It took me a while to realise why I'm having such trouble leaving; why I couldn't help but cry when we hit Gretna on the way home; why my chest is tightening and my eyes watering a little even now.
There are two reasons to my mind, one good and one not so good (although I wouldn't go as far as 'bad'):
1) I've been deeply inspired spiritually, more than I imagined would've happened at SH. I thought I had it figured out you see; I thought I'd be surrounded by oppressive dogmatic ideas wrapped up in a façade of open-mindedness and forward thinking. For some reason, that was my abiding memory of the place. It's possible that this is because there's a certain element of that in the way the children and young people are taught. But this year I felt inspired to follow the ideas I've been having; to educate myself on spiritual and historical matters, and explore my own relationship with God and with my own spirit. It was freeing, it was refreshing, it was relaxing. I haven't felt so at peace for so long. It was like coming home, like that was somewhere I should be. I'm now left with the question of whether it's somewhere I should be more often, or if it was just something I needed for that short space of time? I lean more towards the former because this feeling isn't new - I've felt drawn to leadership and ministry there for a while - but is that a genuine desire to spiritually lead, or is it a desire to 'perform'?
2) It was the first time I'd been really submerged in something that is very closely linked to my depression. I've managed to skip quickly through Kent a few times over the past year, but I have cut most of the ties. This wasn't Kent, but it was Kent people and it was a situation I have spent many years of my depression in. There's an odd feeling of safety being back somewhere like that, and this isn't (as I said earlier) completely bad: my experiences at SH are really the only completely positive memories I have of that time, so to be able to return to that place and feel an even greater positivity run through me is, in truth, a very good sign. But the comfort and safety I felt, almost instantly, is hard to leave. This hasn't completely left me yet as Irvine is a limbo space - I have no responsibility here, I can avoid certain things if I want to and justify that avoidance. This is why the thought of returning to Aberdeen scares me - I'm fired up in one sense and ready to push myself into more things, but I've managed to change enough in just two weeks that it's a different persona that is returning. I doubt I'll be rejected by anyone; probably the very opposite in truth, but how I'll deal with this change myself is a different matter.
This is a very personal post, I don't imagine it will be fully understood by anyone who chances across it but I'll thank you for reading this far anyway. I'll also apologise for not including any artwork - I'm saving that for next time. Possible updates on these feelings may follow, just so you're warned.
On an unrelated note: One of Vincent Van Gogh's doctors was called 'Gasho' - how brilliant is that!
Tuesday 13 April 2010
Sunday 11 April 2010
Just one day...
As I scrubbed the muck and dirt off my feet on Thursday night/Friday morning, soaking the bathroom floor in the process, I said a silent prayer of thanks for the invention of the shower and the Scholl company. I also reminded myself, very firmly, just how lucky I was to be washing and caring for my feet; and, more importantly, how lucky I was to only have to have gone for one day.
Let me explain, as I'm sure some of you are confused - Thursday 8th of April was One Day Without Shoes an event to raise awareness for the thousands of people who go without shoes every single day. From what I can gather, it's a new event for this year but you can scour the website more thoroughly to prove me wrong if you wish. I heard about it on Livejournal, found a Facebook group and decided to do it. At Spring Harvest, surrounded by hundreds of Christians from all over the country I think I was the only one to do this. It didn't really surprise me - the organisation itself appears to be American so I don't think it's quite reached Skegness, Lincolnshire. I can also imagine a whole host of "Health and Safety" risks Butlins would be in for if we'd all gone barefoot en masse. What did surprise me a little was that only two people asked me what I was doing - one of them was a friend, and the other was just wondering if my feet weren't cold. It's not like people couldn't see I was barefoot - I was hobbling on tarmac quite a bit and with all the group work in seminars where you stare at the ground to avoid people's faces I can't see how someone didn't notice. Perhaps they thought it rude to ask in case it was linked to a psychological disorder (last week was a special week with events geared to people with learning disorders and "disabilities" [for want of the P.C term]). Or perhaps they were just being British. Alternatively, and we're talking long-shot here, they genuinely might not have noticed.
I wish people had asked, though, if they did see, so I would have been able to share the experience. It didn't matter to me if they joined in the madness or not; I'm never one to be uncomfortable being the only one doing something, but I was so excited about it! Firstly, it was so educational and liberating to really feel the ground beneath your feet and not just trample along not thinking about the terrain. But mostly it was deeply humbling to think, especially towards the end of what turned out to be the fullest day of the week, of the people who have no choice but to do this every day. People who just have to face whatever terrain they encounter with the soles of their feet. I know your feet toughen as you walk barefoot more often - it isn't an unnatural thing to do - but there's toughened and then there's ruined. As ODWS's website tells us:
Covering your feet for long journeys and especially tough terrain is such a wonderful privilege for us, but it should be a basic human "right" - something which is available to everyone. TOMS are working towards this goal - for every pair of shoes you buy from them they donate a new pair of shoes to a child in need. Not only is this a fantastic ethic to have, but their shoes also look pretty cool - I'll be saving for a pair of 'Wrap Boots'.
