Owl-light Studio

For Remembrance Day 2010

2010-11-11T13:24:00.000-08:00

Red Lips are Not So Red

Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O Love, your eyes lose lure
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!

Your slender attitude
Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed ,
Rolling and rolling there
Where God seems not to care;
Till the fierce Love they bear
Cramps them in death's extreme decrepitude.

Your voice sings not so soft, —
Though even as wind murmuring through raftered loft, —
Your dear voice is not dear,
Gentle, and evening clear,
As theirs whom none now hear
Now earth has stopped their piteous mouths that coughed.

Heart, you were never hot,
Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot;
And though your hand be pale,
Paler are all which trail
Your cross through flame and hail:
Weep, you may weep, for you may touch them not.

Wilfred Owen, 1916

Back in the Studio!

2009-12-13T01:44:00.000-08:00

Interestingly (at least to me), I worked in my icon studio for the first time since the summer yesterday and today, and tonight I'm writing on my blog for the first time in forever also! Hmmm.

Well, the pretty good reason for the hiatus was that I was working day and night trying to get our Orthodox home exchange website up and running, which it now is! The link is in the righthand margin if you're interested - it's called Egeria Home and Hospitality Exchange. I won't go into the details here; all the information is on the site itself at egeriaexchange.com.

The picture on this post is a bit of drawing I did for the website - I recently started doing calligraphy with a quill (ie a goose feather cut at the end into an edged nib) and boy, now I know what all the fuss is about. There is nothing like drawing or writing with a quill. I don't know if I can go back to metal nibs. The quill nib is flexible and sensitive to tiny changes in your hand's movement, and enables so much more expression. If you write with a modern metal nib it is nearly impossible to understand how the writing and drawing in the famous manuscripts (eg The Book of Kells) could be so beautiful. With a quill, even if you are not a great calligrapher, it makes a lot more sense.

Anyway, the doodads above were early experiments with the quill. I was replicating some decorations pictured in a book of medieval Russian (although they lump a lot of Armenian stuff in there) manuscript decoration. I love it - it's so fresh and inventive, like so much art from the period. I copied a bunch of these little illustrations and we included them in the Egeria website to add warmth and charm to the look and feel. The idea was one of homeyness and antiquity at the same time, which I liked as being very appropriate for an Orthodox home exchange site!

That done for the time being, I'm continuing work on a largish icon too - a family icon commissioned by a friend as a surprise for her husband. It is quite complicated; a portrait-format board about 14"x 20"with a routed center which is rounded at the top (yes, I will try to post photos at some point) and with generous raised margins. In the routed area are the three standing figures of Sts Peter, Herman and Mary (sister of Lazarus). These are the dad, the family, and the mom's saints, respectively. On the lower margin below are three medallions depicting Sts Finnian, Victoria and Simeon (now some of you will know who this family is. . .shhhh!!!), the three children in the family. These medallion shapes are wreathed with entwined olive branches, a reference to the wedding psalm which says "your children will be like olive shoots around your table." Above the whole group, on the top margin, is the Theotokos holding a protecting veil over the whole composition.

It has taken me a long time to get to where I am now. Namely I 'established' the drawing today and yesterday. This means that I went over the preliminary drawing, which had been put on the gesso with water-soluble pencil crayon, with more 'permanent' egg tempera. I put that in quotation marks because when it is fresh egg tempera is not very permanent, but it's much more so than the pencil, which disappears easily with a little water.

The use of water soluble pencil crayons, especially in a nice sepia colour, is a great trick from my teacher Heather. They allow you to draw fluidly and directly onto the board, which makes the drawing much more alive. Those of you who draw will know that as soon as you attempt to transfer a drawing in some way, something in it dies, no matter how careful your copying or transferring. You do have to be slightly crazy or confident to work a drawing directly onto a gessoed board; I'm a little of both but I always have a lot of studies and preliminary drawings informing the seemingly 'freehand' drawing onto the board. Plus there is always the reassurance that if you mess up at this stage there are fixes in the form of water and sandpaper! Of course for more formal elements, like the olive branches, I have the design carefully worked out in advance. But faces and hands, etc, I prefer to draw in a more immediate way so as not to lose the aliveness.

Anyway, today saw the breaking of an egg, always auspicious in the studio of an iconographer! It means something is getting done. This is the most exciting phase, because you are now able to 'open' the painting, that is, to begin to lay down fields of pale colour and watch the icon begin to take shape and come alive. This process will be especially rewarding in the case of this icon because it was such a complicated icon to compose, and the drawing is, naturally, very detailed.

One other thing I have observed while working today; that is that I am applying knowledge of the end of the process to how I proceed here at the beginning. That is to say, now that I have a bit more experience both in painting icons and in egg tempera itself, I know what things to avoid at the outset, because they will just make life harder down the road.

A good example is drapery lines. When I was more of a rookie, I would establish too many of these lines - that is, lines describing drapery inside the figure, as opposed to the outlines. What I learned later is that as the icon is being painted (as opposed to drawn -- I don't use the term 'written' very much, because it's not very useful in this type of discussion, but that's another post) -- as the icon is being painted it shifts and changes, and decisions you may have made at the drawing stage seem crazy to you now. It is hard to describe. It's like choosing a route by looking at a map, but when you hit the open road you can see a much more beautiful way to go, and you start to take a new route.

The problem is, if you have lain down your lines in egg tempera which has been allowed to cure a bit (ie it's more than a few days old), you are now fighting with these lines even as you are deciding on new lines, because as egg tempera ages it becomes more and more difficult to remove.

This characteristic is wonderful, of course, -- it's what allows egg tempera paintings and icons to last ages and ages, and it's inherent in the very technique of painting with it -- it's what allows for that tremendous subtlety --but it's a problem if you want to change something! You always have the option of sanding lines off, and goodness knows I've done plenty of that, but it's a nuisance to be avoided as it creates dust. Not to mention that any washes or layers of colour you have done over those lines will now be ruined when you have to go beneath to get rid of the lines. If your wash was nicely applied and you like it, having to ruin and redo it can be sad, since it can be difficult to replicate exactly what you did the first time that was so successful!

So all of that laborious discussion was just to say that now as I draw I have all the memory of that stuff in my mind, so I don't bother to establish interior drapery lines until some painting has been done already. It makes life easier all around - flexibility further into the process, and a simpler, faster drawing now!

However: I DO include all those interior lines in the studies and preliminary drawings for the icon, because without them you won't end up with a believable outline. You don't want St Peter to look like he was made with a cookie cutter. Don't ask me what the logic is of coming up with lines at the beginning and then losing them and then finding them again is - maybe it's something you have to do to understand.

Happy St Spyridon's and St Herman's days to those on the new calendar! Glory to God for all things.

Prayers by the Lake

2009-06-24T19:28:00.000-07:00

I first encountered St Nikolai Velimirovich in excerpts read on Ancient Faith Radio, and every time one comes on I drop everything and stare into space listening. He is as fresh as a slap with a fresh thing on a fresh morning.

Recently I was at a Byzantine chant workshop in Dunlap California, where there is a beautiful women's monastery called Life Giving (/Receiving) Fountain. It's a monastery only for beautiful women. They are very strict about that.

Why can't I be serious? Really, what is wrong with me? Okay, but this is about St NV, whose book I found to my total JOY in the monastery bookstore. So now I get to post things of great beauty and profundity on this blog just by opening this book pretty much at random. Here's the first one.

What is clothing worth, if there is no body to clothe? What is the body worth, if the soul is not covered with it? What is the soul worth, if You do not keep vigil in it, like fire in ashes?

My clothing is smoke and ashes, if my body does not give it value.

My beautiful lake is blind mud, if its wide-eyed water is drained from it.

My soul is smoke and ashes, if You, my morning dew, are drained from her.

You write Your name over the ashes of all things, and the flame of Your radiance dazzles the smoke of all things.

Your flame is a dew for the thirsty, who find refuge in your embrace. But your flame is a consuming fire for those who flee from it. Truly, you are paradise for the pure and hell for the impure. . .

Your prophets, O heavenly Mother, were the discoverers of the fire beneath the ashes, who dove into the mouths of volcanoes. Through your boundless mercy you allowed each prophet to discover the spark for which he dove, until all the sparks merged into the blazing conflagration of your Son, O heavenly Mother.

O Lord, you raised up shepherds for every flock, and the shepherds kindled fires for their flocks, lest they freeze on the rugged road of history, leading to a time when the Ultimate Man, the Only Begotten Son, would burst into a great fire and summon all flocks to warm themselves.

Indeed how deeply hidden are all the precious metals -- the eyes of the depths of the earth! Just as you are concealed beneath the ashes of the world, O most precious Stone!

The poor man plows his field and shakes his head when I say to him: "Rich man, deep beneath your barren field lies a lake of molten gold."

Do not shake your heads, impoverished sons of the King, when I tell you that the body is more precious than clothing, the soul is more precious than the body, and the Blazing King is more precious than the soul.

St Nikolai Velimirovich
Prayers by the Lake

2009-05-04T11:19:00.000-07:00

Angels Stages 2

2009-05-04T09:18:00.000-07:00

So here is a detail of one of the Archangels in a beginning stage. After the greenish brown sankir was applied, the drawing lines were reestablished and the facial highlights begun. The lighter skin colour looks patchy, but that was corrected later. Egg tempera can be a little unpredictable -- sometimes that's wonderful, at other times not so much. That is, for a beginner with only eight years under my belt it's unpredictable! But I'm getting a little more comfortable with it every year.

The red you see on the halo and the collar of the angel's robe is underpainting for the gold leaf. Gold leaf is so thin that it's transparent. You can affect the overall look of it by your choice of colour underneath. A good bright red results in a warmer gold once the leaf is applied.

I generally prefer to gild over bole (more on what that is later) -- if you know gilding at all you know why. But because I had not used bole for the Christ and Theotokos icons, I didn't use it for the saints or archangels. I can't remember why I didn't use bole to begin with; it must have been expedience, since gilding with oil size is much faster and easier.

Bole is a clay mixture which goes on wet, dries into a hard surface and provides a slightly raised effect to the gold -- very pleasing to the eye. It also makes a 'cushion' so that the gold can be burnished. Burnishing is basically polishing to a high shine. Up close I think it could be described as sort of 'mashing' the gold flatter so it is more reflective. There's my high tech description. Later I'll describe the whole bole-gilding process, at least as I know it (imperfectly). It's quite an involved thing in itself.

Angels -- Stages

2009-05-02T22:15:00.000-07:00

Christ is Risen!

I'm trying to recover a sense of this blog as my art/ studio/ iconography blog, so I thought I'd put some "stages" photos up of recent projects. The archangel you see here is now completed, along with its companion. To the right you can see the (underpainted) edge of the Christ Enthroned (also completed, a long time ago). The dark yellow is the underpainting for the blue robe. Ultramarine blue cannot be trusted to go onto white gesso on its own. It's hard to explain.

If you are new to icons, the greeny colour of the face and hands is called sankir (gotta look up what that means literally -- never thought about it!) In iconography you work from dark to light, so the faces seem very dark and depressing at first. As you put on the highlights the face comes to life and seems to glow from within. It is a wonderful and humbling process to participate in!

As I look at this drawing it's interesting for me, because I've not seen it without colour for a long, long time. The drawing seems weird and top-heavy, and I'm not sure whether that's the photo, or whether I changed the drawing, or what. I think it's the angle of the photo. Ha ha, no pun intended -- angle. Ouch.

So, in the next while I will put up the photos of the angels completed (and any mid-process photos I find -- there are a few) as well as some more 'stages' photos of my next projects. These are 'secret' commissions by clients for their loved ones, so I have to be a bit cagey about what they are in case said loved ones check out this blog! I also have a Sign icon (more on what that is later) for a dear friend in Fife, Scotland, whom I've not seen in far too long. Could have something to do with her living in Scotland. I will put up some photos of that too, very shortly. The icon, not Scotland. Scotland you need to see in the flesh.

