As I sat in the coffeehouse this evening reading about people who attempt to sustain a Christian life outside of a congregation the music playing in the background was Bon Jovi (probably a greatest hits album). Wouldn't you know it?, the track that played as I was reading was 'Keep the Faith'!
It made me wonder if anyone in the band came from a religious background. After all, one of their best know hits was 'Livin' on a Prayer'. ("Woohaaa, we're half way there", - come on, sing it - "Whoohaa, livin' on a prayer..."
That said, I don't think the next song that was played, 'Lay Your Hands on Me', has much to do with what St Paul was writing about.
The person with the power of the CD remote control obviously didn't like that song as it stopped half way through. Perhaps it was too sensual for them. Or maybe too spiritual. Or perhaps just too loud.
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
Sunday, 19 August 2007
Proclamation of Love
The summer of 2007 in Dublin has been pretty miserable as far as weather is concerned. I would have to check official records (which I won't), but my guess is that since late May there has not been more than 48 hours when it hasn't rained. So this afternoon, noticing blue skies, we went out for a family walk. Despite being dry this mid August afternoon felt more like it belonged in late September, but undeterred we went for a walk along a short section of the Grand Canal. The coolness in the air permitted the purchase of a coffee to stroll with as I and my wife and two small children meandered along this straight stretch of waterway.
Normally I start to get frustrated when walking with my kids. My long legs and sense of purpose don't always match up to shorter legs and inquisitive minds. This afternoon, however, I didn't mind. The sun was sparkling on the rippling water, a gentle breeze shussssshhed the tall, bankside reeds and there was no hurry. We had nowhere to get to and plenty of time to go there. It was one of those moments. My lovely family.
There are plenty of benches to sit on take in this scene of urban tranquility so it is no wonder that on one bench a lover had written, 'This is where I made my first proclamation of love'. A little further down the route there is a more permanent display of love and life and literary expression. It is a sculpture of the Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh who often sought inspiration and rest on the banks of the Grand Canal. Beside the bench is the inscription, 'Leafy-with-love banks and the green waters of the canal pouring redemption for me.'
Here is the poem in full:
Normally I start to get frustrated when walking with my kids. My long legs and sense of purpose don't always match up to shorter legs and inquisitive minds. This afternoon, however, I didn't mind. The sun was sparkling on the rippling water, a gentle breeze shussssshhed the tall, bankside reeds and there was no hurry. We had nowhere to get to and plenty of time to go there. It was one of those moments. My lovely family.
There are plenty of benches to sit on take in this scene of urban tranquility so it is no wonder that on one bench a lover had written, 'This is where I made my first proclamation of love'. A little further down the route there is a more permanent display of love and life and literary expression. It is a sculpture of the Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh who often sought inspiration and rest on the banks of the Grand Canal. Beside the bench is the inscription, 'Leafy-with-love banks and the green waters of the canal pouring redemption for me.'
Here is the poem in full:
Canal Bank Walk
Patrick Kavanagh
Leafy-with-love banks and the
green waters of the canal
Pouring redemption for me, that I do
The will of God, wallow in the habitual, the banal,
Grow with nature again as before I grew.
The bright stick trapped, the breeze adding a third
Party to the couple kissing on an old seat,
And a bird gathering materials for the nest for the Word
Eloquently new and abandoned to its delirious beat.
O unworn world enrapture me, encapture me in a web
Of fabulous grass and eternal voices by a beech,
Feed the gaping need of my senses, give me ad lib
To pray unselfconsciously with overflowing speech
For this soul needs to be honoured with a new dress woven
From green and blue things and arguments that cannot be proven.
Monday, 13 August 2007
Coffeehouse For Sale
My local coffeehouse, Moda, is for sale if you're interested in buying it. Unfortunately I'm several hundred thousand too short to buy it myself.
I hope it's taken on by someone who wants to keep it running as a coffeehouse. Despite times where I have begun to dislike the place (I've had some really bad lattes served to me - which I sent back) I do also quite like it (I've had some really good lattes - which I kept).
What I do particularly like is that it stays open late. Hopefully that will continue because Starbucks around here close at 8pm!
I hope it's taken on by someone who wants to keep it running as a coffeehouse. Despite times where I have begun to dislike the place (I've had some really bad lattes served to me - which I sent back) I do also quite like it (I've had some really good lattes - which I kept).
What I do particularly like is that it stays open late. Hopefully that will continue because Starbucks around here close at 8pm!
