Quartz at St Johns Dumfries
This post is not about crafts. It refers to an event which never happened. It can also reveal a powerful truth.
Truth is a complicated concept, but learning wisdom through meditating about truth provides a secure foundation for life.
I’m reposting this because it’s from a while ago, which means it can be read to see if it stands the test of time. Lots of words which may be unfamiliar to people! but then again, lots of words which may explain the motivation of the clowns you see parking boats in the middle of the road or living in tree houses.
And, on a second reading one my be able to grasp more about the significance of being a “clown” and taking on the burden of presenting the absurd for those who need to recognise the need to change (rather than hiding an agenda of domination in a mop of perfect nonsense).
Here is the link it will open in another window.
We ran an interweave called “This too is prayer” a while ago. We explored how everyday actions communicate the relationships which form us and our relationship with God.
This prayer reminded me to be mindful of the meaning that can be found in the moment of preparing to leave the house, or enter a crowd.
Like saying grace at the start of a meal, it doesn’t need to be an epic display. However taking a moment to reflect, being aware of what you are doing, and doing that regularly and frequently can add spice to every day.
Could this be a component in good liturgical daily prayer for 2020/21?
The thoughts, dreaming and poetry from last months creative worship.
Clicking this link will take you to a page with all the blog posts about 2nd Sunday creative worship events.
Please use the pop up to register, e-mail Quartz(AT)wordsmithcrafts.co.uk or phone 07572 006290.
When you register, please say how many people are in your household group! this will help us plan the layout.
We will meet online as well as in St Johns. The creative response will involve clay and Psalm 46, which seemed particularly appropriate this year.
Art is part responding to the invisible urges of the moment, and part trudging through debris to carve out a new furrow. Each artist has their own methods, but for me I relish the importance of wildness in the way I work. I expect, and look out for, moments and find that this is rewarded by things coming together in ways beyond what I can imagine.
So several decades of staring at engravings, the waters of the Nith, an opportunity to reflect provided by “The Stove Network” and a day with just the right light on the fallen leaves all came together one morning.
Another Stove project is “Nithraid” and one of it’s themes is restoring the relationship the people of Dumfries has with the river. #NithMirror was born staring at the water, and reflecting – finding insight. The labyrinth in the leaves is made by walking in a way which transforms the park on the river bank.
Within minutes of making the labyrinth kids were racing into the middle of it and puzzling out its path. #NithMirror won’t solve all the problems of flooding, car parking or closed businesses- but it did draw out something deeply rooted in human being, and invites people to become involved with their landscape.
Look out for more #NithMirror incarnations! And take some time out to reflect while you watch a video of the remaking of the labyrinth and listen to Kate singing “Who Knows Where the Time Goes”
The nights are drawing in and the clocks have changed so the next few 2nd Sunday creative worship services are changing too.
If you are up for it, the plan will be to meet in St Johns hall. Hopefully online too! The service would start at 1500 (GMT) and run till 1600. We plan to use the evening prayer liturgy as a “spine” for the service, and give it “flesh” using contemporary visual and audio art. We will also provide a hands on way to respond to the content.
Space in the hall is finite! So people will need to book.
Please let us know if you are interested – and to say what you would like to see happening at 2nd Sundays creative worship.
I stumbled upon a conversation that interested me this morning. I do this fairly frequently, wander around the internet but taking time to intentionally recognise the beautiful and true things I find there. I have even described and presented some of them as cyber pilgrimages.
The conversation I enjoyed this morning was about wilding though, and wildness in the Church context in particular. You can find the full discussion here and I recommend watching it. What follows is merely a selection of brambles I found ripe and ready in the bushes.
The Church is always in crisis, sometimes it is actually aware of this and these are the moments where there is an awe inspiring opportunity to participate in Gods breathing of life into the body. Like a snake shedding it’s skin to grow, the living faith of the dead can emerge, tender, from the brittle bark of traditionalism. This requires moving from a conservation model of community however.
Do our communities perceive the crisis as being empty pews and crumbling buildings, or an arrogant attitude of providing “The Answer” rather than space for people to find words for the questions they need to ask? The fabric of victoriana is a heavy burden we have inherited, but just as they drew on far older art to give shape to their follies, we too have an inheritance that can lead to global renewal.
The sheep within the fold find comfort in rooting themselves within the walls. However the process of wilding is different to that of regeneration, or renewal. Rather than selecting a model of Church, or time, to renew wilding involves exploration and searching for signs of growth. Rather than pruning or replanting a mighty oak, it involves nurturing many seedlings and finding out what will grow in the soil.
This should be obvious for anyone who has read Jesus story about the wheat and the tares. Wilding in contrast with re-wilding, is a process and a way of being, rather than a programme. Perhaps it requires skills of patience, observation and prophecy in a leader rather than management and direction.
As the health crisis rises again in much of the UK, I feel a nagging urge to adapt, and find new ways to be church even though it is unwise (and often illegal) for more than two housholds to mix at one time. Perhaps it is time to shed our husks and enter the soil to rest. In the hope of course that when the sun returns, with warmer weather, then we will germinate with fresh activity to grow in the spring and become fruitful.
There are still brambles on the bushes, apples ripe for picking on the tree. The yard is secluded, and the birds find space to sing. This is an industrial yard, a coal yard, but times have changed and its use has changed with them.
There is broadband so we can meet transatlantic friends and pray together. The physicality of hand skills is used to help people make sense of their surroundings and find confidence. Academics have travelled here to experience primitive firefighting techniques. Philosophy is pursued whilst cleaning mud from tent pegs.
We must not cling to the past, or buildings will become rocks that wreck the future. Even then, the memories, associations and loyalties people have bound up in a place will drag them down with it, swimming trying to keep the memorial afloat.
Which is a negative view! But what can or should be saved from the shipwreck? Why have generations abandoned ship and found fulfillment for their spiritual needs elsewhere? What spiritual assets are locked into victorian stone, and how can we help them sing? What pre-modern learning has been loaded into liturgy, and how can it be laid out as lore for a post modern community dislocated by the experience of global warfare, neo liberalism, and climate crisis?
How can we reconcile ourselves with the past, and meet with Jesus in the present, to empower our walk into the future?
Come and rest a while. There are still brambles and apples to harvest.
Draw or write on the board. Or e-mail and I’ll print it out and stick it on for you.
Zoom in for some i-spiration