I encourage everyone to try going a day without shoes any day; it's a great experience and a moving one too. But, just so you all know, I'll be getting sponsorship for it next year.
On an unrelated note: Countdown has gotten much harder recently and I have a bunged up nose that went away for SH then came back just before we left - it's a pretty clear sign but, like Neville with his Remembrall, I don't know what of...
P.S Pictures of my feet to follow.
Let me explain, as I'm sure some of you are confused - Thursday 8th of April was One Day Without Shoes an event to raise awareness for the thousands of people who go without shoes every single day. From what I can gather, it's a new event for this year but you can scour the website more thoroughly to prove me wrong if you wish. I heard about it on Livejournal, found a Facebook group and decided to do it. At Spring Harvest, surrounded by hundreds of Christians from all over the country I think I was the only one to do this. It didn't really surprise me - the organisation itself appears to be American so I don't think it's quite reached Skegness, Lincolnshire. I can also imagine a whole host of "Health and Safety" risks Butlins would be in for if we'd all gone barefoot en masse. What did surprise me a little was that only two people asked me what I was doing - one of them was a friend, and the other was just wondering if my feet weren't cold. It's not like people couldn't see I was barefoot - I was hobbling on tarmac quite a bit and with all the group work in seminars where you stare at the ground to avoid people's faces I can't see how someone didn't notice. Perhaps they thought it rude to ask in case it was linked to a psychological disorder (last week was a special week with events geared to people with learning disorders and "disabilities" [for want of the P.C term]). Or perhaps they were just being British. Alternatively, and we're talking long-shot here, they genuinely might not have noticed.
I wish people had asked, though, if they did see, so I would have been able to share the experience. It didn't matter to me if they joined in the madness or not; I'm never one to be uncomfortable being the only one doing something, but I was so excited about it! Firstly, it was so educational and liberating to really feel the ground beneath your feet and not just trample along not thinking about the terrain. But mostly it was deeply humbling to think, especially towards the end of what turned out to be the fullest day of the week, of the people who have no choice but to do this every day. People who just have to face whatever terrain they encounter with the soles of their feet. I know your feet toughen as you walk barefoot more often - it isn't an unnatural thing to do - but there's toughened and then there's ruined. As ODWS's website tells us:
In Ethiopia, approximately one million people are suffering from Podoconiosis, a debilitating and disfiguring disease caused by walking barefoot in volcanic soil.
Covering your feet for long journeys and especially tough terrain is such a wonderful privilege for us, but it should be a basic human "right" - something which is available to everyone. TOMS are working towards this goal - for every pair of shoes you buy from them they donate a new pair of shoes to a child in need. Not only is this a fantastic ethic to have, but their shoes also look pretty cool - I'll be saving for a pair of 'Wrap Boots'.
I encourage everyone to try going a day without shoes any day; it's a great experience and a moving one too. But, just so you all know, I'll be getting sponsorship for it next year.
On an unrelated note: Countdown has gotten much harder recently and I have a bunged up nose that went away for SH then came back just before we left - it's a pretty clear sign but, like Neville with his Remembrall, I don't know what of...
P.S Pictures of my feet to follow.
Monday 5 April 2010
Here's hopin'...
Off on holiday until Sunday. Limited internet access likely. Chance of making attractive new friend as advertised in the poster, unlikely ... but not impossible I guess.
On an unrelated note: Am annoyed at not being able to get my hair to do what it did at the hairdresser's (s'?).
Sunday 4 April 2010
The Last Supper?
Short post, inspired by the last few services I've gone to at the church in Ardrossan. On Thursday we used the projector and had a few images to go along with the words for the songs, the liturgy etc. One of them was the image shown above, used when the Last Supper was discussed.
Now, is it just me or does this look distinctly unlike The Last Supper? It put me off a little whenever it came up - I kept thinking: "But that's the Supper At Emmaus, surely?". It turns out it's called The Last Supper of Jesus Christ and it's by an artist called Vladimir... whoever he is. Now, we must all agree that this is not, by any real stretch of the imagination, THE Last Supper - I mean, where are the other eight disciples? In the bathroom? At the bar? No, this is pretty clearly The Supper at Emmaus which, I suppose, can also be called The Last Supper of Jesus Christ - after all, it is the last recorded incident in the Bible of Christ breaking bread with anyone.
I did tell the vicar today that it wasn't (strictly speaking) a Last Supper painting, just to be a smart-ass as usual, and he blamed it on the other vicar... I assume they're both vicars. Either way, I mentioned it because, as an art historian, it's my job to point these things out. I wonder why they didn't go with the traditional Leonardo? Perhaps I should have suggested my favourite:
The Last Supper Nicolas Poussin, 1640s
On an unrelated note - I'm watching Howl's Moving Castle; I didn't think it would be as good as Spirited Away but, apart from the slightly wooden girl doing the voice of 'Young Sophie', it's really good! I think I still prefer Spirited Away but I'm glad I gave this a chance.
