Clearer Vision

There has been so much learning going on this "season". It's cool but it sure isn't conducive to writing snappy thought-out posts. Which is, clearly, what BGB is all about. Hmmm, what I have I been doing in my regular life then, if faith is too much to discuss...

I bought new glasses! It took me 2.5 hours to choose them which was terrible and I wanted to die and there were about 4 staff members trying to help me pick them out till they all got fed up. I finally found my second pair (it was buy one get one free) when a women started getting unopened stock out for me to see - what with me having tried everything on the shop floor.

But, after much patience and waiting, wanting things to be right and them not being, stressing and feeling terrible for stressing other people, pretending I was nearly there when I wasn't and very very almost compromising... I got the poifick pair. Really really good. (I actually got 3 in the end: red like when I was small, black funky-secretary style and a really cheap granny round pair from the really cheap granny round range.) I tried and tried to make it happen but in the end I simply had to be rescued by something that was totally out of my control. Even praying was not bringing a direct result and I was terrified I would keep stalemating till I freaked out; yet eventually I loved what I came away with and they could not be better.

Maybe there is something in that. At a time when all my anger, pain and bitterness towards past friends, not-so-friends, God, you name it suddenly hit me (just when I thought it had all gone) and seemed to totally overwhelm my "walk", I got a little message whilst at church to do with the Exodus. Particularly this bit. My Egyptians, whatever, whoever they are, are riding over the distant sand dune and gaining on me. Nowhere to run to. No more forcing it I have nothing left to give, I am trapped by the red sea and desperate. Yet, I am being promised deliverance. When there is no hope and no way out there is light at the end of the tunnel (or perhaps damp sand at the bottom of a miraculous passageway). Dude it even follows the baby analogy of a few posts ago (teehee, deliverance you get it?).

I really can't force this. I have to stop. I may look like I am walking in sin and messing up and being unrighteous and everything but there is no use in having a faith that is grounded in work and obligation. I can't possibly do this. I have tried everything and nothing is right and now I am waiting for the answer that cannot be picked off a shelf and chosen by me to suit - he is going to have to hand me the perfect fit. Which is cool because that is the verse that comes next. I am not fighting this one, regardless of what Timothy says. 'Tis not for me actually Haggai, I am on a different page.

Once again I have started on the mundane and gone on to stretch a ridiculous analogy. I don't care, I like it.

Night x

The Analogy That Keeps on Giving

I am waiting for growth. Enjoying it short while it lasts. Surely I can let the metaphor go for a while.

But no! What's happened now? I hear you ask. Is the style growing out, maybe I got a trim or a perm (wow that would not work at all)? I actually think that the shape is doing OK. I may or may not tidy it up when I get back to London but it seems to have lasted alright.

I have simply made an insightful observation based upon pre-existing features.

Before I got the chop and went for the "cut the crap and start again approach" to my hair. I was trying to bring it back to ginge (which, in case you didn't know due to repeated brainwashing of jealous people, is a wonderful colour akin to gold and totally cool) the artificial and "fast-tracked" way. That is through dye. The latest time I tried this, when my roots were already at least an inch long, they used an "organic permanent mix" instead of the usual semi as it would be better for the condition. Organic you say? Bring it on I say. BUT, you know what this means? The bit of root I had that ended up being the bulk of the short drastic 'starting again' haircut was actually dyed.

Which meant that I turned out to be more ginger than I actually am naturally.

Only fractionally, maybe a shade more orange, but it does notice in the right light (now my true true roots are coming through) and the overall effect is subtly but significantly brighter.

And this is where it gets clever see. I have been thinking about how maybe I have been being a bit "too" Christian of late. Like, it started out funny and it still is a lot of the time but I don't want to become someone that is all about generic identity and forgetting the fearfully and wonderfully made part.

Looking for your new identity in Christ can be hard, particularly when there are things in your old identity that are tied in with negative conotations. The temptation is to say these things I knew about me are wrong and I need to "find myself" again but you know what, Jesus has already found me. I once was lost but he left those 99 sheep to look for me and is now rejoicing over me with singing. Along with all the angels. I just need to take out the bits of debris that I picked up in the wilderness.

