Tag Archives: life

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.

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.

Knitting History

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One of the reasons I no longer (well, rarely) walk around with headphones in is because I like to be open to interact with the people around me. [If I have my headphones in, it is likely because (a) I’m listening to a really good program on cbc radio or (b) I don’t want to talk to anyone so leave me alone.]

Last Thursday was one of those days when I was glad I had the headphones out. I’ve been knitting regularly for about 8 months – my Oma tried to show me how to knit when I was eight or nine but it didn’t stick. I actually gave up after about two inches of a scarf for my teddy bear. I re-learnt 17 years later when a long Pacific crossing from Japan to Hawaii forced me to learn a hobby or go crazy from boredom and cabin fever.

All of that is to say that knitting doesn’t seem unusual to me. I knit. A number of my friends knit. Sometimes we all get together and knit together. However, sometimes I discover that I am more unusual than I had thought.

Last Thursday I was sitting, and knitting, at Swartz Bay, waiting to board the 11am to Tsawwassen when an elderly gentleman sat down next to me. With a thick European accent he commented on my knitting. He was so happy to see me knitting, he said, leaning towards me with joy in his face.

It has been a long time since I have seen a young woman knitting.

I immediately thought back to Oma and her generation. So many of them knit and made clothes for their entire families. It must have been a common practice. I could see the elderly gentleman being transported back in time to his youth at this memory.

He then asked me when I had learnt. I explained that I had only seriously been knitting for less than a year, but that my Oma had first taught me when I was a child. At the mention of “Oma” he perked up once again.

Oma… you are from where? My family is from The Netherlands, near The Hague. Ah, Holland. I am from North Friesland, near the Danish border.

With that, he launched into a story of his activity during the Second World War. It was an interesting conversation: part recollections, part justifications, and part desire to pass on his story to another generation. He told me of sailing through the North Sea, watching out for Allied ships. He told of occupying the Netherlands but bringing food to the young families starving in the villages he and the army (he never actually said it was the German army) occupied. He spoke of his fear of being shot at by resistance groups and later Allied forces as they liberated the countryside… he didn’t like the word “liberated” as he felt he and his companions had looked after the villages in their charge. As he told his story, I continued to knit.

This exchange was perhaps the first I’ve had with a soldier who was on “the other side” during the war. It could have been the young family of my Oma, Opa, Aunt, and Uncle that he was bringing food to while he occupied their village, though I know it wasn’t. This gentleman, probably in his 80’s, shared with me, a complete stranger, some of his challenges during a troubling time. It was like he wanted me to know that those we so often think of as the enemy are not evil: there is humanity on both sides of every conflict.

Then the gates opened and the masses surged onto the ferry. I didn’t see him again but am thankful for the conversation that knitting opened up – to hear a part of his history and his story.

On Writing

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There seems to be so much going on yet writing doesn’t come as easily right now. Perhaps this is a factor of my current fragmented schedule. Perhaps this is because I am no longer spending hours at a time on my computer and have no reminder to write and need no distractions from other writing. Perhaps it is because I am not writing anything write now: no papers, no discussion posts for school, and sometimes not even my journal – I am out of practice. Perhaps it is all of the above. Posts still get partially formulated in my head but by the time I remember to jot them down, they are gone.

I spent two days in Vancouver last week. It actually ended up being only about 40 hours from the time I left my door to the time I walked back in it. My computer was turned off Wednesday night and not turned back on again until Monday morning. After 18 months of non-stop coursework via computer, the ability to do that is wonderfully freeing. [I still check email on my phone and remain connected to the world that way, but there is something wonderful about turning off the computer and not having to be connected that way.]

This weekend I begin another project that will have me spend more time reflecting on spirituality and spending more time on my computer. I am planning a follow up to our successful Holy Week installation at the Cathedral last year. I hope to share my reflections and ideas as I go forward on this and hopefully the writing will get me writing other things as well!

The Bicycle Saga

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I bought a new bicycle.

I was planning on waiting until after I finished school and had made some money, but things just happened and there is a new bicycle in my life.

The old one is still around, it is sitting in the garage with its flat rear tire. I’ll hang onto it for awhile I think. If I want to do any trail riding (which I don’t ever really do) or if we get another snow like the one a couple of weeks ago, it is pretty invaluable.

Flat rear tire. That is what precipitated the purchase of my new white speedster. Make no mistake, it was not a snap decision (not entirely anyway). I have been checking craigslist for the last few months now, monitoring the prices of road bikes and watching for any great deals, sending off a few questions here and there. Then we had that snow a few weeks ago and I was able to ride the faithful red bike around just hours after the snow had finished and the roads were marginally clear. Last week, I was cycling home from a group counselling session at a local elementary school when the heavens opened and this odd, and freezing cold, combination of large fluffy flakes and big raindrops descended upon me. By the time I got home, the lower half of my body was soaked to the skin. The rain/snow had been so fierce at times that I could not see where I was going. The edges of the road were still (and are still in many places) covered with all of the debris that accumulates after a week of snow. I had no choice but to cycle right through it.

