some observations from it, experiences during it, glimpses into it..
-- a nose that hurts from the cold of the morning while i juggled the names of three foreighn sounding train stations trying to find the one with the 9.22 to Kralupy
-- singing the canadian national anthem for a class of czech highschoolers and having them sing theirs for me in exchange
-- the little yellow birds with the black foreheads and wingtips that keep crossing my path
-- a low ceilinged tunnel then the old cemetary where a tired angel statued over a grave with an evergreen bow resting on her shoulder
-- new tastes, filled belly
-- aaron and i synchronizing our ipods to bright eyes' melodies while we strided over slick cobble stone and past the man smoking some not-a-cigarette
-- getting mail that smells nice
-- unshoeing feet that don't
today was a really good day.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Saturday, January 28, 2006
disciplines
My brother David has this incredible ability to take words and sculpt them into the shape of questions that help you take a look at the important things - whether those things have to do with your insides (introspection/contemplation) or if the important things have to do with what is all around you (kingdom vision/awareness). In this way he is an artist.
He is also an athlete, in that he has quite a disciplined training regiment regarding the condition of his heart and soul. He's a coach too because he extends this regiment to others (in chunks that are manageable for them). One of the chunks that he sculpted is called the "rear.view.mirror" - it is a collection of questions to puruse through pondering up answers and in so doing you sort of evaluate the past year of your life. He sent it to me and a handful of others toward the end of 2005. (www.zigsrearviewmirror.blogspot.com)
Going through it was kind of like getting a physical at the doctor's, because you have to sit there in your underwear all vulnerable, you get poked, and it's not always very comfortable - but, if you're interested in staying healthy, it's not a bad idea to go through with it.
One of the prods asks about the spiritual disciplines, and asks more specifically about which ones you have been trying or enjoying, which ones have recently been significant in your spiritual formation.
For me, while I was in Edinburgh especially, receiving the elements of the Lord's supper was perhaps the most beautiful source of spiritual nourishment - and it was a discipline because I went to communion even when I felt like staying where I was (in bed sleeping or on the couch reading a book). Other spiritual disciplines I have stayed divinely-connected by are: randomly pausing to breathe deeper and look around, sitting on benches or on the porch, going for walks, whistling, colouring with crayons, poetry, and listening to wordless music while sipping something hot.
You should try the colouring with crayons one, it is tranquilizing.
He is also an athlete, in that he has quite a disciplined training regiment regarding the condition of his heart and soul. He's a coach too because he extends this regiment to others (in chunks that are manageable for them). One of the chunks that he sculpted is called the "rear.view.mirror" - it is a collection of questions to puruse through pondering up answers and in so doing you sort of evaluate the past year of your life. He sent it to me and a handful of others toward the end of 2005. (www.zigsrearviewmirror.blogspot.com)
Going through it was kind of like getting a physical at the doctor's, because you have to sit there in your underwear all vulnerable, you get poked, and it's not always very comfortable - but, if you're interested in staying healthy, it's not a bad idea to go through with it.
One of the prods asks about the spiritual disciplines, and asks more specifically about which ones you have been trying or enjoying, which ones have recently been significant in your spiritual formation.
For me, while I was in Edinburgh especially, receiving the elements of the Lord's supper was perhaps the most beautiful source of spiritual nourishment - and it was a discipline because I went to communion even when I felt like staying where I was (in bed sleeping or on the couch reading a book). Other spiritual disciplines I have stayed divinely-connected by are: randomly pausing to breathe deeper and look around, sitting on benches or on the porch, going for walks, whistling, colouring with crayons, poetry, and listening to wordless music while sipping something hot.
You should try the colouring with crayons one, it is tranquilizing.
Monday, January 23, 2006
skipping
I had my first official Czech class today - eavesdropping on and participating in Aaron's language lesson with Alešš. Czech is a fun language to look at and fascinating (as are all languages really) to listen to. They have vowels, like we do, and use them, but more sparsely - they don't seem to be as concerned as we are with slipping vowels in most everywhere. They're not as afraid of consecutive consonants.
I also got my travel pass today - good for třicet (thirty) days (and the "c" in třicet makes a cool "ts" sound not a "ss" or a "k"). With it I can skip across Prague via metro, tram and bus. And we've done a fair bit of skipping already. Aaron and I even waved farewell to Prague for a couple days and I got to experience cool places called Sokolov, Karlovy Vary, and Cheb (which is pronounced way different from how you just pronounced it in your head).
