Mountains, clouds, sky reflected in dark pools of mystery,
enlightening, enlivening, bringing colour and joy.
The pilgrim soul seeks inward, looking for purpose,
the reward is clarity ever deepening.
One of the books currently on the go is The Gift of Years by Joan Chittister. I mentioned it previously; it is a book to savour and just in case you’re interested I am now on page 100. Progress has been delayed because I am on my monthly catch- up of War and Peace.
When I first started studying theology at the University of St Andrews, the Practical Theology staff were very keen to emphasise the importance of “story.” It took me a while to understand what the concept was all about, but when I did it became a valuable tool in pastoral work. Visiting parishioners and members is something which congregations are keen for their ministers to do. Sometimes it’s made very easy, simply because of the personality of the person being visited. At other times there is a straightforward purpose to the visit, perhaps to arrange a baptism, wedding or funeral. On occasion it can be to try and sort out a problem, but sometimes it can be a bit of a struggle, for example if someone is shy or nervous or mentally fragile with the beginnings of dementia. Then the concept of story comes into its own, and people can be encouraged to share memories and tales of long ago.
In The Gift of Years, the author seeks to surround ageing with grace and a positive aspect, rather than as a hopeless decline. Who wouldn’t that appeal to? Here’s what she says about ageing and story.
Every elder in every community is a living story for the people to whom he or she will someday leave the Earth to guide as good, as better, than they did in their own time.
In the older members of every society lies the taproot of that society. It goes down deeper into the past than any others. The elders know where every idea has come from. And why. They know what it means – what it really means – to be a family, to be citizen, to be free, to be enslaved. They know the difference between evolution and revolution. And, most of all, they know that there is room for both in the development of the world in which we live.
Chittister goes on to say that the passing-down of folklore and family tales is crucial. I have to say I agree with her, and would be interested to know what you think – both young and old.
This is from the Iona Community, and is a modern version of the Lord’s Prayer
LIVING WISDOM
God in heaven,
your name is to be honoured.
May your new community of hope
be realised on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today the essentials of life.
Release us from our wrongdoing
as we also release those who wrong us.
Do not test us beyond our enduring;
save us from all that is evil.
For you embrace justice, love and peace,
now and to the end of time, Amen,
This is another guest post, following on from Verity’s contribution last Saturday, it seems that her dog, Valentine or ViVi is needing to get some things off his chest. He writes regularly to Misty as the two dogs are friends. They even play on occasion. Usually, Misty is nervous of big dogs, but she tolerates ViVi well, though there is no doubt as to who is the boss. – Who do you think? – Misty of course.
Move Over Mum!
(by Valentine Dog – a.k.a ViVi)
I have been getting quite frustrated recently. Ok I know I am only a dog but I try also to be a writer. I do this by thought transference to my mum, but I have not been able to get through to her for ages.
The reason for this is she now thinks of herself as a (very) mature student and spends most of her time with her head in a book, watching and listening to some stuff on a DVD, and then tapping away at the keyboard. She does not seem to have much time for me. Yes, she does take me for walks but that is not the same as me lying on my chair beside her in the study and having her write down my thoughts.
I have not even been able to write to my friend Misty for ages. There is so much I have to tell her about my adventures int he snow, chasing pheasants, and this week I managed (almost) to catch a hare. That was fun, I saw it when I was half-way across the field, ran to where it was, only for it to turn about and run back to the other side. I ended up doing two and a half breadths of the field. But do I get a chance to tell Misty about this – no! The mature student hogs the computer and I am left out in the cold, metaphorically speaking of course. There is no way I would tolerate being shut outside in this weather even though I have a long warm coat as befits a setter.
That is something else I have not been able to tell Misty. After my disastrous haircut in September my coat has now grown in so that I am again looking like a proper Llwellin Setter. The only course of action I can take, I think is to ask Dad to convince Mum that we both liked her better before this student malarkey. I wonder if that would work. Other than that I suppose I will just have to be patient, this course of study must surely finish soon.
As you can see from the above photo, ViVi is feeling a bit put out. Do feel free to comment to him directly – or to Verity for that matter!
Misty does her own letters on occasion. I am wondering whether I should let her do an occasional blog post, though she is inclined to be a bit of a Diva.
As a quick adjunct to previous post, here is a link from Guido’s blog showing a newspaper article about the early days of Jacob Rees-Mogg, a Tory MP.
The BBC Programme Posh and Posher, screened on last night’s TV was a blistering indictment of our educational system and the reasons for the narrowing of the world of politics in the UK to a privileged and wealthy elite.