Oh: Dream projects for when I get time, or someone sponsors me to do them, HINT HINT:

St Euphrosynos the Cook for Jamie Oliver (a hero of mine, although I hate cooking. I actually think he is a saint of sorts.)

St Maria Skobtsova (the former atheist) for Ricky Gervais (who said in a podcast that he thought icons were incredibly beautiful -- made my hair stand on end!)

Sts Boris and Gleb AND St George for Mikhail Ryabko (greatest living teacher of Systema -- Russian martial arts -- from what I saw of his home chapel in a documentary that cat needs a few original icons!)

St Vladimir for Vladimir Vasiliev, greatest student of Mikhail, teacher of my teacher!

St Thomas for Fr Thomas Hopko, dear to my heart.

St John Chrysostom for Dr Jeannie Constantinou, my scholar-priest's-wife-kick-ass-take-no-names Scripture heroine!

Whoa, this is way too fun. To be continued!

The Gift of Atheism

2009-04-04T23:10:00.000-07:00

As promised above/below, Fr Alexander Men again. Amazing.

As a result of difficult trials, the Church received a great gift from heaven -- and don't grin, now -- this gift is atheism, wretched atheism and the whole anti-Christian movement.

Only worse things would have befallen the Church if these movements had not occurred, if there had been no atheism. I fear then that the Christian world would indeed have been suffocated, by atheists in the guise of Christians. . .[atheism] is not at all a defeat for Christians. It is a great healing and strengthening force. . .

Of course, it is bad that the churches are closed. Who would say this is good? It is bad from the standpoint of the faithful as well as from the standpoint of the law. But I am convinced that not a single temple was closed without the will of God. Good things were always taken from the unworthy. The history of the Church is that of the Bible, where the covenant prevailed. "I give you life or death" says the book of Deuteronomy, "choose your path." "And don't say 'We have the temple', reminds Jeremiah, " I will destroy the temple, and its ark will not be remembered." It would seem that the temple is the very place of God's dwelling. He chooses it for his own mystical presence, and yet He makes it a place where jackals roam.

Does this apply only to the Temple of Solomon, or to the Temple of Herod II, as well? No, this applies to any place of worship of the God of revelation. It applies to all temples. Of course, without argument, we feel sorrow over the destruction of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. On the other hand, we must admit there was some deficiency in our Christian life which allowed this to happen. . .

Many have fought against atheism. . .what we need more is to do battle with the false Christianity inside each of us, it is much more important because atheism appears as a result of our own unworthiness. Today the Church must hear the call addressed to itself "Physician, heal thyself." I am aware that it's easier to say "We are good, we are the bearers of truth, while they are the bearers of lies; they are the oppressors, while we are the oppressed," and so on -- much easier. In addition, it's enjoyable. Do you understand? Enjoyable! The narcissistic complex is common to all, particularly to the immature. And it's enjoyable to talk about oneself, about one's group, one's community, one's church, one's people, it's enjoyable to talk about what pleases us. But all this applies to the level of immature thought, of immature spirituality. This is easily verified.

Notice what pleasure we derive in criticizing our opponent, even an ideological one.: "How we bashed him!" we say to ourselves. My wish, my sense, is that we need to solve our own internal problems first in order to be able to witness to the world. . .

I think that the Lord God in His pity for us simply doesn't allow us to surface, because we are like nobles who do not know how to use their own wealth, we resemble that miserly ruler who was dying from poverty and hunger, while he had everything.

Fr Alexander Men
About Christ and the Church

Death by Death

2009-04-04T19:11:00.000-07:00

I'm reading the amazing Fr Alexander Men right now -- a small book generically titled "About Christ and the Church", translated by Mark Weiner.

I gather that this book is actually a sort of transcript of secret and highly illegal meetings of Fr Alexander with Orthodox Christians in Soviet Russia. So, filled with the spontenaiety of a modern, brilliant, and utterly courageous mind, the book is in fact anything but generic. Here is an excerpt, and I'll post another one soon (in which Fr Alexander argues that atheism is a gift of God to the Church! Cliffhanger. . .)

No matter where pagan concepts originated, they always had elements adaptable to Christianity, not in a spirit of compromise or expediency, but because of their innate worthiness. If some of our hymns contain echoes of the hymns to Osiris, that only makes me happy, knowing that we have received that eternal intuition of the resurrection which the ancient Egyptian experienced on the shores of his native river. Within the surrounding lifeless desert, he suddenly saw from this clay, this earth, this silt, the rising of first shoots. He saw the sun pulling them upwards and he sang, "Osiris has conquered death by death." And we repeat those marvelous words, the Church adopts them. In the Church there were poets enough to invent something original. But this early Christian sensitivity was an act of reverence, if you will, of love and affection toward the whole non-Biblical world, which we inaccurately call "pagan."

But this is not enough. There is a neutral symbolism -- for example, our painted Easter eggs, our festal foods, all sorts of customs. . .rooted in paganism. They are neutral, yet they are wonderful. Why are they wonderful? Because they are connected with matter, with the world, with nature. Christmas trees, coloured eggs lying in baskets of growing grass -- these things which enter one's soul from childhood are a kind of hymn of nature, related to our understanding of God's presence in the world.

Father Alexander Men

Wendell Berry

2009-01-18T21:20:00.000-08:00

Oh, how I love Wendell Berry. For your enjoyment:

The cult of progress and the new, along with the pressure to originate, innovate, publish, and attract students, has made the English department as nervously susceptible to fashion as a flock of teenagers. The academic "profession" of literature seems now to be merely tumbling from one critical or ideological fad to another, constantly "revolutionizing" itself in pathetic imitation of the "revolutionary" sciences, issuing all the while a series of passionless, jargonizing, "publishable" but hardly readable articles and books, in which a pretentious obscurity and dullness masquerade as profundity.

Lava Lady does Linguistics

2009-01-18T21:03:00.001-08:00

Tonight we were eating spaghetti. We got out the parmesan cheese and a debate began between Heulwen and Ella. Yes, they can get into it about literally anything.

Ella, who can read, said it was "parmesan cheese". Heulwen, who is not quite literate yet, declared that it was "Farmers an' Cheese". (Ew.)

"Heulwen," I said, "that's folk etymology."-- not thinking she was listening at all. Why would she?

A triumphant cry burst from her corner: YAAAY!!! FOLK ETYMOLOGY!!!"

I guess, for her, that inkhorn term settled it. Heulwen one, Ella nil.

Lava Lady on No Sleep

2008-12-20T23:04:00.000-08:00

This picture makes me laugh.

This is us on the way home from Hawaii, tucked into the only cafe open anywhere near the Seattle Clipper terminal at 7 am (which felt like 4 am to us). Look how happy I am diving into that coffee, how utterly spaced out/ miserable Ella loooks. And then, wedged in between -- Lava Lady's hilarious little cookie plate face!

Hahahahhahahahahaaaa!

The Bathroom and the Icon Corner

2008-12-16T10:33:00.000-08:00

I was standing there one night waiting for the toothbrushing extravaganza to be over (our bathroom only accommodates so many bodies, and it was not my turn!) and snapped this. I loved the contrast between the everyday, messy -- dare I say gross -- reality, and the transcendent super-reality around the corner just waiting for us to show up.

This is our holy Orthodoxy -- always patient and ready to receive us into its healing light. Amazing how a little corner in the house like this becomes a complete church in itself; in turn a whole cosmos filled with God's love, embracing all who approach "in faith and love". Our own threshold to Aslan's country.

Right there, next to the bathroom.

Crepe II

2008-12-01T02:06:00.000-08:00

Here's Lava Lady, pre-lava, with the most magnificent crepe. Okay, I'm really going now.

Hawaii -- the Drive Up Volcano -- or, Lava Lady Sees Actual LAVA!

2008-12-01T01:56:00.000-08:00

Rather stupidly, I just created a post about Hawaii and then put it on the wrong blog! It was supposed to be here, and it was all about how I had been putting off posting Hawaii pictures because it was overwhelming for some reason, but how I was just going to start. Anyway, on the Egeria blog there is a different picture. Please visit and lend your support to the Egeria blog, if you would! As Egeria (the website) gets closer to launch, I need all the traffic and publicity I can get. Baby needs new shoes! Seriously, she does.

This is a seriously adorable espresso van at the top of the "world's only active drive-up volcano", outside Hilo on the Big Island of Hawaii. No, really. You drive up it. You park. You get your coffee/water/flashlight from this guy. And you go see LAVA, BABY!

I will tell you more about that when it isn't 1:51 am. Drat, I did it again. . .
I am convinced I have that circadian rhythm disorder where you stay up waaaay too late, but it just feels like everybody else is a big silly baby going to bed too early! If you're normal, it would be as if everyone else went to bed at, like, 6:00 pm or something. Okay, I'm going, I'm going.

An icon of our Canadian saint, Arseny, comissioned by Archbishop Seraphim

2008-08-27T00:30:00.000-07:00

My favourite camp photo

2008-07-19T21:54:00.000-07:00

My godson Luke, preparing antidoron on a straw bale. It just sums up camp so beautifully.

Weird Pascha Picture

2008-07-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

Yep, it's weird, but it kinda captures something, don't you think? One of the side benefits of being a lousy technician photo-wise is that occasionally I end up with something semi-cool through sheer stupidity. I imagine a real photographer would agree with the second part of that statement. . .

I just want to mention a couple of random things. One: I wish I would stop running into that quotation of Oscar Wilde: "I have nothing to declare except my genius". Enough already, I just read your "The Soul Under Socialism" -- I think that's what it's called -- and I have to say the rumours of your genius are mildly exaggerated. I have pinko leanings myself, but honestly, you are making me want to change my mind. . .then again, Wilde was probably considerably younger when he wrote that than I am imagining -- or than I am!? A slightly disturbing thought.

Secondly! Or is it thirdly now. . .let's talk about the word desultory. The last two major books I have read have been written by brilliant contemporary American writers (yes, they do exist): Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides and Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik. At least I think it's Jeffrey in that first one. I claim three-child-induced brain death on that one. Anyway, the thing is that they are under the impression, along with at least half the English speaking population, that desultory means "lazy" or "sulky", or at any rate something related to slow. No! It means jumpy or inconsistent! As in, I do housework in a desultory manner! (Yes, I am sulky, and I am lazy, but those are actually completely different things.) Now, it's one thing to use it wrong in conversation, or even in a college paper. Whatever. But these guys both received major accolades--rightly so--and as I said, are excellent writers. So what gives? PLUS they have editors, who are presumably paid to notice these things! Aaaaaaaaaargh. Okay, I am going to have some chamomile or something now to calm down.

The strange and funny ways of my middle daughter

2008-06-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

Walking with Heulwen and Ella (and Bridget, in the stroller, obviously) yesterday. Somehow we got onto how to say stuff in French, just individual words. In the process I discovered that Heulwen can do a perfect French throaty 'rrrrr' -- that was cool -- and was really into repeating what I said. So then I started feeding her longer phrases and trying to think of sentences (my French n'est pas merveilleux). She asked what 'fox' was, so I taught her to say "J'aime les renards". So she was waking down the street, repeating "J'aime -- les -- renards. J'aime -- les -- renards. J'aime -- les -- renards", like a hundred times. Then she started freaking out because we walked to Gabriela's house to show her how Heulwen could say this and do the great 'rrr' and stuff, and Gabriela was out. Heulwen was worried that she would never be able to remember her little sentence. Poor wee scone. So I said "Don't worry Heulwen, even if you forget it, I won't -- I can just tell it to you again -- or I can write it down for you ".

