continuously shuffling, never dealing

Many are the thoughts that have passed in and through my mind this summer, especially around social media.

Continuously shuffling but never dealing and putting cards on the table.

I have toyed with stepping off the social media carousel and have spent time reading blogs of those who have/are doing. But..


NOTICE or BEING NOTICED

How come someone with a high profile gets a gazillion likes and shares when they post a picture of a pair of shoes?

(totally ironic photo)

Like, like, like, like, like, like, la, la, la, la, la, la

Wading through opinions, hot-buttons, promotions, entertainment, oversharing, myriad holiday photos from exotic and not so exotic locations, excellent writing, writing that other people think is excellent writing (discuss).

Is it how cleverly we play to the gallery?

I say that I like the smallness of my social media world, some days I disagree with myself and start to measure my worth by it.

And I guess that is it in a nutshell, how we measure our worth.

I recall some meaningful interactions and their timings:

• a late night blog comment thread which lead to the discovery of a gem of a book
• a stumbled upon twitter comment that only has meaning for those who know – a ‘me too’ of epic proportions
• gentle, middle of the night,life-giving stories that go largely unnoticed
• tweeting song lyrics which simultaneously had deep meaning for others
• wading through three hours of early tweets with morning breath and stumbling on something priceless

All these is when this happens:

(I ruminated lo-ng on this tweet)

Some days the thing you need to notice is right in front of you and you don't have to share it with the world.

 

Other times you just need to keep on scrolling to find the things that really matter.

a letter to fill you in

Hello

I’ve not written on the blog in a while, save for a few short offerings in the last couple of months. Posting has dwindled gradually since I went back to work full time in May this year. There are plenty of half-written snippets littering folders in MS Word, considerably more thoughts than that have been chewed over in my mind and not committed to being thrashed out via qwerty keyboard. 

Some appear here..

a reflection on a reflection

Objects are reflected beautifully on water when it is calm and still. As soon as there is any wind the reflection becomes distorted and the reflection less recognisable. Like those rounds on game-shows, Guess the Object, how much spinning or clarity do you need before your brain tells you it is identifiable? 

(Or to flip it on its head “do not adjust your horizontal” was the Scotsman’s comment on a friend’s impressively busy patterned tights).

I took this photo during a walk at Douglas Water, Lanarkshire and for a short time the water reflected beautifully. On the return trip the wind had picked up a little so all the images on the lake were impressionistic and indistinct.

I was puzzling on the words of a hymn I used to sing in childhood ‘It is a thing most wonderful’. These lines specifically:

It is most wonderful to know
His love for me so free and sure;
But ’tis more wonderful to see
My love for Him so faint and poor

Not many conclusions, more indicative of my recent state of mind than anything.

And a blog is always incomplete without a pretty picture.

****

deck the halls

It is December now and we have decked the halls with... boxes. Actually during the last month the hall has decked itself with filled boxes, the lounge with empty boxes waiting to be filled and things in boxes waiting to be labelled.

The sign outside the house says ‘let’. We are still waiting to move and a number of things beyond control have slowed down the buying of a place completely of our own, for the very first time.

There have been plenty of prayers of the ‘God are You deaf?’ variety. Doesn’t He know that if this one will just get answered snappish we can move ON? That we have been in limbo for nearly three years and that hanging on isn’t much fun any more.

Even defective senses can sometimes lead to an unexpected opening.

This week we were at a training session for something at church and there was one of those ‘crowdbreaker’ moments to make us talk to someone we didn’t know (cue introvert awkwardness.) 

We had to think of a number that was important to us to share and explain to the unknown person. As usual in these circumstances due to an early morning weekend start (decreased brain function) and a lack of thinking time, at the ‘go’ instruction I was still fumbling for a number and an intelligent reason. I quickly decided on 20 the date of my mother’s birthday.

I didn’t know the lady I spoke to but I recognised her as the person who had prayed for me in a healing service a few weeks before. She had picked up on a physical manifestation of something that has been stirred up emotionally again of late. We got chatting and it turns out that 20 was a gateway for us both to open up about bereavement.

