Category: living wittily

  • The importance of unfinished work

    Stonechat Came across this small unfinished tapestry recently. (The canvas has 22 holes to the inch).

    I started it years ago and either lost it or lost interest, or both. But it's an image of one of my favourite birds – the stonechat. I've never taken to tapestry by kit – the textile equivalent of painting by numbers, so I work freehand, with minimum sketch marks on the canvas, and often with whatever threads are available. So part of the fun is – I haven't a clue how it will look when it's finished. 

    Decided I'll try to finish it this summer in those odd moments when I need to be reminded that life will always have unfinished work, work in progress, and of the importance of finishing what you start, and using what you've got! Even if that means coming back to it – eventually, even reluctantly. Maybe as a reminder too that sometimes when pulled in several directions life goes skew-whiff – when finished this will have to be stretched and straightened before being mounted and framed.

    One of the significant by-products of designing and working tapestry is the clear evidence of when you are stressed – you pull the thread too tight! And noticing that, the discipline of correcting the tension becomes an exercise in self-awareness and control, of deliverate restraint, that isn't far away from that experience contemplatives call centering prayer.

    When finished it will be framed, and on my desk, as a reminder of the deadliness of deadlines and the therapy of stress-busting stitching!

  • Holidays – almond tarts, ospreys, book shops and long walks.

    1302001_00286_002_osprey_perched_looking_left_ad_male_tcm9-101369 Thanks to the generosity of friends we have just spent the past week in Boat of Garten, just north of Aviemore. That's osprey and eagle country and we saw both – as well as red squirrels, a heronry with at least 8 herons, and some of the most heart lifting scenery in Scotland. Did a lot of walking, some reading, a fair amount of thinking, and a little writing.

    No one will be surprised that we tried several coffee shops and I sampled the life-belt size freshly made doughnuts at Grantown on Spey (twice, but both times we had one between two – they are that big!), almond and apple tart at Inverness, and dumpling and gingerbread (two separate visits) at Carrbridge.

    I wrote a Haiku about the osprey – what a magnificent creature, and what a great job being done by the various groups and agencies who protect and conserve their presence in our country.

    Feathered piscator,
    winged trout-trapping talons tensed –
    the "Compleat Angler."
  • When grace slaps us on the face to waken us up.

    Britains-Got-Talent-2009--001 The best reflection I've come across on the phenomenon that is Susan Boyle can be found in The Herald, see here. It is a very fine piece of morally reflective journalism, respectful, compassionate, utterly unpatronising and says many things about human life, humanity and what is important.

    I've no idea what lies ahead for Susan. The song she sung was about that great human gift of dreaming, and that less humane gift of wasting other people's dreams. I wish we weren't such a self-centred, celebrity obsessed culture. Susan's gift, talent, courage, performance started a landslide of attention, but what if her voice had been ordinary, and the sniggers graduated to outright ridicule?

    If theological reflection means thinking about ordinary people's most human experiences, alert for that pervasive, invasive, inviting presence of God active and subversive in this blessed but ambiguous world, and then taking note when grace slaps us on the face to wake us up, then that performance deserves serious reflection. And those who sniggered then, now face the embarrassment of nearly 50 million viewers (latest hits stats on YouTube) who have witnessed "the laughter of fools". Grace does that. Reverses expectations, brings down the mighty and exalts the humble. Now take time to read that article in The Herald on the link above. If not precisely theological reflection it is nevertheless some of the most telling ethical reflection and cultural critique I've read for a while.

  • Reduced price ethics!

    Smile3t

    Just got a customer care promotion email from a bookstore I regularly patronise – in the positive sense of the word, not the talk down sense!

    Here's the offer

    Save 40% on Ethics

    I'm intrigued by the idea that ethics can be made cheaper, that you can have reduced cost ethics, or that it would be an ethically praiseworthy thing to do to save money on your ethics.

    Aye, I know. The bookseller didn't mean it the way I'm taking it, and was only trying to find a strap line that would get attention. And obviously succeeded cos here I am, paying attention! But ethics aren't to be had cheap – acts have consequences. Just think of that first choice, that primal moral dilemma, about whether or not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil! And where did that happen? Yes, in the garden of Eden!

    The email came from Eden.co.uk

    Nae kiddin!  :))  Go look here.

  • “Meanwhile……” Mary Oliver, Wild Geese and regaining perspective

    800px-Graylag_geese_(Anser_anser)_in_flight_1700 Early yesterday morning, as we went for a walk in the park, we overheard the shouted conversation between several skeins of geese heading north. There's something irresistible about that gaggled running commentary between around a hundred geese as they pass the time of day during a journey of several thousand miles. For me they speak of Spring, of life on the move, of rhythms easily lost in a life too constrained by demands, expectations and stuff that is more urgent than important.

