I have been stewing some thought into the gifts I have been given, and how to use them better, for the glory of God. I don't have all the answers but I believe it is the thing we most seek in our lives, even if we don't know that we seek it. We all want to fulfill purpose, and that is part of the gifts we are given to use for good.
One thing I know and see so much these days is that in this world, we tend to look at others to decide who we are and what we want to do. That's obviously not the way that God wants us to live, as that sets us up for a comparison game that will never be satisfied, and it leaves our own gifts behind.
Thomas Merton wrote, in his book No Man is an Island, how it is only when we let go of all that we hold onto and stop trying to be what everyone else seems to be, that we can truly know who we are. We become too focused on others as we "seek to imitate one another's imagined greatness".
It hit me that we so often lose sight of our own vocation/gift by looking at other people and wanting what we imagine they have. Let me emphasize the important words in that sentence as "wanting what we imagine they have." So many times our own imaginations take off with assumptions of imagined castles in the sky that someone else gets to live in, but if we look more closely, we shall see that right where we are at this moment is probably right where we need to be. There is growth opportunity here. That imagined castle just isn't right for you. Maybe it isn't clear, yet, but it will be.
The letting go part is that we are to have an indifference toward things of our lives so that we do not try to possess anything, as if they fulfilled us. Anything can be taken away from us in our lives, but not God. Only God is able to fill us completely, but we try to fill ourselves with other things that hinder our true selves from being expressed.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
- Edgar Allan Poe
This little book is an illustrated copy of the well-known poem by Edgar Allan Poe, "The Raven", published in 1845. I ordered it from the delightfully literary-focused shop Obvious State. I love how they are publishing little books like this, illustrated by the husband of the duo owners, to help make some classic poems more accessible and (hopefully) talked about. They also publish podcasts on the poems, which are enlightening and enjoyable.
Since it is almost Halloween, this poem seems to be a perfect fit. A man is visited by a black raven in his study one evening when he is drowsy, feeling sad about the loss of his love, Lenore. He hears a tap tap tapping at the door, but nobody is there, just darkness. Then he thinks of Lenore, and fills the void with her name. That's when the raven appears and steps through the window, perching himself above the statue of wisdom. Is he imagining the raven, is it real? The only word the bird says is "nevermore". And the man begins to ask the raven questions, but it is interesting how he phrases each question, as the bird only responds with "nevermore". Could he have phrased his questions differently?
Each response to each question only deepens his confusion. And yet he could have asked questions that brought to light a hope as the bird would reply "nevermore". Instead he falls into a darker state brought on by the raven's replies. Does anyone else do this on such occasions when we feel sad and alone? When we could look toward hope we (for some strange reason) choose to dwell in misery and sadness? This poem reflects that, I think, but I love how the poem is open to several interpretations. That is, in part, what makes a poem so good. When you can read it and re-read it, and have different aspects to discuss and reflect upon, that is a good poem.
I have a new appreciation of Poe, and his work, especially this poem.
I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.
- Henry David Thoreau
I can say with a resounding, hushed joy that it has felt cool these last few mornings. Dare I say, autumnal. I woke up to a chilly 63 degrees and low humidity, which feels chilly when compared to the usual 75 degrees or more (plus humidity) in the morning. The soft, quiet air leaves room for sound to travel and I hear the train whistle going through downtown. I sip my mug of coffee and reflect how thankful I am. Simply for the blessings of the everyday.
The cool air makes me feel all the cosy things, like curling up with a blanket and a book, wearing a sweater, eating soup, drinking tea, and lighting candles. My home feels chilled as the autumn winds came overnight. My heart sings with gladness when the weather changes. We have weather at last! When I say weather, I mean a change in weather. G.K. Chesterton wrote something about how England actually has weather, relating to how it changes within minutes from sun to rain, and then, fog to wind, and back to sun. It keeps things interesting. And as Chesterton said - there are no uninteresting things, only uninteresting people.
When I step outside and smile, you know it's a good thing. When I let my car windows down a bit on my drive to work, you know it's a good thing. It's the little pleasures, really. I could certainly take a morning stroll through the pumpkin patch and find a choice one to sit on, on mornings like these. I won't sit on any pumpkins, though, don't worry (no pumpkins were harmed in the making of this post).
