Twilight
So tonight, in a bid for escapism and delightful catch up with an old friend I succumbed to the Twilight: New Moon film. I argued that my reason for watching it was to keep my finger on the pulse of contemporary societal trends... we both knew I was more interested in nibbling a Cadbury's Twirl in front of a 'Daily-Mail-esque moral rom-com' (TM) which I could proceed to loudly deconstruct despite having enjoyed every second.
Surprisingly, I really enjoyed it. I'm not going to attempt any sort of layered reading of the plot, but on the simple layer of fantasy and adventure and drama, it certainly worked. The reason I liked it is because each of the three main characters are delightfully conflicted. They are compelled to choose between obedience, desire, trust, mistrust, fear, hope, life... and since this is a saga, the film doesn't resolve any of these. With each fresh revelation comes a fresh decision. It makes me realise that for me, the stories I enjoy most are those with the same complexity which I experience in life and all it's messiness.
Waiting for what
So today I received some unexpected news... something that jolted me from relative security and something that makes the future a little more daunting. Now this was not a message from an angel telling me that I am with child, but it got me thinking about what waiting is like when you don't know exactly what you're waiting on. Revelation... incarnation... incoming... these things are all scary because they represent something different to that which is known. It's amazing what a difference a day makes. And right now, I'm feeling it.
Bloggin' Advent
I've decided to try and blog daily throughout Advent to encourage me to reflect and pause a little.
Last night was the second of this year's two sumptuous Thanksgiving dinners. At the first, when it came time to offer verbal thanks, I was too shy, sitting in a group of 40 people of whom I knew only a few, and none well. Last night, I read a little and talked about some of the things that have been bringing me life recently. There is much to be grateful for, and now, liturgically, we're entering a period of preparation.
How does one wait well?
Nesting
Today is one of those days where I feel like I have nothing to say. The absolute busy-ness of the week: people, tasks, relational dynamics, coffees, pastoral visits (with me as recipient and not pastor!) has come to a halt and instead I'm re-arranging the living room, listening to a shuffling ipod and sheltering from the rain. Earlier I donated a tv on freecycle and have never been so popular in my life (20 emails in an hour); I made a trip to see my sister and to get some photos developed for a little bit of a decorating project. As I said a few months ago, the older I get, the more convinced I am that the 'E' of my "ENFJ" Myers Briggs personality type is slowly morphing into an 'I'. But I'm sure some 'E' will emerge over dinner tonight.
Now how's about a little inspiration from the
Writer's Almanac. Though he was ill and in pain,
in disobedience to the instruction he
would have received if he had asked,
the old man got up from his bed,
dressed, and went to the barn.
The bare branches of winter had emerged
through the last leaf-colors of fall,
the loveliest of all, browns and yellows
delicate and nameless in the gray light
and the sifting rain. He put feed
in the troughs for eighteen ewe lambs,
sent the dog for them, and she
brought them. They came eager
to their feed, and he who felt
their hunger was by their feeding
eased. From no place in the time
of present places, within no boundary
nameable in human thought,
they had gathered once again,
the shepherd, his sheep, and his dog
with all the known and the unknown
round about to the heavens' limit.
Was this his stubbornness or bravado?
No. Only an ordinary act
of profoundest intimacy in a day
that might have been better. Still
the world persisted in its beauty,
he in his gratitude, and for this
he had most earnestly prayed.
"XI." by Wendell Berry, from Leavings. © Centerpoint, 2010.