    Geese have always given me a sense of perspective – ever since I saw, year on year, hundreds and hundreds of them stopping off on the fields around the farms in Ayrshire where I was brought up. The way they hold their head absolutely steady as their whole body pulsates with energy. The unerring instinct for the right direction. The rota system of leadership at the point of the chevron. And the sound of their honking, the excited noise of those who know they're going home, wherever that is.

    ACF1AAC Mary Oliver, (the photo must have been taken during the stereoscopic windscreen years for glasses), as so often, pulls threads of meaning from such natural happenstance and weaves them into images of how we'd like our lives to be. She makes you think about it: despite all our self-absorbed preoccupations, the world goes on. Three times in this poem, like a reprimand for our self-centred worldview, the word "meanwhile". The sentiment not unlike Jesus advice to look at the birds of the air – he probably didn't mean geese, but the point is the same. And whatever else geese do – they do make me look up and out, instead of down and in. They remind me that however important my own life seems at any given moment….meanwhile….the world goes on.

    Wild Geese
    by Mary Oliver

    You do not have to be good.
    You do not have to walk on your knees
    for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
    You only have to let the soft animal of your body
    love what it loves.
    Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
    Meanwhile the world goes on.
    Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
    are moving across the landscapes,
    over the prairies and the deep trees,
    the mountains and the rivers.
    Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
    are heading home again.
    Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
    the world offers itself to your imagination,
    calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
    over and over announcing your place
    in the family of things.

  • The cost of cost effective living

    Smile3t
    For a long time now we have registered our number to prevent cold-calls and the really annoying 6.00 p.m. invasion of privacy by tele-salespeople. Those faceless voices who say your name as if you were their next door neighbour and you speak on neighbourly terms every day.

    But some still slip through. In the past couple of weeks I've had the offer of better deals on Gas, electricity, the central heating contract, and double glazing replacement. Tele-sales people have taken to the culture of switch your supplier as to a natural law, which allows them to assume everyone lives their lives pre-programmed to respond with a yes to the market mantras about saving you money and getting you the best deal; all you have to do is believe costs should reduce with the predictability of the law of gravity. Assumed customer greed is a great sales pitch. Undercutting the competition with introductory discounts, couched in hidden disclaimers and conditions, there is an assumption if they can get you talking, you'll soon chase after the too good to be true alternative deal.

    So it comes as a surprise verging on shock when you cut in and say you are happy with the present supplier. "But we are offering a better value for money deal" is the early trump card. But what if you don't want to play energy switch whist – and the trump card is therefore irrelevant.

    Obviously I (the slow on the uptake customer) didn't understand first time round – so paraphrased into words of one syllable, each word to be enunciated with conditioned patience for optimum effect.

    "We – will – save- you – cash. This – phone – call – is – great news – for – you. Switch – to – us – now,- buy – from – us -, don't – be – daft -, you – will – have – more – to – spend – on – discretionary non-essentials and lifestyle peripherals"

    Sorry the last phrase contains words of more than one syllable (and is a more literary paraphrase than the more to the point rejoinder, 'More to spend on yourself"). But what I am trying to convey here is the emotional and ethical distress of the tele-sales caller, encountering the non-greedy; the near incoherent disbelief verging on existential angst brought on by threatened worldview by someone who defies the "natural law" of market forces. How can the tele-sales caller explain this departure from a usually rock solid tele-sales script? And how can they deal with the low grade panic induced by the dawning realisation on one whose job is to sell stuff, that they are encountering a being from another planet where customer loyalty still counts, and where life has more important things to get energised about than a switch of energy supplier at someone else's not impartial behest.

    Somewhere in the training course for tele-sales cold callers, there is a need for a seminar on "How to Deal with Customers Satisfied with the Service Offered by Your Market Competitiors", closely followed by another on "How to Deal With the Ungreedy". Then with a third honours level module "On Coping with Rejection Without Losing Face / Faith". In the meantime I treat such calls as ad hoc seminars on "How to be Courteous Through Gritted Teeth." Though I have wondered what might happen if I started to share my faith with such uninvited guests by quoting Jesus' words about the God who knows what I need before I even ask, and maybe doing a little tele-sales evangelism of my own…………….. :))

  • Too many sparrows are falling to the ground……..

    200811191939991516100196
    Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground but your Father notices it." (Matthew 10.29).

    Even the sparrow and the swallow find shelter in your temple (Psalm 84.3)

    So the Bible about sparrows, providence and responsible living.

