Green Patches

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 "In an  age of a nuclear overkill, climate change and global poverty, Francis and his rule for his community, first shaped 800 years ago in 1209, continue to call us back again to the true values of Christian community and lifestyle." (Patrick Comerford)

Thanks to Mike F of the Mercy Blog for pointing to Canon Patrick Comerford's recent addresses on Franciscan vocation: Saint Francis: Lifestyle for today? and Saint Francis: Community life for today?

New Year Greetings

Now, I wonder what this new decade should be called? We've had the 'noughties,' are we entering  the 'noughty-tens?' Answers welcome; one needs to know these things. As you'll have guessed from the timing  of this  post, some of us like to ease ourselves into the New Year at a gentle pace. My feedreader shows that a good many folk have got there before me. However, (and I wasn't a Girl Guide for nothing!), 'Here's one I made  - and published - earlier.' Over on my other blog, you can revisit some of the highlights (that being the operative word, especially for my resident cycle expert) of 2009 in the Greenpatch household. 

So to New Year virtual housekeeping. I've been making some fine adjustments to the twiddly bits aboard Greenpatches. One of the pleasures of the period twixt Christmas and New Year is having some guilt-free time to travel the blogosphere and see who's out there. One happy discovery - and new addtion to my blogroll is Sr Patricia, a sister of St Francis of Philadelphia. Her blog attracted me as much for the marvellous pun in the title as anything else! Still, her reflections this New Year are well worth reading. As she says, she is a firm believer in the 12 days of Christmas; we may have reached the end of December, but the celebration of Christ's birth among us continue well beyond. Similar to the words of a CSMV sister and retreat guide a few years back. I was there a few weeks before Christmas, and  remember feeling a slight tinge of envy at her descriptions of  the celebrations to come. I, for one, will be keeping our Greenpatch creche, (and yes, that is an armadillo centre front) up until Candlemas.

Merry Christmas

Belated Christmas greetings. If you've just stumbled across this blog - welcome; if you're a regular (are there any?) hope your Christmas so far is what you'd hoped it would be and more.

 Over in Greenpatch land, we've experienced a white Christmas for what must be the first time in living memory; even if it only lasted for The Day itself. Actually, that's not quite true; snow around  Christmastime wasn't unknown when we lived in France. We have fond...or otherwise - memories of the time it was so cold that the car locks froze; when the chaplain had to drive out to collect the church organist, who lived at the top of a hill, or when we had to use another church for our carol service because, if I remember rightly - the heating at our home church had broken down.  Happy days.

But this Christmas eve was definitely the first time Mr M and have had to don walking boots in order to get ourselves up the hill to midnight mass. Much against the advice of the two junior Greenpatches, I might add, who seem to be  quite protective of their poor  old parents of late. They were out at the pub,  of course; however, I get the impression they'd rather we were safely home tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa, rather than  galliavanting around singing carols and suchlike amidst clouds of incense and dripping candles. Whatever happened to Health and Safety?

Never mind, in the event all went well, nobody set themselves alight, I'd no need to reach for my inhaler,and the lady sitting next to Mr GP harmonised so beautifully during the carols that I'll forgive she and her neighbour their flagrant breaching of Communion etiquette, (the rule that dictates that those nearest the aisle let those furthest away go up to receive first , so avoiding the blockage on the way back when I and another poor soul had to hover what seemed like ages at the end of the row whilst the others finished their rather prolonged post eucharistic private devotions.) I have the gift of patience and humility in equal measures, as you'll no doubt have gathered!

That's the serious stuff out of the way. For fun, frivolity and memories of times past,   do pop over to my other blog. 

Snowday

Greenpatch dog enjoying himself out in the snow. Mr GP took him to the park later on and was reallly surprised to find the place practically empty; you'd have thought the place would be crammed full of children having fun. Never mind - some rather larger 'children' were having the time of their lives nearby; do wander over to my other blog  to see Greenpatch Jr and his friends hard at work.

Advent Antiphons - O Emmanuel

"O Emmanuel, you are our king and judge, the One whom the peoples await and their Saviour. O come and save us, Lord, Our God." 

Advent Antiphons - O King

credit Wordlenet

"O King whom all the peoples desire, you are the cornerstone which makes all one. O come and save man whom you made from clay."  

Antiphons of Advent - O Rising Sun

"O Rising Sun, you are the splendour of eternal light and the sun of justice. O come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death." 

The Advent Antiphons

"O key of David and scepter of Israel, what you ope no one else can close again; what you close no one can open. O come to lead the captive from prison; free those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death."

What one will do to avoid writing those last few Christmas cards! I've been idling away the odd moment with the marvellous (and potentially addictive) Wordle. I've  not yet worked out how to embed  the latest creation in this blog, but, if you click over here, you'll be able to view the "O" Antiphon for today. 

