- Fremte from Wikimedia Commons
We could do with some here - thunder I mean. It's absolutely scorching for the third day running, with humidity at 90% if you believe everything the BBC says. And much as I'm tempted to rush out into the garden and continue with my painting of everything that moves - and some things that don't, (the dog is breathing a sigh of relief here), I have retained an ounce of commonsense. We don't want Mr GP to return from his travels this evening to discoverhis wife flat out on a bench and the dog decorating the lawn with Jackson Pollock-type streaks in tasteful sage and buttermilk.
I've been reflecting a little on what life's been like in the GP household over on my wibsite blog - and on my own journeyings in particular - where the metaphors of thunder and rainbows and holding the two in tension have and continue to be part of a learning curve. I'm trying, (famous last words) as I've said on Musings, to major on the rainbows as much as poss. Given my natural tendency to Eyorism (have I coined a new expression?) this is no mean feat. I've always said that I don't know how I'd cope without my sense of humour. One of the warning signs that I'm beginning to get overstressed and need to lighten up is that it begins to wane. I'll admit - signing on to Youtube and grimly ploughing my way through a selection of comedy clips - as I did after a particularly 'orrible 'blip' last weekend maybe wasn't the way to go.
However, consciously focusing on those brighter moments, (though without morphing into Julie Andrew's "My Favourite Things" mode; there are limits!) has helped. Nothing new and certainly not rocket science. Readers who are of an Ignatian bent will recognise elements of the examen here: pausing at intervals to reflect on where God's been present , what draws energises, fires you up (and what does the opposite). A form of this is actually written into my rule of life as a daily practice. Yes, I am Franciscan I know - but let's allow for overlap, shall we? Did you know that Francis introduced a form of "Ignatian" meditation long before Inigo was around, with his institution of the first Creche Vivante (living crib); the forerunner of our modern crib scene.
To get back to Inigo - at the excellent BRF Festival of Prayer recently one speaker told of a similar exercise which has really caught my imagination: their spiritual director had challenged them to try and list 100 (Yes, you read it correctly, one hundred) things that energised and brought them alive. Talk about a challenge. Is it really possible? Time will tell. To date my 'list ' has around 30 or 40 items on it; there are days when it sits at the back of my journal untouched, others when I add several at a time. It certainly resonates with the way in which I've been experiencing a sense of quiet prayerfulness in some of the most unlikely activities recently - hence the mad garden painting spree. It's a far cry from the rather (at times) grim, greyish, often extremely cerebral 'Quiet Time' which even if it's not actually used up much of my time, certainly has provoked a lorry load of guilt in the past. I'm not the only one it seems. There's a discussion currently over on The Ship on the self same topic. I just love the poster who describes her prayer practice nowadays as more "Every Now and Then with Jesus."
Happily I'm beginning to loosen up nowadays and am trying to balance regularity and spontaneity. Not quite in the same way as those delightful Beaker Folk, thank the Lord, but I'm getting there. Though maybe counting my exploits with a Kelly Kettle and homemade bunting (my latest craft project) as meditative prayer practices is carrying the definition a tad too far. I'll be into fire eating and prophetic banner waving before you can turn round, and then, where will we be?
