The East Wind doth blow...

... and we shall have snow, apparently tomorrow night. So far we've had clear starry nights, mornings white with frost and frozen puddles (even Shadow's bottle of water in the car was frozen!) and a bitterly cold wind: definitely the time to get lots of use out of the thermal underwear and big jumpers that have been at the bottom of the drawer for the last three years!

But, despite the chill, we bravely went off to Rostrenen this afternoon, and, fingers crossed, may have actually made some progress in our application for Protection Complementaire: the nice man in the office made his own copies of some of our papers, kept a wodge of them with our application form, got our signatures, stapled and stamped them, and sent us off (in mild shock and triumph) 'to wait'... But at least it's out of our hands now, and all that marvellously meticulous that William nobly did might bear fruit!

Our second mission, to find tiles for the new shower room, failed: Brico Marche don't stock carrelage! But rather than trawl around, we decided to make the most of the sunshine, and have a walk with Shadow instead. (We can go to other Brico's tomorrow, as well as Lidl and le Clerc, oh joy!)

So, we stopped on the way home in Glomel, at the Etang de Corong. It's a lovely big lake, apparently created in the Middle Ages, with a dam (built in the nineteenth century), and it holds enough water so that the Nantes-Brest canal could function throughout the year... although in fact, parts of the canal, sadly, are not now navigable. There's a beach by the lakeside parking, with a small play area and a buvette (snack bar - not open yet), so I foresee lots of picnics and walks there in the future. Shadow loved it too, as he was able to go off-lead. I'm a bit wary of letting him off along the canal tow paths, as if he decided to jump in - or fell in - it'd be very difficult to get him out again! But the lake-side path was perfect. And next time we'll seek out the 'barrage'.

We're now home again, in front of the fire with cups of tea, thawing out! 

An old song

Moonshine

I look at you across a room and see longing in your eyes,

I see all my dreams come true.

Everything I thought I'd never, never find, I find in you.

What do you find in me?

I sing to you my sweetest song and hear it echo in your mind,

I hear the harmonies ring true.

Everything I thought I'd never, never find, I find in you.

What do you find in me?

And sometimes when I feel so far away,

when I have no words to say,

I think of you.

And sometimes when the night is long and cold,

when I need someone to hold,

I think of you, I think of you...

I look at you across a room and see longing in your eyes,

I see all my dreams come true.

Everything I thought I'd never, never find, I find in you.

What do you find in me? What do you see? What do you see?

22nd February: a song of remembrance

For and from

Child with ringlets in your hair,

young man on a Norton;

Grocer serving all the customers,

and a father in his garden

Your mother at the pot-bank, your brother down the mine,

your cousins lost in Flanders Fields long before their time

Child with ringlets in your hair,

young man on a Norton;

Grocer serving all the customers,

and a father in his garden

Your sweetheart died in childbirth, her baby never cried;

You buried them on St Stephen's Day, and you added her name to mine.

In grief you left to fight the war and travel far and wide;

Your comrades died in Singapore, and your silence was their shrine

Child with ringlets in your hair,

young man on a Norton;

Grocer serving all the customers,

and a father in his garden

Your life was full of duty, but your heart was full of song;

I feel you all around me, although you've journeyed on.

I never said I love you, but I miss you all the time;

You left too fast to say goodbye, but I carry your life in mine

Child with ringlets in your hair,

young man on a Norton;

Grocer serving all the customers,

and a father in his garden;

my father in his garden:

My father.

Ash Wednesday +1

Ash Wednesday: T.S. Eliot - Parts I & VI (but do read it all: it's easy to find online and it's worth it.)

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign? 

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again 

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice

Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice 

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us 

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still. 

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death...

...Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn 

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings 

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth 

This is the time of tension between dying and birth

The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee.

Valentine's day +1

For William: an old song for a renewed love :-)

Summerscales

The summer song is simple, it reminds me

of the bleakness of the moors and the humming of the bees,

the haze above the meadow as the larks rise on the breeze,

and it reminds me...

The summer song is simple, it reminds me

of the dapple of the water and the sunlight through the leaves,

the poppies in the hedgerow and the swallows under eaves,

and it reminds me...

So touch me with your summer, as I touch you with my tears;

wash away my tears.

Raise me with your morning, raise me from my fears,

take away my fears, and I shall fly...

And I lose my heart to the summer, find my song in the summer.

Come following the sun, leading me on, leading me home.

So touch me with your summer, as I touch you with my tears;

wash away my tears.

Raise me with your morning, raise me from my fears,

take away my fears, and I can fly...

The summer song is simple, it reminds me

of the bleakness of the moors and the humming of the bees,

the haze above the meadow as the larks rise on the breeze,

and it reminds me...

Maggie. July 1976.

Lent begins today!

A Reading for Lent: Isaiah 58:6–9

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free

and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call

and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help,

and he will say:

Here I am.

A Prayer for use during Lent:

When the world condemns us, when we condemn our selves,

when wrong is done to us, when we do wrong to our selves,

may we find the grace to forgive others, and to forgive our selves.

When we are weighed down by troubles,

when we continue to carry things that are too heavy for us to bear,

weighing our selves and others down,

may we find the grace to let go, and to go on empty handed.

When we know that we are not whole

and know that we have caused our selves and others to break,

may we find the grace to accept that which will bring healing.

When we are afraid, and seek the protection of isolation,

hugging our suffering to our selves

and causing pain to those who love us,

may we find the grace to step beyond the cage and find help.

When people we love have died, and yet we still fear our own death,

when even life seems too long or too short,

and when we cannot see the way ahead,

may we find the grace to trust, and light to lead us on.

Snowy Shrove Tuesday!

