I Spy Beauty...

A (sometimes) weekly post of beauty seen, heard or discovered

The last few months have mostly felt like random glimpses of colour in a great big grey cloud. It has been a rather disorientating experience. I'm no stranger to darkness and grey. I know the path of struggle and hope quite well. But the most recent confluence of circumstances have rocked me to the core of my being- my sense of self, my place in this world, my faith in humanity.

So I went to the beach for a few days this week. Because the beach is my escape, the place I know I can breathe and find peace and gather just a little more strength to keep going. I am immeasurably blessed with dear friends and mentors who not only love me and care for me, but who own a beautiful little caravan a few hundred metres from a South Coast beach.

Afternoon walks on the beach in the winter sun are quite magical really. I found a large piece of driftwood and sat down to think and pray awhile. I was marvelling at the beautiful colours all around me.... thanking God for afternoons like this that remind me of beauty and hope and His presence. And then I looked up to see this....  

  

Only a tiny grey cloud above a big colourful beach. 

Beauty and hope.

I Spy Beauty...

A (sometimes) weekly post of beauty seen, heard or discovered

Once again, darkness and struggle make it difficult to see beauty.

When I am struggling to sleep there are certain tunes that soothe and help me to fall asleep.... Jon Foreman's Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring EP's are my current favourites. This week I have played "The Cure For The Pain" (from the Fall EP) countless times....

I'm not sure why it always goes downhill
Why broken cisterns never could stay filled
I've spent ten years singing gravity away
But the water keeps on falling from the sky

And here tonight while the stars are blacking out
With every hope and dream I've ever had in doubt
I've spent ten years trying to sing these doubts away
But the water keeps on falling from my eyes

And heaven knows, heaven knows
I tried to find a cure for the pain
Oh my Lord, to suffer like You do
It would be a lie to run away

So blood is fire pulsing through our veins
We're either riders or fools behind the reigns
I've spent ten years trying to sing it all away
But the water keeps on falling from my tries

And heaven knows, heaven knows
I tried to find a cure for the pain
Oh my Lord, to suffer like You do
It would be a lie to run away
A lie to run, it would be a lie
It would be a lie to run away

It keeps on falling (x4)
Water keeps on falling from my eyes

And heaven knows, heaven knows
I tried to find a cure for the pain
Oh my Lord, to suffer like You do
It would be a lie to run away
It would be a lie to run away
It would be a lie to run away
(The Cure For The Pain copyright Jon Foreman)

Maybe this song doesn't seem particularly encouraging to you, but one thing I have learnt this week: the time comes, some days, when the cure for the pain is to run right on into it.

In a number of ways over the past week, I have been gently reminded that facing pain and disappointment is what allows us to move beyond it.

The present pain might be... well, painful. But I've heard the promise that beauty rises from ashes, so I'm not going to run away.

Words for Wednesday

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

Psalm 46

(From Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation, 12 June 2013) 

I Spy Beauty...

A (sometimes) weekly post of beauty seen, heard or discovered

This little postcard (artwork by Jordan Hamlin) has been stuck to my bedside lamp since it came with my copy of Sandra McCracken's In Feast or Fallow hymns album three years ago. The whole album, and in particular this lyric, has seen me through two of the darkest times.
And I've been playing it again this week. Even when I don't feel like I will endure or feel the hope of Christ, this song- and the piece of card I see first thing every morning- reminds me.

In the harvest feast ot the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes we shall endure
Whatever comes we shall endure
words & music copyright Sandra McCracken

You can find out more about Sandra McCracken's beautiful work at sandramccracken.com

Song in minor key

Life is like a song in minor key:

unresolved moments, seemingly discordant

achingly beautiful.

Hints of deeper, darker

truth

awakening in notes

you least expect.

Sadness turns to joy

as each note reveals the whole.

There is beauty in the dark notes.

Words for Wednesday

Into the land of the living
Black bleeds orange into blue
I am coming to life,
Light is breaking through

I can hear the bells in the city
Across the ancient shore
I am ready to fight
Let down the scarlet cord

It's time to shed this masquerade

You cannot love in moderation
Dancing with a dead man's bones
Lay your soul
On the threshing floor

Between the walls of the river,
Shoulders bare the sacred stones
We made it alive
We are not alone

Kiss the ground
And change your name

You cannot love in moderation
You're dancing with a dead man's bones
Lay your soul
On the threshing floor

I heard the distant battle drum
The mockingbird spoke in tongues
Longing for the day to come
I set my face, forsook my fears
I saw the city through my tears
The darkness soon will disappear
And be swallowed by the sun

I am coming home
I am coming home
I am coming home
I am coming home... 

Copyright Matthew Perryman Jones

title track from the album Land of the Living

Check out MPJ's music at mpjmusic.com

or Youtube

or iTunes

I Spy Beauty...

A (sometimes) weekly post about beauty seen, heard or discovered

A young girl/woman from Sierra Leone stands before a room of a (predominately) white, privileged crowd and speaks of trying to overcome the scars of her past life in this new land. Of being given space and words through the wonderful work of Sydney Story Factory. This brave young woman moves me to tears as she shares a poem entitled, 'Home, away from home' and speaks of the hope she has in the power of words to free her from the demons of the past. 

Sitting across from a friend talking about life and religion and belief and sexuality and church and friendship and things in between. Knowing that while we share a common painful present, we share faith and hope and thirst for knowledge in so much more.

