My Second Love

I just read a post from Darryl's blog - about a Henri Nouwen video we watched t'other week at YAGs. Don't worry, I seldom actually visit TYC. I read it on Facebook so he doesn't get my hits...

Anyways. It was a really inspiring video and reading that post reminded me of what I had gotten from it, not to mention the pretty cool realisation I made after, so I though I would share. Some of you may know all too well what I am talking about and for others it will be nice and vague - the vagueness is sufficient for the example and, if you do understand all too well, I don't suppose it matters.

When I went to Paris in October and watched the Rugby World Cup final I had a pretty fun time. There's a few legendary stories - see here for example - but the real clincher for me now, I must admit, is the way in which God spoke to me. [This comment reminds me of the thing Sara said t'other day about what my parties are likely to turn into. A recent incident that only confirms the journey of my reputation down the plughole was when my visiting friends wanted to watch one of the infinite sky channels on my ginormous TV that I seldom-to-never watch. They switched it on and it was showing The God Channel... saaaaaaaad.]

Getting off the tangent. God talked to me there about love and how we need to love each other and ourselves and that all love comes from Him and it is His love that we are ultimately seeking. There is more to this I know, about loving God back for example (see Darryl's post - I am trying to move away from the competitiveness a little now it's an official grace killer. If it's on the list I MUST obey...) but at the time I was in a place (spiritually that is) where I didn't know what I believed and could not really understand the idea of loving God, let alone all that Christian jazz. So He gave me some survival tips and a real experience of His love for me. All this hapened in Paris, the City of Love, speaking the Language of Love and in the Sacré Coeur (sacred heart). The symbolism was not lost on me and it felt like I was having a romantic weekend away with God.

Anyway. The thing from Henri? Well if you are a regular reader (one of 4) you may have noticed that one of the things I have been learning about is God being my first priority, not letting man distract from Him and making sure that I put my trust and hope and love into Him. It's taken me a while since Paris, I still have a long way to go and He has made it pretty clear that until I can be wholly into that there is not going to be space for anyone else on my life. We're talking about boyfriends in case you hadn't picked up on that. When I was traveling in June I did a lot of learning about this (there was a pretty cool analogy, that I wrote about here, from Budapest). Henri phrased it in a fabulous way: "God is your First Love and man (relationships of all kinds) is your second. If you look in your second love for what you can only find in your First then you will crash." (That's not a direct quote but its close.)

I already knew this but it was good to be reminded and hear someone else put it so well. Then, when we were in the tea shop after YAGs (it gets worse and worse, we used to go to the pub), talking ont I realised sommat cool as an extra.

Here goes with the necessary personal detail. When I was in Budapest I was inadvertently a bit preoccupied with a certain "second love". God was pretty clear to me on what He thought (I realised a little too late) but these things can take over and, well, the days that followed were pretty chocka of visuals and lessons which I made some mention of at the time but did not give all the context. Now you have it you can reread through new eyes (which you will of course now do...).

God really speaks to me when I travel. Symbolism is cool and I love how using different cities He says different things. I can't wait to work out the significance of Bristol...

Geneva's easy: the motto is "post tenebras lux" - after the darkness, the light; Paris: city of love; Budapest? Well, people call it the Paris of Eastern Europe and at the time I could not help but think 'oooh, this is the encouraging love symbol for the certain preoccupation'. Eh Eh. (supposed to be a sound effect from a quiz show, did it work?) That Tuesday 2 weeks back I suddenly realised....

...Budapest does represent the preoccupation (I think from now on whenever I fancy someone I will refer to them as my preoccupation!), just not how I was looking at it. The Second City of Love, or perhaps rather City of Second Love by it's very name is akin to what M Nouwen described. It also has a real history of violence and corruption - the damaging potential of human love. It is love but it is the kind Henri warns of: not perfect, certainly not enough and with the propensity to go horribly wrong if that is where you are storing your treasure.

Now for the thing that was OVERWHELMING cool, as I was sitting in Kafé Deko talking myself hoarse: check out what I bought in the second hand shop in Budapest...

(It's mirror image but I can't flip it)

Even looking for the wrong type of love, in the city of the wrong type of love, I found (as God so graciously revealed Himself) perfect Parisian Love to take away with me - in the shape of a very cool retro compact mirror. It may have taken a while to realise but I was carrying it around all along.

Ooh ooh ooh! Last thought. If the sunglasses I lost (see this to understand) are the second love, they give a tinted view of the world. The mirror, the First Love, reflects a perfect image of who I am. There has to be something deep in that. I can't believe I'm now glad I lost them! Lol... too true...

Sorry it's such a long message. I just though that those that appreciate this kind of thing probably like the details too. That and I can't help myself!

I left my hearts in Budapest...

...and other random observations.

My trip had been going well, fabulously in fact, until I got to the Budapest train station. Whereupon, though do this day I do not know why or how, something went terribly wrong: I lost my heart-shaped sunglasses. All I know is that I had them before I got on the train but during the course of my journey realised they were no longer there. Gutted. Foolish, much?

I loved those glasses. They stood me in good stead all winter long in the ski season...

(With Caro the day I went skiing without being able to ski and God had to help me down the mountain!)

...and then became my firm friends in the summer too. I have a real thing for heart-shaped stuff and these were far from the exception - they were the fulfillment of my deepest desires! Lol.