Even clutching at straws can open up meaningful dialogue.

And I’m continually thankful that God delights in surprising us when we least expect it.

Linking up with Ruth & Sabrina at #LettersTo (at Sabrina's place this week)

damselfly, dragonfly, damselfly, dragonfly (a letter to tuck in your pocket)

One of the best things about being out and about in the British countryside in sunshine in the late summer is the dragonflies. They flit and dart, and mostly their sheer, luminescent wings glint a thousand times more beautifully in the sunlight. As for some of those species that don’t possess the natural irridescent beauty the wonder is seen in their size, like miniature bi-planes dancing in their solo aeronautical displays. 

And are most are too fidgety to be photographed or identified.

Yesterday I was watching a blue-hued specimen and trying vainly to capture an image with the camera. For one shot the lens and insect were aligned but because of the creature’s speed its definition still merged with the blurred background. With the help of filters this was the best I could muster:

Many of us know relationships where the other person wants to rescue us, fix us and stealthily impose their opinion on us. For want of a better expression (and for all its potential sexist connotations) to them we are a damsel in distress. And for the most part if the circumstances or atmosphere becomes too difficult we can set boundaries and keep our distance. But if that person is a close relation for whom you care desperately if something were to happen to them, boundary setting is not quite so straight forward. Just difficult, messy and painful.

I don’t know what the technical difference is between a dragonfly and a damselfly and the ones I have seen have never kept still enough to co-operate with species identification. The cryptic twitter quote I made was something of a way to try and align these insects with thinking about people in our lives who are rescuers and do this because they know no other way and are driven by a strong need to avoid fixing themselves.

Whether or not the tweet made sense to anyone else is beside the point, because that doesn’t really matter at the end of the day. The One who created us and the dragon/damselflies knows and understands. 

As if to emphasise it all I have seen a number of dragonflies elsewhere since yesterday, on the button tin as I was doing some clothes repairs last night

and again this morning on a cover photo on someone’s facebook profile.

If that is God’s way of saying ‘I get you’ that is enough for me.

And it is what I want to keep on the letter in my pocket, next to my heart.

Linking up with Ruth & Sabrina at #LettersTo (at Ruth's place this week)

when it gets too loud

Each weekday morning at the station at approximately 7:29am the tannoy on the opposite platform starts to make the announcement for the next southbound local train. And without fail the London express comes thundering through drowning out all the calling station names. Then all that is left of the announcement after the cacophony passes is an almost apologetic ‘operated by Northern Rail.’  I’ve no idea how the timing manages to be absolutely spot on each day.

***

That is life reflection at the moment.  

I know my well-being is not great and hasn’t been for at least a few weeks now. Way too much medicating with chocolate. Life, work and social media feel like they are all drowning ‘me’ out. Half the time I don’t know what I feel, another news topic flares up or a hot subject whizzes around twitter and my senses short circuit.  And the monkey on the shoulder hops from foot to foot jabbering amongst other things ‘you’re just jumping on the back of recent blog posts on depression and mental health, copying others by thinking of taking a social media break..’

Truth be known I’m not sure what I will do, but I am on a list for counselling. I also think I feel for the first time that I’m not totally scared shitless at the thought of darkness loitering again. One of those seasons which comes around periodically and lets itself in through the door for a sit-in.

I want to be able to articulate ‘it’ perfectly but for sure I don’t always know what ‘it’ is

How can I explain what deep down I don’t know?

***

I have also longed to explain how music has often saved me in tough times. How my soul has a deep affinity with interpretation of the dots and lines on a page. I don’t know how a particular combination of sounds (harmonies) in music might move me deeply. That Chopin’s dark thoughts have probably mirrored my own. Perhaps it is the best way for some of those pesky feelings to be dragged up from the deep, from the coal face to the surface?  

Time and again when I’ve turned up and sat at the piano with heavy heart and began to move fingers over the keys, whatever the piece of music may be, I’m not the same as I was before I started the piece. 

