Spiritual Adventures - Oxford

 

The Oxford Oratory

I was here during Lent, and the start of Holy week. It means all the statues and images were veiled, as is tradition.

What a blessing to be able to be staying right next to this beautiful church so I could attend many of the services. I attended daily Mass almost every day and Vespers one evening. I stumbled in upon the stations of the cross, and then was there for Palm Sunday. I stopped in one afternoon to shop in the gift shop, and took these photos.

It was so inspiring to see the church filled up in the middle of Oxford, a city so diverse and buzzing, and like every modern city growing more and more secular. But here, many young people attended daily mass. Sunday morning was packed. The choir was immensely talented, the organ beautifully orientated to the liturgy. The community is flourishing. 

I got to experience Latin Mass in all it's beauty, music, candles, incense, and chant. I was taking it all in, and I still think about how meaning-drenched it all is. 

This is where Saint John Henry Newman preached. This is where Gerard Manley Hopkins started as a priest. And this is where J.R.R. Tolkien came to daily Mass when he was a professor at Merton, most of the latter part of his life. Tolkien lamented when the Vatican changed from the Latin Mass to the more modern Novis Ordo, but I smiled that he would appreciate that today there is Latin Mass. 

The Ashmolean 

Sacred art collection. I took a few hours one afternoon to visit the Ashmolean Museum, which contains many floors of art, artifacts, and statues, giving a visitor a sense of stepping back in time to learn about objects of meaning. It is impossible to see the whole museum in just a couple hours, so I typically select a specific collection or two and spend my time on those select rooms.

I've always been drawn to sacred art - many of these pieces would have been in a church somewhere in Europe. The detail and colours are vivid and the scenes are bold. Christ on the cross. Mary with baby Jesus. Theology is on display with paint and gold. It's like viewing illuminated manuscripts, but on the wall in large form. I love viewing illuminated manuscripts - they are astonishingly drawn in minute detail.

When I stand in front of these sacred pieces that glow, I study the emotions of the humans and angels present -  the artists are able to evoke in the expressions loss, fear, elation, sadness, quiet, trust - all the way back in the middle ages. There is meaning and beauty in all the tiny details of each artwork. 

Author Talks and Wanders - Oxford

Part of the reason I love to go to Oxford when I do, is to be there for the Oxford Literary Festival, which is a week of author talk events across the city. It's a fun way to get to hear the author's speak about their books, and you can meet them and buy their books to sign for you after the talk. I've always loved coming to various talks over the years. This year I limited myself to only three events, so I had time to dedicate to my time in the libraries. 

The first event I went to was held in the Pusey House Chapel on the topic of ignoring Christianity at our peril. In society, if the morals and values of Christianity are removed or ignored, the authors argued that we would be in a very bad state. One of the authors I was familiar with, Nick Spencer, as I had read his book called Magisteria, on the topic of faith vs. science throughout history and how much of that is a misconception of those two things being opposed to one another. The three authors were all Anglican, and they brought their perspectives of the nature of England and its history, reviewing how through time the names and meanings of the places (even England: Angle-land, owing to the Christian faith, these things come from somewhere is the point). Topics ranged from machines and viewing humans as machines, 17th century rise of science, transhumanism, to post-Christian culture. They discussed these changes and the surrounding main question of the value of a human.  

In my wandering later I visited my favourite Pret in the lovely wonky building on the corner of Cornmarket and Ship Street. I walked down the Turl, and visited the magnolia tree blooming by St. Mary's, where there was a carpet of petals forming. 

The next author talk was also held in the Pusey House Chapel, and I had time for a coffee beforehand, at Gail's, a busy and popular coffee shop/bakery. Then I walked through Wellington Square passing a charming wonky lamppost, and entered a packed session to listen to the historians Alice Loxton and Hetta Howes talk about their studies and books. They both study medieval women's lives and churches. I have read and enjoyed Alice's books, especially her newest one on Queen Eleanor and the Eleanor Crosses installed after her death back in 1290. She also focuses a lot on ancient churches and their history, along with places that have historical significance. She's lively and fun, making accessible the stories of history. I was not familiar with Hetta before the event, but bought her book and one of Alices' I didn't have. Hetta focuses on medieval women, including mystics like Julian of Norwich and Margery of Kempe.

The last talk I went to was in the Weston Library, where they had a book stall set-up just for the Literary Festival so of course I browsed, and also checked out the fun Jane Austen display on the theme of dancing in her novels. I didn't take any photos in the talk, but it was on the topic of converts into the Catholic Church, by Melanie McDonagh who wrote a book called Converts I recently read. It's a study of the many authors who converted just before or into the 20th century, including Oscar Wilde, John Henry Newman, G.K. Chesterton, Evelyn Waugh, Graham Greene, Elizabeth Anscombe, etc. She studies who these authors were and what impacted them and their conversion. The book was so interesting, and the talk was like gaining access to her process as she spoke with a journalist mindset of digging into the history, changes, stats, and what we see now as a growth in conversions after a period of decline for many decades. She wants to expand on the why someone converted, and the stories are rather fascinating, especially viewed in today's modern lens.

One Day in Oxford

Let's start the day with some breakfast in hall at Somerville College. I had the hall almost to myself that morning. Each morning I liked to imagine Dorothy L. Sayers blazing in with her friends for a chatty breakfast when she was an undergraduate here early in the 1900s.