Journey back with me to England. Once the cruise ship docked, we were whisked away by private car to Canterbury, which took about 2.5 hours. We drove by the city walls, ancient, and built by the Romans, into the centre of the city. Entering the tiny streets of the city centre was like going back in history. Every timber-framed building and cobbled street had a story. We were dropped off outside the gate of the Canterbury Cathedral. We were staying in the Canterbury Cathedral Lodge, which is through the gate, and on the grounds of the cathedral. In fact, our room had quite a spectacular view of the cathedral tower, just ~50 yards away.
We dropped off our luggage at the lodge, and stared with wide eyes at the immensity of the cathedral. You cannot take it all in at once. Canterbury Cathedral, founded in 597, is the mother church of England, and the seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury is here. Not to mention the Christian history that took place there, most notably the murder of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury in 1170. He and King Henry II were friends, but Becket took his job seriously and the king had some issues with that. Four knights thought the king wanted Becket out of the way, and they murdered him right there at the altar of the cathedral.
Anyway, it was time for some lunch, which we found at the cute coffee shop, Burgate Coffee. then we did a bit of wandering. I was unfamiliar with Canterbury, and just wanted to get to know the streets. It is a beautiful little city, with a river, crooked buildings, cobbled streets, shops, and lots of people. The sun was shining, it was warm, and everyone was out enjoying the weather and the place.
We attended Sunday evensong at the cathedral, which was absolutely beautiful, with all male choir of about 40, singing harmonies that echoed for several seconds after they ended a song. After evensong, we just took some time exploring the cathedral since we were already there. To say it is grand is an understatement. It is the largest cathedral in the UK, with St. Paul's next behind it. Those are the two cathedrals I got to visit on this trip!
Some of my favourite things in the city were the bookstores, especially the Chaucer Bookshop and the Catching Lives charity bookshop (which is the crookedest building I have ever seen, in the last photo). There were great restaurants, my favourite being an all gluten-free bistro, Oscar & Bentleys, which was one of my favourite meals of the trip. We also ate at Alice and the Hatter, a very colourful, decorated Alice themed tea room. We toured The Canterbury Tales, an attraction in an old church that has you walk through five of the stories from The Canterbury Tales, with a few actors who are dressed in period clothing and help tell the stories.
We also visited the St. Augustine Abbey ruins, which is the location where St. Augustine started his ministry in England, there in 597 a monastery was founded, and thrived until 1538 (the Reformation), when King Henry VIII took it over and instead of demolishing it, added brick layers to the building and made it a palace for himself. Walking around the ruins I tried to imagine what it looked like when it was a vibrant monastery through the middle ages. Such an important piece of Christian history.
Canterbury is a lovely, walkable town to visit filled with Christian history. I am so glad we took a few days to explore.
Almost all of these recent reads were acquired while in Norway or England. Whenever I get a stack of new books to read, I dive into them with any spare moment. I picked a few to highlight here.
The New House by Lettice Cooper
This is a Persephone book (published in London where there is also a lovely bookshop selling these titles. I will have to visit that book shop next time.) celebrating lesser known twentieth century female writers. In a strange twist, I bought this book in Norway. I didn't know what to expect, since I didn't know the author, but I thoroughly enjoyed this novel detailing family dynamics in the 1930's, and how changes in life sometimes sparks us rise to a challenge to do something we never thought we could do. The whole book takes place over one day, as the family packs and moves to a smaller house. The author has a lyrical way of writing, and she lets the reader in on the feelings of each character, through the strains of marriage, the difficulty of loss, the relational aspects of mother-daughters, the desires to make a change, and hints of socialism. It's the kind of novel where there's not much action, but I found myself not waning to put it down.
St. Francis of Assisi by G.K. Chesterton
You wouldn't think that a little biography of St. Francis could be a riveting book, but if G.K. Chesterton is the author, you can bet it will be and you will be right. I can read anything of Chesterton and be drawn in every time. There is something about how he writes, and it's far from traditional. He tells a story through paradox and in the case of St. Francis, he sets out on the path of telling how God used him at the end of the dark ages to come out of a humble place and bring light to a yearning world. He is known for his love of nature and animals, but I love how Chesterton turns a narrow love that might put others in the background by pointing out that St. Francis didn't see anything in the background. "He saw everything as dramatic, distinct from its setting, not all of a piece like a picture but in action like a play. A bird went by him like an arrow; something with a story and a purpose, thought it was a purpose of life and not a purpose of death. A bush could stop him like a brigand; and indeed he was a ready to welcome the brigand as the bush."