"But I can't read!"

"You can read a bit, honey -- "

"No! I want to read but I can't read anything!"

"Come on, sure you can. Listen: p-o-t. What does that say? Sound it out, Heulwen."

"ELEPHANT!!!! -- SEE?!"

Then there was the time she was looking for something. I asked what she wanted. A shovel, she says. Why do you want a shovel, I say. So I can take my raspberry plant for a walk.
No, honey, you can't take a plant for a walk. They don't like it, they like staying in the ground where they are.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

For those who don't know Heulwen very well, these were real, heartfelt, bitter tears of sadness. She doesn't do manipulation. Not that helped me at the time. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief.

One more, this time about Ella. This is vintage from four years ago, when Heulwen was a baby and Ella was three. Heulwen's full name is Heulwen Theresa Catherine May.

"Ella", I remarked one day, "Heulwen's name is longer than she is".

Ella: "And thinner!"

Be Careful What You Ask a Baby to Do

2008-06-11T14:41:00.000-07:00

Early this morning I was playing with Tiggy (nearly one year old for those who don't know) and trying to see what she could understand. We know she can 'high five', but it occurred to me: does she understand if I say 'kiss mommy'? Well, sort of -- she kind of leaned forward and snuggled me -- I'll take that. Then I thought, she has to learn to kiss the Gospel and icons, etc. So I grabbed a random book off the bedside table -- Henry David Thoreau's Walden (which, btw, is AMAZING -- far less stultifying than I remembered) and said 'kiss book', not thinking that she would. Wrong -- she totally planted one. So, for our family history -- Bridget's first book that she kissed: not the Gospel, but Walden. I guess it could be worse.

new blog

2008-06-09T16:39:00.000-07:00

Hey guys -- I just started a NEW BLOG for matters and discussion relating to Egeria Orthodox Home Exchange. It's called Egeria Orthodox Home Exchange -- the Blog.

I have to run, but please check back soon and I will have my links sorted out!

Egeria Part 2, or Greyhounds with Credit Cards

2008-06-09T10:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, as I was saying before chronos so rudely interrupted with the whole "it's midnight" thing. . .

Oh! I promised to discuss the membership fee. We're thinking it will be something like 50 bucks (Cdn) for a year and maybe 70 for two years.

Ten percent shoots straight to IOCC -- I will attempt to put a link from my blog to their site if you want to check it out; suffice to say it is International Orthodox Christian Charities, a fantastic pan-Orthodox organization who actually manage to get over 90% of each donated dollar to the people who need help (who are not just other Orthodox, but people of all groups, btw). We may set up another automatic donation (eg to OCMC, Project Mexico, etc) down the road as well, but IOCC will benefit right away. If you are interested, go to the Ancient Faith Radio website where you can listen to an interview on The Illumined Heart with the (very young!) director of IOCC. It's really interesting, and makes you proud to be Orthodox.

There are three other reasons we have to charge a fee.

One: Baby needs new shoes. And an education at some point. Et cetera. In other words, I'm partly in it as a source of income for my family. Also I just really believe in the idea and think there is a real need for it.

Two: It costs time and money to build, maintain and promote a site like this, which in its full form will involve people from all over the world, have an active blog/ forum on travel and related topics from members and general silliness from me, a photo gallery, travel tips and information and maybe even some special deals for members (TBA!)

Three: This concept only really works if you as a member can be sure that everyone on the list is serious about arranging an exchange with someone. There are free sites out there but they don't work because it's too easy to sign on and then forget all about it. If the other members have paid a (modest) fee you know they will actually keep track of offers to exchange and give them serious consideration.

Next Topic: How do we get this baby started?

So here's what I'm thinking. For the three reasons above, especially the third one, we are going to charge you from the very beginning, even though there will not be many folks listed to choose from at first. BUT! This means that either you will be charged well below the 50 mark, or your membership will automatically be extended (perhaps several years), or BOTH. I'm not sure whether we will do this offer for a period of time or until the number of listings reaches a certain level, or what. Keep checking this blog for further updates. No, really, I will post stuff here, and if you're on FB I will mention the updates there. And please, if you are reading this, spread the word! The more listings we have, the better for everybody! The site is not up yet but if we have lots of folks primed like greyhounds in the slips, greyhounds with credit cards, that is, but no pockets so maybe their credit cards are in a little pouch around their necks, then we can really set this thing up!

Which leads me to a question which even now may be playing about your lively minds: Do people really have to be Orthodox for this? Like, will there be a quiz when you sign up? Answer: Not really. It's not some big formal thing, it's more of an ethos. If you're Orthodox, fine. If your cousin is Orthodox, fine. If you once saw an onion dome and thought, "Huh. What the heck is that all about", fine. The idea is that people who are going to be drawn to this club already have Orthodoxy on their radar in some way and they like the vibe. They don't have to be poised to 'convert' or anything. It's more a matter of friendship and a desire to encounter people and life in an authentic way when you travel, instead of being shoved around by tour guides and eating at MacDonalds by the Colosseum. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but only a bit. We had pizza by the Colosseum, but it was flavoured with our lonely tears.

What I mean is that when you arrive you are already part of the community of your brothers and sisters in the faith, who can tell you things that no tour guide or guide book ever would, or not in the same way. For example! We went to Europe a few years ago, and while France and Italy were terrific, Greece was utterly spellbinding. Now, I'm a great fan of Greece as a place, but what really made the difference was that in Greece we knew people. We were shown around, fed, beamed at and generally LOVED by folks whose hearts were practically bursting with pride that we were there to see their world. It was at the home of a friend in Athens that I wondered, in all seriousness, whether you could die from eating too much in one sitting. It was at a church summer camp in the hills of Crete that children gathered around us to show us that when you look up close, cicadas have little smiles on their faces, and the 25-year-old geronda (elder!) from Mt Athos told us that the lore about the chant of cicadas is that they provide the "terirems" (nonesense syllables, like la la las)
along with the chanting in the church. You can't get that stuff by traveling anonymously and enriching the hotel industry! You are not some schmo! You have friends there!

Okay, that will do for now. I have to go subdue my hair and face the day now. I will write again, mes amies! If you're still reading, thanks for hanging in there, and tell your friends!

coming soon. . .egeriaexhange dot com, baby!

2008-06-08T13:11:00.000-07:00

Hey friends in blog land!

I promise some great quotes and silly stories in the days ahead (okay, weeks for you reality-niks)
but in the meantime, some shameless self-promotion. Well, not exactly self, but self's nascent enterprise!

Okay, what am I talking about. It's

Egeria: Holiday, Academic and Pilgrimage Home Exchange --
for Orthodox Christians and their Friends

The concept isn't new -- there are lots of home exchange 'clubs' (so the lingo goes) out there, but this one would be specifically for us Ortho-folk. As Matthew D put it: you never have to bring your icons!

But seriously folks, this is gonna be cool. When Egeria is up and running and has had a chance to get established, you will be able, for a small membership fee (more on that in a minute), to connect with other members all over the world who, like you, want to exchange homes at a mutually agreeable time. This means that, whatever your reasons for traveling, you pay only for the transportation itself -- no hotels, hostels, or paid accommodation of any kind! You save hundreds of dollars a trip; thousands over a few years, depending on how much you take advantage of your membership. Plus instead of just a room you could potentially have an entire house, complete with kitchen, computer, extra rooms, back yard, etc! Some exchangers even swap vehicles, boats, bikes, etc. And maybe best of all, you get to live like a local instead of a tourist -- meet the neighbours, get great advice on day trips, where to eat and shop, what to see, what to skip.

Many people who do home exchanges make lifelong friends on their adventures. This type of travel is also extremely child-friendly (rooms! toys! outdoor space!) and great for people with dietary concerns, since you can do all your own cooking. But the best thing is that at the end of your stay there is no bill.

Members can exchange close to home (eg Vancouver with interior BC, Montreal with Toronto, etc) or internationally; for many months, a couple of weeks or just a weekend -- whatever suits both parties. Possibly clergy can even do exchanges where they serve in each others' parishes -- what is known in some parts as a 'busman's holiday' :-)

The other form this takes is called hospitality exchange. This is where two parties host each other at different times. So, for example, you go hang out with Ioanni in Thessaloniki this September, and he comes to Vancouver in April to hang out with you. This way your host shows you around and you meet a lot of locals, maybe even pick up some language skills, and in an Orthodox context, gain an appreciation for how Orthodoxy looks and feels in other parts of the world.

I know there are other questions to answer about this concept, and I will post again soon with some FAQs about home exchange in general and what Egeria is going to be like. Right now: bedtime, and Love Over Scotland, the new Alexander McCall Smith book! Oh bliss!

Bride by Ella

2008-02-04T14:07:00.000-08:00

I just love this chalk drawing by Ella. I noodled with it a bit for this neat colour/ gauzy effect. Rather fun.

Hey, speaking of brides, congratulations Laurenn and Dave!

Saturday night

2008-02-04T14:01:00.000-08:00

My favourite corner of the house, with the girls' Liturgy clothes laid out for the morning. I just like the mood of this photo.

cool jacket, Tiggy!

2008-01-28T20:28:00.000-08:00

cutest. baby. ever.

2008-01-28T20:24:00.000-08:00

Superlady at Dinner

2008-01-23T21:51:00.000-08:00

At dinner tonight Heulwen looked up suddenly with strands of spaghetti hanging out of her mouth, and so strongly resembled a walrus that I nearly spit out my limeade.

Cat of the Month, Again

2008-01-19T22:47:00.000-08:00

Reviewing I realize that there was no CotM for October or November! Good grief, what a lame blogger I am!

Okay:

October will be St John Velimirovich
November will be hmmmmm let's say the inventor of marzipan (whoever he was), and Marc Chagall, tied

Now we're all caught up.

Cat of the Month Update

2008-01-19T22:41:00.000-08:00

Gotta catch up with my new Cat of the Month feature!

December: Jamie Oliver
January: Ghandi (I didn't say they had to be alive)

Don't know February yet, but I'm open to suggestions.

Wouldn't this make a great calendar? Just totally random and weird.

Water

2008-01-19T22:25:00.000-08:00

Saw Deepa Mheta's stunning film Water tonight. Sad but wonderful. Actually I recommend all her films -- she makes me proud to be Canadian. (Which is nice, since the tasering death of an innocent man at YVR made me ashamed to be a Vancouverite. But that's another post.) Monsoon Wedding is my absolute favourite, but Water comes close.

Anyway, Deepa Mheta is so cool. In an interview she told a story of how a friend in India called her to say that people were burning her in effigy over there after Water came out. Her response: "What is my effigy wearing?"

Hahahahahahaha!

They were burning her effigy, btw, for suggesting in her movie that maybe it's not such great thing to marry off a small girl to some guy and then when her husband dies (in this case she is seven), commit her to an Ashram (basically a prison) for the rest of her life. Go figure! What a crazy feminist!

I know it sounds depressing, but it really is great, with an ending that will leave you with your heart in your mouth. Not literally. That would be gross.

For the Time Being

2007-11-16T11:48:00.000-08:00

--by WH Auden -- is a must-read for all believers in the Incarnation. It's long, it's weird, and it's incredible. I discovered it a couple of years ago and read it every advent now to experience the pleasant sensation of my brain exploding.

Seeing as Advent has just started, I'll give you a taste of the "Advent" section -- here's the first stanza.

FOR THE TIME BEING
A Christmas Oratorio
(1944)

What shall we say then? Shall we continue

in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid.

Romans VI.

I
Chorus

Darkness and snow descend;
The clock on the mantlepiece
Has nothing to recommend,
Nor does the face in the glass
Appear nobler than our own
As darkness and snow descend
On all personality.
Huge crowds mumble --"Alas,
Our angers do not increase,
Love is not what she used to be";
Portly Caesar yawns-- "I know";
He falls asleep on his throne,
They shuffle off through the snow:
Darkness and snow descend.

