meus decorus eden

2010-09-10T02:45:00.000-07:00

Gotta head full of ideas that are driving me insane..... - Bob Dylan

Recent experiences

2010-09-08T05:21:00.000-07:00

I love this Story...

2009-09-10T07:10:00.000-07:00

Oscar Wilde

The Selfish Giant

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. 'How happy we are here!' they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
'What are you doing here?' he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
'My own garden is my own garden,' said the Giant; 'any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.' So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED

He was a very selfish Giant.

< 2 >

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
'How happy we were there,' they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. 'Spring has forgotten this garden,' they cried, 'so we will live here all the year round.' The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. 'This is a delightful spot,' he said, 'we must ask the Hail on a visit.' So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
'I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,' said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; 'I hope there will be a change in the weather.'
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. 'He is too selfish,' she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

< 3 >

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. 'I believe the Spring has come at last,' said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still Winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. 'Climb up! little boy,' said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the little boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. 'How selfish I have been!' he said; 'now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever.' He was really very sorry for what he had done.

< 4 >

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he died not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. 'It is your garden now, little children,' said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were gong to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
'But where is your little companion?' he said: 'the boy I put into the tree.' The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
'We don't know,' answered the children; 'he has gone away.'
'You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,' said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. 'How I would like to see him!' he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. 'I have many beautiful flowers,' he said; 'but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.'

< 5 >

One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, 'Who hath dared to wound thee?' For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
'Who hath dared to wound thee?' cried the Giant; 'tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.'
'Nay!' answered the child; 'but these are the wounds of Love.'
'Who art thou?' said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, 'You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.'
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

2009-07-13T12:36:00.000-07:00

I have been challenged over the past couple of years about where I am spending my money...

'You cannot serve both God and money' - JESUS

2009-06-27T15:26:00.000-07:00

I have just been reading the book of Hosea. Its awesome. Read it.

Love both of these at the moment....

2009-06-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

2009-01-09T15:31:00.000-08:00

'Sometimes I experience God like this Beautiful Nothing,' he said. 'And it seems then as though the whole point in life is just to rest in it. To contemplate it and love it and eventually disappear into it. And then other times it's just the opposite. God feels like a presence that engages everything. I come out here and it seems the divine is running rampant. That the marsh, the whole of creation is some dance God is doing, and we're meant to step into it, that's all. Do you know what I mean?'

Mermaid Chair

2009-01-08T12:42:00.000-08:00

2009-01-08T12:41:00.000-08:00

2009-01-08T12:38:00.000-08:00

2009-01-08T12:35:00.001-08:00

2009-01-08T12:31:00.000-08:00

2009-01-08T12:20:00.000-08:00

2009-01-08T12:18:00.000-08:00

2009-01-08T12:17:00.000-08:00

2009-01-04T05:25:00.001-08:00

This song is one of my ultimate favourites. It is a lyrical blessing based upon an ancient celtic prayer.

Christ be beside me
Christ be before me
Christ be behind me
the King of my heart

Christ be within me
Christ be below me
Christ be above me
He will never depart

Christ on my right hand
Christ on my left hand
Christ all around me
Shield in the strife

Christ in my sleeping
Christ in my sitting
Christ in my rising
Light of my life

Christ be beside me
Christ be before me
Christ be behind me
the King of my heart

Christ be within me
Christ be below me
Christ be above me
He will never depart

Amen

New Year Hopes

2009-01-01T07:19:00.000-08:00

Can't believe it! 2009 already!

Last night just before the clock struck twelve we were discussing our hopes and dreams for the year ahead. I couldn't really think of anything which was really weird for me as usually have I loads. Recently though I believe God has been shaping me and teaching me to trust more in Him. I now refuse to make too many plans. These days I prefer the excitement of not knowing.

This year I don't want security in fact I would be pleased if this year things were constantly changing in my life.

This year I am going to live adventurously. FACT.

I have always loved and embraced change. I think change is important for people. I want to be constantly open to new people, new ideas, new opinions and a changing world.

I think I may have to change a few things this year. Spontaneity is the key yet I have just looked at my diary, its nearly full and we are only on the 1st of January. Great. This is not a good sign.

Busy-ness is not my friend. I really don't like it. To a certain degree it is good but when you have to schedule in times to meet up with friends in a regimented fashion you know you have to cut some things out. This year I think I will have to do that.

Last term I was too busy. If I wasn't running from one meeting to the next, organising endless youth events, going to classes, writing essays, meeting up with people, going for numerous hospital appointments, paying excessive library fines or studying for exams I was slumped on the couch feeling absolutely shattered and wondering what the point was.

