Well, did you miss me little flock and dear readers? Know that candles were lit for you all in the parish church on Holy Island. And no, that was not just as a heat source. For I arrived on Easter Monday to hail, ice and snowdrifts and spent the first few days huddled over a convector heater before dashing out to buy fleecy blankets, hats, and gloves. No, there are no photos and nor will there ever be.
I stayed at Cambridge House which has the luxury of a silent lounge where nobody can speak and that was just what I needed after a Holy Week of words and drama and an Easter Day of Alleluias galore.
What did you read, Ruth? I hear you cry. Well, thank you for asking. I read the last few months’ worth of Church Times which had been languishing unopened. I read The Clowns of God by Morris West because of a quote from Bishop Alan during Holy Week. It was jolly good too, if a little dated. I finally read The Kite Runner which is probably the best book I’ve read for a long time. I read umpteen David Adams wee prayer and Holy Island stories. I skipped through Magnus Magnusson’s Lindisfarne and am half way through Paulo Cuelo’s The Witch of Portobello (had to have it for the title alone).
I even did a bit of walking, although I didn’t manage it to St Cuthbert’s isle because the tide was always high. Here’s a photo though.
I spent a lot of time in church attending the Daily Offices. For someone who has to do it alone, it is nice to do it in company although it was a labour of love sitting in a freezing chancel whilst watching our breath in the cold air. Not even the millions of daffodils could warm our spirits. Interesting to note also how slowly they uttered the Offices – and I mean slowly. Nice to get into the rhythm of it once you acknowledged that nothing was going to speed things up and that cosy fire in your room would still be there on your return.
My only niggle – and it really is a small thing – is that for a place of pilgrimage they could have been a tad more welcoming. When your congregation at the Daily Offices is mainly made up of visitors it might be nice to smile, ask where they are from, share a little local lore – that sort of thing. If I ignored visitors in the way I was treated, I’d not be a growing church, that’s for sure. (I should say that Fr Damien was more approachable than most.)
I’m not the world’s greatest nature lover, as many of you know, but I did notice that the birds made a hell of a racket morning and night. Certainly didn’t need to worry about alarm clocks, that’s for sure.
An unexpected surprise was a concert by the Cruachan Consort who appeared on Thursday afternoon and treated us to a little Bach, Rachmaninov, Buechner and Tavener’s Icon of St Cuthbert of Lindisfarne (glorioso!). They were really good and the heating was put on especially. Had to limit the encores so they could get back to the mainland before the tide came in which was a pity for us.
And now its back to sun, work and a cluttered desk once more. Ah well, it was nice while it lasted.
4 responses so far ↓
Clarissa Turner // March 31, 2008 at 5:32 pm |
I sometimes think that I’d like to go to an island and be like A A Milne’s Old Sailor – I’m sure you must remember him . . .
There was once an old sailor my grandfather knew
Who had so many things which he wanted to do
That, whenever he thought it was time to begin,
He couldn’t because of the state he was in.
He was shipwrecked, and lived on a island for weeks,
And he wanted a hat, and he wanted some breeks;
And he wanted some nets, or a line and some hooks
For the turtles and things which you read of in books.
And, thinking of this, he remembered a thing
Which he wanted (for water) and that was a spring;
And he thought that to talk to he’d look for, and keep
(If he found it) a goat, or some chickens and sheep.
Then, because of the weather, he wanted a hut
With a door (to come in by) which opened and shut
(With a jerk, which was useful if snakes were about),
And a very strong lock to keep savages out.
He began on the fish-hooks, and when he’d begun
He decided he couldn’t because of the sun.
So he knew what he ought to begin with, and that
Was to find, or to make, a large sun-stopping hat.
He was making the hat with some leaves from a tree,
When he thought, “I’m as hot as a body can be,
And I’ve nothing to take for my terrible thirst;
So I’ll look for a spring, and I’ll look for it first.”
Then he thought as he started, “Oh, dear and oh, dear!
I’ll be lonely tomorrow with nobody here!”
So he made in his note-book a couple of notes:
“I must first find some chickens” and “No, I mean goats.”
He had just seen a goat (which he knew by the shape)
When he thought, “But I must have boat for escape.
But a boat means a sail, which means needles and thread;
So I’d better sit down and make needles instead.”
He began on a needle, but thought as he worked,
That, if this was an island where savages lurked,
Sitting safe in his hut he’d have nothing to fear,
Whereas now they might suddenly breathe in his ear!
So he thought of his hut … and he thought of his boat,
And his hat and his breeks, and his chickens and goat,
And the hooks (for his food) and the spring (for his thirst) …
But he never could think which he ought to do first.
And so in the end he did nothing at all,
But basked on the shingle wrapped up in a shawl.
And I think it was dreadful the way he behaved –
He did nothing but bask until he was saved!
However, after a while (and generally not a very long while) I realise that I would hate the contemplative life. Looking at your blogs over the years, I have a suspicion that you love being right in the middle of things, and would go stir crazy on Holy Island after a very few weeks however much you enjoy it in the short term.
Moyra // April 1, 2008 at 9:04 am |
Ah – the joys of doing the Office at someone else’s speed!
Rev Ruth // April 1, 2008 at 9:27 am |
How right you are Lissa. Any more than a week and I would be screaming to get off. I have learned that I get my energy from people, being an extrovert, but I am shy (believe it or not!) and occasionally need some time to recharge the batteries away from it all. And there were some needy people staying in the house whom I know I should have spent more time listening to, but I am ashamed to say I didn’t.
Rev Ruth // April 1, 2008 at 9:30 am |
Moyra, I remember when I was first ordained that I found saying the Office in a Cathedral with people who didn’t do it ‘the same way as me’ unbearable. It was the most unprayerful time of the day. My wise old Spiritual Director said, “And why don’t you do your prayers before you go then?”