The Queen and I

2007-09-19T21:54:00.000-07:00

. . .is a book I just finished reading. It's by Sue Townsend, the author of the Adrian Mole books, which are also excellent. Anyway, the back cover promises that it's "laugh-out-loud funny", and in a way it is, but only someone who has never known poverty could miss the whole other point of the book.

The premise is that the monarchy has been abolished and the royal family is sent to live on a council estate. That would be the British equivalent of, I don't know, low income housing in the nastiest part of Surrey, minus the culture and charm. They also have to live on the state benefits -- ie below poverty line, and they can't sell any of their stuff. So they are doing weird things like cutting priceless Persian rugs to fit their tiny rooms, and drinking the cheapest tea out of the best china.

It's amazing how Townsend gets into the psyche of the Queen in such a bizarre scenario and does it so realistically. It's a totally surreal circumstance but treated almost completely straight. The Queen goes through all the sadness, frustration and degradation of a regular poor old woman, and it's all the more melancholy because of what she has lost. But here's the weird thing -- you find yourself sort of rebelling and saying "But you can't expect the Queen to live that way! It's not possible!" But, you realize, she is a human being, no more and no less. So are all the people who really do live that way. Why is it fine for them and not for her, when it comes right down to it? Why should any old lady have to choose whether she has tea to drink today or tomorrow, because she can't afford both? Have to walk miles to the welfare office, because if she takes the bus she won't be able to have bread for the morning? At one point the Queen is trying to decide between Smarties and a Fry's Chocolate mint, and wonders at how she never needed sweets when she was rich, and now she has a strange craving for them. That is so true, and I know why that is -- it's a tiny taste of luxury. It's a little trick you can play on yourself: see, here is something sweet. Everything is going to be alright.

Anyway, a good read; very funny and very sad, just like life.

Ha! I'm back!

2007-09-06T00:43:00.000-07:00

My dear techno-capable husband sorted out whatever was bothering my blog. So now I can write stuff again.

Here's something good: the movie I rented tonight, called The Tiger and the Snow. No, not the lion in winter, not snow falling on cedars, nothing is crouching or hidden or anything. This is a Roberto Begnini film. He is now tied with Harry Connick, jr for my Cat of the Month for September --this will be a new feature on this blog , I've just decided-- Cat of the Month. And no, I'm not talking about the kind that scratch, barf and spray all over the place. Not usually, anyway.

Just for starters: the very opening scene contains an Orthodox bishop, Tom Waits singing and playing the piano, and Roberto in his lily white boxers. All in a bombed out church, or a ruin, not sure which. If that doesn't pique your interest, well, then I'm afraid you are a houseplant.

new support group

2007-04-16T22:20:00.000-07:00

Christ is Risen!

So during Bright Week I had this goofy dream that I established, in all seriousness, a support group for people who /almost/ got to visit Prague and were somehow prevented. I guess we were all supposed to be fairly traumatized by this and needed to talk about it a lot. Now, when I lived in Edinburgh I was in a the U of Edin. choir and we were going to go on a choir trip to Prague, and the organizers raved about how wonderful the city was. My husband and I were too broke, so I couldn't go. I guess it has bugged me over the years more than I thought, because here this dream cropped up, like, 8 years later. I do sort of clench my teeth any time someone goes on about /their/ trip to Prague and how great it is, blah blah.

So I thought it would be fun to establish the Prague Deprivation Support Group (PDSG) for real. Post a comment if, like me, you one time ALMOST went to Prague, but at the last minute or whatever, you couldn't. There can't be many of us, so it should be a nice elite little club.

If you /have/ been to Prague, just go away and tell someone else. I don't want to know about it.

I got nothin' but Super Lady

2007-03-31T21:33:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to say -- how boring is that. I am just trying to keep the ball rolling, especially since I don't intend to blog during Holy Week. That should be an easy resolution for me -- just about my speed.

The only slightly amusing thing I can tell you is that Heulwen, who is now three, has a personal favourite superhero she likes to be named Super Lady. I think that's kind of a scream. I have to stifle my smirks, though, because to her, Super Lady is serious stuff. Today Super Lady and Ella (alter ego name unknown at this point) were in one of their 'lava' episodes -- they have uncommon bad luck with lava, it seems -- and the dialogue went something like this:

Ella: Oh no! Here comes the lava! Run!

SL: Yeah! Here it comes! Let's get up higher!

Ella: It's coming higher now!

SL: Yeah! And I have to pee!

Now that's an issue they never dealt with in Dante's Peak: what if you are facing a pyroclastic flow and you have to pee? Methinks one just goes. Run from lava now, change trousers later.

A footnote: when I was cracking this gem of an anecdote to my husband, I referred to it as "chiroplastic flow"! I thought: that's not right, because I have no idea how I would spell that. He didn't seem to notice, though. Whew.

swiffer and gogol -- part II

2007-03-18T17:30:00.000-07:00

After reading "The Overcoat", I'm mad at Gogol now too.

Consolation: I bought (with my allowance -- the greatest idea if you do your household budget -- let the grownups in the household have a monthly allowance -- it takes the sting out of paying all those boring grownup bills) Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. It's the new edition translated by the dream team of Volokhonsky and Pevear, about whom I've effused in a past post. I actually heard them (V and P) speaking on an Ideas show (CBC radio at 9 on weekdays -- really good) that was all about translation. They were asked what the hardest type of thing is to translate and Richard Pevear said peasant-type dialogue is hard -- which makes sense, and Larissa V said that Russian is full of these crazy (my word not hers) endearments like "Little Dove" and even "Little Falcon". That one kills me, little falcon. Also "little father" and "little mother" for people who -- er-- aren't parents. I noticed that Mitya in Brothers Karamazov was called "little father" (presumably "batushka") a lot, when he was, I understand, neither little nor a father. Discuss. Just kidding. Please don't discuss it.

Anyway, The Idiot is wonderful, and it has a stylish cover to boot -- all kind of cool and edgy. If I weren't a technopeasant I would show it to you, but you'll just have to trust me, or go find it yourself. The book is all about this totally virtuous young man who also happens to be a prince, but to him this seems to be no more interesting or important than having green eyes or a cowlick. I'm only two chapters in and I already just love this character. If you read BK and feel bereft of Alyosha after you're finished, Prince Myshkin is just the ticket. Ah, virtuous men. But I'll stop there.

I'm Back!

2007-03-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

. . .if anyone still cares. I have to work right now (icons and more icons) but I will return later to put up something amusing/interesting/edifying (I almost typed "deifying" -- that would have been a pretty tall order!)

Okay, see you soon, orthobloggers.

Swiffer and Gogol (good fish names)

2006-11-29T21:05:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a totally irrational and long standing hatred of a product? I just realized the other day that I have this /thing/ against Swiffer! The first time I heard of it I thought it was stupid -- basically a paper towel jammed on to the end of a pole. Gross. Okay, then came "Swiffer Wet". Oh great, so now I get to run this thing all over my filthy floor, then pull it off with my bare hands, delightful. Then for some reason I heard this Swiffer ad coming from the other room (even though we gave up tv for Advent, I swear -- oh that's right we turned it on briefly to check the weather report) and I swear I was /heckling/ the ad out loud! Things like "That's so dumb. Just get a mop, moron".

Anyway, this has been going on for years. I should get over it.

Okay, so having absolutely burned through Crime and Punishment (and again I cannot recommend this new translation strongly enough -- will it help to say that this team have also translated Lossky and Schmemann?), I felt I had to continue in the Slavic vein, so now I'm reading Gogol for the first time. Boy, that's what's great about literacy, isn't it? All your life, no matter how ancient you become, even, say, 36, you can still have new experiences without leaving your living room. Anyway, it's this book of his stories called The Overcoat. So far I've just read the first story, called the Terrible Vengeance. It's one of the weirdest and most lyrical things I've read in a long time. It's kind of a scary fairy tale with a hair raising end bit which turns out to be a prequel thing which explains the whole bizarre thing. Check it out.

Then there's the second story -- I can't remember the name -- Somebody and his Aunt -- and I've only read a bit, but it has this great line from the aunt writing to her nephew. It is the ps and has nothing to do with anything:

We have the most wonderful turnip in our kitchen garden. It is not so much a turnip as a potato.

St Barnabas

2006-11-20T20:30:00.000-08:00

two more completed icons, bringing my lifetime achievement up to five!

2006-11-20T20:23:00.000-08:00

Well, here it is at last (thanks, Tab!) -- a photo of my completed St John the Forerunner. And it only took three and a half years! The St Barnabas one is above (if I do this right); I finished that one at the same time. They are now up Island and installed in the new (drumroll. . .) well, read on --

Congratulations to the mission of St Barnabas in Comox, BC, who have completed and moved into their new, purpose built CHAPEL!!!

I can't wait to go see it!

Joy of the Feast to all you Orthobloggers out there.

novemblah

2006-11-19T00:26:00.000-08:00

Actually I'm a fairly happy creature these days, rain and mud notwithstanding.
Really I have nothing to say except hi there, just to break throught the blog-block I have going again.
Just read: Till We Have Faces, by you know very well who. Hadn't read it in a loooong time. Pretty gripping stuff: I am Ungit! Brrrrrr!

Reading now: Crime and Punishment. Have never read it, which is delicious. The last time I had a 'Russian' phase was in oh, 1992. High time for another one. If you want to know, the first couple of chapters constitute one of the most heart-wrenching depictions of what alcoholism does to families in --I'm sure -- all of literature. (Angela's ashes is another, of course.) It is a bracing reminder of one of the functions of literature: to bypass the cliche detectors in your brain and slap it with something as if for the first time. All the AA pamphlets in the world can't shake you the way Dostoyevski does when he drags you into a miserable apartment where children are starving (and then beaten for crying with hunger) and a young woman-- their stepsister -- is forced into prostitution to save them (and then is kicked out of the building for being an 'bad' person) all because their father drinks every bit of money that comes his way.

It sounds wretched, and of course it is, but reading it is somehow wonderful. It helps that the translators of my edition are the exquisite team of Richard Pevear and Larissa Volohonski. If memory serves, Heather (my iconography guru) went to St Vlad's with Ms Volohonski and I think Mr Pevear as well. Cool. Plus the book has a nifty cover design, which always helps.

Okay, off to bed now, mainly so I can read.

hello from your friendly neighbourhood single celled organism

2006-09-29T00:35:00.000-07:00

I don't really have anything to say and it's super late but I am
BUSTING OUT OF BLOG AVOIDANCE!!!! Aiieeeeee heeeeeeeeeheeeeeee!!!

There. Okay, so I've been really busy and I finally finished two major icons for St Barnabas Mission -- the same two you've seen many times in the past in various states good and bad.
I'm pretty happy with how they came out, but can I show you pictures of them? No! Why? Because my digital camera went belly up, that's why! I took some regular photos, so at the rate I do things those should be available about 2025.

So now it's on to the remaining four (two archangels and XC and MP OV enthroned). It's a lot more fun starting these as I am no longer terrified quite out of my mind. Though don't get me wrong -- I feel rather unworthy to even contemplate doing iconography. The deeper I go the deeper it gets and the more like a silly amoeba I feel, but in a good way. Funny how eschewing the fear of doing what you are meant to do actually leads to more joy and more gratitude, and humility (I'm especially proud of that, ha ha) rather than some kind of reckless presumption that you can do this.

Okay, I'm not even sure I'm writing English anymore. Gotta go read Harry Potter until my eyelids collapse. . .