    In a world made already much more precarious by the way we hammer and hack the environment into submission to our self-centred goals, sparrows are an ecological smoke detector. So it should give us even more pause for thought that the house sparrow has declined by around 60% in the last decade. Lock block drives, front gardens turned to parking spaces, the popularity of cheap non-native plants, square kilometres of decking, urban pollution reducing botanically based insects, are only some of the reasons.

    200811211236991394431
    Don't know about you – but I'm rapidly running out of optimism about our capacity to reverse the damage we do. The whole depressing story about the decline of the house saprrow can be read here.

    Meanwhile, John Clare, the finest writer of poetry about birds, lived in such a close rapport with the natural world that he sensed the significant fragility yet irreplaceable wonder of life for each creature. His own remembered experience of mental ill health (his madness, as he called it) made him uniquely qualified as an advocate of compassion and care for those vulnerable and far from insignificant lives that share our planet, and whose interests intersect with our own.
     

    Sure my sparrows are my own,

    Let ye then my birds alone,


    Come poor birds from foes severe


    Fearless come, you're welcome here,


    My heart yearns at fate like yours,


    A sparrow's life's as sweet as ours. 
  • Brand, Ross, the BBC and the ethical boundaries of humour

    1576871487_01_PT01__SS400_SCLZZZZZZZ_V1140649280_
    The furore over that broadcast by Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross has several subsidiary themes worth a second thought. The following are my second thoughts, offered for reflection and not pushed as anything other than how I think and feel about all this.

    Much is made of the fact that the night of the broadcast only 1 complaint was registered, with a few more the next day. Then a tabloid paper ran the story as front page news and the complaint count took off. By last night, with Brand's resignation and Ross's suspension confirmed and the Radio Two controller resigned, the tally reached 30,000+. This has led to a backlash suggesting that since most of those complaining hadn't heard the broadcast, and never listen to the programme, their sense of offence is hypocrisy and their complaints invalid.

    Sorry. But having had full and unchallenged reports on the BBC itself of what WAS said, and to whom, and that it was broadcast, comes as information that entitles any responsible person to challenge the morality, even the legality, of such misjudgement of taste. When would an episode of suggestive crudity and thoughtless comment on potential suicide EVER be acceptable? And in what other circumstances could such a series of messages be left on an answering machine without incurring prosecution?

    Further. Even if this episode had not been broadcast – what thought was ever given to how such messages on an answering machine would be received by an elderly man who had made the mistake of agreeing to particpate in a show sponsored by the supposedly responsible, publicly funded BBC? Sure the Controller had to resign for approving the broadcast. But had it not been broadcast then presumably that was to be the end of the affair. Not sure that's how I feel – I expect at least a minimal awareness in those entrusted with an audience of millions, of the impact on any individual subjected to their particular brand of 'pushing the edges' comedy. Did no one even consider the possibility that a Grandfather might be offended, and a young woman humiliated, by explicit and obscene references to her sex life? 

    It is also claimed that it is all about audience. A quick poll of audiences queuing up for BBC recording of programmes revealed a sharp distinction between those attending Never Mind the Buzzcocks and a more sedate crowd queuing for a much less 'pushing the edges' programme. The Buzzcocks folks were unanimous in their opinion that the broadcast was not offensive, and that we all needed to lighten up, and that if you don't like the content of the programme no one forces you to listen to it. But that also ignored the fact that people are victims of such brutal humour, and that the audience's laughter is at someone's expense, which should always be within acceptable moral and humane limits. It also betrays a too often forgotten feature of humour; frequently one of its key components is cruelty, the capacity, even the compulsuon, to laugh at someone else's hurt. Thomas Hobbes that bleak realist was not wrong when he defined laughter as the grimaces of the face when we witness the misfortune of someone else.

    Then there is the claim that the furore was all about salary envy. Jonathan Ross is paid £6 million a year to work two days a week for the BBC. To require extremely high standards of professionalism, maturity and reliability in enhancing the reputation of his employer seems to me to be a reasonable, even minimal ask for such a salary. Whether any TV celebrity fronting a twice weekly programme is worth an amount per annum that would pay 240 nurses' salaries is a separate matter. Salary envy is a rather hard charge against those who complained since the BBC is in fact a public service, funded by its own audiences, and is therefore publicly accountable. That public called it to account this week. Implied in that accountability are questions about the judgement of those who agreed to pay such a salary, and who when it went wrong took over a week to deal decisively with it.