This year I need time to be myself. I need time to do what I want. I need time to not be scheduled, I need time to go to random places, I need time to hang out with my best friends, I need time to relax, I need time to reflect, I need time to be creative, I need time to explore new things.

Things need to change this year. Things will change this year I just have to let go.

This year my time will be spent on serving God. Serving God doesn't need to be scheduled. I think for me anyway I serve God best when I have one or two main organised priorities surrounded by a lot of free time. I don't want to have to schedule friends in to my diary. Friendship is worth more than that. It cannot grow from a half hour coffee meeting twice a week. Frienship has to be nurtured and protected. It has to be spontaneous. I need to be available the majority of the time for people who need my help, want to chat, need advice etc.

God has challenged me on this lately.

My first priority needs to be God, I need to examine m heart in everything I do. Sometimes our service to God can be detrimental to our relationship with Him. I heard it said once that 'our problem is not that we take refuge from action in spiritual things, but that we take refuge from spiritual things in action.'

I don't want to be distracted by my 'service' to God that I neglect my relationship with HIm. I want my relationship with him to naturally induce the service. I need an undivided heart that seeks only God,

'Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart.' Psalm 86:11

Faith and works come hand in hand. We cannot have one without the other.

Superficiality is crippling the church. Today so many Christians have sold out to busy Christianity and have said to themselves that it is discipleship even though it is so superficial. We must be aware.

This year I will learn to say 'No'. This is my only new years resolution.

Little Women (1994) - WITH BETH

2008-12-30T10:56:00.001-08:00

Little women

2008-12-30T10:01:00.000-08:00

Today has been a lovley day. You know how some days are just beautiful? sometimes there is no obvious reason for it and it is hard to pin point what it is that has made the day so wonderful. Today has been such a day. Harmony, peace, reflection, goodness and well being have been prevelant.

Today my frineds and I watched 'Little Women' together. It is such an amazing and beautiful story. It was almost as if after watching it my eyes were opened in a way that they perhaps haven't been in quite sometime sadly.

Poetry, art, literature, music and other creative medias strive to provide a moment of enlightenment or understanding. Quite often when I look at a painting I 'understand' after a while of gazing. I can't tell anyone what it is that I understand as I can't explain, yet I understand. The brief moment of realisation is what draws me to art. It is a euphoric enlightenment that captivates my imagination and stirs me to creatvity. It is a connection to the artist and to myself that can be difficult to explain. Art provides a space for clarity of thought and reflection, it provides a way of seeing. George Orwell said 'Good writing is like a windowpane' and I completely agree.

Today however, after watching Little women, my heart swelled. I understood immediately and a rare experince occured. I experienced the feeling of enlightenment, yet it was the simplest of understandings to comprehend. My enlightenment was so simple I can explain it, and the enlightenment was not a mere euphoric glimpse but a sustained, developing thoughfulness.

I have no siblings of my own, I never met my brother James and as I grow older the absence of brothers and sisters in my life causes my heart to ache more and more. When watching little women today at first I was sad when I saw the close friendship each of the sisters shared. My heart longed for the same, the friendship between Jo and Beth particularly touched me. For a while I pondered this and dwelt on the sadness of never knowing my brother. Then all of a sudden something changed in my heart. I thought of my best friends who are those who know me better than I know myself. My most precious of friends are my sisters. Though God hasn't blessed me with blood related siblings he has blessed me with sisters who are as family to me.

The closeness we share is hard to explain but is one of the most beautiful gifts in the world. God has blessed me with the best of friends and I pray that as it says in proverbs I will be the kind of friend to them that 'sticks closer than a brother'.

The gift of friendship is never one to be taken for granted. Friends are precious gifts. As friends we bear each other's load, we share in each other's sadness, we protect each other from the world's evils, we celebrate in each other's joy, we persevere in each other's trials and when we try and express our love for each other words are not enough, neither are actions. Our expression of love is our connection that like the understanding of a painting can often not be expressed in words.

"For when three sisters love each other with such sincere affection, the one does not experience sorrow, pain, or affliction of any kind, but the other's heart wishes to relieve, and vibrates in tenderness... like a well-organized musical instrument." ~ Elizabeth Shaw ~

sisterhood and friendsip are gifts that we should never take for granted. We must never become complacent with those we share our lives with. When we lost our friend James nearly three years ago one of the hardest parts of going through our journey of grief was the fact that none of us got the chance to tell James how grateful we were for his friendship. Yet reflecting back, it is obvious we didn't need to. We all know that each of us treasure each other's friendship though we rarely say it. James cherished our friendship and we cherished his, though words that projected such thoughts were only expressed occasionally the 'understanding' was communal. Words were never and are never required. James Main and James Nelson are in heaven just now where love and eternal brother and sisterhood reign.