When I prepare songs for leading worship on a Sunday it turns out I am not just playing them over to make sure I am aware of how things might flow from one song to the next.The very act of exercising physical, mental and spiritual muscles together is something which irons my soul.

***

The whole effort of trying to explain sometimes turns in on itself. 

And the perfectionist pitches in for good measure, screeching grammar, poor choice of words, no good, no-one will understand, too much me, me.

But I do need to create, write, to sift and to dredge. 

And even if I don’t come out with understanding, the creases are a little smoother and the noise is not quite so overwhelming.

letter to the one(s) who noticed

‘Wedding day arrived!’ a friend’s facebook status this morning. Her daughter is getting married today. A child’s wedding is a most precious and joyous experience. Knowing the story behind her getting to this place (adoptions and a late natural conception) I know there will have been an extra measure of joy at that wedding today.

Our eldest son got married last year and the wedding was conducted by Vic (not his real name.) Vic was a late replacement for the original vicar who had to pull out. He was relaxed about photography during the service (unlike the original vicar who had said a blanket no.) The photographer took a number of photos of Vic during the service in action, both men doing what they loved best. As a thank you the photographer gave Vic and his family a framed photo as a gift. Tangible gratitude in art form became a genuine treasure for Vic’s family when he died just a few months later.

As Jesus entered a village, ten men, all lepers, met him. They kept their distance but raised their voices, calling out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” Taking a good look at them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” They went, and while still on their way, became clean. One of them, when he realised that he was healed, turned around and came back, shouting his gratitude, glorifying God. He kneeled at Jesus’ feet, so grateful. He couldn’t thank him enough. Luke 17:11-13 (msg)

And the mind can be a deceitful thing, playing tricks and telling you for sure that ‘no-one notices.’ Even when you know it is a lie hijacking and demanding full attention. It becomes a step on a muddy slope and before you know you are sliding uncontrollably towards the bottom, into the pit.

Ignored comments roll away empty, a whoosh of tumbleweed across a room

Sometimes you can’t articulate feelings

Some days you can’t see the amazing, challenging, moving and powerful that others are able to see, just the all consuming black or the dreary grey

At times it is just hard slog

Period

That’s when you really want someone to notice

And then you can just about make out the chink of light that reaches into the pit. Either the friend who is giving you an empowering hand to haul you out or the one who is sitting in there with you until your heart is still and calm again (neither of you noticing muddy asses.)

Whether you are the One or the ones I can’t thank you enough.

This is for all of you xx

Linking up with Ruth & Sabrina at #LettersTo (at Sabrina’s Ruth's place this week)

beware the moose

Ok it was a late thought but I think, significant. 

Over the weekend I had a not so good day (full, heavy head and mental lethargy.) For once I forewarned The Scotsman rather than plough on, letting the negative cycle kick in, take over and spontaneously combust some time later exploding in our faces, with an all too familiar choreography.

While brushing my teeth at the end of the day it occurred that I am finally learning to speak up more when the bad days set up camp.

Over the years having unwittingly absorbed mum's tendency to put her own needs right at the back of the queue, it is all too easily second nature to do the same and I have long relegated feelings to the end of the line. Risky when they are screaming, kicking and demanding to be addressed. 

And I'm sure this has an effect when sharing well-being (or not-well-being) with others. If a person I am telling seems disinterested, I usually register fairly quickly and don't bother carrying on. But at home disinterest is tinder to the fire and I get into a cycle of not feeling valued if I haven't been listened to. I forget The Scotsman is human too and that's where the explosive confrontations occur.

I guess it might mean gambling more often, ploughing on and sharing frailties with others. Even in the face of perceived disinterest. And even when tentative hints lead to the other person taking over the break and filling it with themselves. 

It is glorious when my convoluted clues do break through and I know a connection has been made. 

Equal space


But not everyone can deal with vulnerability face to face 

In fact they might feel more at home being faced by an angry moose...