Splicing

Look what I made!

So here I am floating around on water messing about with ropes. When my friend's father offered to take us out on his boat today in characteristically English celebration of a Royal Wedding bank holiday weekend, I was already excited. When he asked me if I'd like to splice a new bow rope I was beside myself. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you'll be thinking I should get out more, but for a sailor and a craftswoman and a thinker and having just dug out my post about 'strong ropes', this, dear friends, was Christmas early.

I love splicing. My own father taught me when I was very young. He - a sailor and engineer - may have been blind to the poetic potential of weaving a three-way twine but the other side of my genetic make-up being an artist mother who loved knitting will forever forge the practical with the poetic, and so today I turned in my hands the construction of a truly strong and special rope.

Whenever you weave strands, especially of life, you are splicing something amazing for something huge so it does not go adrift.

The splice I made will hold fast a massive, heavy boat on its mooring. I'm really proud of that.


{Today's Soundtrack: Summertime - Gershwin}

Soles

Taking the usual route to my desk this morning, it appeared again so big, bright and green, fluttering and flipping in the breeze as I ducked in-between foot commuters to make a picture of it. Some of these folk marched, some trudged, others sauntered, scuffed or pottered. All moving somewhere, soles of their feet covering ground and creating some distance between them and something behind. 

If the soles of our feet could tell stories, what sort of stories would yours tell? 

I hope they do not speak about numb walks to and from things that are never expected to be different. Are the souls of your feet willing explorers, ready to be planted? I hope they speak of soil and seeds, soft grasses and spaces to grow. Maybe they would speak about pounding miles and miles on hard tracks, the harder they fall the more aggressive—and not necessarily satiated—the heart's desire, and if this was me I would try to heed it as a warning and lighten my step. Would they talk of restless wanderlust that means my feet never know what ground they will navigate next, and would they say there was no pattern to this journey? Perhaps the soles would tell about discovering beautiful, extraordinary lands and homes.

Every footfall is an arrival. I talk about soles like this, and what I'm really saying is that I think it's important to be present, and stop being so focussed on where you're going that where you are fails to captivate you. Pace out the love-filled opportunity in every step.

On the street this morning we were all on a mission of some sort. Some wondered what my pavement mission was, casting a subtle glance to see what piece of crap on the floor was so captivating. That often happens, and I try to remember they haven't seen the forty-nine other times this has happened so they may think it is strange, but they have no idea how I feel.

Three over two days; a thought for my adventuring, loved-up soles and what it does for my here and now.

{Today's Soundtrack: Feist - The Reminder}

If you don't believe me...

...here's the frog.

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Didn't I Say?

Remember this?



Well, it's not even technically flowering season yet, and the sweet peas are just a third of their grown up size and still only frilly green shoots, but I thought you'd like to know in the last few weeks this has happened:



And yes, I did find a frog under the sweet peas on Monday. Sorry I'm not writing much. I'm too busy trying to shut my mouth.


{Today's Soundtrack: Vince Gauraldi - Oh Good Grief}

Excellent Easter

Birds flying high you know how I feel,
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel,
Breeze drifting on by, you know how I feel.
It's a new dawn,
It's a new day,
It's a new life...


{Today's Soundtrack: Nina Simone - Feeling Good}

Day Forty

What's that tiny, red, glinting thing, down there on the ground while the blossom trees are in full explosive flourish, and just as I catch myself feeling ever so thankful for spring?

Ah, it's one of those again! Is someone following me while I trundle up to this, the last day of Lent, checking that I get all the way without cheating? It's day number forty, Friday, and we decide to call it 'good'. On that note, I have a few questions:

• What has your journey through lent been like?

• Do you care, about anything?

• Precisely what do you care about?

• Do you have an idea what to do with that?

• Is there any difference between the you now and the you of March 9th?

• How can you tell the difference, and what do you know now?

• Where do we go after this?

• At this end of Lent, what kind of shape is your heart in, and is it really all good?

