Green Patches

Blog of The Week - Camino to Santiago de Compostela

 - St Columba's Bay, Iona

Another Monday, another Blog of The Week.  This time round Ive chosen a theme very much close to my own heart these last years - pilgrimage - and some reflections on the journey by Johnnie Walker on Camino to Santiago de Compostela.  

 " I look sometimes with pity and at other times with jealousy when people stand up in Church and appear to say with utter conviction "I believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, Maker of heaven and Earth." Creeds never did anything for me. Certainly not as much as pilgrimage. I think I spent my whole life developing a method of being in the church with all of its beauty and musical power whilst being insulated from the institution. There are no arrows for the path I have followed to what may be to some the self-evident conclusion that I need to journey towards God rather than the church. My parents felt I had lost my way when I didn't take the career they thought I should, or marry the "right kind" of girl. I've used these words myself with my own children. Useless words. Wrong words. I hadn't lost my way. I was finding my way. I was looking for arrows in a church where there were none. I was looking for signs that God actually exists. I tried very hard. Nothing came.

…Then slowly in the heat of the long meseta I saw the world was a lot bigger than me. In the mountains I saw the raw power of a waterfall, the stately form of a startled deer, an exquisite wild flower blossoming. Across my path I watched the ants and caterpillars march with some purpose of their own. Above the eagles circled high. Heat and distance and solitude. Sweat on my back and a dull ache in my toes. Mile after mile. Never a thought of stopping. Of just chucking it. "Taxi for Walker" never entered my head. Not once. For all of its pain this is too good."

 - for the whole post go here

Many of us struggle to find the words to articulate our own experiences along the road, so we're always blessed by gifted story-tellers and guides like Johnnie who can walk ahead of us and point to where we might encounter God. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Puffin' along

image: wikimedia commons

No pun intended...really! I'm thrilled to bits to learn that one of the options for our upcoming wanderings may well include a trip to the island of Staffa, and, with that, a chance to fulfil a childhood ambition - to see some real puffins.

 

To explain, back  in the Swinging Sixties, as a  member of the Puffin Club, I was one of the lucky prizewinners of the Founder Members Competition: prize - a trip to Lundy Island, which back then, was puffin paradise.  

 

Material relating to the first Puffin Club holiday, held for winners of the 'Founder Members Competition'. The five day sailing and camping holiday, held in July 1967, involved a trip to Lundy Island, to see Puffins. The file contains correspondence relating to the trip to Lundy, one notebook containing a 'diary of events', compiled by children on the holiday, and two copies of a leaflet, titled 'P'Super Spree!' describing the visit.

 - archives hub material relating to the late Kaye Webb

Alas, the powers that be decided that at only eight years old, I, and one of the other winners would find all the travelling involved too tiring, (I can remember being shown the letter from Kaye to my parents). Instead we were each awarded a rather lovely puffin revolving bookcase, which was filled with twenty books of our choice.  Heaven indeed for a budding bookworm.  I still have a few of the books I chose, and the bookcase was passed on to my own daughter. 

I'm not sure whether I still have the issue of Puffin Post with the winning entries in my possession or not; it may well have been lost in house moves.  But I know that the competition had something to do with drawing up a set of community rules  for the puffin colony.  Goodness knows what I wrote; as an adult who still finds community  difficult at times, I'd love to have a peep back at the dreams of my younger self.  Though I do remember one of the judges, Joyce Grenfell, (the other, I think, was Yehudi Menhuen), saying that she thought that my island would be a happy place to live.

So now, forty something years later, I finally (weather and seasickness permitting!) get to fulfil my ambition.  It may not be Lundy, but, I'm sure 'Fat Puffin,' (remember him, anybody?) would still approve. 

Whether these musings qualify as ecological, theological or just plain illogical, I've no idea. The latter probably.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quiet Spaces

 Spring Has Sprung with a vengeance round here. So today saw me continuing the  resolution I made at the beginning of the year- with another trip over to sunny Salisbury. 

I have actually managed to fit in a couple of 'spaces,' since January; more by accident than design, funnily enough.  February's consisted of a quiet half hour or so in the Abbey Church at Douai, near Reading, prior to the start of a workshop there.  March's  time out, a quiet day with TSSF here, slightly less so; having organised, though not led, the day, I've discovered that an interior quiet doesn't always come about when you have your admin hat on.  

So, back to today, and my jaunt to Salisbury, to stock up on some travel gear for our next trip and to return some books to the wonderful library at Sarum College. What a glorious afternoon. The Cathedral and Close were far more crowded than they'd been  a few months back; naturally, the Spring weather had brought people out, but not opressively so. There was plenty of room for everybody who wanted to sit sunning themselves on the green or to wander round the Cathedral. (I must admit that I did make a point of avoiding the Cathedral guides, helpful though they be, I'm one of those cussed souls who far prefers wandering around by herself.  I guess it's my reaction to school trips as a teenager, being forced to trail round for what seemed like hour upon endless hour  on guided tours of sundry Places of Interest.  I liked  to do my own exploring and imagine folks from centuries past in my own way. There were several large groups of schoolchildren and students going round during the time I was there. I wonder if there were any who felt the same as I used to.