    All of which said – I listened to all of Russell Brand's statement of apology, and recognise the genuine remorse he expressed. No similar public statement has yet been released by Jonathan Ross. The codes of discipline and professional standards in broadcasting are hard to get right. I for one don't want humour, comedy, satire to be so domesticated that they lose their capacity for important social critique, as important vehicles for presenting alternative perspectives, and their long history of subverting assumptions that can often be oppressive, bigoted, abusive. What they must not do, and certainly not on public broadcasts, is make people targets for precisely that abusive and humiliating ridicule which diminishes and degrades, so that laughter becomes a way of desensitising our humanity.I don't think that was the intent of either the two comedians or the Radio Two Controller – but that they seemed unaware of that consequence suggest the need for some education on the ethical boundaries of humour.

  • Sabbaticaling Continued

     Amongst the sabbatical benefits so far:

    1. a sense of being rested – which is what Sabbath is for; and therefore a regular necessity
    2. a fresh perspective on other important aspects of life beyond immediate vocational responsibilities
    3. a recovering of physical fitness with a regular exercise programme
    4. time with people usually squeezed into odd 'windows of opportunity' – meals, conversation and laughter – kind of what friendship is about.
    5. specific reading keeping up with recent work on Evangelicalism, its own internal critique and history, the ongoing search for definition, the problem of politicisation especially in the US, and that bright elusive butterfly of an agreed evangelical identity. The relationship between Evangelicalism and Fundamentalism is currently under scrutiny and itself raises important issues about Evangelicalism's relation to culture, the nature of biblical authority and the straightforward equation of Evangelicalism and Fundamentalism in the popular mind, often in the writing of journalists, and less excusably in some academic work in sociology and theology.
    6. a range of reading not limited to the funtional but intentionally recreative – this includes poetry of Levertov,Dickinson and the later R S Thomas; Kathleen Norris's Acedia and Me, with some sorties into Desert Spirituality; some of Tom Torrance's later work, Christian Doctrine of God, The Trinitarian Faith,(in preparation for the day conference at the end of the month, and several novels which don't feature on any academic list I can think of!
    7. some jobs done to the house, either by ourselves or organising for them to be done by those who can them properly.
    8. listening to music that is new and old, from Eternal Light by Goodall, to Beethoven's Symphonies (is there anything more wildly manic than the lst movement of the Seventh which one contemporary reviewer explained by the accusation Beethoven was drunk when he composed it), and then Brahms, Mendelssohn, Beethoven and Bruch, violin concertos all of which I've listened to loadsatimes!!
    9. Several periods of longer change and holiday, a week at St Deiniol's, 8 days in Cornwall, and next week mostly at Crail doing amongst other things the Fife Coastal Walk, or parts thereof. A couple more such jaunts are planned, including a still to be arranged pilgrimage to Manchester to commiserate with Sean the Baptist about the amount of sunshine he'll have to get used to in Australia!
    10. Alongside this some preliminary work towards Advent when the later part of this sabbatical will be spent exploring the images of Jesus in art, music, icon and film – in preparation for return to College and a new course, but at this stage an opening up of mind and heart to the unique glory of that grace and truth that dwelt among us.


    Now and again I recall the important disclaimer of A J Heschel probing at the pride that drives our drivenness:

    Hand1
    He who wants to enter the holiness of the day must first lay down the
    profanity of clattering commerce, of being yoked to toil. He must go
    away from the screech of dissonant days, from the nervousness and fury
    of acquisitiveness and the betrayal in embezzling his own life. He must
    say farewell to manual work and learn to understand that the world
    already has been created and will survive without the help of man. Six
    days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth;
    on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in
    the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone
    else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world; on the seventh day
    we try to dominate the self. (Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath)

  • Sabbaticaling on the beach

    01537a
    Today Sheila and I did a longish beach walk at North Berwick – around 6 miles. Blue skies and unbroken sunshine for several hours, later fluffy clouds reflecting on a blue sea, a chain of islands offshore and in the distance a humungous container ship. As we walked we saw a cormorant diving, a golden plover running and olympic sprint, yellow wagtails bouncing across the rocks, oyster catchers sounding like feathered smoke alarms when we got too near, and several small shore flowers we need to look up in the book.

    51QEFEWH9CL._SL500_AA240_
    Not only so. But North Berwick has a string of charity shops a couple of which have good second-hand book sections. I celebrated a good day by spending four pounds on John Batchelor's biography of John Ruskin. This strange, opinionated, erudite, humane social reformer, art critic and writer of some of the best prose in the English language, has fascinated me ever since I discovered a book of excerpts from his writing. I'll make a space to read this when I'm away on a reading week soon.

    If sabbatical is about getting in touch with the world around then today made for good sabbaticaling.