More than Prague (and other places in the Czech Republic) though I've enjoyed getting to know the inner workings of Nehemiah's world. Nehemiah Williams is the most fully alive individual I've encountered yet on my journeys. He's got a contagious passion for aviation, he is quite well read, has an extensive library which he eagerly shares from, he's an artist, he's extremely social and outgoing, a world traveler, and most of the time now he poopoo's and peepee's in the toilet. He and I are rapidly becoming great friends.
Many memories being made, new words being learned, and lingering conversations being had. Here's some pictorial representations of some of it..
sokolov, tattered-wet-butt-giving chair outside of joel's flat, where i met brian as well
traveling by train, second class
mike, aaron, and aram - it looks like we're in a band, we'd make a great band (mike plays guitar, aaron knows music, i have a bandana on)
big hug offered to all from the centre of old square in prague
the wind that made my eyes watery, enroute to cheb
my faithful travelling companions
me and one of the locals
my new friend mike, my old friend the mountain hardware windstopper, and my me
bark bark
my nano in action, nehemiah enjoying the sporadic musical movements composed by jon brion for eternal sunshine of a spotless mind
I also got my travel pass today - good for třicet (thirty) days (and the "c" in třicet makes a cool "ts" sound not a "ss" or a "k"). With it I can skip across Prague via metro, tram and bus. And we've done a fair bit of skipping already. Aaron and I even waved farewell to Prague for a couple days and I got to experience cool places called Sokolov, Karlovy Vary, and Cheb (which is pronounced way different from how you just pronounced it in your head).
More than Prague (and other places in the Czech Republic) though I've enjoyed getting to know the inner workings of Nehemiah's world. Nehemiah Williams is the most fully alive individual I've encountered yet on my journeys. He's got a contagious passion for aviation, he is quite well read, has an extensive library which he eagerly shares from, he's an artist, he's extremely social and outgoing, a world traveler, and most of the time now he poopoo's and peepee's in the toilet. He and I are rapidly becoming great friends.
Many memories being made, new words being learned, and lingering conversations being had. Here's some pictorial representations of some of it..
sokolov, tattered-wet-butt-giving chair outside of joel's flat, where i met brian as well
traveling by train, second class
mike, aaron, and aram - it looks like we're in a band, we'd make a great band (mike plays guitar, aaron knows music, i have a bandana on)
big hug offered to all from the centre of old square in prague
the wind that made my eyes watery, enroute to cheb
my faithful travelling companions
me and one of the locals
my new friend mike, my old friend the mountain hardware windstopper, and my me
bark bark
my nano in action, nehemiah enjoying the sporadic musical movements composed by jon brion for eternal sunshine of a spotless mind
Thursday, January 19, 2006
praha
about 42 minutes before i get on a bus that'll take me to edinburgh's airport.
a few hours before i get on a plane that'll take me to prague's.
meeting aaron and phoebe and nehemiah williams there - and i'm really excited and really curious about what will ensue throughout the remainder of this month and the majority of next.
took a long walk in the rain last night to say, not "good bye" but "good bye for now" to edinburgh. feeling grateful. feeling ready. feeling pleased.
"I sat a long time, unwilling to go; but my unfinished story urged me on. I must act and wander." (george macdonald penned those words, but i would have as well had i thought to before he did.)
a few hours before i get on a plane that'll take me to prague's.
meeting aaron and phoebe and nehemiah williams there - and i'm really excited and really curious about what will ensue throughout the remainder of this month and the majority of next.
took a long walk in the rain last night to say, not "good bye" but "good bye for now" to edinburgh. feeling grateful. feeling ready. feeling pleased.
"I sat a long time, unwilling to go; but my unfinished story urged me on. I must act and wander." (george macdonald penned those words, but i would have as well had i thought to before he did.)
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
more dense
This is from an essay by Natalie Rusz, found in a book that Santa gave me, and I think it's really quite moving. Natalie spent much of her childhood being cared for with other children in a children's hospital where "we were some of us handicapped, but none disabled, and in time we were each taught to prove that for ourselves." She wrote:
"For most of us, as people of crisis, it became clear that horror can last only a little while, and then it becomes commonplace. When one cannot be sure that there are many days left, each single day becomes as important as a year, and one does not waste an hour in wishing that that hour was longer, but simply fills it, like a smaller cup, as high as it will go without spilling over. Each moment, to the very ill, seems somehow slowed down and more dense with importance, in the same way that a poem is more compressed than a page of prose, each word carrying more weight than a sentence."