Ah well, at least, as a 50 something year-old, I no longer have to produce an essay on the trip afterwards. Such are the delights of growing older!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stepping aside - A Grand Day Out

 

 

 

Yesterday saw a rather grey January day being unexpectedly brightened, as I headed over to Salisbury; ostensibly to return some library books to the theological college.  But of course, once done there  - who could  resist popping into the Cathedral.  Especially just now, when artist Bruce Munro's two magical light installations, Light Shower and Water Towers are on display! 

William Pye's beautiful font, ( another happy discovery for me back last autumn) I've found to be a place for quiet reflection, so I was pleased enough to find an excuse to return to Salisbury to see it.  And the cathedral creche was still there.  Put together with these wonderful son et lumieres, it was as if all my Christmases, or more aptly, Epiphanies had come along at once! 

Over the last year I've enjoyed reading  Weekend Retreat's blog as she reflects on her experiences visiting a different retreat place each month and feel quite inspired to try something similar. Of course, whilst I don't think upping and offing onc weekend a month would be either possible or practical for me, maybe something like yesterday's trip might be more doable.  A kind of Quiet, or even half Quiet Day.  A few hours out,  not necessarily in conventional retreat places; being open to the unexpected opportunity...that's quite a thought...  

 

 

 

When I in awesome wonder...

photo (c) Freefoto.com

I'll admit that I'm not normally a Songs of Praise fan. However, at church this  morning, somebody kindly mentioned to me  that last week's  programme was set in the West Highland Way, parts of which Mr GP and I intend  to walk sometime next year. So, I tuned in, courtesy of i-player, and fairly had my breath taken away. Talk about having a "How Great Thou Art" moment.  If the Western Highlands look so gloriously awe inspiring on screen, how much more they must be "in the flesh!"

Get Knotted?

Typical, absolutely typical!  You'll remember I blogged about dreams, Dr Who and the difficulties in producing one (dream, not David Tennant et al) for  public consumption at the course down in the land of Brisk Sea Breezes recently.  More than a week after the dream session, what happens? Yes - you've got it: a fevered and annoyingly elusive mix of an old place of work, annoyingly beautiful people, (suspect there may be a link here to the  'evo takover' in Monday night's episode of 'Rev.' ), the  Sealed Knot (civil war re-enactment society for those not in the know) and Mr Greenpatch in the shower. (No, don't worry; this last's not what you think!)  What's a girl supposed to make of all that?

The picture, by the way,is the 'Bonds of Friendship' memorial in Old Portsmouth, the granite for which was presented to the UK by the inhabitants of Sydney, Australia,   commemorating  the first sailing of settlers from Portsmouth to Botany Bay.  So, what has all this to do with the Sealed Knot? Well, on Tuesday evening, en route to the course, I took a stroll down by the seawall. I'd seen the statue before, but had never bothered to check out it's history. At risk of lowering the cultural tone, my mind was on other things at the time  - I was feeling slightly under the weather again,and, I'm afraid my first thought was that the memorial resembled nothing so much as the illustration on my packet of Colpermin anti-spasmodic capsules! Oh the shame!  But that Sealed Knot connection is just too much of a co-incidence, isn't it? No doubt a Jungian analyst would have a field day with it all. (Please, no comments  'What is your gut feeling about this?' please!) 

Let's hope my inept attempts at interpretation don't cause an international incident between our two countries.  Mr GP says that if I don't reappear after the final session next week, he'll be extremely suspicious.  After all, that area of the town used to be the haunt of the  notorious press gangs; even popping in for a quick pint was fraught with peril. I shall have to lie low.  

Pilgrimage: The Road to Emmaus

Pilgrimage is not getting from point A to B on the map while counting the miles.  The distances covered are incidental. What matters is being on the road to Emmaus – the road of discovering Christ in the ‘other’.

Pilgrimage is a school in which we attempt to see God’s hand not only in what we hoped for but what we didn’t want to happen.  It’s the losing method of finding.  You start by stripping your needs down to what you think you can carry, and then – by exhaustion, theft or accident – lighten the load still further.  The only plan you have is what path to follow. and even that doesn’t work out as you imagined it would.

       - Jim Forest in  The Road to Emmaus: Pilgrimage as a Way of Life   With thanks to Pilgrimpace for the quote.

The journey continues

Over on my other blog, tales of cider, chips, sheepe ploppe      and fluffy bunnies. It all looks much better in retrospect, not unlike one's faith journey, really.

Daye Two

Alreforde (Olde), home of the Watercresse lyne

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!