring up again. Most of all I want to run around and be thankful for this lovely job, the one to go in that space we're watching, and most of all I want to be happy about a calm and treasured time of things all having worked out OK. But most of all I'm cross at having to stay still with my injury and separate from the world! It's so tricky - we're not built for isolation, and I'm not great at sitting still. I'm trying not to be grumpy but it's quite difficult!

For now, in order to make a point of thankfulness, I'm reaching for these photographs from shoot day. They help recall a grand and blessed session with special folk, and make a point of the fact I get to do some lovely things in my work, to which my stillness today tips a little nod.


{Today's soundtrack: fireworks somewhere in town, and an owl in the tree outside. Yes, an owl! And I thought it was some teenagers larking about...}

Trees of Justice

A man once said, "And the trees of the fields shall clap their hands." What on earth does that mean? Trees don't have hands.

But then, maybe if you think of branches as arms, and the leaves as hands, and if you've ever stood beneath a sycamore branch while the wind blows its leaves, it does somehow seem like hands clapping. And then if you step back into that wind to look at the whole tree it becomes like an excited crowd of people. And if you step back further to get a view of the whole field of trees it could–in a certain visionary way–mimic a huge stadium audience, cheering something quite brilliant and arresting. So, maybe as you're standing there feeling tiny, there is an impression growing that the trees of the fields do indeed have hands to clap and they sense something to cheer that we just guess at for now. Let yourself be enchanted by this.

I can't tell you how much I love trees - these fantastic, giant poems to strength, resilience and longevity. The roots of a tree grow as deep as the branches are high, an important reminder that as deep as a person's suffering is, so is their capacity to love.

Trees of justice, oaks of righteousness - excellent encouragers.


{Today's soundtrack: wind in the leaves}

Trophies

If you didn't see this picture with your own eyes, you would never believe that in a kitchen somewhere in the UK there was a saucepan full to the brim with malteasers, going partway to create adequate reward for a week of hard earned triumph.

Half marathons complete, crutches thrown away (believe it sister!) and the job of my life handed in (deadline TODAY). Completion of these things, my friends, has to be acknowledged.

No, this image will ever win awards, but just looking at the contents of that saucepan is enough to get the endorphines coursing while the radio provides music to smile to. And surely that's (in part) the job of photography - to record unbelievable things as they happen. (All of this is true, but I promise you'll never see the pictures of me running...)

Halleluliah, amen.


{Today's soundtrack: Supergrass - Sun Hits the Sky}

In Dependence

How to go from super-strength to incapacity in the crossing of a finish line: run a half marathon with acute tendonitis in your achilles heel by telling yourself its just those quite new and not properly run-in running shoes pressing a bit, and the camber in the road going the wrong way. Upon crossing aforementioned finishing line in reasonable time, find nice St John Ambulance people for an ice pack, then leave all shame at the door as you try–unsuccessfully–to get up again and listen to them radio one of their famous ambulances for a lift to the doc and crutches.

Oh dear, housebound and having to enjoy my beloved but humble garden-on-the-steps from a removed angle. It does look nice from up here, but there's nothing like being close enough to see the pollen on the bumble bee's legs as it drinks. I do miss being down there, my patient space of idea and prayers alongside things that grow.

Yes, this is the latest drama going off in Lizzieland, though it feels quite lovely to sit down all day eating choc without being assumed lazy or greedy. Kind, kind friends and neighbours coming to cook supper and water the plants, and lessons in dependence and being in a lot, neither of which come easily.

Thankfully, I've had so many gorgeous offers of help I've almost had to invent things for people to do so they don't go away feeling unwanted! (It's amazing the looks of "alright suit yourself" you get when you try to suggest you don't need anything.)

Thank you friends, I'm on the mend again. By the way, if anyone is going to the shops I could do with some cake ingredients...


{Today's soundtrack: radio4 + 6music, for the company}

Blasting in Progress

For a minute, the road was closed off by men in hi-vis jackets and big boots. No one was allowed through. A siren sounded, first twice, then three times, then there was a deep and rumbling bang which startled my core. After one final long siren, we were clear to go. It was only a small building site, and the effects of the blast couldn't be seen, hidden in some drain pipe I suspect.

