You're probably thinking: It's about time!
And you're right of course...
Birthdays are all about time,
right on time, every time!
Cheers!
Monday, 16 June 2014
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Saturday, 22 March 2014
Relationships on the Potters' Wheel
I am taking a pottery class.
It's not one of those hippy, make what you feel pottery classes.
The prof. cares about technique, which is good.
Frustrating, but good.
We throw the lump onto the wheel.
Clay which has been wedged into somewhat of a cone, rounded on the bottom, and firmly pressed into the wheel, with two hands, as it spins.
One must be firm with clay. It will get away from you, quickly.
As soon as it is off centre, it will fight you, and resist your gentle nudging.
Only concentrated effort, elbows stabilized on your knees, heels of your hands holding their ground forcing the unruly clay into a cone like shape and down again into a flattened cylinder on the wheel. This is to strengthen the clay by aligning its particles like shingles overlapping one another.
To open the pot, a deceptively easy looking technique, you just make a dent in the top and push down with your fingers straight. The wheel turns, fast or slow depending on the pressure your foot applies to the pedal. Going deeper, is yet another opportunity for disaster.
Building the walls of the pot is called doing pulls. You try keeping a wheel turning moderately quickly with steady pressure from your foot, while pulling up gently but firmly on clay -applying pressure with one hand and supporting the roll of clay which is created with the other. Building up the walls and shaping them is nerve wracking business.
It is neither clean nor easy, and often I find myself holding my breath, hoping that I will not make the false move that completely destroys the pot.
Exciting though, to build something, imperfect, but beautiful (and stronger than you might think).
It's not one of those hippy, make what you feel pottery classes.
The prof. cares about technique, which is good.
Frustrating, but good.
We throw the lump onto the wheel.
Clay which has been wedged into somewhat of a cone, rounded on the bottom, and firmly pressed into the wheel, with two hands, as it spins.
One must be firm with clay. It will get away from you, quickly.
As soon as it is off centre, it will fight you, and resist your gentle nudging.
Only concentrated effort, elbows stabilized on your knees, heels of your hands holding their ground forcing the unruly clay into a cone like shape and down again into a flattened cylinder on the wheel. This is to strengthen the clay by aligning its particles like shingles overlapping one another.
To open the pot, a deceptively easy looking technique, you just make a dent in the top and push down with your fingers straight. The wheel turns, fast or slow depending on the pressure your foot applies to the pedal. Going deeper, is yet another opportunity for disaster.
Building the walls of the pot is called doing pulls. You try keeping a wheel turning moderately quickly with steady pressure from your foot, while pulling up gently but firmly on clay -applying pressure with one hand and supporting the roll of clay which is created with the other. Building up the walls and shaping them is nerve wracking business.
It is neither clean nor easy, and often I find myself holding my breath, hoping that I will not make the false move that completely destroys the pot.
Exciting though, to build something, imperfect, but beautiful (and stronger than you might think).
dancing
Oh, what place is this!
This place of freedom -
of sunlight on bare arms...
of stretch and bend, quick jumps and slow turns.
I love to dance.
Movement, under my control,
or led.
Weight transfers,
and balance,
breath and bend and stretch.
To dance is such a gift!
Today, as I moved -
stumbling yet graceful
across the kitchen floor,
I was content.
Sun streaming in,
pondering as I let my body move me
towards an understanding.
Sustained dancing requires more training,
more effort, and practice.
It requires strength,
yet flexibility,
dynamic balance
and graceful stillness.
Like an adventure, this dance,
this life, that I have been given requires strength -
to sustain the ongoing forward movement;
flexibility - to limit not the movement I so love; and
balance as I am propelled, in directions I do not always know.
Effort, but how worthwhile to be part of the dance!
This place of freedom -
of sunlight on bare arms...
of stretch and bend, quick jumps and slow turns.
I love to dance.
Movement, under my control,
or led.
Weight transfers,
and balance,
breath and bend and stretch.
To dance is such a gift!
Today, as I moved -
stumbling yet graceful
across the kitchen floor,
I was content.
Sun streaming in,
pondering as I let my body move me
towards an understanding.
Sustained dancing requires more training,
more effort, and practice.
It requires strength,
yet flexibility,
dynamic balance
and graceful stillness.
Like an adventure, this dance,
this life, that I have been given requires strength -
to sustain the ongoing forward movement;
flexibility - to limit not the movement I so love; and
balance as I am propelled, in directions I do not always know.