For example: I talk a lot. I mean a lot. There are good things in this. Some of my friends have really encouraged me with statements such as "I like it 'cause it means I don't have to" and it sure comes in handy with some people some of the time and certain types of in-your-face evangelism. But this verbosity has been a bit of point of tension for me, particularly recently since, delightful character trait though it is, it becomes hard to pretend that being "too much" is always other people's problem. I mean, you seldom hear people say that Russell Brand just isn't understood properly and should be put in charge of more things, do you?! Unless you hear it from me that is... "They just can't handle me" was not something that Paul said about mixing with both the Jews and Gentiles etc. So from this came the temptation to believe, based upon the times that I miss the mark, that I am actually just totally wrong in myself. I sure didn't want to live in denial of things I need to change.

The idea of refinement vs rejection of these qualities got a bit muddled up till I wasn't really sure where the old me and the new me changed over. I know I do get it wrong and have a tendency to sometimes speak compulsively and without due care and attention but I didn't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and assassinating my whole unique character seemed a bit drastic. Confusing.

But the hair thing helps a lot.

As I see it, I am a hell of a lot closer to natural than platinum blonde was. In all the process of trying to force myself into God's identity for me I just got a bit carried away and over did it. But it is relatively small, it will not last forever and it isn't a bad bad match. In time the ends will become a smaller ratio of dyed to real and then, little by little, get trimmed away. (Mum, could you book me that appointment actually please!)

People that know me of late think I'm a bit off the wall; people that knew me before Switzerland think I have calmed down a lot; people that watched it happen... I don't really know what they think...! But somewhere in the middle of all this is a happy balance and I just need to peace out and let God make it happen. In time. As I wait patiently and don't try and force it 'cause actually that don't work. I am alright. I am not perfect. I am in the best possible hands.

When was in GVA and we did the gig (a prime time for God showing me insecurities I forgot I had) we dressed up in *quite* silly outfits. Both my other band members (which is why I am putting their pic up too! Share the responsibility...) wanted orange hair and I am game for most things. So we did this:

Which now screams to me to be the perfect symbol of what I am not supposed to do. Put on make up and fake it to make the issues go away. I ain't conforming for anyone, it isn't about being as orange as I can (fun though it sometimes is!) but about being as orange as I am supposed to be. The blonde in strawberry blonde is there for a reason.

Best of both. Like hovis only not bread.

Bows Are Back in Fashion

I’m publishing this post and last Thurs at the same time.  That is because, lovely though it is, my little nest does not have much web action and I only have uni-based semi-reliable connections.  Today I am coming to you from chez-ma-soeur though I actually wrote it last night.  Sneaky eh?

So, while I cannot give you a run down on what church was like (as technically I have not been yet) I can give a bit of a low down on Bristol this week.

Well, it has rained a lot.  An old friend from Woodies came to stay on Friday and that was great – I think she just came down to see if it was really true.  Wonderful opportunity to connect with UK based Christians and do some pretty damn great bible study.

But it has rained a lot.  Went to see Mamma Mia! for the second time with my dear sister this evening (Sat) which is amazing and I can’t decide if I prefer Colin or Pierce (spelling?) in spandex grooving out to Waterloo.  I also enjoyed spending time with someone that I know is going to be an integral part in this next step of my journey.

It rained on the way back too.

Turns out, rain is a pretty standard part of life.  And it is indeed lifegiving – we would be screwed without it.  Sometimes, however, you can’t help but wish that there was a little less rain and a little more sparkly sunshineness.  Specially in this hilly region of the West Country.

And so comes the analogy…

Rain, like pain, is a part of life.  The sermon on the last day I was in Geneva was about accepting suffering and still finding joy.  What really stuck out was the idea that we spend so long trying to avoid sufferance that we think it is a bad thing.  But it is so clear that in suffering we come closer to God as we prove our faith (see bible to back up this statement) and for this reason should rejoice in it.  It is through the fire that we are refined.