This blasting, for the passer-by it's more than just a sound. One particular memory I have is hearing snow-cannons blasting drifts in the Alps, about 5am before we would normally wake. It was deep and base enough to shake the chalet timber, and it surprised me then how–even though quite innocent–to the untrained and unsuspecting being it is so frightening.

I can't imagine how it must feel to live with this all the time in hostility. The soul must find itself startled out of all grasp on peace. Either that, or you become especially skilled in achieving peace in the thick of chaos. Either that, or you become so hard-hearted you stop noticing.

Learning how to be at peace while sitting on piles of rubble is a rich lesson.


{Today's soundtrack: birdsong}

The Rules

So, what are the conventions around using a tea-cosy as a hat? Dave, I know you'll have thoughts on this, but it's one thing wearing yours at a DJ Derek gig under cover of rum and darkness, and another altogether to choose the high street in broad daylight.


There's often a stage in between hot and cold where going commando (as they say at festivals) is not an option, particularly if you suffer from dreadful hat hair, as I do. In these times the spout/handle holes could be utilised as well placed ear vents. Maddy is only partway to demonstrating the look here, but personally, I admire the boldness in her lateral thinking, especially when it's crafted in the form of a wicker basket full of flowers.

What's the best thing you've ever reclaimed as head gear?


{Today's soundtrack: the guys were listening to The Beatles earlier on, but we're all concentrating really hard so it has reduced to intense electrical hum.}

Fopped Off

Once upon a time, Bristol, like many other towns, had a number of small, independent record shops. The good folk who worked in those shops knew their stuff, probably knew your stuff too, would comment on your purchases and recommend their top new releases that you really should be listening to, stock extra supplies of locally gigging artists and stick hand-written reviews on CD covers, that sort of thing. They had carpet stuck together with gaffer tape and wrote lists on boards with dry markers. They sometimes even sold our second hand CDs. Familiar old friends were these little shops.

One sunny day, New, Handsome Record Shop came strolling into town and, wearing the badge of independence and putting turntables on its downstairs counter, seduced the local crowd. With its lollipop motif ('suck it and see') and super-bargain stocks, the smaller shops found they couldn't compete and without a warehouse of cheap tat to pimp in customers they all went out of business.

Handsome record shop loved being flavour of the month, though flavour got the better of it as its eyes turned out to be bigger than its tummy. Somehow it thought that buying an extra helping of record store pudding it would get the wings it needed to topple the Big Guys off their perch. Instead, it ate so much record store pudding it couldn't get off the ground and went extinct.

Now all we have are the Big Guys.


How to avoid this happening again:

1. Shop local and actually discover the name of the person behind the counter, who has been there for years and is training up their son/daughter to take over the business. They know where you live. Mr Tesco doesn't (unless you have a loyalty card).

2. Don't use loyalty cards - insist that shops sell things at the price they can afford in the first place rather than making false reimbursement at the checkout. And anyway, credit you get on a loyalty card should really be going to the farmers growing things organically (for example) so if you do use a loyalty card don't complain organic produce costs so much.

3. Don't be seduced into thinking that just because something's cheap it's worth having. Quantity never did equal quality.

4. Seek out the shops where carpet is held together with gaffer tape, because surely they've seen some local action and that counts for a lot. What they have to offer is integrity, and they don't need polished marble flooring to convince you.

and finally,

5. Remember that when New Handsome can't be bothered no more you're the only one that loses.


As you can tell, I'm quite annoyed about bloody Fopp being so stupid and greedy and putting themselves and everyone else in the area out of business. I no longer have a cute local to browse for today's soundtrack. This is just wrong.

And yes, I did doctor that picture. Grrr.


{Today's soundtrack: Nina Simone - Little Girl Blue}

Watch This Space

A rough building site, shadows curling across the rubble and along unfinished walls, and a time designated to sit and watch this space. There isn't even any paint to dry–this time we're watching something take shape from very, very deep down inside.