Dubious Deeds

2006-08-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

Is the name of a very funny book by someone named Philip Ardagh. It is the first in a series which is itself a sequel series (lost yet?) about a little boy named Eddie Dickens. The style is hard to describe -- they are set in the Victorian period, but the author talks to you the reader in the present day. Hmm. Better just give you an excerpt and leave it at that.

***

He knew that English Law could be a very slow process. Once a local schoolteacher had tried to sue when Mad Uncle Jack had grown a particularly ugly hybrid vegetable and named it after him. Some gardeners made it their life's work to grow new varieties of flowers and vegetables, with varying degrees of success. Mad Uncle Jack's cross between a pea and some root vegetable or other had come about accidentally and the result looked like a very large, very hard and very knobbly pea; the kind of evil giant pea that would be discovered pulling levers behind a curtain at the end of a film in which vegetables were rising up against their human masters.

Mad Uncle Jack had decided to give a name to this extraordinary new vegetable, which didn't taste too bad if boiled long enough and was served with plenty of salt, ground black pepper and butter. Eventually, he settled on 'Lance Peevance' because, as he later explained in the local court, 'Peevance incorporates the pea element of my triumphant vegetable-child, and it is also the name of that man there,' he paused to point at the schoolteacher who was also in court that day because he he'd brought the legal action against Eddie's great-uncle, 'who bears more than a passing resemblance to it.'

Lance Peevance -- the man not the vegetable -- had, by now, had quite enought of Mad Mr Dickens and tried to make a lunge at him, screaming: 'I'll get you yet, Dickens!' which didn't please the judge.

The judge was already on Mad Uncle Jack's side, as it happened. Although schoolteachers were well-respected members of society and seen as better than scullery maids, for example, they still had to /work/ for a living. Mad Uncle Jack, on the other hand, was a true gentleman /and/ lived up at the big house, which meant that, in the judge's opinion, he should really be allowed to do what he liked and that included calling ugly vegetables after Mr Peevance.

Having said that, both Mad Uncle Jack's and Mr Peevance's lawyers wanted to make as much money from the case as possible, so kept raising very complicated legal objections on both sides
and sending eachother very expensive letters (which their respective clients would, of course, eventually have to pay for).

After three and a half years, judgement was finally passed in Mad Uncle Jack's favour and Lance Peevance was ruined. As a result, he owed his lawyer and the courts so much money that he fled the country disguised as a bag of coal.

On a matter of principal, Mad Uncle Jack paid for WANTED posters to be printed at his own expense. On them was an artist's impression of his own new variety of vegetable, under which were the words:

HAVE YOU SEEN A MISSING SCHOOLTEACHER,
WITH MORE THAN A PASSING RESEMBLANCE
TO THIS VEGETABLE?

As a direct result of seeing a copy of the poster, a Briton holidaying in France later recognized Lance Peevance and had him arrested. Mad Uncle Jack felt that this was proof, if proof were needed, that calling his vegetable child "Lance Peevance" in the first place had been completely and utterly justified.

Innocent

2006-07-14T22:47:00.000-07:00

I don't know whether we will be able to find out whether the child was a boy or girl, but assuming we can't, the baby's name will be Innocent.

This is not because we expected a boy -- my intuition has always been non-existent for these things -- but because a girl could, in a pinch, also be called Innocent, whereas I would not want to land a boy, even a boy in Glory, with "Nina" (our choice if we knew it was a girl).

Innocent fits for many reasons -- what a wonderful saint (Renaissance man in a kayak), and what a good description of the child.

I want to thank everyone for their words and prayers (expressed or not). One great blessing to come out of this experience is that we are left in no doubt that we are loved (a lot!), and that this community of the Orthodox Church in BC and beyond is really filled with light, life and the Holy Spirit. I am just completely humbled and honoured to be part of it.

Drop Everything

2006-07-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, listen up homies. My friend Susan the Scottish Siren (hi Susan, ya like that?) alerted me to this blog and if you

A) Love yourself even a little bit

and

B) Have had even the teensiest exposure to Middle English

you must drop everything, stick your hypothetical kids in front of something fascinating on tv (it can have violence, inappropriateness of all kinds, trust me, you won't care), go to the bathroom (Susan's advice, and it was good) and GET yourself to houseoffame.blogspot.com! Aka "Chaucer's Blog".

Oh, my goodness, so funny, so verray verray funny. If I weren't so hungry I would write out a few lines but you will just have to check it out yourself. Click on the classic posts on the left hand side. I am halfway through his "outline" for the Canturbury Tales and I had to drop everything and tell you about it. See how much I love you?

PS I would just link the Chaucer blog to mine like a normal person, but guess what? I am a huge technopeasant and I /don't know how/! Is that sad or what. I would learn more computer stuff but I guess when it comes down to it I just don't care enough. Hey! Are you still reading this? Stop it! Get to House of Fame before I come through your computer and rough you up! Is that possible?

Ice Window

2006-07-11T13:33:00.000-07:00

Something cool to look at in the middle of summer. This is something Ella made back in February by putting water in her wheelbarrow and floating garden things in it. It froze solid and we took it out and took pictures of it. Note: crocuses in February!

A sad event: since I announced my pregnancy on this blog I guess I better also let you know (if you don't already) that on the night of Thursday July 7 I miscarried. We will be naming the child and I will let you know when we finalize the name -- no jokes this time.

Memory Eternal, little child of God.

Heulwen

2006-06-25T00:46:00.000-07:00

2006-06-25T00:36:00.000-07:00

Here is my St Arseny nearly done -- I have since finished it. I changed the lettering to all red (not the scroll but the title) because it looked too gimmicky with that alternating red and brown thing. I like subtle variegations in lettering colour; this was too obvious.

Ahhh. . .

2006-06-25T00:31:00.000-07:00

This was my view from my studio in Oregon (I was there for a week in May -- it was great). The ocean was 1/2 a block away and the beach was sandy and HUGE! All I could do not to run out there all the time, except I am not a sun person and it was pretty blinding out there, so that was fine. As if that made any sense.

A detail

2006-06-25T00:29:00.000-07:00

. . .of St John's robe

getting there. . .

2006-06-25T00:26:00.000-07:00

They're still not done, but I'm inching closer. . .
St Barnabas' robe will get a couple more veils and will not be electric green in the end.

I'm really looking forward to doing the sandals -- Heather agrees that it's like saving a special treat until you've had all your vegetables. If you draw or paint you probably understand this too.

Good Advice

2006-06-25T00:17:00.000-07:00

Never moon a werewolf.

(I can't remember who said that; wish it was me)

Before and After

2006-06-12T23:52:00.000-07:00

My husband took these shots of the kids and Uncle Rocky (the one who looks like King Edward the abdicator-guy) in the morning on the way to Liturgy and then after. . .pretty funny. He tried to take an after-shot of me: pretty unfunny. That was nearly the end of the camera.

I'll take "How to Make a Priest go Broke" for a thousand, Alex

2006-06-12T23:49:00.000-07:00

Ella

2006-06-12T23:44:00.000-07:00

Just a sweet bedtime scene. . . she insisted on holding up her book for you to see.

Howdy strangers

2006-05-31T22:19:00.000-07:00

Okay, I don't really have anything to say but I need to break my weird thing I have against my blog these days (could it be -- I have other things to do!?)

In case anyone is still out there, and apparently Seraphim is (hey there), okay: here's a thing to read. Read The Brothers K by David James Duncan; it's one of the best-written and entertaining and moving books I've ever read from any period in any language. Okay, I only read English, but that's not the point. How can you deny a book that encompasses the following phrases?:

1) lolloping mutants
2) Mmmm! Yak butter!
3) The oracle demands your exhausted crustaceans.

Don't you just have to read it to know what the heck?

And the locations. Washington State, Viet Nam, Vancouver Island, and India. Go figure.

Okay, I have to go watch me some Lost (got it on dvd, addicted, MUST know what happened to Claire before I can go on in life).

Seacrest out.

PS. Oh yeah, I'm having another baby. Top names we're considering:

Boy:
Shecky
Mo
Narthex
Thomas Kincaide, painter of light
Killer

Girl:
Heavenly Haraani Tiger Lily
Lakota
Cardamom
Sheena
Hwin

There, now you don't have to ask!

wonderful wonderful magazine called beyond (don't hold the slightly hokey name against them -- you gotta see this thing of beauty)

2006-03-29T22:26:00.000-08:00

Matthew Francis (hi Matthew) was just here in Victoria, which was great, and he left a stack of 'beyonds'. He seems to be a regular contributor to this worthy publication since these two issues both had pieces in them by him. It's eclectic, beautifully illustrated and designed, ad free (!!!), Canadian, deep, and in places hilarious. The two issues Matthew left also happened to contain interviews with Bruce Cockburn and Jane Siberry respectively, both of whom I happen to have practically revered since birth/age 14, respectively. I haven't gone to their website yet (am about to do so as soon as I finish this) but I'm assuming it shatters previous categories of cool as well as does the publication itself. If not, subscribe anyway and help a very very Good Thing continue. My stars, it's good -- www.beyondmag.com --go there or be square.

Okay, now for a Something. Until I think of a good name for the kind of thing I post, that's what it'll be called. This Something is shamelessy stolen from issue 13 of beyond (their lack of capitalization, not mine, so don't bug me about it).

Broken-hearted:

We really cannot undertake to advise you as to what is your best course. Yours is a peculiar case. It is rare for any one person to be simultaneously threatened with epilepsy, deserted by an affianced lover after the banns have been published, bitten by a dog, which had been rendered insane by being led about by a string, expelled from her lodging for non-payment of rent and thrown out by an active volcano. These events do not often happen together. Do not, at any rate, return the presents you lover gave you. If we were in your place we should convert them into cash. Then you might take out a County Court Summons against the owner of the dog, also the volcano, and have something left over for a Breach of Promise action.

Punch, 1887
Dear Worried Violet
Rosemary Hawthorne

and there's this Something for my fellow film lovers -- again, stolen:

The most beautiful films are those which one hasn't seen.

--Bernard Eisenschitz
quoted in Film Journey: Confessions of a Cinephile
by Doug Cummings (also issue 13)

Okay, I'm off to explore, and to catch up on what's cookin on my favourite blogs! Cheerio.

Elinor Wylie

2006-03-03T21:20:00.001-08:00

I hereby swear that to uphold your house
I would lay my bones in quick destroying lime
Or turn my flesh to timber for all time;
Cut down my womanhood; lop off the boughs
Of that perpetual ecstasy that grows
From the heart's core; condemn it as a crime
If it be broader than a beam, or climb
Above the stature that your roof allows.
I am not the hearthstone not the cornerstone
Within this noble fabric you have builded;
Not by my beauty was its cornice gilded;
Not on my courage were its arches thrown:
My lord, adjudge my strength, and set me where
I bear a little more than I can bear.

From "One Person"

I have loved this exquisite sonnet for many years now. I don't know anything about the poet or the work it is apparently excerpted from, but wow is this woman a deep thinker, and can she ever write! It is such a perfect poem to express a woman's service to God. And an architecture theme to boot!

coal

2006-02-16T13:45:00.000-08:00

The Seraph could not touch the fire's coal with his fingers, but just brought it close to Isaiah's mouth: the Seraph did not hold it, Isaiah did not consume it, but us our Lord has allowed to do both.

St Ephraim the Syrian

Okay, more moderns.

2006-02-13T09:49:00.000-08:00

Chagall!
He said some good stuff.

I am against the terms 'fantasy' and 'symbolism' in themselves. All our interior world is reality -- and that perhaps more so than in our apparent world. To call everything that appears illogical, "fantasy," fairy tale or chimera -- would be practically to admit not understanding nature. . .

