Paul Chambers

(time: canon 30D)

success is not measured by what we bring, but rather by what we leave

tonight I can’t get this poem by my dear friend Stewart Henderson out of my head;

‘And this is what we leave behind
The leaking tap, the unquiet mind
The cuckoo clock, the après ski
The black fly ravaged lilac tree
The horoscope, the eBay find
This is what we leave behind

And this is what we do not take
The funeral service and the wake
The christening shawl, the driving test
The semi that was repossessed 
The x-ray and the Dundee cake
This is what we do not take

And this is what will be no more
The hospice and the hasty law
The routine morning after pill
Montrose 1 Dumbarton 0
The hamster cage, the exit door
This is what will be no more

And this is what we’ll lay to rest
The polished regimental crest
The blossom days, the stricken nights
Gocloma and the Blackpool lights
The cystic unexamined breast
This is what we’ll lay to rest

And this is what will be put away
Countdown, thrush and Santa’s sleigh
The Oscar speech, invaded lands
Vasectomies, the marching bands
The hawkish Independence Day
All this will be put away

And this is what we leave behind
The leaking tap, the unquiet mind
The gossip and the misery
The laudatory obituary
The ending of the word…declined
This is what we leave behind…’

Ordinary is very pervasive, but I like a God who dwells there – a God who inhabits ordinary people, ordinary places and ordinary situations…

This is Stewart and I at Greenbelt a few years ago. 

(Judea: Canon 20D)

‘There’s a loneliness inside her, and she’d do anything to fill it in. And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now, it feels like cold blue ice in her heart….when all the colours mix together to grey.’
(Dave Matthews Band)

I started blogging really for a way of finding therapy for my soul…so today, I preach to myself, my soul if you like. knowing that if i listen closely, if i have the courage to do so, i just may see the divine, and in seeing the divine, i may see others as i should, as they really are…. i may just also see myself. 

the trouble is, am i willing to see the truth of who i am, the real me? for the reason i don’t stop most of the time is because i do not want to see who i am – that person who lurks beneath…

they say the truth sets you free, 
hmmm, 
it also breaks you to pieces

‘if i stopped

if i was quiet for a minute
if i was calm
if i was still

if i turned everyone down
if i switched everything off
if i ceased looking everywhere all at once
if i was silent
if i was still

if i stayed at home
if i didn’t pick up the phone
if i was out even when i was in
if i was silent
if i was still

if i slowed
right 
down

if i simply sat
here
there
anywhere

if i stood on my head
and emptied out the contents

if i stopped

would you be there
would you speak to me
would i be able to hear you
would it be worth it?

if i stopped
would it be long enough?

if i was silent
would i hear anything?

if i heard something 
would i know it was you?

if i did
would i be interested?

if i was
would i stop again?’

(Martin Wroe from ‘When You Haven’t Got a Prayer: A journalist talk to God’)

(gates of time: canon 20D)

“Lost in love and found in reason 
Questions that the mind can find no answers for 
Ghostly eyes conspire treason as they gather just outside the door 
And every ghost that calls upon us brings another measure in the mystery 
Death is there to keep us honest and constantly remind us we are free

Down the ancient corridors, through the gates of time 
Run the ghosts of days that we’ve left behind…”
(Dan Fogelberg 1951-2007): Ghosts 

I’ve used these words before and i guess i’ll use ‘em again – tonight (this morning even) they seem, for some reason, to resonate with how my soul feels.

(dew: Canon 30D)

is both a major and a minor key….

(coming down: Canon 30D)

I try to follow the path of heart. In the darkness, my interior world consumes and the reverie begins. It is this dream world that I travel in, to uncover inner landscapes and internal rhythms, to create kin with the magic of words… that’s the idea anyway.

(Boardwalk, Asbury Park: Canon 100)

‘There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by’. Annie Dillard

A friend was talking about the work of Annie Dillard this weekend and i had forgotten how good she is – a artist oozing wonder and beauty – a truly gifted writer who notices small graces and the big impact they leave if we would only try and notice ourselves…in truth sometimes we have to look with more than our eyes….

….here’s what i mean ‘I open my eyes and i see dark…i close my eyes and i see stars, deep stars giving way to deeper stars, deeper stars bowing to deepest stars at the crown of an infinite cone. “Still,” wrote van Gogh in a letter, “a great deal of light falls on everything.” If we are blinded by darkness, we are also blinded by light. When too much light falls on everything, a special terror results.’ (Taken from ‘Pilgrim at Tinker Creek’)

(reflections: Canon 30D)

… there was a very wise old man whose advice was sought from all corners of the kingdom. A young and jealous prince set out to humble the old man. “I will go to the sage with a bird in my hand and ask him if it is alive or dead,” he decided. “If he says it is alive, I will crush the bird in my hand and kill it. If he says it is dead, I will open my hand and let it fly away.” The smug prince travelled many days, and eventually arrived at the old man’s humble house. “Tell me, old man, is this bird alive or dead?” he asked. The stooped prophet looked into the man’s eyes, and said quietly, “The answer lies in your hand.”

(Patterns; Canon 30D)

i had been an admirer for many years, and then thanks to a dear friend, I met him, in london town – we became brothers in alms and i now call him friend and love him and his family dearly. they continue to be a great strength and inspiration in my life…

We stopped talking, Lord.

I was used to rolling with the punches and I have always sensed you there

Then I took the knock-out punch…and you stayed silent

I was brought up with Mahalia singing, ‘His eye is on the sparrow

And I know He’s watching me’ – and then the eye was not there.

My youngest son going through operation after operation

And in the deepest pain he cried out -

In the night he cried out – and you were not there

We had told him you would be with him

Through the struggle – not to solve it

Not to take away the pain but you would be the companion

But he said, ‘I cried out and no one heard me

There is nothing and no one there.’

Even that was not my final straw – something further went wrong and I broke

I remember the moment – in the lift -

When I said. ‘You have made my life a mockery

I thought we had a deal – maybe even a covenant

But you were not there.’

So I stopped talking to you… for months

Two can play at silence

I walked into the desert alone – I walked the Mile End Road alone

Between home and hospital

My Jewish friends argue with you more – I learned from them

Where were you in the valley of the shadow?

Where was the rod and staff when we needed it?

(Garth Hewitt – holy dreams to feed the soul: SPCK, available from Amos Trust)

(Questions: Canon 30D)

What burdens can you not let go of?

How do children view you?

Who tells you the truth?

Who can’t stand you?

To explore who we are becoming must be done non-exploratory. Take a little time for your heart from the kinetic force field of your life…

“Dig yourself, Lazarus, dig yourself” (Nick Cave)

(flowers grave: canon 30D)

I walked through the cemetery yesterday with a falling of [rare] fresh snow… I thought this image was beautiful. These words of my late friend accompany the photograph well me thinks…

‘Beauty does not linger, it only visits. Yet beauty’s visitation affects us and invites into it’s rhythm, it calls us to feel, think, and act beautifully in the world: to create and live a life that awakens the Beautiful.’ (Father O’Donohue)