I am a little bit worried that God is preparing me to suffer.  You know, when you hear a message a few times to the point that it becomes blogworthy?  I watched on Friday night the movie, correction: film, Shadowlands.  Story of C.S. Lewis.  It was really good, I thought.  The final fade out comment that he makes was that the pain is part of the joy; that you need to experience the two together.  Today in Hebrews, having just been absentmindedly sing “O-B-E-Y obey your Heavenly Dad…” (kids song from EBCG), we read the bit - here - that talks about Jesus learning obedience through suffering meaning, not that Jesus was disobedient before then, but that His obedience was not proven until He did it despite what He had to bear.

I must admit, it is a little bit unnerving.  I haven't exactly had to prove my obedience or test my faith. As yet.

But, one of my more fabulous favourite things of nature is the rainbow.  This is because it depicts to me in theory what it means in practice.  When I first visited Geneva, before I had even been offered the job, God showed me a rainbow in the jet and, though I was not a Christian and could not accept the symbolic significance of God’s promises, I could see clearly the idea that through the storm clouds shines a light and gives something beautiful.

[This isn't the same rainbow of that day in June 2007 (the big football is kinda a giveaway) but it is in the same place.]

And that, my friend, is exactly what the promises of God are about.  We have the dark clouds of pain and suffering, the light of God shining through (post tenebras…) and then the glory of His fulfilled promises hangs over our lives. 

So while it has rained a lot, and there are whisperings of suffering when it really does not feel like it and I really do not feel like it, I am glad that in all this Bristol has been going through a season of rainbows.

'Cause what with all the rain I have spotted a few this week... here is one that I snapped from my bedroom window t'other day:

[That's my communal garden out there... check out the washing line! Cute much?]

So yeah.  Have some good solid biblical stuff to finish off with as far as suffering and growth goes.  Check it out if you don't know what I mean: Romans 5:3-5.

Brizzle foe shizzle me dizzle

Just a quicky as I have to pop off and see yet another old friend this afternoon.  Socialising is hard work, I don't think I will ever have time for a proper job.

You know when "they" say you can speak things over yourself?  I hope that last statement is one of those things!

Bristol is cool.  Cooler than me and my stupid faux 'hood talk.  Here is something really cool on the wall of [one of] my local pub[s], not 5 minutes from home, that has appeared since I last lived here:

Oh yes, it is a proper Bansky.  How cool is dat?  I will be challenging your graff pics Darryl, with him as a local artist... :-P

I went for lunch with my sister today which was nice.  It's been fun finding new places to hang out, as old haunts have gone or changed... or haven't done either when they ought!  Walking her back to work I met an old coursemate rounding the corner and was greeted with recognition, or so I thought.  Me and C both respond the same and then look at each other in bewilderment while the girl in question then notices me for the first time. There was a moment of appreciable puzzlement.  Confusion over it turns out my ex mathematician pal is now a colleague of ma soeur.  What a small world we live in.

Other things I have been doing involve unpacking, chilling out, shopping (oh how good that is when you are justified in doing it!), making my little nest all cosy like, reading a bit of maths, doing a bit of colouring and painting, connecting with people "randomly", thinking A LOT about everything and trying to work out how to balance living an ethical life with living a feasible and fun life - but that's a whole post of its own...!

Yeah.  My brain is slowly defrosting.  Coming soon: pretentious overthoughout issues with no solutions...

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!

A Splash of Colour

Whoopee! I found out (a few weeks ago now) that I had doubled most of my photo albums and tripled my music collection on my laptop, which means that I no longer have to worry at all about how much storage I have on here. There is plenty to last me until the end of August and as such I was able to upload my photos from The Trip!!

So, in particular favour to my parents and in particular tribute to The Yellow Couch, I am (finally) going to makes links to albums that can be found elsewhere on the web. I am not prepared to pay for a host site so you will get the quality Facebook gives and be glad for it! See me for higher quality copies (if I know you, else that would just be weird!).

This is particularly pertinent now the blog-off has been officially recognised by DD. I am realising that without photos it is basically a nobrainer, so here you go. I would add that if we let experience be the judge then the whole 'self-improvement' thang would be futile. I vote we measure on enthusiasm!

First things first, Dublin. A selection follows with more to be found here and even more to be added one day, maybe.

