Connecting with the Divine

Sunset on the beach, the colours unbelievably vibrant. I took a great many photos and only towards the end did I think of trying a few ICM shots. (ICM stands for Intentional Camera Movement, where you select a slow shutter speed and move the camera whilst the shutter is open, to create a blur.) These days, there is nothing especially unusual about ICM; you see so many of these images. It can give a nice effect when the scene is about colour more than anything, though images often lack a focal point. I was reasonably pleased with this one, though it wouldn't win any prizes. It does, for me, evoke something of actually being there and witnessing the splendour of this natural phenomenon, fast changing and completely awe-inspiring. It actually made me feel quite emotional, watching the beauty unfold. No two sunsets are ever the same and the fleeting colours can be mind-blowing. To me, this image beckons almost like a portal into another dimension. 

'To watch a sunset is to connect with the Divine.'  Gina De Gorna 

Heavenly host

I popped into Sandsend's little Victorian church, St Mary's, whilst I was on holiday. It had all these paper angels flying around the nave - rather pretty. It also had a yoga class going on and I think the instructor thought I was taking a photo of all the ladies lying on their mats! I didn't hang around!

I do find I love depictions of angels, in graveyards and in paintings: all those cute, chubby little cherubim, especially that wonderful pair in Raphael's 'Sistine Madonna' painting.  There are angels mentioned many times in the Bible, and some people believe they are here on earth as well as in heaven. I tend to think our angels don't have wings...  It is, however, somehow comforting to me to think that we may each have a guardian angel. There have been times in my life when I felt maybe there was an angel nearby watching out for me. When my daughter first left home for university, one of the ways I coped was to pray and believe that there would be an angel watching over her. I still remember the tingle I felt when I went to visit her and looked out of the window of her room. Although it was a fairly modern accommodation block, it was adjacent to a much older building with fancy carved stonework - and yes, there was a stone angel there, looking over and into her room. 

"For it is written: 'He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully.'" Luke 4:10

'See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared.' Exodus 23:20

"And suddenly there appeared with the angel a great multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying:: 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favour rests!'" Luke 2:13

Retreating

This painting, a watercolour called 'Medieval hall' by Rachel Wood, was hanging above the desk in my room at the retreat house where I stayed in Sleights. (The copyright will be hers, not mine, and I hope there is no objection to me sharing it.) The more I looked at it, the more I appreciated it - the soft, loose strokes and gentle neutral tones appealed to me very much. It's the kind of scene I'd photograph if I came across it. Furthermore the empty, cell-like space increasingly spoke to me. 

The week I was away coincided with a heatwave, not the record temperatures we had a few weeks ago but still too hot for me to feel comfortable by the afternoon. (I don't know how I do it... That's the third holiday I've had in succession that coincided with a heatwave - 2019, 2021 and now 2022! Different weeks too.) Some people would love the sunshine but I like to explore and walk on my holidays and it was too hot to do that.  So the week, for me, turned into a bit of a challenge to my boredom thresholds. The wi-fi at the retreat house is, sadly or perhaps deliberately, abysmal, only properly available in one room  and even then so slow as to be fairly impossible to use successfully. So, perhaps fortuitously, my 'go-to' time-waster wasn't readily available! That still left books to read and I finished one and started another, and managed to restore to some extent my powers of concentration, generally rather badly eroded by too much reliance on tech/computer/iPad. 

The week also provided, for me, a way back into a regular rhythm of shared prayer and worship, since guests are invited to join the community in their chapel for short services of morning and evening prayer. Since Covid came along and we all had to lock-down, my regular church going has broken down. I did try a couple of services once things were going back to normal (or as normal as they are now) but I found problems with hearing properly and difficult issues with wearing a mask and specs at the same time, and things went on too long for comfort and then I was pinged by the NHS app for 'being in close contact with someone who later tested positive for Covid' - and it turned out I'd been surrounded by about-to-be-ill people! Though I didn't myself succumb (as far as I know!) that was pretty off-putting. So I haven't so far been back. I suppose I should make the effort again but it hasn't really felt as though it has impacted my faith or my personal rhythm of quiet prayer time. I was having issues before with all sorts of aspects of 'church', which are not resolved...

Anyway, the gentle, quiet discipline of short times of shared worship proved comforting. The Community use several parts of the Northumbria Community's Celtic devotions and, having used those myself (and indeed spent time with the Northumbria Community in the past) it was familiar, like rediscovering a favourite and comfortable garment. I have resolved to go back to using those verses again at home. When the worship sticks to a liturgy that is incredibly helpful to me (being deaf), though I can never hear people's offered prayers, which feels both slightly annoying and slightly disenfranchising, since I dare not pray aloud myself in case I'm just repeating or cutting across someone else. Never mind, I just pray my own prayers in those bits.

On the Thursday evening before I left on Friday, there was a simple, shared Communion, the first I have taken since before lockdown. So that felt warming and nourishing, soul food. 

Retreating... re-treating... perhaps moving forwards rather than backwards? 

'Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.'  Psalm 118. 

Patina

I took a holiday recently at St Oswald's retreat centre and community in Sleights, near Whitby. It's run by some friends of mine and is an ordered and peaceful place, with a steady rhythm of days. In the two years since taking it over, they have put a lot of care into refreshing the decor and making it a really attractive and comfortable haven. The main corridor to my room had warm brown walls (probably a Farrow and Ball heritage shade like 'Mouse's Back' or something). It's a colour I would perhaps not normally like, but somehow it looked just right. The corridor had a 'dog-leg' turn in it and, on the facing wall, this beautiful panel of carved wood was displayed, illuminated by a small picture-light. I enquired about its provenance. They told me they had found it abandoned in the garage! It had a hinge and appeared to be the lid of a chest, the door of an armoire or something similar. It was filthy and dusty so my friend had painstakingly cleaned it with a toothbrush to remove the grime and then polished it to bring out the lovely patina. 

I was much taken with this panel. I don't know how old it is, but the craftmanship that went into making it is obvious. There is usually something really attractive about old wood, whether a fine carved object like this or a rough, natural piece. If cared for, it often gets better and more beautiful with age. I wonder if the same is true of us? 

We have not been a family that have handed down many treasures through the generations. Truthfully, most of my ancestors were poor and would not even have had possessions worth handing on. When my great aunt died, I accepted her old drop-arm sofa, covered in an unattractive dull brown mock leather. It made a useful perch in my first apartment, until I amassed enough savings to upgrade to a more modern and functional piece that could be used as a spare bed when friends came to stay. The old sofa was snapped up (free!) by a workmate of mine, which puzzled me until I saw it in their house, reupholstered in a luxurious cherry red velvet and looking quite splendid! I also acquired a huge and heavy chest of drawers from my paternal grandparents. For many years it was the repository of most of my clothing. I can't even recall what happened to that! I suspect it too was thrown out in favour of a smart and more modern 'bedroom upgrade'. I find now, as I have grown older and perhaps a little wiser and more appreciative, that I regret losing these two family links - though I doubt that the requisite gene for valuing and holding on to family heirlooms has appeared or been passed on in the family. Perhaps, like shopping in charity shops, it is something that you either have to be poorer and need to do, or somewhat richer so that it becomes something quirky and valued, with the cachet of sustainability.