. . .please defend me against people who speak of 'anecdote' and 'fairy tale' in my work. A cow and a woman to me are the same -- in a picture both are merely elements of a composition. In painting, the images of a woman or of a cow have different values of plasticity, -- but not different poetic values. As far as literature goes, I feel myself more "abstract" than Mondrian or Kandinsky in my use of pictorial elements. "Abstract" not in the sense that my painting does not recall reality. Such abstract painting in my opinion is more ornamental and decorative, and always restricted in its range. What I mean by 'abstract' is something which comes to life spontaneously through a gamut of contrasts, plastic at the same time as psychic, and pervades both the picture and the eye with conceptions of new and unfamiliar events. . .
*****

Now Kandinsky! His thoughts about children's art I find especially poignant -- make sure you read to the end:

Here lies the explanation for the marked effect of a child's drawing upon the impartial, the untraditional observer. The practical-purposeful element is foreign to the child since he looks at each thing with unaccustomed eyes and still possesses the unclouded ability to register the thing as such. Only later does he slowly begin to become familiar with the practical-purposeful element through many and often sad experiences. Thus the inner resonance of the object reveals itself of its own accord and without exception in every children's drawing. The adults, especially the teachers, endeavor to force the practical-purposeful element on the child and criticise the child for his drawing, even from the shallow standpoint: "your man cannot walk because he has only one leg," "One cannot sit on your chair, since it is crooked," and so forth. The child laughs at himself, but he ought to cry. . .

. . .the talented child also has, aside from the ability to do away with the external, the power to clothe the remaining internal into a form in which it appears most strongly and effectively (so to say, it "speaks"!) [-- this makes me wonder whether Kandinsky wrote anything about iconography --JH]

. . .for every glowing, there is a cooling off. For every early bud -- the threatening frost. For every young talent -- an academy. These are not tragic words but a sad fact. The academy is the surest means of ruining the above-mentioned force of the child. Even the very great strong talent is more or less held back in this respect by the academy. The weaker talents go to ruin by the hundreds. An academically educated person of average talent distinguishes himself by having learned the practical-purposeful and by having lost the ability to hear the inner resonance. Such a person will deliver a "correct" drawing which is dead.

If a person who has not aquired any artistic schooling-- and is thus free of objective artistic knowledge -- paints something, the result will never be an empty pretense. Here we see an example of the inner force which is influenced only by a general knowledge of the practical-purposeful.

Since, however, the use of even this general knowledge can only be made to a limited extent, the external is also done away with (only less that with the child, but to a great extent) and the inner resonance gains in force: not a dead thing comes into being, but a living one. Christ said: "Suffer the children to come unto me, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven."

*****

So Kandinsky reveals to me why I have always been spellbound by children's art, folk art, and drawings by people who 'can't draw' and those by handicapped people. They have this force which I am awed by and which I cannot reproduce because I'm tyrannized, as are most of us, by a long immersion in the 'external'. I'm not just saying this -- I mean that I have actually tried to draw like Ella -- even just a bit like her --and can't. It is literally impossible, at least for now. Awhile ago an aquaintance asked me how Ella's drawing was coming along and I said that she was better than I am, and that I really, truly, envy her ability. Fortunately this friend is also an artist with a healthy respect for the moderns, so he knew what I meant, where most people would not believe me, or would think I was one deluded doting Mama. At the time I only dimly understood my own mind on this; reading Kandinsky (why oh why has it taken so long?) I am realizing more what I have been mentally groping toward. By gum, I think I'm modern!

Picasso! Kandinsky! Compassion!

2006-02-05T16:12:00.000-08:00

I bought a book at James Bay Coffee and Books today called Theories of Modern art. Okay, sounds boring, right? WRONG! I am ecstatic! I just pulled it off the shelf to have something to flip through while I drank my got-through-the-Liturgy-without-selling-Heulwen-to-black-marketers reward (coffee -- what else) and it was one of those books you want to walk up to total strangers with and smack them on the head and say "Listen to this! You are going to sit there while I read you excerpts from this and you are going to /like it/, mister!!!"

Then I remembered that that is what my blog is for. . .mwah hah hah hah hah!

Anyway, far from being dry-as-dust theorizing by an individual 'expert', it is chocolate-box of writings from the actual modern art demi-gods -- Picasso, Van Gogh, Picasso, Matisse, etc, -- themselves! And here's the thing that I am so excited about: they write like they paint. It is so fresh and colourful and profound and in your face it just is going to make my brain explode. Now sit still like a good critter and dig some text-only Picasso (Matisse and Kandinsky to follow later):

***************

Do you know when I painted my first guitars I had never had one in my hands? With the first money they gave me I bought one, and after that I never painted another. People think that bullfights in my pictures were copied from life, but they are mistaken. I used to paint them before I'd seen the bullfight so as to make the money to buy my ticket. Have you really done what you planned to do? On leaving your house, do you not often change your route without thinking about it? Do you cease to be yourself on that account? And do you not get there anyhow?And even if you don't, does it matter? The reason is that you didn't have to go in the first place, and you would have been wrong to force destiny.
An idea is a beginning point and no more. If you contemplate it, it becomes something else. What I think about a great deal, I find I have always had complete in my mind. How can you then expect me to continue being interested in it? If I persist, it turns out differently because a different matter intervenes. As far as I am concerned, at any rate, my original idea has no further interest, because while I am realizing it I am thinking about something else.
The important thing is to create. Nothing else matters; creation is all.
Have you ever seen a finished picture? A picture or anything else? Woe unto you the day it is said that you are finished! To finish a work? To finish a picture? What nonsense! To finish it means to be through with it, to kill it, to rid it of its soul, to give it its final blow: the most unfortunate one for the painter as well as for the picture.
The value of a work resides precisely in what it is not.

*************

the weather

2006-02-04T17:34:00.000-08:00

Come on, come on wind and rain
I know the sun will shine again
Till then my lady and my lord will keep me sane. . .

Bruce Cockburn
My Lady and My Lord

It's Hegel time

2006-01-30T20:54:00.000-08:00

Well, and Goethe and another guy, but they're connected.

Against the great superiorities of others
There is no remedy but love.
--Goethe (later quoted by Hegel)

Is it possible to know and doubt simultaneously?
That, Hegel tells us, is what knowing in the fullest possible sense really is.
--Frederick G. Weiss

And now the man himself in a lengthier passage; stay awake now, it's worth it:

Time was when man had a heaven, decked and fitted out with endless wealth of thought and pictures. The significance of all that is lay in the thread of light by which it was attached to heaven; instead of dwelling in the present as it is here and now, the eye glanced away over the present to the Divine, away, so to say, to a present that lies beyond. The mind's gaze had to be directed under compulsion to what is earthly, and kept fixed there; and it has needed a long time to introduce that clearness, which only celestial realities had, into the crassness and confusion shrouding the sense of things earthly, and to make attention to the immediate present as such, which was called Experience, of interest and value. Now we have apparently the opposite of this; man's mind and interest are so deeply rooted in the earthly power that we require a like power to have them raised above that level. His spirit shows such poverty of nature that it seems to long for the mere pitiful feeling of the divine in the abstract, and to get refreshment from that, like a wanderer in the desert craving for the merest mouthful of water. By the little which can thus satisfy the needs of the human spirit we can measure the extent of its loss.
--Phenomenology

2006-01-28T22:19:00.000-08:00

arty birdies

2006-01-28T22:15:00.000-08:00

explanation below

2006-01-27T20:44:00.000-08:00

Another arty shot. . .

2006-01-27T20:36:00.000-08:00

. . .from the other day, exploring Saanich with the kids in foul weather. We had a surprising amount of fun, thanks to this farm which had a cool animal-visiting area for the kids (utterly abandoned except for us) in which were two bubblegum machines (outside! in the middle of the animal pens!) which -- oh rapture -- sold not bubblegum but goat and duck treats! Then even cooler -- there was this little pulley system which the kids could work themselves which featured a little 'delivery truck' and you put some food in there and winch it up to the goats' upper level!It was neato! I guess you will have seen a pic of that 'above' since I am going to put one up after this. Here I go to do that. Weird.
Unfortunately, I didn't think to get a shot of the whole system. Too busy being arty. Sigh.

Hmmm!

2006-01-27T18:09:00.000-08:00

I opened a poetry anthology at complete random for something to go with this image (an experiment in -- whatever) and I'm not kidding you -- this is what I saw first:

. . .a deep radiance lay
Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps
Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass
Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue
Through the late twilight. . .

That's Coleridge, This Lime Tree Bower My Prison
(has anyone since the 19th century read this poem?)

I like the lines a few steps on:

Henceforth I shall know
That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure;
No plot so narrow, but be Nature there,
No waste so vacant, but may well employ
Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart
Awake to love and beauty!

A couple of things

2006-01-25T21:37:00.000-08:00

I've been a bit lackadaisical (sp?) about the ol' blog lately and thinking I can't be really bothered anymore -- at least not on a daily basis. I have a lot of stuff to do, and there are a lot of great blogs out there to read so I will perhaps just post every week or so now, if that. Any less and I will probably just can it altogether. This is not me feeling all glum or anything -- just that life is so full and I have a lot of other very good ways to use my limited energy!

Anyway, enough of that: here are some nice snippets from my Christian Imagination book.
Oh, just before that: where I said 'snippet' there -- I know that is an annoying word, but have you noticed that EVERY word for something small is annoying!? Here are the others I considered and rejected:
morsels (yuck)
tidbits (totally unacceptable)
bits (er. . .)
bon bons (retch)
quotes/quotations (can't stand either word, don't really know why)
sushi rolls of thought (what the!?)

So you see it could have been much worse. Maybe just 'timbits' would be good. Very Canadian, not too serious . . .

Okay, let's try this again.

A well-known writer got collared by a university student who asked, "Do you think I could be a writer?" "Well", the writer said, "I don't know. . . Do you like sentences?"

Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

It is easy to forget that the man who writes a good love sonnet needs not only to be enamoured of a woman, but also to be enamoured of the Sonnet.

C.S.Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost

Memory Eternal

2006-01-17T23:02:00.000-08:00

The father of my dear friend Gregory Scratch, the priest John Scratch, died in Ottawa in the early hours of Sunday January 15, 2006.

I remember him mostly by voice, since we used to talk on the phone whenever he called Greg at our shared house in Vancouver. I was puzzled at first at why someone I had never met, living all that distance away, would ask to converse with me merely because I was a pal of his son. After a few talks I gave up wondering and just accepted his love -- for that of course was the reason -- a broad mind and a huge heart. I never got to know him very well, and we met in person only once, but these characteristics of openness and good will are, in my experience, reflected in all his children -- who dropped in and out of Vancouver to visit their dear big brother fairly often. (A favourite moment from one visit was the younger John Scratch acquiring a beer for himself in a restaurant -- even though he was only about 15 -- because he looked the waitress right in the eye and requested a "Czechoslovakian Pilsner"! That, I thought, as the drink was duly delivered, was style.)

I envied my friend his large and loving and funny family. But the more Orthodox I have met in my life the more I have come to realize that Matushka Suzanne and Fr John were in a sense the parents of an even larger family -- the archdiocese of Canada. I know I felt that parental tenderness even at such a distance; how much more so those close to them. And now Fr. John will be missed keenly along with his wife. God grant that we complete our race with even a portion of the love, humour, and yes, even style, of those beloved and loving god-parents in Christ.

God, lover of souls, swaying considerate scales,
Complete thy creature dear O where it fails,
Being mighty a master, being a father and fond.

