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  • Crocus flowers...

    One of my favourite sights each year... when the crocuses/croci bloom. Just beauitful.

  • A Poem - and a few thoughts

    Many, many moons ago, when I was at vicar school, we were required to read 'Things Fall Apart' by Chinua Achebe, a striking novel that draws it's title from the W B yeats poem "The Second Coming". As I've listened to the news over the past few days, and seen things falling apart in a country I love, seen anger and vitriol, intolerance and bitterness, I've found the opening lines of the poem flooding into my mind...

     THE SECOND COMING

        Turning and turning in the widening gyre
        The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
        Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
        Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
        The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
        The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
        The best lack all conviction, while the worst
        Are full of passionate intensity.

        Surely some revelation is at hand;
        Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
        The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
        When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
        Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
        A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
        A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
        Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
        Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

        The darkness drops again but now I know
        That twenty centuries of stony sleep
        Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
        And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
        Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

     

    I cannot claim to understand the poem, but its first stanza rings horribly true just now.

    Kyrie eleison - LORD have mercy

    Today I am moved, very strongly, to pray for justice, peace and truth:

    For a young woman whose citizenship has been stripped from her (wrongly in my view) because having made a poor choice she now seeks to return home (think Prodigal son story...)

    For a young man whose trial for the rape and murder of a young girl reveals a complex web of disorder and dis-ease at the heart of those affected (justice is not revenge, sentence should be rehabilitation, if at all possible)

    For the family of a six year-old girl who went to bed happy, and whose life was ruthlessly cut short.

    For the countless unknown ones whose lives are irrevocably changed by the foolish, selfish and sometimes even malevolent decisions and actions of those who wield power, elected or imposed.

    Things fall apart - the centre cannot hold, and yet, in the brokeness of it all is the inexteingushable flicker of light that is Love, that is is Life, that is Hope. Amen.

  • A Still Space

    The Prayer Room in Glasgow Airport.

    When I arrived very early last Thursday morning nothing was open except the Prayer Room.

    It's a very quiet, still space in a very noisy, busy place. The sound proofing is incredible, by use of effectively an airlock, no noise from the busy areas gets into the Prayer Room itself.

    It's also an inclusive space. No-one may remove or cover the religious artefacts that have been placed there... there are prayer rugs, icons, candles, Bibles, leaflets, and many more.

    The stained glass is lovely, incorporating the symbols of the largest world faiths, and some gentle, soothing colours.

    I spent a very relaxed half hour in there, praying, reflecting and simply being... when I emerged the departure gates were just opening and I set off on my way to Florence.

    Chaplaincy spaces are so important, and so valued by people of all faiths. I'm grateful to God for this space and the time it gave me in the wee small hours.