Hm, good. I suppose it is. Yes, I suppose it is.


{Today's Soundtrack: Agnes Obel - Philharmonics}

Winning Love

As the Jesus thing teaches us not to value a person's standing before we decide to love them, shaking hands with Pastor Rob Bell - a true advocate of this - last night as he signed my copy of his 'Love Wins' book felt a bit phony.

Actually, I just wanted to ask a question about why I think many so-called christians get hung up on their need to be right about who's in, who's out. It was to do with it being supposedly easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter heaven, you know the story. I think it is this comment (among others) that causes people to be so rigid in their desire for rules, guidelines, approvals, permissions, gold stars and stickers on their 'am I getting to heaven' reward chart. I knew Pastor Rob would have a good take on it, so took the opportunity of a book signing to go and ask. However, too busy chatting to someone else and as a last minute straggler, I found myself in an embarrassing bun fight for attention as jet lag got the better of him and stewards the better of me, and he signed my book with barely time for a handshake while still listening to someone else who was taking the opportunity for a monologue. So awkward.

Convinced that love does win, instead I took my question to my friends on the journey home, and we had an interesting chat about obsession with rules versus stuffing up, getting to say sorry and having another go. And also decided not to be embarrassed about asking a writer to sign their book.

It's counter-intuitive, or should I say counter-culture, this Jesus thing, but I'm so glad about that because winning love is no longer on the agenda. Actually, one of the best things Pastor Rob said last night was, "I don't know."

Thank goodness, he said what we're all thinking.




{Today's Soundtrack: Clock Opera - Belongings}

A Strong Rope

There comes a point in a person's life and adventures when the question of resources comes along. Each of us have resources–skills and gifts, inspirations, competence, strength and wisdom gathered from experience–and it's only right to ask how these things might combine for a bigger and better use. It's good to consider responsible use of our resources, and certainly if we can learn to do this for ourselves then we are better placed to consider this corporately, collectively.

However, there is a difficult place to sit while this is being worked out, and that's what these little frayed ropes are about. A strong rope is made up of many strands held together, stronger than the single thread. Some ropes are smooth and sleek, others rough and rugged, some twisted and some knotted, some held together with a piece of twine. They've all got a purpose. 

Sometimes it's good to sit with the unwound strands for a while and appreciate what's going in to this strong rope of yours. It's so tempting to rush the job of splicing but this does take time, and the waiting gives space to appreciate every one of those funny, frazzled and seemingly chaotic strands.


Slightly frayed? As yet unwritten.


{Today's soundtrack: it's pop but I love it, Natasha Bedingfield - Unwritten}

Reposted from July 16, 2007

Passport Booth

 Reposted from December 04, 2009

Passport booths are a good metaphor for life – at least the old fashioned ones were. You get to have another go if you stuff up. What a relief. Who do we thank?

{Today's soundtrack: Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid}

Leafy Equality

August 12, 2008

Remember the Circles of Confusion last May? This view has the same effect, always to arrest those thoughts for a moment and mention that it's worth letting go of your hang-ups and control mechanisms because–no matter now much you try to avoid it–we all overlap, are all connected, and all drink from the same cup. Look at them all, the fragile little leaves. Yep, they're like us again.

Leafy equality, necessarily so. Even with the strongest will in the world, even if you pretend you're in it alone, you're just not.


{Yesterday's soundtrack: the wind}

Circles of Confusion

Reposted from May 18, 2007

Ok, I know I said I was off the lightbox for a few days but that is overturned as of 6am, when this happened:

A tree outside my bedroom window stands between me and the sun, and its leaves layer up to form thousands of tiny pinholes through which the sun presses. By the time these exact pinhole beams reach the wall next to me they have defracted and grown into soft pools of light. As the breeze provokes a shiver in the tree, the leafy pinholes shift about and cause these 'circles of confusion' (as they are technically known) to dance around with each other.