"For most of us, as people of crisis, it became clear that horror can last only a little while, and then it becomes commonplace. When one cannot be sure that there are many days left, each single day becomes as important as a year, and one does not waste an hour in wishing that that hour was longer, but simply fills it, like a smaller cup, as high as it will go without spilling over. Each moment, to the very ill, seems somehow slowed down and more dense with importance, in the same way that a poem is more compressed than a page of prose, each word carrying more weight than a sentence."
Monday, January 16, 2006
good days, good man
Some reflections/memoirs about my time here, brief and scattered, I penned in my journal last night, I hope they give you a few more glimpses of what it's been like:
When I walked into the hostel back when Wayne was the manager, or like he did just the other day as he biked passed me on the sidewalk, he would shout out with his half Australian, half uniquely-Wayne accent, 'Big man!'
When I walk into the Posh Lounge I'll likely find a Sweedish girl there knitting, though they are just as likely found in the kitchen doing the same.
Sometimes the sky is a deep deep blue with night time inside of it and stars sparkling through. Sometimes, like tonight, it's an almost-ugly grey, and it would be ugly if it weren't so beautiful. And when the sun gets stuck and lingers on the horizon - whether it's going down or coming up - bits of the sky get lit up with a whole variety of pastels. And I suppose that's no different from other places where the sun sets or rises, but there is something peculiar and wonderful about the pastel bits of sky being juxtaposed against the old plain stone building tops.
Sitting in St. Giles and looking up - sometimes it's the echoes that get to me, get in me, sometimes it's the silence - tonight it was the thought that pretty well every stone must have been placed individually.
I think I'm going to miss hearing cuss words during lots of the parts of everyday - not that I particularly condone cuss words - it's just that there's something about hearing them that tells you you aren't completely isolated from the world. Maybe I'll start listening to more rap - or perhaps I ought to make friends with more people who say cuss words.
Living with lots of vegetarians hasn't been quite as contagious as I would have thought - I had a hot dog for lunch today (didn't pay for it thought) - but I think I may begin to tread in that direction anyway.
I had a walking pic nic through a trashy park yesterday on the eastern fringes of the city - it wasn't very pretty, but quite pleasant.
Oh, and the way, everyonce in a while, something catches me unprepared to be touched - like the moon did rising out of the clouds last night while I stood atop Calton Hill, or like select salutations from certain letters often do, or like happens when my sister's tone of voice over the phone hints at her well being, or like when I kneel by my bed or stick the upper part of my body out the window to pray and the words come, words that actually mean what I feel and hope and want.
These have been good days.
Also, I'd like to share Chrales with you:
I don't know how old he is, I think he's 57 or maybe 61, but he's really healthy and energetic and young seeming - probably because of the cod liver oil he ingests (however it is one ingests cod liver oil) each morning. I think he likes to smile more than me, more than Santa Claus and Bob Marley even. A smile settles well on his face, settles better in his eyes. He seems possessed - not by a demon, although the gap in his teeth and the way he gets excited and bugs his eyes wide open at you wagging his head with laughter does have him resembling a goblin (a cute goblin, not a scary goblin) - not by an angel either, I'm not sure what he's possessed with, he just strikes me as one possessed.
We went to church together yesterday, had some tea afterwards. At church last night we crossed paths again and afterwards went out for tea. He's got a faith that is humorous - not ridiculous humorous - just unique and easy to smile at. Listening to him talk is overwhelming and fun - he goes real fast and switches gears like my cousin in his suped-up Mustang.
My favorite was talking with him about Jesus - hearing him say odd philisophical things about the energy and providence and omni-presence of God, then say, with his white-South African accent, something as simple and fundamental and perhaps, when it comes down to it, just as whaky, as, "What a savior we have in Jesus!"
Truly Charles. Truly.
He also said something else about being on guard against the wiles of our human nature, which is a whirling vortex of conflicting emotions.
And he bought my tea both times.
He's a good man.
When I walked into the hostel back when Wayne was the manager, or like he did just the other day as he biked passed me on the sidewalk, he would shout out with his half Australian, half uniquely-Wayne accent, 'Big man!'
When I walk into the Posh Lounge I'll likely find a Sweedish girl there knitting, though they are just as likely found in the kitchen doing the same.
Sometimes the sky is a deep deep blue with night time inside of it and stars sparkling through. Sometimes, like tonight, it's an almost-ugly grey, and it would be ugly if it weren't so beautiful. And when the sun gets stuck and lingers on the horizon - whether it's going down or coming up - bits of the sky get lit up with a whole variety of pastels. And I suppose that's no different from other places where the sun sets or rises, but there is something peculiar and wonderful about the pastel bits of sky being juxtaposed against the old plain stone building tops.