Effort, but how worthwhile to be part of the dance!
Sunday, 13 October 2013
so much more merciful
"Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your loving kindness; according to the multitude of Your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Wash me throughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is always before me." Psalm 51:1-3God,
I thank You that You are so much more merciful than I am sinful. Thank you for the multitude of Your tender mercies. I know that I am sinful and that I disappoint, that I fall - so consistently. I thank you Lord, that it is not about what I can do or how good I can be, but about how much You love me, have made provision for me, are filled with tender mercy towards me. I barely understand, but I believe.
Thanksgiving by Malcolm Guite
Thanksgiving starts with thanks for mere survival,
Just to have made it through another year
With everyone still breathing. But we share
So much beyond the outer roads we travel;
Our interweavings on a deeper level,
The modes of life embodied souls can share,
The unguessed blessings of our being here,
Threads of connection no one can unravel.
So I give thanks for our deep coinherence,
Inwoven in the web of God's own grace,
Pulling us through the grave and gate of death.
I thank Him for the truth behind appearance,
I thank Him for His light in every face,
I thank Him for us all, with every breath.
Malcolm Guite
From "Sounding the Seasons".
Just to have made it through another year
With everyone still breathing. But we share
So much beyond the outer roads we travel;
Our interweavings on a deeper level,
The modes of life embodied souls can share,
The unguessed blessings of our being here,
Threads of connection no one can unravel.
So I give thanks for our deep coinherence,
Inwoven in the web of God's own grace,
Pulling us through the grave and gate of death.
I thank Him for the truth behind appearance,
I thank Him for His light in every face,
I thank Him for us all, with every breath.
Malcolm Guite
From "Sounding the Seasons".
Thursday, 5 September 2013
no fear...
" ... to rescue us from the hand of our enemies, and to enable us to serve Him without fear in holiness and righteousness before Him all our days."
I have been reading, in Luke, a song of prophecy from a man who questioned an angel and was given a lengthy "time out". Zechariah, husband of the childless Elizabeth, was serving in the temple when an angel told him that he would have a son. This was a real man. An older man, who had had years of disappointments, years of waiting and hoping, of watching his wife feel disappointment and disgrace. A man who believed in God and was faithful. He was going through the motions, serving in the temple, a great honour, but was startled- was not expecting what, or rather who, came. And definitely not expecting the news he brought. A son! A son? Really?
God, I am grateful that we did not receive a spirit that makes us slaves again to fear, but we received the Spirit of sonship. And by HIM we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. (Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. ) Teach us Lord to be led by Your Spirit because we are Your children. Teach us not to be afraid to have desires, nor to surrender them to You. We acknowledge that our hearts are sometimes fearful for the things we do not have, but we surrender those to You. Knowing full well that only You meet our true desire, only You meet our needs. Be glorified in us Oh Lord. Your Kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.
Romans 8:15-17. Luke 2:11-20, 67-75.
I have been reading, in Luke, a song of prophecy from a man who questioned an angel and was given a lengthy "time out". Zechariah, husband of the childless Elizabeth, was serving in the temple when an angel told him that he would have a son. This was a real man. An older man, who had had years of disappointments, years of waiting and hoping, of watching his wife feel disappointment and disgrace. A man who believed in God and was faithful. He was going through the motions, serving in the temple, a great honour, but was startled- was not expecting what, or rather who, came. And definitely not expecting the news he brought. A son! A son? Really?
"How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years."I love these stories. I love God's mercy and His provision. I love that He hears and answers prayers of those of use who believe, but not always that God is going to do more than we could ask or imagine. He hears and answers the prayers of those of us who forget that God is a giver of good gifts. Those like me, who pray, but sometimes wonder if we should pray about something as worldly as a husband, or children, or health and healing, or provision of food, or money or clothes, or safety, or protection.
God, I am grateful that we did not receive a spirit that makes us slaves again to fear, but we received the Spirit of sonship. And by HIM we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. (Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. ) Teach us Lord to be led by Your Spirit because we are Your children. Teach us not to be afraid to have desires, nor to surrender them to You. We acknowledge that our hearts are sometimes fearful for the things we do not have, but we surrender those to You. Knowing full well that only You meet our true desire, only You meet our needs. Be glorified in us Oh Lord. Your Kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.
Romans 8:15-17. Luke 2:11-20, 67-75.
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