Caroling away - more earworms

Caught Chris Rea being interviewed on the BBC this morning. Apparently his hit -  "Driving Home for Christmas" has almost reached the status of carol in some quarters. (This'll be online for one week only, and you'll need to scroll down to 8.23 a.m.) Strange how  a number of carols have their origins in folk traditions, and vice versa. "While Shepherds washed their socks...[I mean] watched their flocks," is another classic example; being originally sung to the tune of "On Ilkla Moor Baht’at,"  possible origins here!  Hmmm.... Meek and mild...not!  We were practising the "Boar's Head Carol," on Sunday,  version here.   by the Gregg Smith Singers.  When the men in our joint churches' choir weren't shall we say...singing as 'robustly,' as they could have been -  I was so tempted to sidle up to them during the tea break and  suggest they imagine they were  in the coach on the way back from the rugby match and act accordingly. Well, maybe not!

Silent Night

 As somebody who feels guilty at even pausing to blog at this time of year, I'd recommend  Adam McHugh's reflections on Advent as experienced (or not !) by both introverts and extroverts alike. 

Some quotes below; read the full version over on IntrovertedChurch.com . 

Enjoy the karaoke carol. I was so tempted to post up a really showy,  twirly,OTT, vibrato, complete with Disney and artificial snow version, but decided to give a thought to readers' blood pressure. As ever, Google - and Youtube is your friend.

"For me this time of year has always been a spiritually dry time. There is a line in a Counting Crows song that says “You can see a million miles tonight, but you can’t get very far.” That is my experience during this season. Every year I anticipate it with everyone else, hoping that this year will be different. Maybe this year the earth shattering experience of God will take place, and I’ll be able to take in the seismic joy that should result from the knowledge that God entered the course of human history to reclaim it as his own. But by December 26th, I’m left with disappointment, another year of not getting very far.

I experience a deep division within myself during Advent. My inner world stirs with longings for deep experiences of grace, for moments of pregnant silence, for times of candlelit reflections on the fullness of deity wrapped in a child. But my outerworld is harassed by the rampant activity, the hurried crowds, and the consumeristic clutter of the season….

 

In our world, quiet is counter-cultural. I’m not only referring to quiet on the outside, but also quiet on the inside. In fact, it may be easier to shut out the external voices than it is to silence the internal noise. It’s often those inner voices, especially the unacknowledged ones, that compel us to fill our lives with movement and agendas and spending and eating. Our behaviors and hurry are echoes of our inner doubts about our worth. Sadly, in many ways the nature of our holiday celebrations reveal how incompletely we have embraced the actual message of Christmas…" (Adam McHugh in "The Ooze, Christmas Newsletter)

Flushed with pride: Home Counties 'Poo Power.'

credit www.freedigitalphotos.net

Climate change strategy reaches new heights (or should that be 'depths!') as a water company gets back to the soil with its  exciting new strategy for cutting fuel consumption and greenhouse gases.

Read all about it here, courtesy of the BBC.

Clouds

"I am finally beginning to grasp the edges of a quote from John Wesley I remember reading when I was at theological college: "I am so busy that I must spend my first two hours in prayer". That sounds like such an oxymoron, yet I am finding myself that if I do not make time for God, giving God space to speak and myself to hear, my day falls over. The more I am with God, the more I can be for people. It sounds so unlikely, but seems to be true."

Pachyderm reads  The Cloud of Unknowing and reflects on that tricky overlap between the active and the comtemplative.

Consider the lilies of the field

Who neither toil, spin, nor are tempted to slip into something more comfortable at the drop of a Typepad New Theme notification, lured by the heady prospect of customisable banners. Trying to give Greenpatches a makeover an hour before I was due to go out ended up the techy equivalent of rushing off and buying a new outfit several sizes too small without trying it on, minutes before the carriage arrives to take me to the ball. Bound to end in tears, tears and poppers flying off in all directions. In the blogosphere read  - typelists, modules and sidebars disappearing into the cyber version of a black hole.

Never again!

Near, far, wherever you are...Franciscan Earworm - reprise

For the curious, this links to The Seven Joys of Mary  not Francis, but I'm sure you'll get the picture. Don't  say I didn't warn you!

Franciscan 'earworm'

So, yesterday we reached Franciscan Spirituality in the course down in what, for the sake of this blog, I've named the 'land of seagulls and brisk, sea breezes.'  It was an excellent, if challenging  evening, as we reflected on how we might translate poverty and penitence into practicalities in our mission to mirror Christ to the world . Wonderful worship, too; including much that's familiar if you're of a Franciscan disposition: the Canticle of the Sun, the Praises of God, and of course, the Cross Prayers; shades of my recent retreat and profession; the very hairs on the back of my neck go up at the sound of them.