The first drink. My first Guinness. We later went to the factory where I bought some underwear to mark the occasion.














Is this not fabulous? They weren't walking along in some Reservoir Dogs manner it was by chance, they weren't even together. If only I had the feet... Still, power to the ginge!



They look cool even when they fight.








I kid you not, they are still alive...! Touring even!!



A cool skip. I like skips, you never know what you might find in them.


















The most Irish man in the world.














'The' man himself. How am I suppose to compete with someone that cool...? That is genuine Gutchi I'll have you know.

To Russia, With Love

I have spent a lot of time going on about how fabulous my brand spank new life is. Possibly to a sickening degree. Today I want to make it clear that exciting as life here is (and believe me today was pretty special - someone at music practise asked for some of my water and it turns out they were testing what I was drinking! That's how excited I was...) I do have a dual identity and back in Bristol, UK where I make my home I am eagerly awaiting the completion of my degree and an exciting future built around the ragamuffin youth of today (or cruise ship singing). Not only that but I am not altogether going to give some aspects of pre-Geneva and they need to be acknowledged.

I say this for two reasons. 1) I arranged my return flight today (24th August for anyone who cares) and have been doing the necessary planning for moving and scheduling and whatnot which got me all nostalgic; and 2) I just spoke to Ana and she has not gotten enough air time recently...!

Anastasia is my best cold hearted Russian friend. We've known each other since 2004 but only became close mates 10 days before I left last August. Strange that - we lived round the corner from each other briefly and had nothing better to do! The first weeks and months of life here were made so much easier with her on skype. I remember fondly the good old days of Friday nights in with a bottle of wine - at either end! As things picked up pace for both of us we became more independent but she helped me loads through the initial period and I was so lucky to have her - I like to think it was all part of 'the plan' and I don't think she'll mind being called a Gift from God!

We wanted to live together, get a puppy together (called Roger) and grow old together when men failed us. Sadly, she went and fell in love (with one of my friends no less) and is now living with him, getting a puppy with him and growing old together with, wait for it, him! Dan, you are a lovely but seriously mate, do you know what you are letting yourself in for? This is the mean Bond Villain Nazi that believes in survival of the fittest for all human beings and scared me into writing her a tribute in my blog!

I have missed you my Russian Princess :-)

Heaps of blessings to you both as you move into your first proper home together next week... :-O (mental) x x x

Back in the day:

Postdated Illustrations

Here are a few pictures that go with some of my past blogs. At the moment I haven't got space on my hard-drive for the travel ones but one day they might make their way here too...


Evidence for the story in Clichès and close calls. The angle doesn't do justice to the numbers by the way!

The November YAGs retreat weekend. Where Robyn and I first spent quality time together and the relationship began to blossom... Just as a bit of background to An affair to remember. This shot was taken on a hike up Le Mole in France (there's a story in there when I get the time).


This is the dear Cleopatra. Awwwwwwwww! Who's Cleopatra? See here: Cleopatra comin' at'cha and other incites.


This is the best pic I can find that demonstrates my grey hair (Everything is meaningless...). It also shows what a lovely pair Robyn and I make and how the reconciliation was really worth it (It's the little things)!

My sister came to see me Taking The Plunge. It was ACE and I loved having her here. We were both tackling fears together: she took flight and I plunged (it occurs to me that were we to have switched actions it would be terribly detrimental to both concerns...).

Well who'd have thought?! Just because it may possibly be the most Beautiful picture ever. This one is from my 'B' party. No labeling here, those who know you know you... ;)


Isn't this the most FABULOUS picture ever? Left to right (in descending order) Teresa, me, Gemma, The Girl With Brown Curly Hair. From the crazy day in the parc as mentioned in Coincidence?

I shall try and add visuals as I go from now on. Also, I do in time want to acknowledge fabulous things/events/people that haven't been mentioned on the blog as yet since, believe it or not, my life is bigger than what I write about on here! And it started before April 27th 2008, though some may argue that was merely the shadow of an existence...

Hurrah!

I now know how to put pictures on my blog. It really isn't hard is it? Watch this space...