Their frenetic shifting happens so quickly, these circles appear to move in rhythm but there is actually nothing predictable about them at all - even their density comes and goes with cloud cover. They momentarily overlap like neat Venn diagrams, with the shared segment being brighter than the solo shape, but are in perpetual motion, quick to pass and change. They are impossible to catch, their boundaries are multiple, and they are a constant catching of breath. I adore them. They tell me about us.



{Today's soundtrack: Ray LaMontagne - Be Here Now}

Am I an Alien?

Reposted from June 07, 2007

"Ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space." 

Is anyone else feeling like a bit of an alien today? I keep feeling as though I'm in orbit, just watching things from a distance and not sure how what I'm doing fits with the rest of the planet. hmmm...that feeling of wanting to sort everything out and not being able to quite reach.

Anyone?

Having been to see the Antony Gormley show at the Hayward Gallery this weekend I am convinced that we all feel like this quite a lot.

It's the most extraordinary thing - standing on the South Bank looking around London's skyline, seeing Gormley's figures stationed on the top of buildings both right above your head and as far as you can stretch your vision into the distance. They're just quietly looking at us. My friend Harry is overwhelmed with the sense of how these static bodies connect the entire landscape with feeling and belonging. I usually find London such an insensitive, thick skinned and unfriendly place, and then suddenly there's a peaceful army keeping an eye on us, holding us in, and perhaps the city's cold arrogance has not managed to fling us sensitive ones out into distant orbit after all.

Inside the gallery is the amazing 'Blind Light' - a cold, floodlit room with perspex walls, full up with steam. Walk in to the middle of the 'blind' whiteness and you have no sense of space whatsoever, another face only visible when it appears out of the fog just two feet away. Your sense of other humans–either wariness or need of them–is so exaggerated, along with the peace in being completely alone. So, here the separation is delightful.

And those sculptures, such tenderness... they provoke a big wondering about the space between us... go see, I just can't fill the rest in for you!

So yes, aliens we all are. Do you feel like an alien? Maybe that's ok.




{Today's soundtrack: PJ Harvey - We Float}

The Rock and the Wave

Reposted from May 01, 2007

Come a bit closer... the rock and the wave again. Pulling certain sections of this image into isolation, it's hard to tell which is which.

Rock and wave. Something about each gives the other its purpose, but I've often wondered–when feeling like a breaker that crashes against the cliff, or alternatively feeling the breaker thundering over my being–how this relationship can exist at all. There's so much tension in it, but so much poise at the same time. Is that right?

I relate to the behavior of both, and appreciate what one gives the other. I hate the pain of the crash, but love the grace in discovering how to move with the force. The one requires the other in order to exist as it does.

Keep watching, keep feeling. Are you the rock or the wave?


{Today's soundtrack: The Freelance Hellraiser - Waiting for Clearance}

Simplicity

Reposted from April 29, 2007

...

I have a maxim, that unless you can do it for yourself you can't do it for other people (discuss - is this true?). Therefore, I've been taking care and taking stock, emerging from what has felt like a gruelling wintertime.

A rock to sit on, just inches above the permanently shifting ocean surface. A rock to watch, to reassure me that there are presences in life which are—thankfully—immovable and show up their features best under the swill of wave and tide. And an ocean of thought stretching out from my toes into a place that doesn't name itself as sky or sea, collecting my own thoughts into its belly and letting them exist unresolved and mysterious in origin.

This is a great space of paradox, letting me bring everything and then telling me about the eternity of unsolved mystery that everything will always be. And doesn't it look beautiful, and isn't its simplicity calming?


{Today's soundtrack: The squealing swifts outside my window, back from their African winter! It's so good to have them back.}

Fooling Around

Reposted August 07, 2008

1.4.11 postscript > Dedicating this to my wonderful godson JJ jr who is a true joy! Happy April folks, and remember that we are all fools unless we remember that the truth looks different depending on where you stand to look at it. 

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