The evening finished with yet another reminder of that happy occasion; the Franciscan hymn The Seven Joys of Francis . Now, if you're familiar with this one, you'll know it's sung to a 'traditional'  carol setting, more reminiscent of a drinking song, as indeed  quite a few carols were, originally. I managed to keep a straight face, just. Not easy  especially when trying not to let my imagination conjure up scenes reminiscent of  Rowan Atkinson et al in Blackadder 2.  Most unladylike.What would Francis have thought, I wonder? I'll be humming this one for weeks!

Netiquette

 I'm sure Ms Manners (or her online equivalent) would have  something to say about  blatant linking to one's other blogs as a means of sliding out of putting fingers to keyboard. Never mind; if readers (are there any?) fancy hearing about greeness of a less carbon neutral  type than that described in my last post, do feel free to hop over to my other blog.  Then whilst you're there, why not take a virtual stroll round the wibsite?

Carbon- neutral church

Given the name of this blog, I've been a bit remiss in not mentioning an exciting new sustainable development project launched recently. Newchurch [must stop calling it that; I've been there a year] is aiming to become one of the first carbon-neutral congregations in the Church of England.  Hear and read all about it here, here  , here   and of course, here. [you'll need to be a  Church Times subscriber to access this last link]. 

For readers who might wonder Climate Change - Why  the church?  the C of E's National Environmental Campaign Shrinking the Footprint  provides some helpful info, as well as linking to a talk on the topic by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness

A walk  in the wild  garden at Compton Durville

 

Pilgrimage

The Chapel at the Community of St Francis, Compton Durville, where I stayed on retreat last week.

 "You are not here to verify

Instruct yourself or inform curiosity

or carry report. You are here to kneel

Where prayer has been valid

And prayer is more

Than an order of words, the conscious occupation

Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying."

 

T S Eliot: Four Quartets - Little Gidding

Or to put it more prosaically, "Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things that get you. All you can do is to go where they can find you." No prizes for guessing who said this!

Look! Weep! Live!

Look! Weep! Live! Those three great imperatives from the desert tradition open up for us a way of believing that is life bearing. They shape and order this way of believing so that it breaks us open (walled up as we are in our fears and our prejudices) and begins to "make us over." 

from Alan Jones'  Soul Making: The Desert Way of Spirituality, Harper 1989

More musical inspiration

following on from yesterday's musical musings . Thanks go again to Maggi Dawn for pointing me towards this wonderful TED talk: Benjamin Zander on Classical music with shining eyes.   

"Who are we being as we go back out into the world?"

Just listen!

"Music for a while

credit freedigitalphotos.net

shall all your cares beguile..."   Maggi Dawn, Mike F and others have been reflecting on the power of music to if not banish, at least calm  the antics of the Black Dog which lurks on the periphery of the mind for so many  of us. I'd agree with one of the commenters on the first blog; I'm afraid  most modern worship songs just don't do it.That's not to say that they don't mean anything to me; they might uplift and often do. ( As do cheesy 70s and 80 disco hits - but we won't go there! ) But to really reach down into those murky depths it has to be deep, rich, multilayered.  Sublime classical gems like the "Sanctus" from  Faure's Reqiuem; the "Proficiscere, Annima Christiana" and " Praise to the Holiest" in Elgar's "Dream of Gerontius;" Bach's "Wir setzen  uns mit Tranen nieder," from the St Matthew Passion - have the power  - for me - to send veins of gold coursing through the mulch, and to begin, to transform a seemingly sodden mass into  a place in which maybe    something just something might begin to grow.

Of course if we're on the subject of gems , I simply can't leave out my all-time favourites and exponents of the classical tradition: The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. Enjoy!

The Spirit of Greenbelt lives on

There was a frisson of excitement yesterday, when I arrived home to find a quishy jiffybag stuffed with CDs waiting for me; a bunchy of talks from the festival  - hastily ordered last week in an attempt to beat the impending postal strike. The Greenpatch ironing mountain will be shrinking a treat.

I felt rather less enthused when John Bell's "Sabbath for Beginners," emitted a noise that was a cross between a washing machine on the 1000RPM cycle and a plane taking off, (and no, we're not talking about his Scottish accent here), shot round at the speed of Rimsky-Korsakov's "Flight of The Bumblebee," yet talk was there none; a quick check in the pc bringing up the dreaded words: "Not recognised. Empty CD." 

I'll be contacting Greenbelt Sales when I return from my (computer free) trip to the Land of Seabirds And Brisk Sea Breezes. It made me smile though, given the nature of the talk, as anybody who remembers the gales of guilty laughter that swept through the room on John's challenge re...umm...excessive use of modern technology and its intrusion into family life. Trains running through living rooms, anyone?

Could this be a sign? ;)

For Greenbelt

and all other festivals taking place just now: a prayer  from Pip Wilson. With thanks to Maggi Dawn . 