Sitting in St. Giles and looking up - sometimes it's the echoes that get to me, get in me, sometimes it's the silence - tonight it was the thought that pretty well every stone must have been placed individually.
I think I'm going to miss hearing cuss words during lots of the parts of everyday - not that I particularly condone cuss words - it's just that there's something about hearing them that tells you you aren't completely isolated from the world. Maybe I'll start listening to more rap - or perhaps I ought to make friends with more people who say cuss words.
Living with lots of vegetarians hasn't been quite as contagious as I would have thought - I had a hot dog for lunch today (didn't pay for it thought) - but I think I may begin to tread in that direction anyway.
I had a walking pic nic through a trashy park yesterday on the eastern fringes of the city - it wasn't very pretty, but quite pleasant.
Oh, and the way, everyonce in a while, something catches me unprepared to be touched - like the moon did rising out of the clouds last night while I stood atop Calton Hill, or like select salutations from certain letters often do, or like happens when my sister's tone of voice over the phone hints at her well being, or like when I kneel by my bed or stick the upper part of my body out the window to pray and the words come, words that actually mean what I feel and hope and want.
These have been good days.
Also, I'd like to share Chrales with you:
I don't know how old he is, I think he's 57 or maybe 61, but he's really healthy and energetic and young seeming - probably because of the cod liver oil he ingests (however it is one ingests cod liver oil) each morning. I think he likes to smile more than me, more than Santa Claus and Bob Marley even. A smile settles well on his face, settles better in his eyes. He seems possessed - not by a demon, although the gap in his teeth and the way he gets excited and bugs his eyes wide open at you wagging his head with laughter does have him resembling a goblin (a cute goblin, not a scary goblin) - not by an angel either, I'm not sure what he's possessed with, he just strikes me as one possessed.
We went to church together yesterday, had some tea afterwards. At church last night we crossed paths again and afterwards went out for tea. He's got a faith that is humorous - not ridiculous humorous - just unique and easy to smile at. Listening to him talk is overwhelming and fun - he goes real fast and switches gears like my cousin in his suped-up Mustang.
My favorite was talking with him about Jesus - hearing him say odd philisophical things about the energy and providence and omni-presence of God, then say, with his white-South African accent, something as simple and fundamental and perhaps, when it comes down to it, just as whaky, as, "What a savior we have in Jesus!"
Truly Charles. Truly.
He also said something else about being on guard against the wiles of our human nature, which is a whirling vortex of conflicting emotions.
And he bought my tea both times.
He's a good man.
Friday, January 13, 2006
how he prayed
After the bible was read from by the old gentleman whose face looks a bit like an owl's and whose voice suggests a wisdom to match it, the minister prayed before standing to continue with the liturgy and administer the elements to us. He prayed, saying that the lives and words and efforts of the four saints - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - as they composed their experiences into the writings that are held sacred by the church and that have softened hearts continuously, with power, over the centuries, are cause for (and here the r's rolled off the tip of his tongue) great gratidude.
And if nothing else, this is so. Whether inspired, illuminated, dictated, or simply scribbled down on a whim - those words, which we may or may not always heed, which we may or may not always feel warm inside about, have in them a transforming power that long proceeds us and will most likely out last us.
Bring them to life Holy Spirit - in our lives and in the lives of those most unliving.
Grateful. Amen.
And if nothing else, this is so. Whether inspired, illuminated, dictated, or simply scribbled down on a whim - those words, which we may or may not always heed, which we may or may not always feel warm inside about, have in them a transforming power that long proceeds us and will most likely out last us.
Bring them to life Holy Spirit - in our lives and in the lives of those most unliving.
Grateful. Amen.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Genesis 12.6
Astride one of the largest branches highup in the great tree of Moreh at Shechem - I wonder what we would have seen. Abram's caravan of relations and possessions cresting the dusty horizon. Moving slow by that time no doubt - wearied by the miles left behind them. But if we were able to crawl down a bit, unnoticed by those approaching, if we were able to get close enough but stay hidden enough to see into Abram's eyes (which would equal seeing into his thoughts and inner emotions) I wonder what they would have contained.
Would they tell the story of his journey, complete with conflict, confrontation, obstacles; containing the pain of a good home left and the delight of new sights seen, new territory approached and explored? Would that be clouded with doubt? doubt of himself and doubt of that Voice he heard -- the one that all his friends assured him was merely indigestion, the one he couldn't ignore and couldn't stop dwelling on. Would they be aglow with a wild, untameable peace? peace that he couldn't be rid of even if he had wanted to, peace that haunted him and watered the flower of enthusiasm that was budding so miraculously in his heart?