(from In the Valley of the Elwy --Gerard Manley Hopfins)

Finally Flannery

2006-01-12T23:12:00.000-08:00

First I should mention that this is from a great anthology of essays and excerpts on the subject of literature and Christianity called "Christian Imagination". It's edited by Leland Ryken and includes writings by Denise Levertov, CS Lewis, Francis Schaeffer, Luci Shaw, George Macdonald, Tolkien, Chesterton, TS Eliot, Peter J. Leithart, Chad Walsh and my latest discovery, Janine Langan of the University of Toronto, among others. I picked it up on sale at Regent College and I have spent many happy hours in it so far. It's a nice source of Good Thoughts on the relationship between art and faith, or whatever you want to call that mystery --usually whenever I hear about it my eyes start to roll upward from the cliche of it all, but nearly everything in this book is fresh and real. Not least, of course, St. Flannery. So, fighting the temptation to write out the entire essay, here's a delicious bit of Novelist and Believer:

At best our age is an age of searchers and discoverers, and at its worst, an age that has domesticated despair and learned to live with it happily. The fiction which celebrates this last state will be the least likely to transcend its limitations, for when the religious need is banished successfully, it usually atrophies, even in the novelist. A kind of reverse evolution takes place, and the whole range of feeling is dulled.

The searchers are another matter. Paschal wrote in his notebook, "If I had not known you, I would not have found you." These unbelieving searchers have their effect even upon those of us who do believe. We begin to examine our own religious notions, to sound them for genuineness, to purify them in the heat of our unbelieving neighbour's anguish. What Christian novelist could compare his concern to Camus'? We have to look in much of the fiction of our time for a kind of sub-religion which expresses its ultimate concern in images that have not broken through to show any recognition of a God who has revealed himself. As great as much of this fiction is, as much as it reveals a wholehearted effort to find the only true ultimate concern, as much as it in many cases represents religious values of a high order, I do not believe that it can adequately represent in fiction the central religious experience. That, after all, concerns a relationship with a supreme being recognized through faith. It is the experience of an encounter, of a kind of knowledge which affects the believer's every action. It is Paschal's experience after his conversion and not before.

Bliss and something amusing

2006-01-12T20:12:00.000-08:00

The bliss part is it is only 8:00 and my kids have already been asleep for over half an hour. Time to par-tay!

The amusing thing (yes, I will get to Flannery, but after this -- keep your hair on) is a dialogue from one of The Daily Show's interviews (one of the few things in the universe worth watching on the evil box). The scenario is that there is a town in Texas that just sold its name to a satellite dish company -- that is, it changed its name from "Clarke" to "Dish" in exchange for everyone in town getting a free dish. That actually happened.

So on the show (if you haven't seen it, it's a VERY clever satirical news show) they dispatch one of their 'reporters', Ed Helms, to act as a buffoon who can't see what the big deal is, and he interviews the local beard and tweed sporting bleeding heart intellectual, here abbreviated as BHI:

Ed: I guess I just don't get what the big deal is. TV is great! (I'm paraphrasing a bit, obviously)

BHI: Well, it's just that there are a better thing to spend money on in this town than satellite dishes.

Ed: Name one problem your town could have that can't be solved by TV.

BHI (already looking bewildered) Ummm -- education!?

Ed: The Learning Channel.

BHI: Proper policing!?

Ed: Law and Order.

BHI: Okay, I have a good one. Garbage removal.

Ed: Oscar the Grouch.

BHI:(pauses) What?

Ed: Oscar the Grouch! He lives in a trash can, eats all the trash -- it's how he survives.

BHI: But what does that have to do with --

Ed: He can eat all the garbage!

BHI: No. . . no, he can't eat the plastic (clutches head) -- I can't believe I'm having this conversation!

One of the interesting things is that the Daily Show is the ONLY thing I have ever seen on TV that points out how stupid and stupefying TV is. There is a creepy conspiracy of silence about TV addiction -- I doubt there's ever been an Oprah about it, despite it being a HUGE problem in our society. Okay, enough soapbox. I have a few things to do, then I'll come and put up that Flannery thing.

Back to work

2006-01-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

Okay -- thanks guys. I was taking a Christmas/New Years/ Old calendar Christmas/Theophany break, heh heh. I guess taking a break through OC Theophany would be pushing it. Ella is clamouring to do video games (viz Elmo on the sesame street site, etc.) at this moment but watch this space for a most excellent post from a Flannery O'Connor essay -- soming soon to a blog near you!

Ella drawing in church -- Bishop Lazar was visiting

2005-12-21T11:13:00.000-08:00

The Cultivation of Christmas Trees

2005-12-19T12:29:00.000-08:00

The Cultivation of Christmas Trees

There are several attitudes towards Christmas,
Some of which we may disregard:
The social, the torpid, the patently commercial,
The rowdy (the pubs being open till midnight),
And the childish -- which is not that of the child
For whom the candle is a star, and the gilded angel
Spreading its wings at the summit of the tree
Is not only a decoration, but an angel.
The child wonders at the Christmas Tree:
Let him continue in the spirit of wonder
At the Feast as an event not accepted as a pretext;
So that the glittering rapture, the amazement
Of the first-remembered Christmas Tree,
So that the surprises, delight in new possessions
(Each one with its peculiar and exciting smell),
The expectation of the goose or turkey
And the expected awe on its appearance,
So that the reverence and the gaiety
May not be forgotten in later experience,
In the bored habituation, the fatigue, the tedium,
The awareness of death, the consciousness of failure,
Or in the piety of the convert
Which may be tainted with a self-conceit
Displeasing to God and disrespectful to the children
(And here I remember also with gratitude
St. Lucy, her carol, and her crown of fire):
So that before the end, the eightieth Christmas
(By 'eightieth' meaning whichever is the last)
The accumulated memories of annual emotion
May be concentrated into a great joy
Which shall be also a great fear, as on the occasion
When fear came upon every soul:
Because the beginning shall remind us of the end
And the first coming of the second coming.

T.S. Eliot

Time for more Ruskin -- earthy stuff

2005-12-14T21:43:00.000-08:00

A lovely passage for any geology fans out there. . .

But there are three kinds of earth which, in mixed mass and prevalent quantity, form the world. Those are, in common language, the earths of clay, of lime, and of flint. Many other elements are mingled with these in sparing quantities, but the great frame and substance of the earth is made of these three, so that wherever you stand on solid ground, in any country of the globe, the thing that is mainly under your feet will be either clay, limestone, or some condition of the earth of flint, mingled with both.

Nature seems to have set herself to make these three substances as interesting to us, and as beautiful for us, as she can. The clay, being a soft and changeable substance, she doesn't take much pains about, as we have seen, until it is baked; she brings colour into it only when it receives permanent form. But the limestone and flint she paints, in her own way, in their native state: and her object in painting them seems to be much the same as in her painting of flowers; to draw us, careless and idle human creatures, to watch her a little, and see what she is about -- that being on the whole good for us, -- her children. For Nature is always carrying on very strange work with this limestone and flint of hers: laying down beds of them on the bottom of the sea; building islands out of the sea; filling chinks and veins in mountains with curious treasures; petrifying mosses, and trees, and shells; in fact, carrying on all sorts of business, subterranean or submarine, which it would be highly desirable for us, who profit and live by it, to notice as it goes on. And apparently to lead us to do this, she makes picture-books for us of limestone and flint; and tempts us, like foolish children as we are, to read her books by the pretty colours in them. The pretty colours in her limestone books form those variegated marbles which all mankind have taken delight to polish and build with from the beginning of time; and the pretty colours in her flint-books form those agates, jaspers, cornelians, bloodstones, onyxes, cairngorms, chrysophrases, which men have in like manner taken delight to cut, and polish, and make ornaments of, from the beginning of time; and yet so much babies are they, and so fond of looking at pictures instead of reading the book, that I question whether, after six thousand years of cutting and polishing, there are above two or three people out of any given hundred who know, or care to know, how a bit of agate or a bit of marble, was made, or painted.

Mead

2005-12-02T22:22:00.000-08:00

Perusing a little book we have called Honey for something to post, I guess because honey is on my mind and currently in my tea. It's a sweet, meditative little book (by Isha Mellor). It's all lovely, but for some reason I will excerpt the section entitled Mead:

There's the clip clop of horses on the sunhoneyed
cobbles of the humming streets.
Under Milk Wood
Dylan Thomas

Mead has been brewed worldwide since very early ages, and was probably the tipple of Dionysius or Bacchus before the cultivation of the vine. The various mythological connections of bees with the immortals would have caused beverages made from honey to be important, even sacred, to be used in offerings and libations to the gods.

In Ancient Greece the mead drink was known as Hydromel , and it had the happy property of being able to disperse anger, sadness, and afflictions of the mind. Other honey beverages were known as Ompacomel, which was made with fermented grape juice and honey; Oenomel, from pure grape juice and honey, Conditum, which was honey mixed with wine and pepper, and the famous Oxymel, made from honey, vinegar, sea salt and rainwater. The main ailments these were used to alleviate were those of a rheumatic nature. The well-known honey vine of Ancient Rome was Muslum, and Russia was famous for its Lipez. [I have absolutely no idea what that last sentence means -ed.]

Chaucer's mead was called Piment or Clarre, a mixture of honey, wine and spices. Piment was popular with kings and nobles. Morat was another liquor of this type, and it contained mulberry juice. Mead in the 16th and 17th centuries in England was a beautiful pale gold colour and it sparkled like champagne.

The name for mead seems to vary little throughout the world. In Germany it is called meth, in Greece methu, in India madhu, and in Lithuania medus. In Old Irish it used to be called mid.

[Actually this means the word and the substance it represents are old indeed; the reason they are so similar is that the word goes all the way back to Indo-European, a hypothetical language that existed before it split into the most ancient forms of Sanskrit, Greek, Celtic, Germanic, etc, producing cognates like mead,meth, methu, madhu, medus, mid, etc. Wow! --ed]

Here come the men in black!

2005-12-01T22:43:00.000-08:00

Ooh! Who are those cool guys?

er -- can't think of one (a title that is -- why do they have to stress you out with these little requirements?)

2005-11-29T23:22:00.000-08:00

A really cool photo (from an article in the Georgia Strait a couple of years ago) of my beloved brother, the actor, comedian, writer and generally Good Thing, Dylan. Hi bro.

Oh by the way

2005-11-29T23:13:00.000-08:00

Isn't this a great photo of Vladika Seraphim? How come I've never seen that kickin' red mantia? Huh?

More comic goodness from 1066: this time a test

2005-11-29T22:29:00.000-08:00

Test Paper I
Up to the End of 1066

1) Which do you consider to be the more alike, Caesar or Pompey, or vice versa? (Be brief.)

2) Discuss, in latin or gothic (but not both), whether the Northumbrian Bishops were more schismatical than Cumbrian Abbots. (Be bright.)

3) Which came first, A.D. or B.C. ? (Be careful.)

4) Has it never occurred to you that the Romans counted backwards? (Be honest.)

5 How angry would you be if it was suggested
(1) That the XI th Chap. of the Consolations of Boethius was an interpolated palimpsest?
(2) That an eisteddfod was an argricultural implement?

6) How would you have attempted to deal with
(a) The Venomous Bead?
(b) A Mabinogion of a Wapentake? (Be quick.)

7) What would have happened if (a) Boadicea had been the daughter of Edward the Confessor? (b) Canute had succeeded in sitting on the waves?
Does it matter?

8) Have you the faintest recollection of
(1) Ethelbreth?
(2) Athelthral?
(3) Thruthelthroth?

9) What have you the faintest recollection of?

10) Estimate the average age of
(1) The Ancient Britons.
(2) Ealdormen.
(3) Old King Cole

11) Why do you know nothing at all about
(a) The Laws of Infangthief and Egg-seisin?
(b) Saint Pancras?

12)Would you say that Ethelread the Unready was directly responsible for the French Revolution? If so, what would you say?

N.B -- Do not attempt to answer more than one question at a time.

Bells

2005-11-28T11:07:00.000-08:00

I didn't take this photo, but I like it.