 

After breakfast, coffee time as I walk into the center of the city. This was my new top pick I had never been to before, Tree Artisan Cafe. They had the best coffee. It's a tiny spot, but very much a local spot. It was fun to hear the locals chat about their lives and their day ahead.

Arrived at the Old Bodleian. Those dreaming spires make me smile every time I approach this amazing library building. I am about to head up to the reading room behind those third floor windows.

I took the stairs up to the top floor - the upper reading room. Collecting my books from the self-collect shelves - books I had requested from the offsite Bodleian storage. I love having a little stack there waiting for me to dive into.

Settling down into a desk on the corner I like to sit at. The window to my far left looking out to the Rad Cam is usually cracked open, offering a little breeze and fresh air. 

I had requested an interesting book, a collection of poets from Magdalen College over time. Of course C.S. Lewis was in there.

Lunch time - I headed over to Theo's Cafe, which is on Broad street. It is a family owned small cafe. They get jam packed for lunch, so I sat downstairs for the first time. The best chicken club sandwich and chips.

A little walk after lunch through the Bodleian quads to head to....

Blackwell's for some book-browsing!

The ground floor of Blackwell's

I decided to spend the afternoon in the oldest library possible. The Duke Humfrey's Library. It makes smile each time I get to step foot in there. The silence, the age, the history, the ancient books. Sitting there to write is such a dream.

My little desk spot near a window. My old Latin companions in front of me.

The wonderfully old books from the 15th - 16th centuries, some were chained to the shelves here

Pencils only, please and thank you.

I stayed until they closed the library. They chime a very loud bell to indicate they are closing, and you better get out of there. Don't forget your notebooks.

The Oratory for daily Mass.

What a joyful kind of day, filled to the brim with my favourite things. Thank you for coming along on this particular day in Oxford. 

10 O'Clock at the Rad Cam

 

10 O'Clock at the Rad Cam

10 O'Clock rings from St. Mary's bells
Heard aloft in the upper level, one
Surrounded by books in a circular
Rotunda of classical stone
This abundance of beauty and history
Has taken me far from home
I search out books underground
And carry them round and round
Stairs that spiral to the top
I reach a desk and set up space
Amidst the books, architecture, milieu -
Inspiring study, or writing poems in my case.

Oxford - Back to Bookish Adventures

 

Greetings from the depths of the Bodleian Library back at the end of March when I was spending my days collecting books to read and explore. It gives me great joy to be able to return to these amazing libraries and this history-laden city of Oxford.

I have been absent for a little bit but I'll be sharing more of my Oxford time researching and attending author talks - those ancient stone walls of Oxford lined with books and history were calling me back. So I took a trip to spend time over there, digging into the library books and the spaces, familiar to me and yet always full of surprises.

I am back at the Radcliffe Camera - to the upper level which circles the rotunda. Up here the beautiful dome is closer but still like a sky realm above, full of dreamy notions. I pick up a latte from Theo's Cafe on my way in, made in my Bodleian Keep Cup to bring up the circling stairs all the way up. But first, I grab books from the underground level (Gladstone Link) that I requested to have delivered, and carry them up to the upper Rad Cam.

I select a seat near the railing because it's early, 9:30 am, and it's not busy yet. Though we are getting close to Holy Week and the students clear out for Easter holiday, which means the libraries are not nearly as busy, much to my delight. 

I had a good sleep and breakfast from my lodging in Somerville College this time. Staying in a new building only a couple years old, right behind the library, so I get to see the books in the windows as I come back to my room each night. The warm glow of the library lights brings all the cosy vibes. As I ate my breakfast in hall at Somerville, enjoying fried eggs, baked beans, hash brown, tea, and fruit, I could visualize the ghost of Dorothy L. Sayers and her friends chattering away over breakfast in the same hall, as she did her undergrad right here back in 1912-1915. Social being that she was, I can see her dressed nicely with the current fashion giggling with her friends in the all-women's college (it's now co-ed). 

I walk into the center of town to get to the libraries, as Somerville is a bit north, so maybe a 15 minute walk will get me there. I do get a little bit distracted along the way. The Oxford Oratory is right next door, the best Oxfam bookshop is on the way (yes I stopped a few times), and the Ashmolean Museum is always tempting to pop into (I did pop in, but later on in my stay), but when I have a mission to get to the library for research, when I know my requested books are sitting there waiting for me, I have a focus and do not dally. 

That morning, I went down to the Gladstone Link, the two-levels underground and I went to search for a couple books from UBHU-M96-E, I noticed a couple days in a row the same old gentleman was sitting at a desk at the end of the movable shelves facing the wall, leaning back in a chair with a hardback book open with his one hand. He looked very content, as if he was reading a novel, and maybe it was, not a student but a pleasure reader in his tweed jacket and trousers.

I wondered if he goes there every day to read (history? theology? biography?) there in the lower level deep underground like in the quiet care of contemplation. Maybe he's just here for a couple days for meeting or the literary festival. Does he stay long? Is he an author? Is he passing the time before meeting with someone? It has me all curious, and I want to write a story about him. Maybe he's a professor. The possibilities abound. 

But I have research to do, so I rotate the shelves to open the aisle, find my books, and climb up to the upper Rad Cam.