Gardening tips - part 4

What is the Kingdom of God like? What shall I compare it to? It is like a mustard seed, which a person  planteth on her windowsill, feedeth, watereth and generally treateth with Tender Loving Care.  And the mustard seed flourisheth and groweth, mayhap not exactly to bird-nesting proportions, unless said birds should be of the bonsai variety, but creditably nevertheless.

Until one day the person departeth on pilgrimage, leaving spouse and offspring on dog and cat sitting duty. But in her haste to get on the road, she neglecteth to tell them to tend the crops as well as the flocks. So, when after many days climbing o'er hill and dale, traversing cowpats and generally Looking To Higher Things, she returneth; Lo! (And woe), her nasturtiums had been wrenched from their moorings, the tumbling Toms were suffering from acute droop, and the poor mustardplant had attained Heavenly status rather sooner than she'd anticipated!

And there was weeping and wailing and rending of garments. (She gnasheth not her teeth, having forked out for an emergency filling only the previous week, and being mindful of the dreaded words: "Root Canal Work."). So, bearing in mind that the theme of the pilgrimage had been "reconciliation," she smileth (though gritted teeth) and firmly resolved to hie her to Robert Dyas, (ironmonger) for some water retaining granules before her next expedition.

For the cycling fraternity

Just so that those of you who've chanced upon this blog via refs to Mr GP's cycling activities don't feel you're being short-changed, the beloved has suggested I point you towards his recently published Guide to La Marmotte.   Have fun. Happy reading!

One Green Life

Ms GP and myself were at a family gathering a few weeks ago - to celebrate the life of an uncle, one of your original 'Green' activists long before such issues became fashionable. The ceremony took place in a woodland burial ground; probably a 'first' for many, if not most of us attending, yet for him, it couldn't have been more appropriate.  The (edited) tribute below was given  by my aunt.

A Tribute to ---- - his green life

Not fashion or culture or sloppy idealism. Not a hobby or a pursuit to pass the time, but a clear-sighted vision of the direction we should all be taking in order to save the planet.

----'s passionate adherence to the ecological approach to daily life, was over the past forty years, dedicated to keeping up with Green thinking and translating this not in a slavish, but in an innovative way, with imagination, integrity and ingeniousness, into reality.

---- urged us to listen, to pay attention and respond to evolving events and their environmental significance. To those as yet unaware of the need for action, his enthusiasm may have seemed excessive, even tinged with madness!

From his arrival in ------, he took part in demonstrations, attended conferences and gatherings and edited newsletters in support of spreading the green ideal. The first ecology group met at his home.

On behalf of us all, as we stand here in deep affection and respect to say a last goodbye, let us take up ----'s message and pass it on to use our personal time and ability with concern for how it will affect others in the world and indeed the future of mankind.

Not success or fame was his objective but having regard to the necessity of conserving a civilisation now at its pinnacle of development (having been touched, some would say, in it's origins, by the finger of God) but rather is not this to "dance to the muisc of time!" ----'s desperate and repeated injunction towards the end of his sufferings. Possibly this command will remain enigmatic. We hear you, ----, and with gratitude for your selfless life, will listen and ponder on these words and do our best to do as you have done, and "Dance to the Music of Time!" As the years go by, rest in peace in your woodland arbour. 

From cycling to simplicity

Mr GP has reached terra firma once more after an exciting week riding the London-Edinburgh-London cycle event, promo video here.  I don't think he'll ever forget the experience, and as for me, I stand in amazement at his timing; 94 hours and 50 mins, spread over four days.You're allowed longer, but he didn't realise that, so the event took on epic proportions, with some riding through the night which, thankfully, I wasn't fully aware of. Just as well! More details over on my other blog  As said there, he must have been riding like the folk in Browning's 'How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix!'  All of this in atrocious weather conditions. Well done to everybody involved! Photos here.

To a tenuous link For the duration of the trip Mr GP became a reluctant Twitterer, and Yours Truly signed up, too. Well, I had to keep track somehow, hadn't I? Now I know I've probably said this about every new development in modern communications, and would no doubt be happier back in the days when calling cards were de rigeur. And, hypocrite that I am, I've then usually gone on to embrace said despised new-fangled rubbish with all the zeal of the newly converted. But, when it comes to Tweeting, cheeping, or whatevering, I just don't get it. Maybe it's my Franciscan streak showing, but the thought of yet another techy 'thing' to tend makes my head go all fuzzy.This is the person who neglects her mobile phone for weeks on end, don't forget. I'm not a total technophobe; I've embrace internet fora e-mailing, blogs etc with enthusiasm. I've even sucuumbed to the dreaded Facebook. However,  I refuse to regale the world and his wife with details of my every waking minute. Or fill every waking minute thinking about what to regale the world with. (It doesn't do wonders for my grammar, either!).  So I read Mark Howe's new feature on Ship of Fools  - Hubris 2.0 'I get Twitter but it won't get me' with a sense of relief. Isn't there a slow food movement. Maybe somebody could start the same re cyberspace? Cybersimplicity, maybe?