Friendship is a gift that relects a little of what is to come. United by the blood of Christ as sisters and brothers we will live in harmony one day soon.

The Well Below The Valley (Magdalene Sisters Intro)

2008-12-28T11:00:00.001-08:00

2008-12-15T11:33:00.000-08:00

2008-12-15T11:31:00.000-08:00

2008-12-06T10:55:00.001-08:00

Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing - Mother Theresa

2008-10-31T08:31:00.000-07:00

2008-09-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

Has your worst fear ever been confirmed to you and all of a sudden your comfortable life is turned upside and shaken within an inch of its life to the point where you ask yourself 'is it even worth it?' or 'whats the point now?'

well that happened to me today. One of my worst fears appraoched me and kissed me on the cheek. It was confirmed or at least it is a great certainty in my life. The word 'great' in that sentence is very much an oxymoron.

It has been one of this days where shock and disbelief have smothered me and the tears have stung my cheeks but I know it could be worse.

What we imagine and dream our life to be is suddenly erased by that grotesque monster otherwise known as reality. Oh Lord thank goodness for Your hope and promises. Without them Lord I would be so lost. Thank you Jesus for
Your comforting arms and Your everlasting love. For my future, for home in heaven.

2008-08-16T05:26:00.000-07:00

Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves. When our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little. When we arrive safely because we have sailed too close to the shore. Disturb us, Lord.

to have the wisdom to love them back

2008-08-15T19:49:00.003-07:00

"you really believe in love then?"

"Yeah...totally, this is a love story that is staggering everybody in the whole world that God really loves us alot....you can wipe my hands on my shirt if you want"

Its ME

2008-08-13T14:18:00.000-07:00

I was begging at your feet-
cap in hand, sweater torn, head bowed
on the cold slabs of Mexico Street.
I cried inside as you walked past.
Where could you be heading?
Stop! Oh please…..not so fast!

Again I saw you that November day,
The snow fell and the wind blew cold
whilst under the bridge I lay,
The couch upon which I slept was damp,
But worse than that - my heart ached with loneliness
To the world and to you I am only a ‘tramp’.

The next time I saw you perhaps you never recognized me.
My face was bruised and swollen,
You stared straight ahead and you didn’t see.
I was cold, hungry and had no where to lie,
Crimson tears rolled into the gutter-
You glanced, looked away and then strode on by.

My dear, dear child – It is me!
Your Father, your saviour, your friend,
It is I who has set you free!
I cry to be shown love, clothed and fed.
Yet where is your compassion and love?
For have been raised with me and are no longer dead!

One day you will meet me face to face,
No longer in disguise,
You will celebrate the greatest love and be in awe of this scandalous grace.
So dear child remember me as I sit in the rain,
Don’t hurry on by without caring and offering help,
For remember love was my mission and love is my name!

I knew she wasnt English

2008-08-12T05:52:00.000-07:00

I knew she wasn't English cause she spoke it far too well,
the grammar was goodly, the verbs as they should be
and the slang was bang on the bell.

And as the language barrier clanged and banged,
I couldn't hear, hear or see.
England, London and Bow,
Crumbling into the sea.

2008-08-09T17:00:00.000-07:00

Inside a painting

2008-08-09T16:43:00.000-07:00

The bench was green and pickered with rust.
We were shackled up against a rail
The air was sweet with song, the choral masters of the forest
serenading the tribulations between the lovers.
Thick paint never understood our emotion,
the realness of our life springing from the canvas.
"Oh capture us our wonderful creator. Your majestic hand rouses us", we cry aloud.
An existence inhabiting one's own imagination .
A memory, a dream, a poem - what a sensual snare the monotony of life can be,
The bench was green and pickered with rust,
Yet we lay on it and laughed,
And as the summer rain poured down
the paint disolved and reality was captured.

a little portion of my London diary

2008-07-30T07:27:00.001-07:00

'.......ten minutes later I emerged from the underground to a street of startling beauty. Misty splotches of diffused light threw feeble spotlights upon London's 'city glitter' or broken glass which lay upon her slimey pavements. Blood pumped from her bohemian heart, trickling through the streets and clinging to the stones and brick walls. As evening fell in and the darkness of night began to descend, London began to iluminate herself against the darkening sky. With just two pounds in my pocket, my camera and my underground ticket I began to explore these mysterious alleyways and side streets..........'

things to do before you die

2008-07-01T16:23:00.000-07:00

ahaha, was clearing out my cupboards this afternoon and found an old jewellery box I used years ago. I opened it up and inside was a piece of folded paper. Out of curiosty I opened it and it turned out to be a list of things I want to do before I die. I remember writing it years ago and it was so funny to find it. I'm going to keep it safe. There are about 100 things on the list. Some of the things on it are cool but some are so random for eg.....