Saturday 3 April 2010
Seed Planters
Luckily I happen to have done something on the very day I decide to start a blog. I can't promise this will happen frequently, but we can but hope.
Having said that, what I've done isn't that thrilling. As I'm at home for Easter hols, mum decided it would be a good time to dig up the garden and plant potatoes. Traditionally Good Friday is said to be the ideal day for this, but the Good Friday service left us a little too tired. Thankfully, actually, as we came upon a boulder-like slab of crazy paving concrete buried under one of the beds. Not entirely sure how we missed that when we first dug up the turf and prepped the ground last year but, there you go. We got it out and got the potatoes in, and I was reminded of two things. The first was Seamus Heaney's poem Seed Cutters which I wrote a (rather good) essay on last year; the second was Pieter Brueghel the Elder's painting:
Gloomy Day (February) 1565
Technically, this doesn't have anything to do with planting potatoes but it was the painting I thought of when I read Heaney's poem for the first time:
The Seed Cutters
They seem hundreds of years away. Breughel,
You'll know them if I can get them true.
They kneel under the hedge in a half-circle
Behind a windbreak wind is breaking through.
They are the seed cutters. The tuck and frill
Of leaf-sprout is on the seed potatoes
Buried under the straw. With time to kill,
They are taking their time. Each sharp knife goes
Lazily halving each root that falls apart
In the palm of the hand: a milky gleam,
And, at the centre, a dark watermark.
O calendar customs! Under the broom
Yellowing over them, compose the frieze
With all of us there, our anonymities.
Heaney was most likely writing about the 'missing' painting from Brueghel's calendar series. The six paintings are meant to depict two months of the year each, I've seen differing opinions of which months are represented but the one posted here is January/February or February/March. I would've said Feb/March, pushing Hunters in the Snow to December/January. This would then make Heaney's imagined painting the April/May spot as all the others appear to have been filled. However, as the planting time for harvested seed potatoes (the ones that turn into proper potatoes - the ones I, myself, have sown today) is April/May so I forsee a timing issue. Pushing everything back one month would put it in the March/April spot which sort of makes more sense... Well, at least I've proved myself wrong with my own logic and not someone else's - that's always comforting. Having said that, seed potatoes are often harvested in January so maybe Heaney was the one who got it wrong. Yes, that sounds more likely.
On an unrelated note - Cambridge just won the boat race. Normally this would annoy me, but as their team was predominantly British and Oxford relied mainly on Canadians and Americans I think I can let it slide. There's that and I've got my heart set on that Cambridge PhD.
Having said that, what I've done isn't that thrilling. As I'm at home for Easter hols, mum decided it would be a good time to dig up the garden and plant potatoes. Traditionally Good Friday is said to be the ideal day for this, but the Good Friday service left us a little too tired. Thankfully, actually, as we came upon a boulder-like slab of crazy paving concrete buried under one of the beds. Not entirely sure how we missed that when we first dug up the turf and prepped the ground last year but, there you go. We got it out and got the potatoes in, and I was reminded of two things. The first was Seamus Heaney's poem Seed Cutters which I wrote a (rather good) essay on last year; the second was Pieter Brueghel the Elder's painting:
Gloomy Day (February) 1565
Technically, this doesn't have anything to do with planting potatoes but it was the painting I thought of when I read Heaney's poem for the first time:
The Seed Cutters
They seem hundreds of years away. Breughel,
You'll know them if I can get them true.
They kneel under the hedge in a half-circle
Behind a windbreak wind is breaking through.
They are the seed cutters. The tuck and frill
Of leaf-sprout is on the seed potatoes
Buried under the straw. With time to kill,
They are taking their time. Each sharp knife goes
Lazily halving each root that falls apart
In the palm of the hand: a milky gleam,
And, at the centre, a dark watermark.
O calendar customs! Under the broom
Yellowing over them, compose the frieze
With all of us there, our anonymities.
Heaney was most likely writing about the 'missing' painting from Brueghel's calendar series. The six paintings are meant to depict two months of the year each, I've seen differing opinions of which months are represented but the one posted here is January/February or February/March. I would've said Feb/March, pushing Hunters in the Snow to December/January. This would then make Heaney's imagined painting the April/May spot as all the others appear to have been filled. However, as the planting time for harvested seed potatoes (the ones that turn into proper potatoes - the ones I, myself, have sown today) is April/May so I forsee a timing issue. Pushing everything back one month would put it in the March/April spot which sort of makes more sense... Well, at least I've proved myself wrong with my own logic and not someone else's - that's always comforting. Having said that, seed potatoes are often harvested in January so maybe Heaney was the one who got it wrong. Yes, that sounds more likely.
On an unrelated note - Cambridge just won the boat race. Normally this would annoy me, but as their team was predominantly British and Oxford relied mainly on Canadians and Americans I think I can let it slide. There's that and I've got my heart set on that Cambridge PhD.
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