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Wanting to be Celtic
Whenever people ask me where I am from I usually give a round about answer that starts with my birth in London an swiftly progresses around the world to stops across England, Wales, America and Ireland, where I am right now.
I like living in Ireland. I feel a sense of some sort of connection here although I'm not sure what I mean by that. Although born in England to an English father, my mother was from Northern Ireland. I don't know if she would have called herself Irish (she died when I was 12). My guess is, being a 'protestant' from Portadown more than likely persuaded her to be 'British'. However, my family name is from the Isle of Man and, according to the book I was reading this evening, having a Manx heritage gives me a connection with the Celtic heritage which I am growing to love.
The books I usually take to the coffeehouse are often about church or theology or contemporary Christian mission. This evening I took A Celtic Miscellany. It's a lovely book with extracts of(mostly ancient) Celtic writing from Irish, Welsh, Scottish Gaelic, Cornish, Breton and Manx authors. It was great for dipping in to and I'll be taking it for another trip to the coffeehouse again soon.
The writing is wonderfully descriptive making you wish you could place yourself in the scene that has been painted with such delicious words. Take for example this description of an Irish hermit's hut from 1000 years ago:
I like living in Ireland. I feel a sense of some sort of connection here although I'm not sure what I mean by that. Although born in England to an English father, my mother was from Northern Ireland. I don't know if she would have called herself Irish (she died when I was 12). My guess is, being a 'protestant' from Portadown more than likely persuaded her to be 'British'. However, my family name is from the Isle of Man and, according to the book I was reading this evening, having a Manx heritage gives me a connection with the Celtic heritage which I am growing to love.
The books I usually take to the coffeehouse are often about church or theology or contemporary Christian mission. This evening I took A Celtic Miscellany. It's a lovely book with extracts of(mostly ancient) Celtic writing from Irish, Welsh, Scottish Gaelic, Cornish, Breton and Manx authors. It was great for dipping in to and I'll be taking it for another trip to the coffeehouse again soon.
The writing is wonderfully descriptive making you wish you could place yourself in the scene that has been painted with such delicious words. Take for example this description of an Irish hermit's hut from 1000 years ago:
I have a hut in the wood, none knows it but my Lord;
an ash tree this side, a hazel on the other, a great tree on a mound encloses it.
Two heathery door-posts for support, and a lintel of honeysuckle;
around its close the wood sheds its nuts upon the fat swine...
Excellent fresh springs - a cup of water, splendid to drink - they gush forth abundantly;
yew berries, bird-cherries...
A clutch of eggs, honey, produce of heath peas, God has sent it;
sweet apples, red bog-berries, whortleberries.
Beer with herbs, a patch of strawberries, delicious abundance;
haws, yew berries, kernels of nuts.
A cup of mead from goodly hazel-bush, quickly served;
brown acorns, manes of briar, with fine blackberries.
In summer with its pleasant, abundant mantle, with good-tasting
savour, there are pignuts, wild marjoram, the cresses of the stream - green purity!
Swarms of bees, beetles, soft music of the world...
A beautiful pine makes music to me, it is not hired;
through Christ, I fare no worse at any time than you do.
Sunday, 5 August 2007
Beautiful, just beautiful
I like to keep a pen and some paper in my car wherever I go. Mostly it just for leaving notes in my window to let the clampers know that the parking meter is not working (so please don't clamp me again!)
Sometimes I use the paper to jot down a thought that I have or the name of some music I just heard on the radio while driving. A couple of months ago, as I was driving one evening to do the grocery shopping, I heard a song on RTE2fm called Space Walk by a band called Lemon Jelly. The song samples a recording of an astronaut going on a spacewalk and watching the sunrise over Earth. Throughout is a refrain of the spacewalker describing the scene as, 'Beautiful, just beautiful'. I liked the sound of it so I jotted it down at the next red light.
Last week I signed up to emusic for some mp3 downloads. They're doing an offer where you can have a trial for two weeks and download and keep 25 tracks for free (regardless of whether you stay on a a member). I've been a bit disappointed by not being able to find some of the songs that I initially wanted so I may just take my freebies and run. However, they did have the Lemon Jelly song so I got that. It's great. I really recommend you getting a copy. It's one of those songs that make you nod your head in rhythm and smile.
Yesterday my wife and I got a babysitter and went to a movie. Before we went to the cinema we went for coffee and dessert in a cafe in the Italian quarter of Dublin. There's some nice looking cafes there that I'll go back to visit again. As it would happen, the name of the cafe we went to was Lemon Jelly.