Listening to a political hero speak with astonishing grace and dignity about the depressing state of local and global politics. About the need for each and every individual to be a brave voice of peace and activism in a world obsessed with greed. And then showing us how it is done by living the example.

A educator, musician and conductor describes the intricate power and beauty of bringing a work of art to life. "And if no one comes to see it, it really doesn't matter. I followed the vision I was given"

Listening and singing along to old favourite hymns. Transported to memories of Grandma and Dad singing and teaching me the words. Words I still know in my heart today.

A week with many moments of beauty.... If I keep my soul open to see.

The year of living... Jealously?!

A few days ago a dear and talented friend told me about her current plans post graduation this year. I was taken by surprise- it is a gutsy and bold move that she's thinking on. One which will take her on many adventures.

And I started to get a bit sad (or cranky, I'm not really sure).

Part of the conversation went something like this:

Me: Why does everyone have to make all these big plans and leave me in boring old Sydney.
Friend: Sorry, but I like change.
Me: I HATE change. I run full tilt in the opposite direction from anything remotely change-like.

Later, I was thinking about my reaction and current penchant for self-pity about my situation (30, single, still no BA, negligible savings and a too-vague plan about becoming a writer).

The epiphany: I'm jealous!

Not of this specific friend, I wouldn't dare attempt what she is thinking of doing. But if I'm honest, the sadness I get when hearing about friends adventures, accomplishments, travels etc is just a little bit of jealousy. (Just for the record, I am also happy for and proud of my friends!)

I've been struggling with and thinking a lot lately about the zig-zaggy pattern of my young adult life. The disappointment I feel. The comparisons I continually make between my own twenties and that of friends taking more logical, straightforward paths. So many of my plans were waylaid by illness, crisis' and pains.

That's a lot of time thinking and a not a lot of time living!

And it doesn't really fit in with my word for 2013: fearless.

When I chose that word in January I knew what I was getting myself in for. I knew my fear and the way it can numb me to the point of inaction. And yet the first few months of this year have been so unsettling and difficult that being or doing something new (or brave) has seemed impossible.

And this thought reminded of something Sarah Bessey, one of my favourite bloggers, said on facebook earlier this year:

Yes, I have some hard work to do when it comes to achieving my goals, overcoming my tendencies to fear and accepting my own story. But Sarah challenges me to be mindful of the present, and to be present.

Which also reminds me of a Sara Groves song (what a surprise!), I Just Showed Up For My Own Life:

I was in love with an idea
Preoccupied with how a life should appear
Spending my time at the surface repairing the holes in the shiny veneer

There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real

And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright
Copyright Sara Groves & Joel Hanson from the album Add to the Beauty

In order to 'work' at being fearless, I must first show up. I must seek, in this day, to love and show grace, to find beauty in the everyday and be mindful.

So, the cure for my jealousy.... Live my own life! Not particularly profound, I know. But an important lesson I'll probably be learning everyday for quite a while.

It is already looking a bit brighter.

I Spy Beauty...

A (sometimes) weekly post about beauty seen, heard or discovered

Rob Bell is a genius.

If I had to name one writer/thinker/pastor that has had the most influence on my adult faith, it's Bell. Each of his books have played a pivotal role in shaping my theology and practice, encouraging me and challenging me beyond myself.

His latest book What We Talk About When We Talk About God (HarperOne 2013) is, so far, no different.

Bell is not only a thinker and theology, but he is good, creative writer. He has a way with words. This week I have been deeply moved by his thoughts on the depths and limits of language...

"So when we talk about God,

we're talking about our brushes with the spirit,
our awareness of the reverence humming within us,
our sense of the nearness,
and the farness,
that which we know,
and that which is unknown,
that which we can talk about,
and that which eludes the grasp of our words,
that which is crystal-clear
and that which is more mysterious than ever.

And sometimes language helps,
and sometime language fails....

....For many people in our world, the opposite of faith is doubt. The goal, then, within this understanding, is to eliminate doubt. But faith and doubt are not opposite. Doubt is often a sign that your faith has a pulse, that it's alive and well and exploring and searching. Faith and doubt aren't opposites; they are, it turns out, excellent dance partners....

....conviction and humility, like faith and doubt, are not opposites; they're dance partners. It's possible to hold your faith with open hands, living with great conviction and yet at the same time humbly admitting that your knowledge and perspective will always be limited.

Do you believe the exact same things you did in the exact same way you did five years ago? Probably not....

....I believe that this is one of the most urgent questions people are asking at this time about the very nature of faith: Can conviction and humility coexist as the dance partners we need them to be?

I say yes, they can. I have seen it up close, and it's possible. It requires that we pay as much attention to how we are talking as to what we are talking about, and it requires us to leave the paradox as it is, the tension unresolved, holding our convictions with humility." (excerpt from pages 91-95)

If you want to know about more on what the books about, watch this.
 

Words for Wednesday

“Thomas Merton wrote, “there is always a temptation to diddle around in the contemplative life, making itsy-bitsy statues.” There is always an enormous temptation in all of life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for itsy-bitsy years on end. It is so self-conscious, so apparently moral, simply to step aside from the gaps where the creeks and winds pour down, saying, I never merited this grace, quite rightly, and then to sulk along the rest of your days on the edge of rage.

I won’t have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain, or Lazarus.

Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple- a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.”
Annie Dillard from Pilgrim At Tinker Creek