This is really somewhat random, but if you want to breathe new life into your Guess Who game (yes the one with flip up faces – Frans, Peter, Jill and such) pull it out and play it with stereotypes – with another adult. It’s amazing how well it works.
Photo by Steve Berry:Â http://www.flickr.com/photos/17859020@N00/2398625902/in/photolist-4DXzV1-6AJBKn
Two of my favourite things have come together in a delightful cacophony of surprise. Unorchestrated and without warning.
Peng!33 is pretty much my favourite Iron & Wine song and I am re-reading (for bookclub) One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez – one of the finest, most delightfully strange books I have ever read.
It appears that Peng!33 borrows it’s lines from One Hundred Years.
“Incredible things are happening in this world, magical things are happening in this world… across the river are all kinds of magical instruments, while we’re still living here like donkeys/monkeys”
I didn’t even have to Google.
It’s as if there really are magical instruments across the river!
Post Facebook Lent.
oddly, now that I am ‘back to normal’ I have finally found a wee bit of headspace to think.
it is remarkable when you rediscover that ability. To think.
I did need the space. Lent. However the time was so full of other ‘must dos’ and now that is over and finally I can shuffle things around things to where they can be re-evaluated.
So I am shuffling. Somewhat slowly. Shuffling and re-evalutating.
Perhaps words will resurface to the top again?
Did I mention I got an iPad (1) for my birthday, it’s uber fun. Perhaps it is not helping me find space directly, but it is new and fun. Did I mention that it is fun? It’s really the most fun present I’ve ever received.
And the Enneagram email was a beast the other day:
As a One, you are part of the Frustration-Based Group. Ones are frustrated that the world is not more sensible and orderly. The antidote for your frustration is acceptance of reality. (Understanding the Enneagram, 318)
*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