It's both inside me and inside this wall. You can't see it with your normal eyes, at least, I can't. I have to keep closing those normal eyes so I can see this coming together more clearly, so it helps to sit here in the physical space for a while and let the pictures come on into view.



This is a big commission–the amazing thing I've mentioned before but couldn't elaborate on too much. It is a commission to fill this wall space with images, and while I have a fairly strong idea what kind of images, the specifics are just now being worked out. While that content develops inside it's captivating to see the elegance and grace of these shadows on the wall, the triptych of wire shapes and the soft coherence of a simple colour palette already at work. These things speak a little about the essence of my images to come. There is a peace already here while beauty emerges from the ashes of a derelict place with plans for hope and a bright future. It's good to watch because it confirms that something goes ahead preparing the way, and it's right to watch because the nature of this preparation helps encourage the vision on its journey.



This is an active building site so full safety gear is required. It feels somehow poetic that I should be there in armour, protecting myself from harm while encouraging the ideas out.

(Follow this link to related NEWS article, August 2008.)


{Today's soundtrack: Coldcut - Sound Mirrors}

[ Homeland ]

to be continued once the CD of images reappears... hmph.

[ interlude ]

Apologies for the delay since last posting. The Homeland story will continue soon once the absorbing events of this week are navigated. These include development of that *amazing* job announced way back on May26th (details coming soon), and my Great Aunt's funeral, which was yesterday.

The funeral wasn't really so sad - Auntie Ros was a very old lady who was probably blessed in passing on, and the few family that were gathered had a special and happy time together remembering her. She lived overlooking Dartmoor, and in memory of Ros today's images are only in my head, collected about twenty years ago - the view from her sitting room across the moor to Hay Tor, the bright blue of her ducks' eggs (which I'd never seen before), and tiny, yappy chihuahuas running around chintzy sofas and a muddy stableyard. A lady of the outside places, bless her and her looking out and up to the hills.


"I lift my eyes up to the hills - where does my help come from?"

Psalm 121



{Today's soundtrack: Mahler's Fifth Symphony}

Homeland : episode ii

One by one, they ascend.

Consider this, that as many shapes and colours as there are lifting into the sky, there are people walking the same piece of land as you with a hope they long to let fly. All our hopes are different, but perhaps they all ascend in the same direction, and perhaps the wind carries them all together whichever way it blows. Some hopes are big and captivate many, some small and almost unnoticed.





Although our hopes are unique, we're all in it together, carried not in our own strength but by something else beyond us. What is it? And doesn't it make you want to stop looking at your feet?



These are your people. This is your tribe, your clan, and doesn't it look brilliant?


{Today's soundtrack: Koop - Absolute Space from Sons of Koop}

Homeland : episode i

So, we found ourselves getting up very, very early one morning, climbing a hill in Bristol thick with mist and dew, exploring through some strange shapes and unfamiliar noises. The sun was low and warm, but the mist was strong and wouldn't leave, so it was we were shrouded as we waited to see what would happen.


A funny land of billowing fabric started churning, like the sea, then these massive balloons grew up out of the grass, swelling with a proud promise of fairy tale adventures.



The sun bounced highlights off wet balloon silk while the mist still veiled the bigger picture, and we waited and watched to see what would happen next. We stood together expectant but disorientated, a fairy tale promise always having been something defined by not being real.


"Passengers in!" called our pilot.

Imagination and reality were struggling to equal out while we waited for the view to clear, obscured as it was by the balloons all around. One by one they started ascending, one by one...


{Today's soundtrack: Lamb - Soft Mistake from Fear of Fours}

Homeland : introduction

Something has been stirring in the soul. (See 6th July: Homeland.)

When I moved back home to Bristol two years ago I went up on my bike to the Balloon Fiesta, very early one morning, to see over one hundred balloons taking off in thin, clear morning air. I thought there would be only a handful of people watching, but was surprised to discover hundreds of folk settled with breakfast barbeques as the Lighthouse Family (Gonna Get Lifted!) crooned the balloons on their way. It was cheesy but brilliant. After London's strictness and claustrophobia, I was moved to think of my home turf birthing these gentle adventurers, all seeking their radical view of the land with no agenda that makes earthly sense. Not only this, but I was also moved by the desire of those gathered to be captivated and lifted to another place.

