*These are thoughts post Soul Survivor, the monster that appears in the first act is holding a big long page of disclaimers, but truly – let’s pay attention to reality: I will just say what I think.

Act 1

And whomph, the tiredness monster fly past and knocks me over and I can only sit.

I hate performance poetry – it is obnoxious and turns lovely words into melodramatic harpies. Cruel perhaps, but this – thine – then is how I feel. Point in case? (art is subjective, yes? this is art that I don’t – although not exclusively dislike)

I dislike disconnect – although there is some kind of false safety in staying busy.

Service I understand somewhat better. Although understanding is not tangible without doing – perhaps service can only ever be understood at the present moment of the act?

Hype gives me hives.

Tea, words, solace is peace and there I find God. It is not as if loud, dancing joy is hype (not in the slightest), but to me it is foreign and that swell of soul makes itself known better through moment and surprise-in-quiet.

I fill my life with too much noise. I must relearn being still.

(I’m sorry if you like performance poetry)

Act 2

Perhaps life flickers as performance poetry? Expanding our experiences into deep-hollow words of longing. Expression that is not met. False conclusions that wrap things up neat and tidy like. Conclusions that are conclusions.

Where is our conclusion?

Our conclusion is still longing and interacting with those moments of awareness that God drops into our lives via somewhat delightful and sometimes disturbing means.

We are disrupted. Words stop following so nicely. We step out of time and lose pace.
It is in this mess of boring prose that we find truth.
And it’s conclusion is both in this prose and beyond it.

and the finish is

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We ought not to think of building holiness upon action,
we ought to build it upon a way of being.
For it is not what we do that makes us holy,
but we ought to make holy what we do.

Meister Eckhart

This year is the first time I have ‘actioned’ Lent. I have let up with Facebook for the entireity of the time (no Sunday reprieve for me). I mostly don’t miss it, but I do catch the impulse daily where I do the ‘bah-humbug’ I can’t just go and stalk that picture of my friend’s wedding or baby. I tell you, so many significant events!

In terms of doing this whole Lent thing I am somewhat of a rookie. The whole no Facebook thing has certainly afforded me more time, oh how gloriously long the evenings! But I am terribly wonderful at filling up said time with other things: internetty things mostly, and I am not so great at using this relinquished time in perhaps more beneficial ways…

I’m not sure I fully physically understand the purpose of Lent. Self denial I can do. Here. I am doing it. But taking something else up: curating my time, priority setting, stillness. No. not so good. But trying to try.

Eugene Cho has a great post on Lent, well worth a read

This post is part of the 100 Theme Challenge

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It’s interesting the whole ‘listening to God’ thing. We talk about it a lot with Soul Survivor. It’s something I find both easy but difficult. Things tend to wriggle their way at me terribly abstractly. It appears I listen better when I have a couple of things to connect the dots. The other night Geoff and I were up at Surrender Conference as the Soul Survivor team were running the youth night. I was praying and God started talking to me about a well. I did a bit of a well, well (heh get it), what’s with this and I got this idea of this well that was terribly deep, unfathomably deep, although full of what – who knows, I did contemplate it but my mind baulked at all the cliches eg. God’s love, and it wasn’t actually that anyway because it didn’t feel right, (not that it’s not right…) so I let it slide.

I got to pray with a small crew – one of the guys had left his world behind (eg. possessions) and was seeing where it would take him, and it was good. I did a stint at the Soul Survivor stand, and a was somewhat accosted by a 9 year old asking about Soul Survivor. I did my best to  but he came back with a frustrated, ‘But what’s it all about?’ (followed by, do they do graffiti workshops?).

On the way home, I spent chunk of time thinking about the evening and then the question: ‘But what’s it all about’ for me personally. And to be honest it’s been a bit bland. Not sure what things really look like/where they are going and frankly I’ve been quite lazy about asking/finding out or thinking about things deeply (or just at a bit of a loss because things have felt at a bit of a lull) about what I should be doing differently/where to. I happened to also have been listening to a terribly old Sixpence CD (note that Geoff wasn’t in the car… otherwise it would not have been playing) I turned on the CD as I hit the Eastern, and the Lines of My Earth came on.

Well.

The lines of my earth
So brittle, unfertile, and ready to die
I need a drink, but the well has run dry
And we, in the habit of saying the same things
All over again
For the money we shall make

This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it anymore

It should be our time
This fertile youth’s black soil is ready for rain
The harvest is nigh, but the well has gone dry
And they, in the habit of saying the same things
All over again
About the money we shall make

This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it anymore

This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it anymore

The well is deep. I have been told ‘otherwise’.

I am not sure what this looks like. My suspicion is that this is the nudge to get things moving again. He is good.

image source

Christianity Life

It’s January and the Christmas tree is still up, the lounge room however wall has changed colour and I’ve at very least sorted a few things out but the garden is a jungle, I haven’t cooked for myself in several days and so on…

There are a few things I would like to improve on this year.

  • Have more people over
  • Get vaguely fit/eat healthier and more varied foods
  • Watch less television
  • Spend more time talking with Geoff
  • Deal with the backyard/garden
  • More time with God (actual decent time)

Nothing revolutionary. Quite sedate, standard things really. Which is what would be truly nice for this year – after a year of so much change and newness.

Totally stealing from Ann Voskamp and her post about ‘Naming the Year‘ I have chosen the word Communion. I did actually sit down and pray (terribly briefly) about what it should be – but looking at that list up there and from what I can gather, this is what keeps resonating. The list after all is very much about connecting with other people and with God and with my surroundings, and for someone who lives far too much life in her head, I think this is something I should be thinking about.

I do feel rather disconnected from the depth of life that used to be so obvious and present.

I hope to write here more. But I hope to write here less if it means I am spending my time more richly.

“Maybe communion is just a way of waking up to reality of real living” – Ann Voskamp

Jesus replied, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” – John 14:23

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Prayer the Churches banquet, angels age,
Gods breath in man returning to his birth,
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,
The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth;

Engine against th’ Almightie, sinner’s towre,
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six daies world-transposing in an houre,
A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear;

Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse,
Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best,
Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest,
The milkie way, the bird of Paradise,

Church-bels beyond the stars heard, the souls bloud,
The land of spices, something understood.

-George Herbert

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