Girl with a Pen by Elizabeth Kyle
I found this book at a used book shop in Canterbury for ₤2. This is the story of Charlotte Brontë, told in a story form in the 1960s. This telling of Charlotte's life really made me feel her as my kindred spirit. I relate to her so much in her attitude, independence, and love (need) to write. She was also not afraid to travel, which she did many times to London (a two-day journey from north England). She never gave up, loved her family, and knew she was meant to write. Charlotte is the most well-known, but her siblings were brilliant in their own writings: Emily the poet, and Anne the novelist. Even their brother Branwell was a writer and artist. I learned more about what Charlotte and her sisters drew for the ideas in their writings, and admire them even more after this quick little read.
The Story of Kullervo by J.R.R. Tolkien
I have wanted this book for a while, so when I saw it at Daunt Books in London, I decided now was the time to read it. Before Middle-earth was consuming Tolkien's imagination, he wrote this story, a recast of a Kalevala tale (the Finnish epic of myths). It's a tragic tale of Kullervo, who is born and immediately enters into a series of events that set-up the tragedy. His father is killed, his mother is kidnapped, attempts on his life are tried three times, he escapes with help from a magic black dog, he encounters his own anger and rage as he seeks revenge, and by his own folly he meets his end. Not a cheery tale, but it is the clear beginnings of one of Tolkien's main stories of The Silmarillion, the story of Túrin Turambar. To me, it's really fun to see the connections that come out in later Tolkien stories.
Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers by Leonard Kohen
I recently bought this book at Oxford Exchange when I was in Tampa a few weekends ago. I've seen it before and was drawn to the minimal style and focus on noticing the beauty in the details. The Japanese wabi-sabi doesn't really have a clear definition, nor is it an organized thing. Moreso, it is a way of appreciating and noticing the details, whether they be old, new, broken, or repaired. It can relate to religion, buildings, homes, tea houses, etc. In relation to Japanese tea houses, the author explains why in ancient days the tea houses were made with purposeful intention of bringing you to humility and causing you to pay attention. The doorway of a tea house would traditionally be very low, so one would have to stoop low, to bend over in humility to enter. I like relating these insights into daily practice of appreciation and humility, and the enjoyment of the simple and beautiful.
The last stop in Norway was the hip town of Stavanger. We pulled into the port early in the morning and the clouded, grey sky let the sun peak through in tiny outlets, looking like fire was behind the clouds. There was a chance of rain that day, and the wind picked up. It was amazing that we did not get any rain on any day so far, when Norway is known for a lot of rain.
We breakfasted as usual on the back deck outside, overlooking Old Town. Just off the ship, we were on the edge of Old Town, which is a collection of 200 homes in the classic Norwegian style of white, and red roofs. Old Town rose up the hill, and was like entering a picture book of the quaintest little village, houses all white, painted brightly, coloured doors, and classic red roofs. Flower pots were robust with roses, hydrangea, and all kinds of lovely blooms. Each window had pots of flowers, too.
After a good wander, we headed to the centre of town and the kirke, the Stavanger Cathedral. We toured and sat for a bit. It was a lovely church, and the pamphlet provided a good history that put meaning to the building and many objects of the church. Leaves were falling, and changing colours as autumn was on the doorstep. We were there at the cusp of a new season.
We did a bit of shopping in Stavanger, as we had more cash than we needed, so I might have ended up with a few books and a few cute home items from Søstrene Grene. We lunched at a coffee shop, Coffeeberry, where I got a salad, soup, and cappuccino. It was a sleek, local coffee shop, with classic Scandinavian design and furniture. I loved it there and the people were so friendly. It was exactly what I love about finding local coffee shops - filled with locals all speaking in Norwegian.
Stavanger is well-known for its street art and the petroleum museum. Much of Norway's wealth comes from the oil industry. We passed countless (almost a hundred?) oil rigs on the North Sea. We didn't make it over to the main neighbourhood with street art (though I did catch a few clever little pieces of street art), nor did we make it to the petroleum museum. There just wasn't enough time to do it all while we were in port. I'll just have to go back. I felt that I needed more time in every place that we visited.
Later I was sitting out on our balcony on the ship before we left port with a bath robe on, as it was a chilly 59 degrees, and then the rain started. The first Norwegian rain of the whole trip. I was so grateful to sit there as the gentle rain fell. I was filled with thanks for the ability to see Norway and the beauties it holds.