For many Christian people, Shrove Tuesday marks the last day before the beginning of Lent – a period of penitence and renewal which leads up to Holy Week and Easter. Traditionally it is seen as the last opportunity, before the Lent fast begins, to feast on foods which would be prohibited for the next forty days – meat, fish, fatty and dairy food, sugar, and eggs. For some people, therefore, today is known as Mardi Gras – 'Fat Tuesday' – a day of indulgence before the plainer food of Lent, while for others it is known as Pancake Day, since pancakes are a great way to use up eggs, milk, and sugar. Interestingly, when this tradition began, chickens were older breeds and would not have laid eggs in the winter. On Shrove Tuesday, people would have been eating up the last of the preserved eggs, which were probably coming to the end of their preservation period. By Easter Day, the chickens would be starting to lay eggs again.

Since today would be a good day for getting people together to share in a Pancake-Fest, the short light-hearted liturgy, below, is offered to set the scene while getting everything ready for the cooking and eating! You will need flour, salt, milk, butter, eggs, a mixing bowl, and a whisk. Check quantities in a recipe book, depending on how many people are there. Everyone is invited to join in saying the responsive words in bold type.

We come here today just as we are,

each with a history of rights and wrongs:

       We come from the chequered mixture called life.

We long to stay with what is familiar, comfortable, predictable:

       But we are called to move on, and challenged to change.

As we sift some flour into this bowl, so we sift through our regrets:

       We lay aside that which we need no longer carry.

As we add a little salt, so we welcome savour in our lives:

       And we add an egg, symbol of new life and new possibilities.

Finally we add milk and butter:

       Symbols of the nourishment we have had before,

       which we need for the future.

We mix together these ingredients of the past:

       And we are ready to flip forward into tomorrow.

May we find fullness in faith and sweetness in serving:

       May we know the taste for truth,

       and the hunger for helping others.

       So may it be!


(Check out my blog 'Celebrating the Year' tomorrow for a liturgy for Ash Wednesday!)

Our Lady of Lourdes

Our Lady of Lourdes: 11^th February

For three years, until last August, William, Shadow, and I lived in a hamlet in the foothills of the Pyrenees. It was beautiful, but remote: eagles soared overhead, the forest, with its deer and sanglier (wild boar), encroached on our little bit of land; in winter we were snowed in; in summer we took refuge from the sun in our cool stone house. It was a place of extremes: extreme weather, landscape,

experiences, people.

View from the Sentier Cathar of The Hearth, February 2015

Not very far away to the west is what was once another small village – but not so small now: Lourdes. In 1858 a local girl, Bernadette Soubirous, claimed to have experienced visions of Mary, mother of Jesus, and Lourdes soon became one of the world's major sites of pilgrimage and religious tourism. I went there myself in 1983, as a nurse-assistant with the charity Across.

Shrine at Lourdes

Pilgrimage – journeying to a sacred place as an act of devotion – is common to various religions, but it's the Christian routes and sites that I'm most familiar with. As a kibbutz volunteer back in the late 1970s I was able to visit Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Galilee, Capernaum, Jericho, the Sinai, Masada... I have visited St Peter's in Rome (and Delphi in Greece, albeit not Christian!)... When I lived in Kent, I walked parts of the 'Pilgrim's Way' that Chaucer's pilgrims took on their way to Canterbury; in the south of France, we walked parts of the Sentier Cathar which ran past our house, The Hearth; and here in Brittany we hope to walk parts of the Tro Breizh. We like walking – and we have a dog!

The Pilgrim Way, Hampshire/Kent

But there are other ways of making a pilgrimage too, of taking an inner journey. You might choose to walk a labyrinth, such as the one at the George Square Gardens in Edinburgh, or you might find an installation like the one I helped create some years ago at St. Michael's Church – The Pilgrim Path - exploring through sounds and silence, actions and reflections, our relationship with our selves and with God; or you might make meditation or mindfulness parts of your everyday practice.

Labyrinth, St. George's Square Gardens, Edinburgh

Some people, like those who I accompanied to Lourdes on that long coach journey, go on pilgrimage for healing, hoping for miracles. I wouldn't venture to deny the possibility of miracles, and we all need healing. But I was aghast when I

subsequently undertook some training and work with the National Federation of Spiritual Healers to be told by our trainer/mentor 'You're healers now!'. No: people, places, experiences, may be the means by which healing is accessed (if that's the right word) but the healing itself comes from the being within, the re-aligning of our selves more nearly to the person we are meant to be, the turning around of our lives, to head not for 'away' but for home.

The following ancient prayer is used at the end of the Pilgrim Mass, said along the Camino de Santiago (an albergue is a hostel or way-station):

O God, who brought your servant Abraham

out of the land of the Chaldeans,

protecting him in his wanderings,

who guided the Hebrew people across the desert,

sustaining them on their journey:

we ask that you watch over us, your servants,

as we walk in the love of your name.

Be for us our companion on the path,

our guide at the crossroads, our breath in our weariness,

our protection in danger, our albergue on the Way,

our shade in the heat, our light in the darkness,

our consolation in our discouragements,

and our strength in our intentions,

so that with your guidance we may arrive safe and sound

at the end of the road, enriched with grace and virtue,

and return safely to our home filled with joy.

Vertical rain!...

... That may not seem worthy of note to you, dear reader, but after weeks of it coming at us horizontally from the west, believe me, it is! :-)

No snowdrops for Chandeleur, but instead we have two clumps of primroses in flower, one at the foot of the smaller apple tree, the other by the birds' feeding station. 

Spring is on its way, although starting cold, according to MeteoFrance: we're due for a cold snap next week by the look of it, so I'll be getting the garden fleece out to protect the flower buds on the other bulbs.

Can't wait to actually get out into the garden and do some proper work...

Meanwhile we're snug inside, and will be enjoying our pancakes later!