Cheep!

Who am I ?

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

 In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.

Hebrews 12:1-4

Over on vendr.blogspot.com, Available Light asks - 'Why'?:

I have been reading Antony Beevor's Berlin a book about the fall of the German capital to the Red Army in April 1945. It is a harrowing tale of atrocity by the red Army, performed at least in part as revenge for the horrors earlier inflicted on occupied Russia by the Germans. A question that continually surfaces for me in reading such a book is Why? Why did decent law abiding fathers and sons and husbands on both sides of the conflict behave so appalingly? Why would a man be a hard working famer in the Urals and a rapist, thief and murderer once he enteredGermany? Why would reasonable, intelligent people become fanatical Nazis? We can say, of course that the people who acted in the way they did chose to act that way, and that therefore, they are responsible for their own actions, but that only begs the question: why did they choose so? More tellingly, I ask myself, if I had been a twenty year old Red Army soldier would I have acted any differently?.....

 

Spiritual growth is a bit of a misnomer, because it's not really about building something up, but rather it's about removing something. This is what Jesus meant when he talked about losing our life that we might live….

Read his  complete reflection here.

Graduation

Yesterday saw the senior Greenpatches heading for the fleshpots of  London to celebrate Ms GP's graduation. It was a wonderful - if emotional time. In fact, Mr GP was so overcome that he dropped the camera; though luckily after all the snaps had been taken. For myself, I'm trying hard not to overdo the maudlin reminiscing about Ms G's first day at playgroup nearly twenty years ago - those little Startrite sandals -  and was it a red Clothkits frock she was wearing or  rugby top and matching kilt? (Sniff!).

We may also have been the only parents to have smuggled champagne into Methodist Central Hall inside a pair of neon pink wellies!  Anyway, all went like a dream. We'll even forgive the powers that be  getting our offspring's first name wrong (the story of her life!).  Afterwards -  we duly headed off in search of sticky cakes - taking in a teensy diversion along the way; Church House Bookshop being within a stone's throw, I couldn't very well pass up the chance to have a quick browse, now could I?!

Green Places

" We cannot make the Kingdom of God happen, but we can put out leaves as it draws near. We can be kind to each other. We can be kind to ourselves. We can drive back the darkness a little. We can make green places within ourselves and among ourselves where God can make his Kingdom happen."
                                                 - Frederick Buechner, The Clown in the Belfry

Cats and colanders

I'm shattered - after - by Greenpatch standards  a draining week. GP cat and I are similar in not a few ways; including cussedness, love of solitude and an ability to snatch the odd forty winks, anywhere, anytime,  any place. Apart from the usual, the last few days have been big on company: saw my 'partners in crime' on Monday, somebody else Tuesday. I've a (for me) quite New and Significant Experience coming up later next week, so midweek met up with a friend to catch up and bolster self - confidence, Thursday ditto. All positive. Then yesterday saw me whizzing off down to leafy Surrey with a twofold purpose. Firstly to meet up with an old schoolfriend (What with 25 years to catch up on we got through a lot of chat and even more wine!). Then on  to visit an aunt. Sadly, our uncle died earlier in the week. This wasn't altogether negative, far from it; I think that the eventual funeral really will be a celebration of his life. On today to an excellent Enneagram workshop - of which more later - maybe. Sunday - church  - with BBQ (or given our climate - inside a queue). Monday, all systems go  for daughter's graduation (and get out those blister plasters for my posh shoes); Mr GP takes off again to climb ever'y mountain. Then to round it all off - New and Significant Experience. By the end of all that we'll have clocked up quite a mileage on the railway, and even more on the poor body, mind and soul. Stop the world; I want to get off!

Mountain climbing

Mr GP arrived home safely last night after his mammoth cycling experiences in the alps. I love the diagram charting his progress (above). Just one question, though: Why is he shown climbing up the mountain but never cycling down?

If you, too, have a head for heights, you'll love the clip below, taken by another competitor.  If like me, you begin to get the wobbles using the escalator on the London underground, you might prefer the Sound of Music's version of 'Climb evr'y Mountain.'

http://www.vimeo.com/5464145 

Of course, the simiilarities  to the spiritual journey is  too obvious to resist. Kelvin Wright has put it  beautifully in his blog:

