Category Archives: Life

Labyrinth | Maundy Thursday | Holy Week

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Labyrinth.

It isn’t a giant corn maze, as one person thought.

It isn’t a picnic happening on the lawn of a church.

It is a time for connecting with God, oneself, and the world around us.

Our unofficial tradition is now to have something different in the lawn of the Cathedral at some point during Holy Week. Last year, it was three days of a contemporary retelling of the Stations of the Cross. This year, I wanted to do a labyrinth.

Today, from noon until just before this evenings Solemn High Mass, I sat on the lawn with four giant sheets transformed into an angular labyrinth with multiple places for walkers to stop and meditate on the words in their booklet and interact with objects placed in their path.

The hoards did not flock to the labyrinth, but that really was not the point.

A good number of the people who walk through the lawn on a daily basis stopped to at least take a better look and ask what was going on.

A few people came back for a second look; some took part, others walked on.

For me, the point, and the most rewarding part, were the conversations I had with people before and after they walked. That is why I did this: to spark conversations. Some said it was the breath they needed in Holy Week. (Why do we cram our holiest times so full that those of us who work, priest or lay, in the church do not have time to stop and get as much out of the season as we might otherwise?) Others expressed joy at the reminders it gave at our connections with those around us.

One walker made particular mention of her appreciation of Noise/City. In station Noise, near the beginning of the Inward Journey of the labyrinth, the walker is encouraged to think of all the noise/messages/information that fill our lives and compete for attention… the noise around them as they walked in a space in the middle of the city… to turn off and put aside the noise, the internal thoughts that never stop, the worries… to focus on God and peace…

In station City, near the end of the Outward Journey of labyrinth, noise is flipped:

All ground is holy ground – city streets, housing estates, shantytowns, playgrounds, prisons, shopping malls…  Listen again to the sounds of the city. This time, instead of seeing them as noise and distraction, see them as opportunities to tune in to the workings of our city. See the people behind these noises as individuals, as people with whom to meet and engage.

How often do we stop to consider the human behind the face we pass by?

This thought was especially poignant for me after my morning today:  I spent the morning riding along with someone who works with those recovering from addictions. After this morning, I have a much more human face to put onto those suffering from addictions. “These people” are often not the wrecked old man who sits on the corner, begging for money, though they may be. They are your friend’s brother who has made a few wrong choices and just needs to have a friend to walk beside him as he recovers. They are the successful professional who works beside you in the office. They may be you.

Love.

16th Century Portuguese Architecture in the Ethiopian Highlands

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Apparently I look like an open and approachable person; I suppose this is a good thing given my chosen profession. My afternoon client cancelled today, and I was in Quadra Village for a meeting with the lady who will be my supervisor at my new practicum site (!! exciting new development there). Since I had no where to go but home, I decided to stop at a favourite coffee shop and debrief myself over an americano.

The coffee shop was pretty full, and I think I got the last table. Not long after I had seated myself, alternately flipping through a magazine and checking my various social media, an older man (this is getting to be a trend) approached me and asked if it would be okay if he shared my table.

Absolutely.

Then follows that awkwardness when you are not quite sure if sharing the table also means engaging in conversation… I looked intermittently at my magazine and phone… He spoke up first, commenting on his coffee addiction.

You have no idea.

He proceeded to tell me about his life… a former infantry man in conflicts all over East Africa (based in Tanganyika, which gives a rough age) and Malaya, a professor of architecture in Lisbon with a specialty in 16th century Portuguese architecture in the Ethiopian Highlands (apparently there is quite a lot of it there), a Portuguese stone mason, a published author… He looked the part: round face with a bushy white beard, tan corduroy jacket, coptic cross around the neck. I could just as easily picture him with a pith helmet, boots, and a canteen slung over his shoulder as I could behind a big wooden desk with a pipe in his mouth surrounded by a room full of books.

The conversation lasted until long after my coffee was finished. We touched on politics, defining “culture,” architecture, and spirituality, to name a few. It was quite the interesting conversation and certainly better than the magazine I had picked up to read from the counter at the cafe.

Coffee

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Further to my coffee discussion from the other day and my love-affair with the beverage, I continue to be fallen off of the Lenten wagon, so-to-speak, but I had an epiphany about coffee and my mental health. When I cut coffee out of my life at the beginning of Lent, I, for the most part, cut out going to coffee shops because it was easier to avoid coffee if I wasn’t at the place where it was served. (Golly, I sound like the addicts I work with here.) However, in doing so, I inadvertently cut out something which has been an important contributor to my overall mental health/self-care. Apparently sitting in cafe’s with a book or my journal and an americano is something that means a lot to me and helps me stay sane. I now know and it won’t get cut again!

Spring on the Island

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It feels like spring today: the sun is out, it is actually warm-ish, the flowers are still blooming, and I can hear the birds chirp away as I cycle and walk around town. It is such a nice change from the last few weeks – I can actually feel and hear my body give a huge sigh of relief as it gets nicer outside and it doesn’t have to deal with cycling everywhere in the rain.

I had a comical exchange on twitter the other evening. Just before I headed off to bed, the rain that had been intermittent all day picked up and began to pound my exposed third floor window. Not long after I complained about it on twitter, so did one of my friends, saying, “Here comes the rain again…” I responded with a modification of the next line of that classic Eurythmics tune (yes, I just used “classic” and “Eurythmics” in the same sentence) and our exchange continued on that line for a few minutes.

There are a few song lyrics like that, songs which always come to mind in specific situations. Curiously, they are mainly weather related. On my cycle into town this morning, the warm sunshine on my back made me go all John Denver, “Sunshine, on my shoulders makes me happy…” The sight of spring coming into bloom brings me back to car rides on the East Coast with Buddy Wasisname, “Its spring on the island…”, though he is referring to a different island on a different coast.