It's true, I thought, there really are people who care about living in hope rather than existing in ambition, and this is where I live.

Two years following this, our story begins...

Second Fruit

Yes ma'am, no more excuses, ropy phone kit is drop-kicked for a proper camera at long last–feels like having a new handbag–and I got me tomato number 2. It feels very butch to get excited about technical quality, but I must say, look at the definition on these little yummies.




More later - there's loads to tell you.


{This morning's soundtrack: local radio (?!) }

First Fruit

[ poor phone shot 02 : at the limits of tolerating ropy kit ]


Joyous! The harvesting of one delicious cherry tomato, my very first from a tree that is bearing so much fruit it has asked to be repotted three–yes, three–times, by trying to smash its way out of various homes. I give it so much love and water it every night before bedtime, and have even tied its current pot together with string such is the rebellion and over-excitement of this gorgeous creature.

It's very poetic you know, like life itself.

I tried growing cherry tomatoes a few years ago, but knew squat about plantlife and didn't appreciate how greedy these little ones are. By September that year the harvest totaled just one, sole fruit. Served up with scrambled egg and good bread, it was well worth the wait but over way too soon.

This time things are different–if this little beauty is anything to go by then guys, we're in for some tomato heaven for the next few weeks... I absolutely love seeing this tree laden with fruit, this new tree that has grown from a mini speck of a seed that I planted with my own bare hands! It's great!

Everyone! Grow stuff!!


{Today's carnival soundtrack: Gilles Peterson's latest release}

Circles of Confusion : ii

The circles have been back, really bright and busy this morning. Revisit May's archive for the original posts on this. It was great to emerge in and out of these thoughts while coming to consciousness at 7am.

By the way - (May 22) - does anyone know where the swifts have gone?


{Today's soundtrack: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Howl}

Being Here Now

Enough shocking image quality (last post) for the sake of advancing my gadget competence–that's never been a good reason to exhibit photographs. Sorry.

Back to here and now, there are some interesting grown up things going on at the moment with work, but secretly this can be exhausting at times–let's do a little dance and show everyone our tummies instead.

Anyone else know the feeling? Please say yes...




{Today's soundtrack: Ray LaMontagne - Till The Sun Turns Black}

{PS. I know he's appeared before but it's for good reason. If you want to find out why, I would recommend getting along to one of Ray's UK tour dates. If you need beauty in your life you'll find it here.}

Passion Flower

This is great - I've just worked out how to upload posts from my phone! This little flower was blooming in solitude on my balcony last night so I figured it had to be shared.

Did you know that this plant is not called 'passion' meaning love, but the passion of Christ? There is symbolism attached to each shape in the flower, right down to the 72 'radial filaments' in the flower representing the crown of thorns. There's a description here in the last section about its name (although two apostles seem to have been forgotten in order to give meaning to 10 petals).

And I was wrong to tell a friend the other day that it's different from passion fruit. This plant does fruit, but it's not the fruit you would normally eat.

Yummy.


{Today's soundtrack: Beth Orton - Daybreaker}

{Today's soundtrack}

Caught myself making a playlist called '* really nice' (add a star * so it sits at the top of your playlist library) because I couldn't swamp myself with enough sounds in exploration of a thing that's burrowing somewhere deep and making me smile at strangers in the street.

It's one of those feelings when you get a rare glimpse into a place not really in our remit to understand, but you just know everything's going to be alright. I mean, you really know.