...The spiritual life is like mountain climbing

Some people are mountain climbers. Some others -the "riders" - through wealth and good fortune are able to rent helicopters and take a fast trip to the top of the mountain. From the top, the helicopter riders enjoy the magnificent views and the the sense of serenity of which they have heard the mountain climbers talking . The riders might be tempted into thinking that their experiences are thus the equivalent of the climbers - superior even, as they have not had to spend so much time and effort; but of course they are mistaken. Mountain climbing is not about the views and the sense of serenity, even though these things happen often in the course of a climb. The benefits of climbing come through facing and overcoming obstacles; through developing skills which will spill over into everyday life; through the transformation which happens when a worthwhile task is undertaken. If the climber gets  to the summit and, for all the climb, cloud has obscured the view,  little if anything is lost. Conversely, if a climber is forever stopping to admire the view and seek a sense of peace, s/he will never make it to the top. By concentrating on the experiences which are peripheral to climbing, the riders miss the whole point; and the more entrancing the view from the top, the more danger they run of never becoming skilled climbers. It is possible that someone labours their whole life climbing mountains but never once manages to reach the summit. That person is still a far superior climber, in every way, to someone else who can helicopter themselves to the summit on a daily basis and at will...

For the rest of his reflections on Peak Experiences go  here.

Saturday's cyclists are definitely skilled climbers.

 

Gardening tips - part 3

credit freedigitalphotos.net

All  of which  of course, is a lead-in to a profound 'thunk'  - to  which  the pic provides a cryptic clue. Some might say 'tenuous;' the cucumber's only there because I wasn't able to provide a photo of John Bell's keynote red shoes. Though, in true 'Blue Peter' tradition, Here's One I Found Earlier .  (Thank you, Mr Gnome!).  All will be made clear...

It's been a funny old week, beginning with major gasworks  chez Greenpatch, and ending with two men and an excavator digging up whole swathes of our front garden. There's gardening for you! (Don't worry it was planned). Mr Greenpatch - aka Mr M/The lycra'ed horror has been busy climbing ever'y mountain in La Marmotte 2009 . Or from all accounts falling off them. I've still to see the extent of his injuries when he gets home tomorrow!

More seriously, a member of the extended family is gravely ill. I'm awaiting the news - although I know what said news will be.

Alongside that  are the latest in my own wanderings - call it gardening for the soul. I've applied for a course. Not in an area I've not considered before; in fact it's been right there in the background for quite a while. It's simply that the decision to apply was a snap one. Whatever happened to Franciscan balance? Come to think of it's hardly a term to apply to Francis himself. Whatever his good qualities, balanced he was not!  It is, if I'm honest with myself, a long shot; I'm trying hard to regard the whole affair as a learning experience, regardless of outcome. Which so far, I've managed, in fits and starts.

 What's helped, (and here's where the cucumber comes in ) has been simply taking time to reflect, read and pray. It's strange what sometimes happens when you do. The profound 'thunk' started whilst I was listening to John Bell's talk from last year's Greenbelt - on Faith in a Failing Church.  He mentioned the accounts of the Israelite wanderings from the book of Numbers; of the grumblers, the 'Back to Egypt' waverers, who although they're at the border of the promised land, are so terrified at the reports brought them by the spies who've gone ahead, that they'd rather turn back to the miseries of slavery. They refuse to move on, Moses begs God not to let them return to Egypt as a result of which they're condemned to wander  in wilderness until the last of the misery-guts have died off!  Now I know I'm taking things out of context; the passages are dealing with those who are reluctant to embrace change.  However, for me the message that came through to me was this:  I have travelled a long way these last few years; gained tremendous ground; grown in ways I'd not thought possible. Whether the answer to   the present situation may be - yes, no, wait, go on to something completely different - I can't 'go back.'  When I've done that in the past, not been true to myself,  something inside me has died. And I'm very much in the way of living!

Gardening tips - part 2

I suspect that playing the stats game would not be considered a suitable occcupation for a Franciscan. Still, it's fascinating to see which search terms land folk on this blog.  'Gardening'  has  attracted quite a few hits. Poor things;if they were expecting Alan Titchmarsh   they must have been sorely disappointed!

Angelic Choirs

Following on from my gardening tips  Greenpatch dog and I made a happy discovery the other night. You can read all about it here.  With their melifluous tenor tones, our hairy horrors could set up as a double act. Heavenly music indeed! Even if our neighbours might beg to differ. 

Gardening tips

Believe in the voice God has given you: It is the voice of an apprentice angel. Believe in the voices God has given other people.

John Bell, Iona Community, in Heaven Shall Not Wait

The faith of a cabbage plant

 

What is the Kingdom of God like? What shall I compare it to? It is like an Honesty seed which a ma…(pc alert!) person  took, planted on their windowsill before potting out in their garden. It grew  and became an ever so slightly bigger plant, and the slugs, snails and others of the Almighty’s tiny  creatures which wander wild and free perched in its branches and redesigned its leaves into a subtle, minimalist masterpiece.

You'll guess from the above that my ongoing attempts to cultivate Lunaria Annua  have hit yet another setback.    Though happily, the same doesn't apply to my potterings  on the faith front. These last few weeks have yielded quite a few points  for reflection, and I'm happily musing on seeds, wheat, honesty and integrity.