And if his eyes looked one way as he approached the tree would they look another way as he trekked through the hills east of Bethel? Did the father of faith have room in his soul to vary? Does faith offer the space for its possessor to take in lungfuls of whatever emotion is stirring in the air at any particular moment? Can the faithful appreciate and enter into the moment's emotion while living out of a source that goes much deeper than emotion?
Would they tell the story of his journey, complete with conflict, confrontation, obstacles; containing the pain of a good home left and the delight of new sights seen, new territory approached and explored? Would that be clouded with doubt? doubt of himself and doubt of that Voice he heard -- the one that all his friends assured him was merely indigestion, the one he couldn't ignore and couldn't stop dwelling on. Would they be aglow with a wild, untameable peace? peace that he couldn't be rid of even if he had wanted to, peace that haunted him and watered the flower of enthusiasm that was budding so miraculously in his heart?
And if his eyes looked one way as he approached the tree would they look another way as he trekked through the hills east of Bethel? Did the father of faith have room in his soul to vary? Does faith offer the space for its possessor to take in lungfuls of whatever emotion is stirring in the air at any particular moment? Can the faithful appreciate and enter into the moment's emotion while living out of a source that goes much deeper than emotion?
Monday, January 09, 2006
humbly hugely happily
I stood at my window a couple evenings ago, being sad for many of my friends at the hostel - sad that they're stuck in a pointless lyfestyle and don't have much in the line of hopes and worthwhile desires. Then later, while I was waiting for my £2.95 all day breakfast (roll, beans, ham, sausage, egg, and black pudding) at Castle Arms I asked Angus what he wants to be when he grows up. Angus has dread-locks, a mustache and a soul-patch that help him resemble Captian Jack Sparrow, and he smokes pot. I had already labeled him in my own head as one of the hopeless, dreamless, stuck. He slapped me in the face with this dream of his to start a network of organic farms in South Africa whereby he could teach locals to support and sustain themselves while funneling tourist money into the local economy. How's that for a not-worth-while desire? Sounds like he wants to change the world to me. I was humbly, hugely, happily corrected.
After having breakfast for supper I went to my first ballet ever - Cinderella at Edinburgh's Festival Theatre. The colours and costumes were extravagant and fabulous to look at. The way they stand up on their toes like they do is well worth applauding. It's a lovely story. Some funny parts. No Gus Gus, but well done nonetheless.
And I've been reading Lilith by George MacDonald, who wrote lines like this:
"Please, king, I'm so afraid of being afraid."
"My boy, there is no harm in being afraid. The only harm is in doing what Fear tells you. Fear is not your master! Laugh in his face and he will run away."
After having breakfast for supper I went to my first ballet ever - Cinderella at Edinburgh's Festival Theatre. The colours and costumes were extravagant and fabulous to look at. The way they stand up on their toes like they do is well worth applauding. It's a lovely story. Some funny parts. No Gus Gus, but well done nonetheless.
And I've been reading Lilith by George MacDonald, who wrote lines like this:
"Please, king, I'm so afraid of being afraid."
"My boy, there is no harm in being afraid. The only harm is in doing what Fear tells you. Fear is not your master! Laugh in his face and he will run away."
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
enriched
since last i wrote: buckingham palace has been danced in front of, a couple corners of london and several of its streets have been thouroughly explored; pin nics have been had, the new year brought in (a top a double decker bus heading north somewhere between big ben and ben nevis), and many of my favorite edinburghian spots have been shared.
sharing the sights and sounds, having new conversations, and experiencing unchartable adventures with father and kelly brought a much hoped for contentment - we have (i think) been mutually enriched.
with my holiday over i'll be setting my hand to the plow again and probably, before the day is over, be tagging tartaned handbags at ness.
i'll be in edinbugh for two more weeks. there's an air plane holding a seat for me to go with it to prague on january the 19th.
at least that's what i have planned.
but really..Who knows.
sharing the sights and sounds, having new conversations, and experiencing unchartable adventures with father and kelly brought a much hoped for contentment - we have (i think) been mutually enriched.
with my holiday over i'll be setting my hand to the plow again and probably, before the day is over, be tagging tartaned handbags at ness.
i'll be in edinbugh for two more weeks. there's an air plane holding a seat for me to go with it to prague on january the 19th.
at least that's what i have planned.
but really..Who knows.
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