Whichever Island and whichever coast, I’ll continue to sing throughout my day. Enjoy spring, enjoy music, enjoy life!

Halfway [deux]

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We are [over] halfway through Lent. It is hard to believe. I did not succeed in completely giving up coffee for Lent, coffee being what I had decided to “give up”. I have, however, succeeded in being more conscious about why and how frequently I drink it. In the end, it seems that is the bigger concept I desired to achieve out of no coffee for Lent: not necessarily a giving up but a greater consciousness and awareness in daily life. A consciousness as I go about life and an awareness of the people and things around me in life. Perhaps this is a tall order, and it is certainly more than I could hope to accomplish by just giving up (reducing intake of) coffee for Lent. However, if Lent is to be more about incorporating better practices into my life, then perhaps I have done so. Coffee dates with friends are now more deliberate and those times when I can sit in a cafe and read with a coffee at hand are more special.

Halfway

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I was halfway through writing another post about labyrinths, trying to explain what it is that I have planned for Holy Week at the Cathedral, but words were not coming to me and the words which were coming were not doing it justice.

And then I read this article, shared by a friend, and I was wondering if what I am working on is worth it? Not entirely, because I am still going to go ahead with the plan. But the article makes a good point. Why make such a fuss over Easter services and activities? Why not have good church throughout the year rather than just Christmas and Easter? I don’t know. Because it is too much energy? Too much to do? Or do we think that people might just not be interested? I’ll ponder these thoughts and more as I sleep.

Royal BC

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A year-long membership to the Royal BC Museum arrived in my mailbox yesterday. To the person who bought this for me, I wish I knew who you were so I could thank you in person! (If you want your MasterCard receipt, you will have to self-identify, because it came in the envelope with the membership card.)

Recollections

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I quasi-started this blog in 2004… Seven full years ago. However, my first serious postings began in January of 2006, around the time when Canada’s serial election of minority governments began. I did a lot of blogging about the election then. On a stroll back through memory-lane, I chuckled at the cartoon I published in one of my first post of January 2006. We’ve accomplished the first square… on to the next one. PLEASE!

My Evening With Bruce

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I went to see Bruce Cockburn last night, live at the McPherson Theatre in Victoria. It would not be an understatement to suggest that it was one of the better concerts I have been to… but then I probably say that after every good concert I attend. I also had a fantastic seat: front row directly infront of Bruce. This photo was shot on my phone from my lap.

Not only is Bruce a phenomenal musician and guitar player, there is something about his ability to craft lyrics that is always profound and thought-provoking. It was an incredible experience to be able to sit and hear him sing them live. He performed a mix of songs off of his new album (to which I have not yet listened) and old favourites. Some of the favourites (how does one pick a set list from a repertoire as long and as deep as his?) were ones I had hoped he would play (Pacing the Cage comes to mind) and others were songs I had forgotten I loved. One of the classics I was struck by all over again as I remembered its beauty was Strange Waters.

I’ve seen a high cairn kissed by holy wind
Seen a mirror pool cut by golden fins
Seen alleys where they hide the truth of cities
The mad whose blessing you must accept without pity

I’ve stood in airports guarded glass and chrome
Walked rifled roads and landmined loam
Seen a forest in flames right down to the road
Burned in love till I’ve seen my heart explode

You’ve been leading me
Beside strange waters

Across the concrete fields of man
Sun ray like a camera pans
Some will run and some will stand
Everything is bullshit but the open hand

You’ve been leading me
Beside strange waters
Streams of beautiful lights in the night
But where is my pastureland in these dark valleys?
If I loose my grip, will I take flight?

Every time I read or listen to these lyrics, something different jumps out. I think that the first thing that grabbed me last evening was the phrase “You’ve been leading me beside strange waters.” The reference to Psalm 23 is unmistakable, however instead of the “still waters” of the psalmist, we have “strange” waters. Strange seems more accurate to life, certainly to life right now.

Two other lines that jumped out to me last night, and continue to do so today, are in the first verse: [I’ve] Seen alleys where they hide the truth of cities / The mad whose blessing you must accept without pity. Part of their impact is a recollection of my time in China. As we walked down a backstreet near the river in Xining, my Chinese language partner turned to me and said, “If you were here with a party member on an official visit, you would not be allowed to come here.” It was a mud-track road with tumbling down brick building on either side. The cavernous doors opened into dark, dank mud floored “houses” where chickens ran around freely and large families squeezed into a single room. Yet this is where a large number of people lived. And the government was trying to take it from them: pushing them to goodness-knows-where so that their houses could be bulldozed and tall apartment blocks put in their place.

The next place my thoughts went was to some of the ideas I am pondering as I reflect on church’s stated mission of being the “Cathedral to the City” and what this entails. It is something I am trying to incorporate into my Holy Week meditations and has therefore been on my mind a lot lately. What does it mean to be the Cathedral to the City? Part of that is being aware of those around us and working to integrate our worlds: our guest preacher last week called it being an “indigenous church.” In our part of the city, we are faced with both the beautiful but expensive houses and the people who have no other choice but to pull a tattered blanket over themselves as they lie in the doorway of a closed shop. The latter are the truths that the city would rather hide. They are the truths that we must confront if we are to live an engaged life within our community. Some of these individuals are indeed the mad whose blessing must be accepted without pity.

How then do we practice this engagement? I have no answers. It is much easier to ask questions than to actively search oneself, find answers, and make changes… or even find a path to what might eventually become an answer. I hope, through the process of reflection as I prepare for Holy Week, to begin to step onto that path and invite others to walk with me.