When I got home, I thought nothing of parking my bicycle in the garage and rushing inside to clean up/dry off. The next evening however, when I took my bicycle out, the rear tire was completely flat. By that time, the stores were closed and I no longer had any patches in my patch kit. The tire was going to have to wait until the next day. Problem: the next day, Saturday, was a full day of work followed by company for dinner. There was no time to go downtown, buy a patch kit, and fix the tire before I needed the bicycle on Monday morning. Sunday? you ask. Nope. My local bike shop is closed. Solution: buy a new bicycle.

You may have seen it on Twitter and Facebook: “How to solve the problem of a flat bicycle tire? Buy a new bicycle.” Yes, that is what I did.

I had seen a good-looking bike on craigslist and sent off an inquiry. The owner lived only a few blocks from me, so I went over and checked it out in person. It rode well, shifted well, braked reasonably okay (nothing I can’t improve on), and, best of all, had new tires. I bought it.

Since then I’ve been riding it everywhere. I’ve taken bicycle commuting to a whole new level (for me) and have myself fairly well outfitted now. The most crucial piece I’ve added to the bike: full mudguards.

Faithful red? Well, she still sits in the garage. I made a valiant attempt to fix her rear tire the other day and it ended badly. After spending an inordinate amount of time removing/patching/and replacing the tube and tire, I re-inflated the tire only to hear air hissing out… Apparently I hadn’t found whatever had punctured the tire in the first place and it had re-punctured it. So I still have to remove everything and start all over, but I’m waiting until it gets a little warmer in the garage and I have a little more will-power. The last time was a little bit of a chore and I’m not looking to be swearing over that tire anytime again soon.

40 Days

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Wednesdays are a crazy day in my world, especially yesterday Wednesday.

The cycle downtown from work to choir practice freaked me out yesterday. Four drivers who weren’t looking for bicycles nearly hit me. It is only a 7.5km ride, and it isn’t like I’m an obnoxious rider, yet these drivers managed to nearly hit me. Yes, I go quickly, but I obey traffic rules and try to be visible when I ride: I have multiple front and rear lights, wear a turquoise reflective jacket, have white bicycle and orange backpack. It isn’t like I blend into the road. Sadly though, this wasn’t the first time cars haven’t been paying attention to me and I’ve had near-misses before (weekly?). For a city that prides itself on having one of the highest amounts of bicycle commuters per capita in the country, there are a lot of drivers who are not paying attention to us. I guess that is what made the statement of Ash Wednesday even more poignant: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return“. We’re all just one event away from that dust.

We got some new choir music in rehearsal last evening. It was new liturgical music for the season of Lent that I’m excited to sing… altos have some wonderful parts and they are all nice and low and minor sounding. One of them, from the Iona Community, asks a simple question: O brother Jesus, where have we left you, Saviour and Lover of all? Where indeed? That line reached out and grabbed me as we sang it.

Lent is probably my favourite season of the church calendar. I like the expectation and anticipation of Advent but often find myself frustrated by the gross commercialism and crazy busy-ness of Christmas that envelops and overwhelms it. Lent on the other hand, often gets overlooked. Aside from pancakes on Shrove Tuesday and the constant question, “What are you giving up for Lent?”, the beginning of this season often goes unnoticed.

Which brings me back to our Lenten liturgical music: O brother Jesus, where have we left you? Am I giving something up for Lent? I am not sure yet. I’ll allow myself until the weekend to decide. On the other hand, I would much rather that I find Jesus during Lent. Find Jesus. Find God’s heart for the lost and poor and marginalized.

In closing, another song for this Sunday (also Iona Community):

Sent by the Lord am I; my hands are ready now to make the earth the place in which the kingdom comes. The angels cannot change a world of hurt and pain into a world of love, of justice and of peace. The task is mine to do, to set it really free. Oh, help me to obey; help me to do your will.

iPod communities and communion?

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I sit on the bus and see heads bowed over smartphones and iPods. People type away as they walk down the street. Goodness knows I am guilty of it.

Have we replaced our coming together in person for coming together through technology? Do we look at the latest gadgets to save us rather than the One who sacrificed self?

I’ve been reading this poem over and over since it first appeared in my book last week.

Small screen communion

iPod, phone
held close
and thumbed,
illuminating so dimly
the lichened branches
fingering the above,
are such small lights
on these paths
at night.

What possible guidance
could they offer?
Yet still
I look,
still we look
so intently
at their ever-decreasing thinness
and ask of them
the same
as wafers
once gave.

From Other by Kester Brewin.

In Review and Looking Ahead

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Without breaking my “don’t talk about work on the blog” rule, I feel that I can say that this week is going to be a busy one. I have more appointments this week than I’ve had any other so far and most of them are concentrated onto two days. It is good to be busy but I’m also hoping that it doesn’t drain me too much. I’m leaning a lot about making sure I get enough sleep!

It was a good weekend though. My roommate had a birthday on the weekend and her boyfriend and I managed to get a whole bunch of her friends over for a surprise board game night. I got home from work and had to wait until she left the house for a soccer game before I could make cupcakes in order to have them ready 2 hours later! I now know that putting them in the freezer for about 10 minutes after baking cools them sufficiently to ice. Nut/Dairy-free (as they need to be in our house) Chocolate cupcakes with caramel icing!

(iPhone photo with a new app I’m playing with)