Anyway, all of this is just to say to my wife that when we walk down the rain soaked streets of Dublin on a summer evening I can't help but nod my head, smile and think, 'beautiful, just beautiful.'
Sometimes I use the paper to jot down a thought that I have or the name of some music I just heard on the radio while driving. A couple of months ago, as I was driving one evening to do the grocery shopping, I heard a song on RTE2fm called Space Walk by a band called Lemon Jelly. The song samples a recording of an astronaut going on a spacewalk and watching the sunrise over Earth. Throughout is a refrain of the spacewalker describing the scene as, 'Beautiful, just beautiful'. I liked the sound of it so I jotted it down at the next red light.
Last week I signed up to emusic for some mp3 downloads. They're doing an offer where you can have a trial for two weeks and download and keep 25 tracks for free (regardless of whether you stay on a a member). I've been a bit disappointed by not being able to find some of the songs that I initially wanted so I may just take my freebies and run. However, they did have the Lemon Jelly song so I got that. It's great. I really recommend you getting a copy. It's one of those songs that make you nod your head in rhythm and smile.
Yesterday my wife and I got a babysitter and went to a movie. Before we went to the cinema we went for coffee and dessert in a cafe in the Italian quarter of Dublin. There's some nice looking cafes there that I'll go back to visit again. As it would happen, the name of the cafe we went to was Lemon Jelly.
Anyway, all of this is just to say to my wife that when we walk down the rain soaked streets of Dublin on a summer evening I can't help but nod my head, smile and think, 'beautiful, just beautiful.'
Wednesday, 1 August 2007
Homeless Guy
Returning a DVD (3 days late) to the rental shop in Ranelagh, I decided to stay in the area to go to a coffeehouse I hadn't been to for a while. On my way to Coffee Society I passed a homeless man bundled up and leaning against a postbox. Not an unusual sight and almost easy to ignore with a little inward justification.
I walked a few meters further along the road when I heard a voice (mine? God's?) tell me to go back and ask the guy if he wanted a cup of coffee. He said he'd like a cup of tea so I was happy to oblige.
We spent a while chatting, initially about the book he was reading - one of three weighty novels he had recently purchased from a charity shop for a fiver, and then got on to talking a little about his past, his present situation and future hopes of returning to Vancouver. Although P. is from Ireland he has spent a good deal of his life in Canada where his family (including a son) still live. Too proud to admit that a run of unfortunate circumstances has put him on the streets he keeps his homeless status a secret in his monthly trans-Atlantic phone calls.
I wouldn't say that my encounter with P. was anything special for either of us, but I was struck by the fact that his eyes were clear, his speech made sense and wasn't full of fanciful tales, and he hadn't actually been asking people for money as they passed - he admitted to getting so engrossed in a book that he didn't realise the time passing.
It is very easy (and convenient) for me to judge that the homeless guy I see ahead of me as I walk along a street is there because he is either a drunk or a junkie.
Later in the coffeehouse, drinking a latte and reading a book about the inclusive ideal of church, I notice a woman placing an order for a smoothie and bagel who is wearing a t-shirt that says, 'Guilty until proven innocent'.
I walked a few meters further along the road when I heard a voice (mine? God's?) tell me to go back and ask the guy if he wanted a cup of coffee. He said he'd like a cup of tea so I was happy to oblige.
We spent a while chatting, initially about the book he was reading - one of three weighty novels he had recently purchased from a charity shop for a fiver, and then got on to talking a little about his past, his present situation and future hopes of returning to Vancouver. Although P. is from Ireland he has spent a good deal of his life in Canada where his family (including a son) still live. Too proud to admit that a run of unfortunate circumstances has put him on the streets he keeps his homeless status a secret in his monthly trans-Atlantic phone calls.
I wouldn't say that my encounter with P. was anything special for either of us, but I was struck by the fact that his eyes were clear, his speech made sense and wasn't full of fanciful tales, and he hadn't actually been asking people for money as they passed - he admitted to getting so engrossed in a book that he didn't realise the time passing.
It is very easy (and convenient) for me to judge that the homeless guy I see ahead of me as I walk along a street is there because he is either a drunk or a junkie.
Later in the coffeehouse, drinking a latte and reading a book about the inclusive ideal of church, I notice a woman placing an order for a smoothie and bagel who is wearing a t-shirt that says, 'Guilty until proven innocent'.
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