The Elizabethan age -- from a delightfully demented source

2005-11-24T11:15:00.000-08:00

Chapter 33

Elizabeth

ALTHOUGH this memorable queen was a man, she was constantly addressed by her courtiers by various affectionate female nicknames, such as Auroraborealis, Ruritania, Black Beauty (or Bete Noire), and Brown Bess. She also very graciously walked on Sir Walter Raleigh's overcoat whenever he dropped it in the mud and was, in fact, in every respect a good and romantic queen.

Wave of Beards

One of the most romantic aspects of the Elizabethan age was the wave of beards which suddenly
swept across History and settled upon all the great men of the period. The most memorable of these beards was the cause of the outstanding event of the reign, which occurred in the following way.

The Great Armadillo

The Spaniards complained that Captain F. Drake, the memorable bowlsman, had singed the King of Spain's beard (or Spanish Mane, as it was called) one day when it was in Cadiz Harbour. Drake replied that he was in his hammock at the time and a thousand miles away. The King of Spain, however, insisted that the beard had been spoilt and sent the Great Spanish Armadillo to ravish the shores of England.

The crisis was boldly faced in England, especially by Big Bess herself, who instantly put on an enormous quantity of clothing and rode to and fro on a white horse at Tilbury -- a courageous act which was warmly appluded by the English sailors.

In this striking and romantic manner the English were once more victorious.

The Queen of Hearts

A great nuisance in this reign was the memorable Scottish queen, known as Mary Queen of Hearts on account of the large number of husbands she obtained, eg. Cardinale Ritzio, Boswell, and the King of France: most of these she easily blew up at Holywood. Unfortunately for Mary, Scotland was now suddenly overrun by a wave of synods led by Sir John Nox, the memorable Scottish Saturday Knight. Unable to believe, on account of the number of her husbands, that Mary was a single person, the Knight accused her of being a 'monstrous regiment of women', and after this brave remark had her imprisoned in Loch Lomond. Mary, however, escaped and fled to England, where Elizabeth immediately put her in quarantine on the top of an enormous Height called Wutheringay.

As Mary had already been Queen of France and Queen of Scotland many people thought it would be unfair if she were not made Queen of England as well. Various plots, such as the Paddington Plot, the Threadneedle Conspiracy and the Adelfi plot, were therefore hatched to bring this about. Elizabeth, however, learning that in addition to all this Mary was good-looking and could play on the virginals, recognized that Mary was too romantic not to be executed, and accordingly had that done.

*****

(exerpted from 1066 and All That by W.C. Sellar and R.J. Yeatman)

Next post: a quiz.

Nice

2005-11-23T15:28:00.000-08:00

I found this photo in my files today and I have to say I love it. Van, coffee cup, lovely facial expression -- pretty much sums me up! The location: Stanley park.

Fr Tom on education

2005-11-23T13:33:00.000-08:00

I love this passage from the first section of Fr Hopko's recent book Speaking the Truth in Love:

Men and women who are truly theologically and spiritually educated reveal a boldness born of humility, a confidence tempered by tentativeness, a speech generated by silence, an apology inspired by charity. They resist premature closure of complex issues and superficial answers to complicated questions. They know how to live with ambiguity as they give, with meekness and gentleness, an account for the hope that is in them. They speak the truth in love with an enlightened zeal that prevents them from replacing God's righteousness with a righteousness of their own. They evangelize without seeking to convert . They witness without seeking to win. They teach without desiring to dominate. They testify to truths in which they delight and find life, whatever the cost of their convictions, because they simply cannot do otherwise. And they have infinite respect for everyone and everything.

Remembrance

2005-11-21T13:58:00.000-08:00

I meant to post this poem for Remembrance Day but I was so busy around that time that I didn't get to it. It's Stephen Spender's "I Think Continually of Those Who Were Truly Great". The title is a poem in itself and good advice for us Orthodox re the saints. . .

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields,
See how these names are feted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.

(1936)

Icon course II

2005-11-16T23:02:00.000-08:00

Puddlepuddlepuddle

goofy

2005-11-16T22:49:00.000-08:00

Okay I couldn't resist this fun shot of the girls at Ella's school Hallowe'en party. The fish don't seem impressed. . .

Go Seraphim!

2005-11-16T22:45:00.000-08:00

Abba Paaaaaaaaaam-bo
Abba Paaaaaaaaaam-bo
Abba Paaaaaaaaaam-bo

another angle

2005-11-16T22:44:00.000-08:00

pics from the coffee house

2005-11-16T22:41:00.000-08:00

coffee house decor -- the theme was of course autumn, but also 'asymmetrical'

a pumpkin with an agenda

2005-11-16T22:37:00.000-08:00

back fence

2005-11-09T22:32:00.000-08:00

A night picture of some messing about with chalk I did on the garden fence, fixed up by the miracle of technology (snort). Kind of a neato image. . .the quote is from Dylan Thomas' 'Poem in October'.

hey there

2005-11-09T22:14:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note to let my friends I am still alive!
We have been soooo busy with the Icon Workshop II and then the coffee house in rapid succession -- at least it seemed rapid. Great fun though -- here is a really nifty shot (by Christian, I believe) of decorating for the coffee house. The ping pong room has never looked so hip, that's for sure. I will post other pics of the night when I get the chance, but I am off tomorrow for a few days on the Mainland.

Traherne again

2005-10-09T23:28:00.000-07:00

I'm becoming a Traherne junkie. I can't believe this guy -- I'm actually speechless. I'm not even sure what to say here. Just read this. Then read it again. Oh, my.
****

TO LOVE one person with a private love, is poor and miserable: to love all is glorious. To love all persons in all ages, all angels, all kings and all peasants, and every person in all worlds with a natural intimate familiar love, as if Him alone, is blessed.

This makes a man effectually blessed in all worlds, a delightful lord of all things, a glorious friend to all persons, a concerned person in all transactions, and ever present with all affairs. So that he must ever be filled with company, even in the midst of nations, ever joyful, and ever blessed.

The greatness of this man's love no man can measure; it is stable like the sun, it endureth forever as the moon, it is a faithful witness in Heaven. It is stranger and more great than all private affections. It representeth every person in the light of eternity and loveth him with the love of all worlds. With a love conformable to God's, guided to the same ends and founded upon the same causes. Which however lofty and divine it is, is ready to humble itself into the dust to save the person beloved. And by how much the more glorious and sublime it is, is so much the more sweet and truly delightful. Majesty and pleasure occuring together.

Traherne
The Fourth 'Century', number 69

***

I mean -- !!!!!!!
And there's a ton more where that came from. But I have to sleep at some point. Goodnight.

Traherne

2005-10-04T22:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, friends, this night I have discovered Thomas Traherne, and you should too. His "Centuries, Poems and Thanksgivings" (two volumes) have been on our shelves since December 1996 (this I know from the inscription, as the books were given to us by our dear friend Anastassy Brandon Gallaher, to whom hello if he should read this, and thank you!) Amazing what you can find if only you look with fresh eyes at your own bookshelves. Anyway, enjoy these excerpts from the "Centuries" (since I have only been an ardent lover of Traherne for about 45 minutes, I have yet to discover why these little writings are called 'centuries', but it sounds cool anyway) -- I have modernized the spelling from its 17thc form in order for that distraction to be removed (tons of capital letters all over the place; that kind of thing) and the angelic writing to shine through:

This is very strange that God should want, for in him is the fulness of all blessedness: he overfloweth eternally. . .it is incredible, but very plain: Want is the fountain of all his fulness. Want in God is a treasure to us. For had there been no Need he would not have created the world, nor made us, nor manifested his wisdom, nor exercised his power, nor beautified eternity, nor prepared the joys of heaven. But he wanted angels and men, images, companions. And these he had from all eternity.
(First Century, #42)

The brightness and magnificence of the world, which by reason of its height and greatness is hidden from men, is divine and wonderful. It addeth much to the glory of that temple in which we live. Yet it is the cause why men understand it not. They think it too great and wide to be enjoyed. But since it is all filled with the majesty of his glory who dwells in it: and the goodness of the Lord filleth the world, and his wisdom shineth everywhere within and about it. . .we need nothing but open eyes to be ravished like the cherubim.
(First Century, #37)

They are deep instructions that are taken out of hell, and heavenly documents that are taken from above. Upon earth we learn nothing but vanity. Where people dream, and loiter, and wander, and disquiet themselves in vain. . .but do not profit becase they prize not the blessings they have received. To prize what we have is a deep and heavenly instruction. It will make us righteous and serious, wise and holy, divine and blessed. It will make us escape hell and attain heaven.
(First Century, #50)

From that wonderful, strange little book, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

2005-09-24T09:17:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you will ask me, "Why are there no other drawings in this book as magnificent and impressive as this drawing of the baobabs?" The reply is simple. I have tried. But with the others I have not been successful. When I made the drawing of the baobabs I was carried beyond myself by the inspiring force of urgent necessity.
***
"Children", I say plainly, "Watch out for the baobabs!"

Auden

2005-09-20T21:18:00.000-07:00

Great art is clear thinking about mixed feelings.
W.H. Auden

Young existentialist girls

2005-09-19T11:43:00.000-07:00

Have you been in the bookstore and wondered whether the Ladies' Detective Agency books (Kalahari Typing School for Men, Tears of the Giraffe, etc) by Alexander McCall Smith are any good? Well, they are. Here's a brilliant passage from the third in the series, Morality for Beautiful Girls. If you are short on time or have a weevilesque attention span, just read the last terrifically tongue-in-cheek paragraph on 'existentialism':

Mma Ramotswe knew that there was a great deal of debate about morality, but in her view it was quite simple. In the first place, there was the old Botswana morality, which was simply right. If a person stuck to this, then he would be doing the right thing and need not worry about it. There were other moralities, of course; there were the Ten Commandments, which she had learned by heart at Sunday school in Mochudi all those years ago; these were also right in the same, absolute way. These codes of morality were like the Botswana penal code; they had to be obeyed to the letter. It was no good pretending you were the High Court of Botswana and deciding which parts you were going to observe and wich you were not. Moral codes were not designed to be selective, nor indeed were they designed to be questioned. You could not say that you would observe this prohibition but not that. I shall not commit theft -- certainly not -- but adultery is another matter: wrong for other people, but not for me.

Most morality, thought Mma Ramotswe, was about doing the right thing because it had been identified as such by a long process of acceptance and observance. You simply could not create your own morality because your experience would never be enough to do so. What gives you the right to say that you know better than your ancestors? Morality is for everybody, and this means that the views of more than one person are needed to create it. That was what made the modern morality, with its emphasis on individuals and the working out of an individual position, so weak. If you gave people the chance to work out their morality, then they would work out the version which was easiest for them and which allowed them to do what suited them for as much of the time as possible. That, in Mma Ramotswe's view, was simple selfishness, whatever grand name one gave to it.

Mma Ramotswe had listened to a World Service broadcast on her radio one day which had simply taken her breath away. It was about philosophers who called themselves existentialists and who, as far as Mma Ramotswe could ascertain, lived in France. These French people said that you should live in a way which made you feel real, and that the real thing to do was the right thing too. Mma Ramotswe had listened in astonishment. You did not have to go to France to meet existentialists, she reflected; there were many existentialists right here in Botswana. Note Mokoti, for example. She had been married to an existentialist herslf, without even knowing it. Note, that selfish man who never once put himself out for another -- not even for his wife -- would have approved of existentialists, and they of him. It was very existentialist, perhaps, to go out to bars every night while your pregnant wife stayed home, and even more existentialist to go off with girls -- young existentialist girls -- you met in bars. It was a good life being an existentialist, although not too good for all the other, nonexistentialist people around one.

2005-09-18T14:56:00.000-07:00

Awww