a quote i like from what i have been reading:
''Creativity in all kinds , in art, in prayer, in justice-making, in human relationships, is born when people wrestle with angels, outside eden, on the border between heaven and earth, where they struggle to create a new form, a new song, a new template, a new ethic with all the disciplne and passion they can bring to bear. many of the old boundaries have shifted, and where they are now is risky, dangerous territory. we should expect to be wounded, as jacob was.''
kathy galloway, dreaming of eden: reflections on christianity and sexuality.
iona has a small printing press where they publish volumes from members of the community. perv on my reading, if you'd like: ''chasing the wild goose: the story of the iona community,'' ''journey,'' ''dreaming of eden,: reflections on christianity and secuality'' and ''yearning and bliss: meditations on authentic christian spirituality.''
... and of course, robert burns.
and there really isn't a better way to spend a day off than to sit on a bench overlooking the sea and sheep pastures with a cup of hot tea -- going from sleep to reading back to sleep, then journalling and re-filling your tea cup.
29.6.10
25.6.10
what am i doing here? ( + a laugh.)
I have a few minutes before tonights ''inner space'' service begins to jot a few lines about LIFE -- in the abbey.
first of all:
majority of my thought life has been revolving around getting into my dish washing- bed changing- toilet bowl cleaning routine: BUT, there is only so much of your brain that can be contained by such things, so I am experiencing the most brilliant amount of freedom to just BE. think. get inspired.
i have spent the majority of the past few days, while traps-ing through sheep terds from the sheep and cows that are allowed to roam free on the iona community property, feeling like god has marooned me somehow on this scrawny, craggy island for some kind of purpose. while i imagined iona to be remote, i was not quiiiiiite expecting the 3 hour train ride from glasgow, to the hour long ferry ride, to another hour long bus ride through cliffs and the only unmarked road, to another hour ferry ride.
i was also not expecting this incredibly grounding sense of calm -- calm and family -- when i arrived. while i didn't have this automatic dramatic spiritual breakthrough or sense of the divine, i almost, to be honest, felt like i came home, to a certain extent. i can't quote put my finger on it -- maybe it was the accomodation, whose bright colors, murals, kitschy spiritual art trinkets, piles of stones and mosaic furniture reminded me of the gesundheit collective i stayed in in college. maybe it was the presence of the STUFFED craft room, smell of the fresh lavender soap, or the fact that people on my housekeeping cohort already knew my name.
my sense, however, is that somewhere from giving god thanks for a rich, vegan, cuscous and curry and the moment of silence for thanksgiving offered collectively at the end of the meal, that this ''order'' -- one that celebrates and affirms life as much in the secular as in the sacred, (if there is a difference.) feels like people i have already known for a long time.
the inner space service i need to pop off to is being led by an american woman -- former struggling actress who now lives in vermont, who has promised to tell me the story of when she was taken to jail regarding some interlude with patriarchy, civil disobedience, and first class sections on airplanes. she has written a play: on women of the bible, and has involved my other residents: soul artist from sweden, canadian flautist, american poet.
YAY!
first of all:
majority of my thought life has been revolving around getting into my dish washing- bed changing- toilet bowl cleaning routine: BUT, there is only so much of your brain that can be contained by such things, so I am experiencing the most brilliant amount of freedom to just BE. think. get inspired.
i have spent the majority of the past few days, while traps-ing through sheep terds from the sheep and cows that are allowed to roam free on the iona community property, feeling like god has marooned me somehow on this scrawny, craggy island for some kind of purpose. while i imagined iona to be remote, i was not quiiiiiite expecting the 3 hour train ride from glasgow, to the hour long ferry ride, to another hour long bus ride through cliffs and the only unmarked road, to another hour ferry ride.
i was also not expecting this incredibly grounding sense of calm -- calm and family -- when i arrived. while i didn't have this automatic dramatic spiritual breakthrough or sense of the divine, i almost, to be honest, felt like i came home, to a certain extent. i can't quote put my finger on it -- maybe it was the accomodation, whose bright colors, murals, kitschy spiritual art trinkets, piles of stones and mosaic furniture reminded me of the gesundheit collective i stayed in in college. maybe it was the presence of the STUFFED craft room, smell of the fresh lavender soap, or the fact that people on my housekeeping cohort already knew my name.
my sense, however, is that somewhere from giving god thanks for a rich, vegan, cuscous and curry and the moment of silence for thanksgiving offered collectively at the end of the meal, that this ''order'' -- one that celebrates and affirms life as much in the secular as in the sacred, (if there is a difference.) feels like people i have already known for a long time.
the inner space service i need to pop off to is being led by an american woman -- former struggling actress who now lives in vermont, who has promised to tell me the story of when she was taken to jail regarding some interlude with patriarchy, civil disobedience, and first class sections on airplanes. she has written a play: on women of the bible, and has involved my other residents: soul artist from sweden, canadian flautist, american poet.
YAY!
21.6.10
a poem passed on by a friend.
Evening
by Rainer Maria Rilke
The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;
and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night, and rises;
and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternatively stone in you and star.
by Rainer Maria Rilke
The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;
and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night, and rises;
and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternatively stone in you and star.
18.6.10
first post in 2 years.
brilliant.
sifting through quotes from kirkgaard, merton, st. teresa the crazy, and manning, i can't discern how to begin.
but: this one from alaska sticks out. from a greeting card cliche, but.
...
life is either a daring adventure... or nothing.
helen keller.
make it happen.
(and i can't figure out how to erase my other blog posts, so if you read them: no judging.)
ps: i love that you are reading this.
sifting through quotes from kirkgaard, merton, st. teresa the crazy, and manning, i can't discern how to begin.
but: this one from alaska sticks out. from a greeting card cliche, but.
...
life is either a daring adventure... or nothing.
helen keller.
make it happen.
(and i can't figure out how to erase my other blog posts, so if you read them: no judging.)
ps: i love that you are reading this.
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