I have mentioned the fact that I went to a Grammar School in the 1950s and early 60s……. I sort of regret now that I referred to it as “posh,” for if Andrew Neil’s commentary shows anything, it is that the “posh” he speaks of, means being part of, or comfortable with an “aristocracy”- an “old boys’ network” (even if you are a girl) and have obtained your degree from Oxford or Cambridge universities, preferably in their PPE course (politics, philosphy and economics.) Apart from the fact that this worries me because of its narrowness, as a country we are kidding ourselves that a descent into a them/us mentality is anything other than dangerous. The cuts that are being applied to the lives of ordinary people, poor people and the vulnerable are vicious and will come back to bite the coalition government. A government that delivers them with such sanctimonious, hand-wringing pleas, that as it is not their fault, it must be that of Labour. They seem to forget or ignore the world-wide recession and banking crisis. (I’ll have a go at the bankers another day.)
The position in Scotland is slightly different in that the Scottish Parliament comprises in the main MSPs who have got there on ability and dedication – at least that is what I like to think. Because of the system of voting the electorate can vote for whichever party they favour and the seats are divided up amongst them. This creates a system whereby politicians have to work together to achieve goals and make policy.
The problems overall with the UK – and of course Scotland is still part of the UK – are to do with the narrowing of the field from which politicians emerge. This means that economic policy, fiscal authority, defence and foreign policy are overwhelmingly decided by those who have been educated predominantly in the English public schools system. There are fewer Scottish fee-paying schools, but again they tend to produce the type of candidate that is favoured in modern politics. This is happening in the three main parties. Other routes to a career in politics through local activism or trades unions are being marginalised.
One section of the programme showed an interview with a young man who was working in an independently funded youth club in one of the Glasgow Housing Schemes. He spoke articulately about the gulf that exists between our politicians and the people living in Easterhouse. A founder member of the club told of the gulfs that education, poverty and bad housing cause. Education has to be the answer and somewhere, somehow people will start to realise that a meritocracy and a passion for justice will fuel a country of which we can all feel proud.
At the moment I almost wish I was several years younger so that I could construct the barricades. I can only hope that somewhere young people are so incensed that they decide to fight back.
This photo sums up January: bleak, stark, wondering……. but at least there’s no snow.
So – today is 25 January – what do I write about? The Conversion of St Paul or Robert Burns? I have to confess to feeling somewhat iffy about Burns; I place the blame firmly on being brought up in London. On the other hand, it was a posh Grammar School and we did sort of study Burns and his poetry, but for some reason it never clicked with me. This in itself was unusual, for I lived my growing-up life as someone who felt like a Scot in England, and loved my yearly trips north each year. Then when I moved to Scotland on leaving school, I ended up feeling like an English person in Scotland. It took a good few years for me to feel comfortable in my own skin……….. and now I know that I am forever a mongrel (Scottish mother, English father.)
Come to think of it, I never did understand the language in Robert Burns and the English Literature teacher at school was somewhat out of her depth. However, this morning I heard the inimitable My love is like a red, red rose……… and felt the better for it.
So here’s Eva Cassidy in a beautiful version of it. A different kind of spirituality from Paul, but valid nonetheless.
Verity has been interested in my blog and the whole process of blogging for several years. She is one of those friends who you know are always with you. We first met when our children were young, and you know how that means you share all sorts of trials and tribulations. I asked her to do a guest post – it’s a test really, because I’ve been trying to encourage her to start her own blog. So please go ahead and encourage her by commenting if you’ve got time in your weekend schedule.
not to drive in snow
not to do housework at the weekends
to indulge in more exercise
become a very mature student.
There is a great sense of satisfaction from the first two; a reduction in weight and increase in fitness from the third but as for the fourth, the jury is still out.
I am currently working through my second Open University short course. The first one on Creative Writing was pure pleasure; however I am now plodding through Making Sense of History. I did not look too closely at the subjects being studied when choosing the course. More fool me! Part 1 is Poetry, haiku in particular. Part 2 is a 15-year period in the recent history of Burma, in particular Aung San Suu Kyi struggles. Now at Part 3 – this is Art. In this we are asked to analyse, interpret etc the (so-called) works of art which have won the Turner Prize. Does anyone really consider the prize winner of 1998, Tracey Emin’s My Bed to be a work of art?
I ask myself frequently am I getting pleasure or pain from being a very mature student. During my working lifetime I did study but it was mostly work related courses and qualifications. None of these were for pleasure, their purpose was career orientated. So now why am I studying? Am I whiling away some hours; increasing my knowledge base; indulging myself; or simply trying to prove that the grey cells are still functioning. Why does it seem important to know that I can achieve a qualification as a retired elder person.
Well done, Verity, maybe you could get used to this!
A winter walk, enlivened by stunning shapes….
It felt as if this fir tree was celebrating the fact that it escaped the culling of trees for Christmas. In fact, its growing pattern looks either rebellious or ridiculous according to your frame of mind.
The ice is still with us, but not quite so in your face and all around. There is hope that the year has well and truly started on its journey to spring. Time to count our blessings and think of the cycle of life.
Trees march down the skyline in the approaching dusk….