I tried to buy them again but they were not in the shop. Then I mentioned to someone today that I had lost them and I was reassured with a "They have them in Topshop, they're everywhere in England, you are sure to be able to find them again". Not cool. TOPSHOP! Do they know what they are telling me? Every 'Rah' from Bristol to Edinburgh (though they're called 'Yahs' there) will be sporting a pair.

The thing is, I am obviously a fashion snob. I bought them in C&A for about 20CHF and I loved them for the kitsch value but even more so for the fact that they don't have that shop back in the UK. The look had not made it to the high street. What can I say? My spiritual gift is accessorising and I take is seriously. C&A is a pretty random shop you know. Some good value, some tat, some regular gear... and then there is the religious body jewelry. Many people ask me how I find my outfits. Shopping, it's a skill; you either have it or you don't I think. However, sometimes it just seems anointed. Yesterday I found a belly bar with a dove of peace dangling from it. Complete with olive branch. Divine inspiration, much? Especially as I have really been feeling God talk to me about peace a lot recently and I think it is a key theme of this summer.

So, in respect of this I donned the dove and went out in the sun today to enjoy it. First time swimming in the lake! I went with dear Zoe and Sara joined us later. It was ace. Some of my highlights include the fact that Z is afraid of 'dark water' and, well, swimming away from the rocks even 3 feet! This became more of a problem when I learned she was also afraid on my behalf. No swimming for Kat(i)e! Still, splashing about was a LOT of fun so I didn't mind. Also, that girl is incredibly funny; if not a little gross. An example is in the following conversation:
"I think I need to pee" - Z
"Well will you go over there to do it then" - K
"Oh Kate... It's too late!" - Z
Darling. Maybe you had to be there... or perhaps not!
Oh, and the thing to fear, apparently, is the currents. The late is full of giant raisins just waiting for you to stumbling into their shadowy lair. Priceless.

My favourite moment, however, was when Z said I looked like someone famous when wet. Random to say the least (especially when said person is Natasha Beddingfield's younger sister?!) but hilarious was Sara thinking that the answer was Jason Donovan! She quickly covered with it being because I was wearing a rainbow coloured bikini with golden trim (I wore my bikini, with golden edging [aha-ah], bright colours wedging [ah-a!]...). I am still a bit insecure though.

So. Think that is it on the random. I just wanted to honour the glasses really as they were sorely missed today.

One last thing, related only because it too was a picture I took on my mobile phone. Rastadog:


I wonder how Wendy would feel about dreds?

Ciao Ciao!

David is...

in Vienna! So, yeah, David is the guy who has so generously allowed me to stay in his place these next 2 nights. We last hung out 6 years ago; and by hung out I mean shared the same lift to school and I was incredibly scared of him - older, meaner and cooler than I knew how to be! So it proves pretty interesting to be getting to know each other. Already impressed him with the fact that I used to leave the car and get on a bus in the opposite direction to go shopping in London! Oh for simpler times...

Thus far I am pleased with Vienna. Admittedly I have only seen the underground and the supermarket but as these things go they are quite fabulous. I went for a short walk, having refreshed from an intense train journey across Eastern Europe, and within 30 seconds I had made a friend - someone asked me for directions and I could give them. Impressed? I was!

But Budapest - I would not wish to skim over it. I had one intense day there: walking tour in the morning, Cathedral when it rained and getting lost as I trekked across the city to find one of the spas. That was nice but I tell you what, don't go by yourself. Maybe it's me but sitting around in hot water is only interesting for a short time. After that you just get wrinkly. Also, I am pretty sure that the main difference (natural water source aside) between baths and a swimming pool is that the rule "No Petting" is not in place. I mean seriously, these people are sick; you don't know where to look. It would have been better if I had not been so utterly confused by all the Hungarian and had the jacuzzi actually been open but atleast I can say I went. A true Budapest experience. Afterwards I went for a romantic 'posh dinner' to treat myself, with sparkling wine and everything. You have to love the prices over there... That and the architecture. And the people. It is a good town and I will be returning at some point foe show.

Each destination has been teaching me something new. About life, myself, God. How far I've come and how far yet to go. One of the biggest things (literally and metaphorically) in Budapest was the cathedral. St Stephen is the patron saint of Hungary because he rescued them from their "heathen ways" and was so respected they got permission to use him as the focal point of the design. Well, I am not going to comment on denominational issues 'cause really they are the things that divisions and non-love are made of and certainly a manmade derivative of a true relationship with God. But, I was rather troubled in the St. Istavan (Steven, I don't know the spelling and am going to use as many versions as possible) cathedral yesterday. There was a picture of the crucifixion at one of the altars in the church and I have been discovering lately what iconography can mean as a way to fix oneself on the truth. That is, realising and rerealising exactly how horrific and traumatic it was for Jesus to do what I believe he did in order that I may be transformed and ultimately saved. As I left it really did not sit right with me that that this image was tucked away in an alcove while a fallible man was glorified at the centre of the house of God. I supppose that to me was symbolic of all the things I don't like about my life and points me in the direction that I must next go in order to continue growing in Him. That is, making Jesus my focal point.

So yeah, seeking God in the spirtual world. Vienna in the physical. I am excited to see how the two will overlap...