driving in the bitter cold the other day,
i saw a few trees with brown leaves
still clinging to their branches - huddled
and brittle. and i wasn't sure whether
it was terrible or beautiful.
are they simply unwilling to let go,
clinging bitterly because this is
all they know, doubtful of anything
else being better? or,
like anna & simeon,
are they waiting for a glimpse
of the life that is to come,
holding on with hope until it does?
for several years i've had an intense and yet far-off appreciation of rainer maria rilke. i read his "letters to a young poet" and practically underlined everything - wowed by the simple language that somehow housed a myriad of thoughts and feelings i thought were beyond words. for some reason i didn't follow my normal extreme of hunting down everything he'd ever written and reading all of those, too. until recently. a few weeks ago i bought his "book of hours" and another book of his religious poetry. hours is killing me.
on rilke, wikipedia states: "his haunting images focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable". i laughed when i read that. yes! that is exactly what he does. ineffable - incapable of being expressed or described in words. and yet - he does. whew.
several years ago a friend sent me a rilke quote after seeing one of my photographs. i finally found where the quote came from when i started flipping through hours.
God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
i was particularly struck by the words of this arcade fire song today:
Wake Up
Somethin’ filled up
my heart with nothin’,
someone told me not to cry.
But now that I’m older,
my heart’s colder,
and I can see that it’s a lie.
Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.
If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We’re just a million little god’s causin rain storms
Turnin’ every good thing to rust.
I guess we’ll just have to adjust.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’ to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am go-goin’
You better look out below!
i set off for downpatrick this morning armed with some vague instructions and the forecast of a lovely day. the good thing about driving in ireland is that really you just need to know the town you're heading to and the ones inbetween - then follow any sign pointing in that direction. one of the fun parts of driving in northern ireland is that they use mph and my car only has kph - so i have no idea what i'm supposed to be driving. ah well. :) i had pulled over early on to take some photographs and as i was about to head on, a lady honked at me. i thought i'd done something wrong but she was wanting my help to get to kilkeel. i checked my map and gave her directions. and she was irish. :)
i think i'm going to have to give up the computer soon, so i'll be brief...i got to see the saint patrick visitor centre and the downpatrick cathedral & cemetery where saint patrick is buried. the centre was surprisingly well done. after that i visited the ruins of inch abbey and then tried to find a dolmen west of ballynahinch, but the road i needed was closed and i couldn't figure out another way, so i headed back east to newcastle. on my way i stopped a few times for sheep. there are loads of lambs and they're so adorable. if it was easier to stop along the road more, i would. newcastle is along the coast, so i walked the promenade for a bit and then treated myself to some ice cream -- blackcurrant & cream. seriously?? so good.
this evening i walked through the park again. there are some marvelous trees. i didn't take my camera w/ me b/c sometimes i like to be free. just me walking. but now i might have to wake up early and go for a short walk again so i can take pictures of some of the trees i saw. then, i sat on a hill overlooking the loch. and watching the mountains and water in the gloaming. *sigh*
so now tomorrow i'll be heading up to cushendall and after that rathlin island.
so things had originally been set for me to arrive in dublin yesterday. but due to strange weather in atlanta, delta cancelled my flight on monday and booked me on one for tuesday. certainly not my happiest moment, but now that i'm here, i can only look forward. so tuesday morning i flew instead to jfk airport where i got to hang out for six hours awaiting my flight to dublin. an elderly welsh man saw my hiking bag and noticed my welsh flag patch and came over to chat with me for a moment. on the flight, i was seated by a lovely couple around my age. the husband is irish and the wife is american - californian to be exact. we talked a fair amount and had some things in common. they ended up giving me their phone #s as he works with the police so could help me out if i need anything. they even shared a bit of their easter candy with me. all in all the flight was good (except for not getting to sleep).
driving to rostrevor from the airport wasn't too bad. though i did have a false start off the lot when the car kept beeping at me and i couldn't figure out why, so i turned back only to have the guy note that i hadn't let up the emergency brake fully. nice.
the weather today has been overcast and rainy, but i was able to go on a brief walk mid-morning and after tea this evening without getting too wet. for those of you who helped with my camera bag rain cover -- it's holding up grand! the people here at the christian renewal centre are lovely, really going out of their way to make me feel at home. and i have a room facing the loch.
tomorrow i think it's to be nice out. and i plan to drive up to downpatrick and check out some saint patrick sites. and so the adventure begins! i hope i sleep well tonight. my mind's been a bit dodgy all day. please keep me and my little car in your prayers!! :)
i was sitting on my back porch tonight, well after the sun went down. the sky was deep purple. the dark greyish sort that is still definitely purple. the night sky is a strange, illusive thing. normally blackish-blue or navy. but sometimes there is another hue, like purple or a strange teal. but it's just a hint. you have to be sitting there looking at it to see.
whenever i sit outside by myself - especially at night - it's like i'm in a moment connected to a succession of previous moments like that one, where i'm sitting on a back porch or front porch, not looking at anything particularly beautiful and yet there's that bit of sky there and the way the neighbour's light is glinting off the silver wind chimes in my yard. and i'm not one for talking on the phone, but there are a few friends with whom i can chat and it's those whom i call at times like this and even when i can't reach them, it's like they're sitting there with me and the conversations we've had before are hanging from the branches of the trees.