To return  to my green fingers -  or lack of them - I spotted some huge clumps of Honesty plants in the park this morning, so if the worst comes to the worst, I'll know where to replenish supplies. Just as well; The Franciscan sisters at Compton Durville are generous to a fault but I think when they invited guests to 'take advantage of [their] wild garden', wholesale harvesting of this beautiful plant wasn't quite what they had in mind!

Never mind, my plants may pick up and meanwhile the paper offers some handy hints.

Incidentally, I became terribly excited earlier after discovering that Lunaria is in the same plant group  - Brassicaeae as the humble mustard seed. My spiritual antennae began to go into overdrive. (Yes, I heard the Luke 13 parable  twice on Sunday and yes, I am trying to grow the tiny seed we were given then.Sad, I know!).  Said thrill was slightly dampened, I must admit, on learning  that they also  share the classification with over 3,000 other plants, including the ever so glamorous cabbage, cauliflower and turnip. 'The Kingdom of God is like a cabbage? I think not.

Though when I was  gardening  this evening, I spotted a bushy, yellow flower growing in amongst the 'birds 'n bees' assorted flower mix. It looks sort of familiar. I've checked it out and you'll never guess...it might just be....

Singing, stats and tacks

I've discovered yet  another procrastination tool over on my other, Wordpress blog. The best part of the  new wibsite stats package as far as I'm concerned is the listing of the most popular search terms used by visitors. As I've said here  I seem to be the blog of the week with the cycling fraternity, judging by the number of folk who've discovered me via searches for the Etape Caledonia of tacks on the road fame.  Poor things, they must have been sorely disappointed to encounter my muddled musings. Still, now I've discovered the secret,there'll be no stopping me.

Unfortunately, my attempts to spread a little culture  round the blogosphere appears to have fallen on deaf ears. Maybe if I'd learnt to sing 'Daisy, Daisy' instead of Purcell it'd be another story.

How are the mighty fallen

Thanks to Ian for his kind comments on Mr GP's triumph in the bread making department yesterday. I'd not realised the appropriateness of the picture - it being Corpus Christi and all, until church prayer group later that day or I could have elaborated on the theme. Anyway, I did have some fairly profound thoughts stemming from John 6, which I'll spare you here. I'm munching this morning's attempt, (multiseed) as I type. Tastes fine, but the texture is  - how shall we put it - on the heavy side.  Careful chewing is required, I think.  With Mr GP's £160 filling at the dentist yesterday and Steve Tilley's reflections on mouth ulcers  in mind I'll err on the side of caution. Co-operating with the Almighty in his endless creative dance  and attuning oneself with the Spirit's music is one thing; lying speechless and helpless whilst the dentist hovers over  you with his drill is quite another.

He is risen!

Yes, Mr GP has at long last managed to crack the secret of getting bread to rise. The answer is...salt!

Wednesday

Wednesday  chez Greenpatch is fruit and veg day, when Abel and Cole  deposit a small, mixed box, stuffed to the brim with all sorts of healthy bits n pieces on our doorstep.

They're one of the UK's best known suppliers of organic fruit and veg, with a range that's expanded over the years to include a wide range of other groceries; they even supply drinks, chocolates and cleaning materials. Opening our weekly box is always a surprise, if not a challenge, as, like them apples  we're forced to employ all our ingenuity in working out how to use up all our supplies before next week's delivery comes round; (not a bad dilemma to have, all things considered). I smiled when I read about the "How the hell do I use  this?" , even more so the occasional "What the hell is this?" moments. These happen in the Greenpatch cuisine, too...frequently.

Happily, the Abel and Cole weekly newsletter has come to our rescue, with a page of hints on how to use up those veggies that insist on lurking forlornly in the far wastes of fridge and cupboard. My personal Greenpatch speciality is stuffed potatoes and veg soup. (Garlic this week, as we've a bunch of droopy celery to use up!)  And for more ideas, they've pointed us towards their Food Waste Manifesto, created last summer.

To go back to them apples - food and cooking in Saltaire, Yorkshire,  their latest blog 'reviews' a typical Abel and Cole mixed box, with a comparison of cost, quality and convenience with similar produce from one of the leading supermarkets.  Do have a look.

We'll get back to you when Mr Greenpatch's famous organic apple cider experiment (currently gurgling ominously in a corner of his dressing room) reaches completion... Watch This Space.

Serially disorganised persons, read and learn!

Worried sounding text to beloved son: “R u OK? Haven’t heard from you for ages! nunX”

Even more worried response: “Who you?”

  ‘Nun’, not knowing whether reply indicates son bound, gagged and struck down  with amnesia or, as is more likely suffering from the after-effects of post-exam celebrations,  replies: ” Your mother, of course!”

  Then a thought occurs; ‘nun’ ferrets around in address book. Ooops!