1) own a ring with a sapphire
2) eat curry with my hands like in Pakistan (HA!!)
3) hold a baby monkey
4) Travel to London on a sleeper train
5) Sleep in an igloo

.....ha....what was I thinking?....i was a strange child!

journal entry

2008-06-28T07:02:00.000-07:00

Just found this is a really old journal when I first began to write......

'The red velvet scruffs its' creepy little hairs over my feet. I boke with the sensation. No wonder it is crushed, it deserves such a defeat. The air is damp in the room, like sitting in a cold sauna. Pete Doherty rings in my ears, consuming the decibels in the air. A swallow darts and dives in the setting sky. Like a swift arrow he swoops with concentrated intensity - quite the acrobat. My mind is full of thoughts that I can't express. I've just decided right this second that I'm going to write more - everyday perhaps.'

a strange dinner

2008-06-26T11:54:00.000-07:00

Just eaten dinner. Possibly the strangest meal I have ever had. .....Due to the fact it is my last day in London I refuse to buy any food. Partly because I have no money and partly due to the constant nigglings of my mums previously imparted wisdom or life lessons if you will. That is; never to buy more than you need and never to waste anything that can be used.

Consequently, this is the reason I found myself this evening scouring the barren cupboards for any sign of an edible substance. This morning I emptied most of my kitchen of the crap I couldn't possibly salvage like mouldy butternut squash and sweet potoatoes, transparent cheese - (quite incredible) and an empty milk carton. I then gathered the chosen groceries that were worthy of keeping and put them all together in a plastic bag. In the end I had 2 teabags, olive oil, a tin of sweetcorn, plain cous cous, tortilla wraps, marmalade and 2 petit filous fromage frais.

Its amazing what becomes appealing to you when you have no money and terrible hunger pains. The thought of a tortilla wrap with marmalade was suddenly irresistable. As I ate the tortilla and looked over my bag of possesions I was suddenly aware of my gratefulness to God for his provision. I thanked Him from the bottom of my heart for the tortilla wrap and the marmalade. Feeling somewhat like a tramp with my goods in my bag, I thanked God for what he has provided me with. I felt fully satisfied without a worry in the world. It was a weird moment but made me reaslise something important.

Quite often when we gain more possesions or have more than we need we grow disatisfied, anxious and often covet what other people have. However I feel that in some ways the less we have the more we have. This is a tongue twister but I think that the less we have the more we appreciate what we have. Perhaps this isn't the same for everyone but I know in my case it certainly is. I remembered what George Orwell wrote in his novel Down and Out in London and Paris, one of my favourite books ever. He wrote,
'It is actually true that the less money you have, the less you worry. When you have a hundred francs in the world you are liable to the most craven panics. When you have only three francs you are quite indifferent; for three francs will feed you till tomorrow and you cannot think further than that.'
'but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful' Mark 14:9

Living by faith, that what they call it isn't it? Not planning, not worrying - just serving.

rest

2008-06-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

so this is my first ever blog. Im lying in bed feeling pretty awful. Sore head, flu symptoms etc. Lying here with nothing to do has made me think. Thinking about people who are terminally ill or those have been bed ridden all their life.

I remember reading about a girl of a similar age to myself who was sentenced to a lifetime of lying down due to a severe illness that had destroyed all her muscles and her ability to participate in every day tasks or even to communicate. All she could do was lie in her bed completely dependant on those who cared for her. However, her heart was set on things above, she rebuked any thoughts that dwelt upon self-pity and instead humbly commited herself to a lifetime of devoted prayer. By her bedside was a map of the world pinned to the wall. For the rest of her life she worshipped God by praying fervently with the help of the Holy Spirit for every nation and every race. She prayed with such an intesity of spirit that her face was always radiant, never did she dwell on her own sufferings. She experienced the peace that we know 'passes all understanding' in a way that that blessed GOD, HERSELF and the whole WORLD.

There is something so beautiful about the times when I just rest in God. The times when prayer seems to be present but not in the most literal sense. I don't require words or even thoughts. I just rest in the sublime, ethereal beauty of God's peace. I don't need a sunset or a waterfall to spark this experience. Nor do I require specific music or a blessing to reflect upon. The words 'my grace is enough for you' become so meaningful at times so unexpected when I just seek His face and rest in His peace. The stress of the city, the derelict wasteland, the estates, the gangs, the smack and crack. yes Lord, Your grace in enough. lead me.