it's not much. but it's nice.
it's funny because patience isn't necessarily easy for me, but i am intrigued by "not yet". it's one of my favourite things about traveling -- saving something for next time. four years ago when i was last in ireland, i finally made it to the connemara region north of galway. i'd written a story in college set there, but hadn't yet seen it for myself. the day i went was overcast and as the region is all hills, i missed out on part of its glory, yet...that meant there was more for another time. this time, i'll have a few days to check out the area, so hopefully i'll catch a clearer glimpse.
the other day i had a thought, which seemed like a perfect quote. so i figured it already was one and i was just remembering it. i googled it and found nothing. which at least means it's not a very famous quote if it is already a quote. i know the concept has been noted before, but perhaps not this phrasing...
the story isn't over until the end.
yes - it can be taken rather trite, but isn't that because it's true?
so i've been scanning and uploading pictures from my last trip to ireland & the uk (feb/mar 2005) and coming across some photographs that i'd forgotten about. here are a few of my new old favourites.
a lovely missing (york)
i remembered this one, just hadn't seen it in a long while as i'd lent my album to a friend so she could use the pictures as inspiration for her painting. but the more i look at it the more i love it. it was part of a temporary exhibit in the yorkshire museum gardens. i'm now trying to hunt down more information on it (artist, title, etc). it intrigues me. there's something so simple and so lovely about it. and i'm glad for the b&w which accentuates the simplicity of line.
a place to remember (edinburgh)
this one, i don't really recall. i definitely remember the greyfriars kirkyard where i took it. and the strange cold rainy/snowy afternoon i spent there. i remember not taking many pictures, though there were many interesting gravestones and the green grass was glowing in the strange light of the overcast day. but this picture pleases me. perhaps one of my favourite cemetery pictures (and cemeteries are a common subject of mine). there's something in this composition, this almost looking over the 'shoulder' of the gravestone that gives a sense of closeness. a surprising embrace of sorts. oh, and it was fun to realise that it was exactly four years ago today that i took this picture.
my third venture to ireland is six weeks away. i started writing "trip" but that didn't seem apt enough, so i thought 'venture' but then wasn't sure if i meant 'adventure' or if 'venture' is correct. so i checked good old webster.
ven⋅ture: an undertaking involving uncertainty as to the outcome, esp. a risky or dangerous one;
speculation in which something is risked in the hope of profit
my first venture to ireland was from sep-dec 2001. besides beginning just days before 'september 11', there was plenty of uncertainty, plenty of change. but all the time, money, and comfort i risked definitely paid off in richer dividends than can be shown on a bank statement or resume. probably the most educational four months of my life. i got my 3rd tattoo to commemorate this time--to "remember" what the LORD did, who He showed Himself to be.
i was introduced to a lovely poem today by wendell berry. has some of gerard manley's magic to it. (that lovely moment when he says "with ah! bright wings" in God's grandeur)
i have always felt that i was supposed to love light and hate darkness. and that any inclination in me towards darkness was wrong. but there's something about evening that is lovely to me in a way that morning is not. something magical about an ending that is not yet the end. and this poem words a bit of that loveliness that lies even in darkness.
to know the dark
by wendell berry
to go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
to know the dark, go dark. go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
driving home the other night, thinking about words, i realized that people often use the word 'imagination' to degrade, cheapen or void what someone has said, thought or dreamed.
"you only imagined that."
"it was just your imagination."
"and how do you imagine that's ever going to happen?"
imagination is infused with hope and faith, none of which can be fully seen, explained or understood. it is not easy to hold this mysterious gift loosely; it can be confusing and lonely. but without it, i wonder if we kill off one of the central parts of our identities as God's children -- that of creators.
as a lovely British man i met once said, "dreams? God loves dreams. He's so good with them." He's certainly much better than i am. He breathes life into dreams, lets them grow into bigger things than i would ever trust, doesn't hedge them in mercilessly, or make them dependent on a list of ten steps.
from phantastes by george macdonald:
"do you not know me? but you hurt me, and that, i suppose makes it easy for a man to forget. you broke my globe. yet i thank you. perhaps i owe you many thanks for breaking it. i took the pieces, all black, and wet with crying over them, to the fairy queen. there was no music and no light in them now. but she took them from me, and laid them aside, and made me go to sleep... when i woke in the morning, i went to her, hoping to have my globe again, whole and sound, but she sent me away without it, and i have not seen it since. nor do i care for it now. i have something so much better i do not need the globe to play to me, for i can sing. i could not sing at all before. now i go about everywhere through fairy land, singing till my heart is like to break, just like my globe, for very joy at my own songs. and wherever i go, my songs do good, and deliver people..."
she went like a radiance through the dark wood, which was henceforth bright to me, from simply knowing that such a creature was in it. she was bearing the sun to the unsunned spots. the light and the music of her broken globe were now in her heart and her brain.