When somebody changes phones it is advisable to change their details in your address book straight away,  not take the lazy way out and rely on doing all future texts on the back of their change of number notification.

Happy hens

Or what they call in France bien eleve.
 

Franciscan Fragrance

Or for the cynics amongst you, Friday afternoon displacement activity; even those 'Crazy Prophets' lose their allure by this stage in the week, and, as they've had more than their share of attention lately, I can relax and blog with a clear conscience.

Inspired by Susan Pitchford's newly-launched Florilegium  I've decided to don my pinny, wield the secaturs and watering can and allow you a whiff of some of the Franciscan-scented Flora that regularly find their way into my feedreader.

So - to Florilegium  which, as Susan explains, is a collection, or a bouquet of writings:

 

I'd like to gather some of my favorite bits of writing by various authors, adding a little commentary but mostly letting the quotations speak for themselves. I hope it will grow into a garden that will be a pleasant place to linger for a bit. Enjoy!

I'd also recommend her writings on her journey into TSSF: Following Francis - The Franciscan Way for Everyone, Morehouse Publishing 2006, to anyone wondering about starting out along the Franciscan path.

Dave Chambers, is a Licensed Lay Minister (Reader) in the Anglican Diocese of Liverpool and has been professed in TSSF (Third Order Society of St Francis) for eight years. He blogs as  Pax et Bonum - Musings of a Scouse Franciscan.  He also has a good line in appalling religious jokes, especially ones with a Franciscan tinge!

Pachyderm NZ  comes from the New Zealand Province of TSSF. She works in occupational safety and risk management. As a left-handed person, I'm quite interested in her current research on the risks faced by left-handers, although, I don't think even I could manage to come to grief seated at a computer keyboard. Then again, maybe not...

She also loves Lush Organic smellies, which makes her a fragrance worth following, in my book!

Now to A Man Breathing, full-time firefighter and ordinand and another lay Franciscan. His blog is posted in memory of Fr Mychal Judge OFM, priest, chaplain, Franciscan and firefighter, who died tending to the first victims of the Sept 11, 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center.

Another member of TSSF in the UK, Good Goat  offers us Reflections on life, faith and everything.  If you like looking at life from different angles, you'll enjoy this blog. 

Last, but certainly not least, I'm sure most of you will have already  discovered Mike F's  Mercy Blog,  a long-established miscellany of wise musings from a Franciscan, ex-dairy herdsman, musician, writer and contemplative. Enjoy!

True Prayer

"I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will bring glory to me by taking from what is mine and making it known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will take from what is mine and make it known to you."

 John 16:12-15

It seems fair to say that our human experience is a paradoxical mixture of, on the one hand, a sense of connection and harmony with other people and the world around us and, on the other, disharmony and estrangement. The good connections are made and the possible healing of any arrangement gradually brought about through particular transformative experiences within our everyday existence. These may or may not be self-consciously "spiritual." However, this is prayer in the broadest sense. Prayer is, therefore, not just one activity among others - one that is self-consciously focused on the presence of God and our presence to God. Prayer embraces the whole rich mixture of event, action and receiving gifts that constitutes our relationship with God in the midst of human life.

 Philip Sheldrake, Befriending our Desires, p 58-9

 

A new beginning?

Be conscious of God, and  speak always the truth. (Koran)

 From BBC News  report of President Barack Obama's keynote  Middle East speech in Cairo

Feeling a touch on the green side

...after the early morning antics of the resident Greenpatch dog. Given the choice, I'd opt for a musical awakening any time.

Ascension Day

According to the 100 Years Ago archive section in OldChurch parish mag:

Ascension Day was well kept. We had a peal of eight bells [my italics] at half-past five in the morning, and all the Celebrations, including the Choral at 7, were well attended.

The mind boggles! Can you imagine what the reaction from parishioners would be nowadays if they were rudely awakened at crack of dawn  by Bob the Bellringer and his band of merry men? Contact the local council Environmental Health department? Phone the Bishop? 

Also, the account doesn't specify exactly what number constituted 'well attended'  way back then, but somehow, I suspect rather more of the faithful would have turned up to greet the happy morn than would now. Ah -  the good old days!

'To Live Is to Choose'

...So, choosing (or discerning how to choose) does not simply involve detached, rational thinking even though there has to be a place for that. We have, in a sense, to dive headlong into our experience, into our desires, in order to discern truly. For to discern our deepest desire involves an act of commitment as well as an experience of enlightenment. To discern is not, on the one hand, purely a deeper level of awareness or, on the other, merely a decision. It ultimately involves moving further towards a harmonious relationship with who we most genuinely are as people. This in turn means coming to a realistic acceptance of how we are situated in the  world of place and events. Discernment, in other words, is a matter of continually reaching out for integrity.
Philip Sheldrake in 'Befriending our Desires,' DLT, p 103-4