Rather than a quiet addition at the end, today's soundtrack is something bigger to dwell on while tilling the heart's soil - I can't really talk too much about this, here's the playlist (track/artist):

1. Roscoe - Midlake
2. Chromakey Dreamcoat - Boards of Canada
3. Spiegel im Spiegel - Arvo Part
4. Sol - To Rococo Rot
5. The Plug - Bonobo
6. Flim - Aphex Twin
7. Ralome - Plaid
8. Any Other Name - Thomas Newman
9. Fault Line - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
10. Salvation - Rae & Christian
11. Bad - U2
12. Want You to Know - Freelance Hellraiser
13. Tristesse Globale - Royksopp
14. Safe in Your Arms - Beth Orton
15. Break Me Gently - Doves
16. Above the Clouds - Turin Breaks
17. Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne
18. Earth To Calm - Scott Matthews
19. The Part Where You Let Go - Hem

Waves of sound, waves of feelings, waves of experience.





So soothing and strong, the wave is one of the best poems I know. It doesn't deny the present but it still tells you something else is on its way. That is what tilling the soil is about too - paying attention to the ground today knowing there are seeds yet to be sown. That - I think - is why my sounds receive higher billing today because they acknowledge such rhythms.


{Today's soundtrack: as above}

A Lundy tear-jerker

There's a climb on the west side of Lundy called Devil's Slide and it is famous for its dramatic and sheer drop over 400ft straight into the sea, like this:




I went with my climbing pals Rob, Woz and Greg (big bruisers the lot of them) to climb this on our recent trip, and it left me in tears. Here's why.

The effects of the gorgeous forty-five minute walk up there start you off with a real sense of other-worldliness - just being on the island itself is an elemental wake up call. Is it because we are detached from the sturdy comfort of mainland, or so exposed to the dramatic elements up there on the cliffs in total isolation? Or is it both things combined, and more? Abseiling down to the start of the climb just above the ocean crashing below heightens this feeling of being immersed in the earth's rhythms, and harnessing the adrenalin buzz into a balanced poise up this route is an intense exercise. It is a thrill.

Two-thirds up the route is a belay-stance just a foot wide. You have to stand on this and pay out rope while your partner makes the next pitch of the climb. You can just see Warren standing there in these pictures, with about 300ft below him to sea level:




I stood on that ledge for quite a while as Greg made the top pitch. As I waited (he had to sit while someone else finished up top) I turned to face out and the view started opening out away from me with massive celestial theatre. Looking out from here, I started crying without being able to stop - watching this view it felt like the whole of heaven was on its way across the ocean towards me and I had absolutely no choice in the matter. Goodness was coming to get me and I had nowhere to run! It was absolutely incredible ... something transfigured and I had to give in to it.

Because of the face I saw in the rock at the top of the climb, looking out at all this with a peaceful smile in place, I felt it was only appropriate to rename this climb 'Jacob's Ladder'. The presence of angels was felt.

It's hard to know how to finish this post, such an experience just doesn't sit in a conclusion very easily...




{Today's soundtrack: Soundtrack from The Ladykillers}

Our Sonj

On a beach padding around with sand between toes and my lovely pal holding fort in the van... this is in tribute to my excellent friend Sonja, who is off with another friend and kids for a few days while I beaver away at work, sorry not to join them.



Sonja has an enormous heart, is one of the most generous and loving friends you could long for, and her commitment to our collective need for attachment is a force to be reckoned with. It's how we're built, and it's what she champions, and I can safely say that without this woman life would be a lot less love-filled for an awful lot of people.


Because we can't sit still, we escaped to Cornwall for a few days surfing, though the waves were tiny so we opted for a paddle out on boards along the headland for maybe a mile or so, exploring caves, spotting dolphins etc. There's something about being very tiny out on deep, massive, open water with someone special that helps you really appreciate them and what they are in your life. Not to be gushy about it because it would make her cringe, but this woman is fantastic and gives me a reason for being. In surfing rules, you're supposed to stay within the chequered flags for safety, but using this analogy across our friendship the flags are often ignored. To have a friendship full of risk–meaning there are few places that person won't accompany you–is amazing. It is true shelter, and like air itself. It's the best.

Sonja is this to me, as is her man JJ - very special people who have seen the grubbiest of me aswell as the shiniest, and still come back for more! I love them.

Whoever does that for you, tell them. Go on, dare ya...



{Today's soundtrack: Doves - Break Me Gently, from Lost Souls}