I aten't ded.

So many thoughts swirling around in my head, and I don't seem to have the mental wherewithal to put any of them into a coherent post. Here, have an incoherent one, instead.

Of course I ended up thinking about motherhood and my own Mum and our relationship. I've re-written the rest of this paragraph several times now, trying to find a way to explain things accurately without speaking ill of anyone. Perhaps some things are better left unexplained, at least in such a public forum.

Reading some of the Mothering Sunday messages that have been about has made me cry. I think Good in Parts and Reflectionary are the main culprits.

Some of the tearfulness is probably just tiredness. Big Project had a final performance on Friday night, after weeks of preparation and rehearsal. Soon I will have to do all the evaluative paperwork but for now I am leaving it well alone; this week I have completely different performance goals, and some nasty administrative paperwork to try to sort out.

I'm glad of the online spiritual sustenance; the sermon I heard at Evensong today did not do much for me. Maybe I just don't have the background or I'm too tired, but it seemed to be linking too many unrelated ideas in ways I didn't understand. But the music was good.

Yesterday - spring! It has sprung, at least in London. I was extremely tired but managed to wander around the park and made nettle soup. That will teach those nasty nettles to sting me.

There are actually quite a few good plants to eat at this time of year if you know what you're looking for. Most of them aren't as bothersome as nettles. I rather like being aware of the ways the world feeds me.

Halfway through the week already!

Exam today was okay. Not amazing, but it could have been worse.

I've regained some perspective about some of the administrative stress from earlier in the week. I'm not necessarily happy about it but I've accepted that the Big Project I've been working on is not going to go as I'd hoped it would. This doesn't make it a failure, just something to learn from. Even if what I learned is "no, projects on that scale are not a good idea while in the final year of a degree."

Choralgirl writes of the Charter for Compassion, a project of Karen Armstrong financed by the TED Prize. I'm curious about how this will turn out. Compassion does seem to be increasingly important to my own understanding of faith and life.

That in turn relates back to Loving Your Enemy.

I find it very difficult to love or find compassion for people who are in a position where they can hurt me, in situations where an imbalance of power leaves me feeling vulnerable and afraid.

That doesn't mean I need to wrest power from others and try to take control of situations. Oh, sometimes that is probably the right thing to do. But many times dealing with these situations in a loving manner means figuring out why I am afraid, thinking about what a loving response would actually be and how to do that, and then taking the risk.

That's not an easy task, but it gets a whole lot easier when I feel loved, myself. I can talk about therapy and medication and how much those helped me to recover (to an extent) from depression. I can talk about the physio exercises I do most days for my joint problems, to keep me mobile and relatively free from pain. But I know that none of that would even have been possible without the care, concern, compassion and love that others showed me.

That love transformed my life. It taught me that I want to love others.

Maybe it can also teach me how to do so.

That'll teach me to count blessings...

This week was already going to be a very heavy week in terms of academic and performance work; several deadlines at once have decided to gang up on me. Next week is also pretty bad but at least some of the worst deadlines will be past by then.

The last time this happened, and some other life stuff was happening as well, I ended up handing a written assignment in two weeks late and woefully undercomplete. That's not bad compared to some previous assignments when I was significantly less well; some of those were seasons late, even though they were much smaller assignments. I did the prudent, responsible thing and spoke to people about it before it was too late. I filled out a mitigating circumstances form, detailing the various mitigating circumstances (which were multiple), and handed that in too. I rectified one of the worst mitigating circumstances (which was actually something Academic Institution should have done at the beginning of October, and failed to do because of administrative problems and understaffing). And I've set aside time, after this particular knot of deadlines is over, to re-do that assignment so I actually learn the material.

Today, at the end of a long and exhausting day in which I lost more time than I can afford to travel and was already wondering how I would make it through the rest of the week, I opened my post to find a letter from Academic Institution saying my claim for mitigating circumstances has been rejected. Apparently, it does not relate directly to the timing of the assessment affected. Without wanting to go into too much detail, I don't see how that can be the case.

The person at Academic Institution who was my greatest advisor and advocate has moved on. I could ask her advice, and she'd gladly give it, but she has her own personal and far more serious sorrows to deal with right now.

I'm trying to keep a sense of perspective about this, and rather failing. This is my final year. I had to take a year out already when I was ill, and I started six years later than most, also due in part to illness. I've worked very hard to put my life back together, and I've had a lot of help from people I don't want to disappoint. I want to finish. I am doing the best I can. This couldn't have worse timing: I can't take the time to respond properly to this letter, to appeal this decision, without sacrificing some other deadline.

I am going to say my prayers and go to sleep now, because there is nothing about this situation that is made better by me being exhausted. But I don't think things will be any different in the morning, except that it will be seven hours later and I will still have just as much to do.

A lovely day

Oh, internets, I had such a good day today.

The weather was beautiful for cycling. I woke up in plenty of time and with more energy than I've any right to given my recent schedule; the normally-takes-thirty-minutes-mostly-uphill initial part of my commute was only twenty or twenty-five today. The glorious sunshine continued all day. The plums are in full flower now and the magnolias are not far behind. What a blessing.

Teaching was challenging and tiring, as always. Nothing about teaching today was spectacularly dismal, and nothing about it was spectacularly wonderful, except that teaching is always miraculous somehow. Some of my students are working toward exams, others have more personal goals; all are progressing, though not always in the directions they and I think we would like. Sometimes I have the joy of finding a student who responds well to my teaching and learns to love what is essentially a very difficult subject requiring much discipline and much courage. Sometimes, discovering with a student that actually, they don't want to learn this instrument or even this subject... sometimes that's still successful teaching. I am savoring the last few lessons with a student I've taught for several years now, she is at a point where it is time for her to move on, and though I'll miss her I know that this is right. I love every one of my students dearly and want to teach them as well as I can. I'm keenly aware that every challenge they bring me is an opportunity for me to improve as a teacher and grow as a person. And I get paid for this, enough to live on if I'm frugal. What a blessing.

After that I went down to Leafy Suburb Church for Evensong. The journey went well and I saw a rather beautiful sunset. I'm starting to be known at Leafy Suburb Church, everyone was very welcoming. Before the service I ended up discussing hymnody with... well, I'd have to call them friends by now really. There were some moments of perhaps not-entirely-Lenten levity. I feel welcome there. What a blessing.

The service itself was good. Hymns maybe a bit on the slow side--a Lent thing perhaps?--but two of them to tunes I know and love. Someone had printed out the pointed psalms and music for them and left them on the ledge and this meant I was able to join in with the choral psalmody in a way I haven't previously. I found myself whispering small bits of the Apostles' Creed, though I still find much of it I can't accept and so won't utter. And that, too, seems to be okay, seems to be accepted. There is a warmth of spirit, a goodwill and lovingkindness in the worship at Leafy Suburb Church which seems almost tangible at times. What a blessing.

Of course, I'm hopelessly biased about Leafy Suburb Church, because the main reason I make the journey all that way is to see Deacon Friend. I don't think she expected me to come to every choral Evensong. I didn't expect I would be able to but it has worked out that way so far. And so in a friendship that is mostly conducted on e-mail these days, today there were shared smiles, eye contact, commiserations over our respective deadline pileups, that near-instant visual appraisal of another's wellbeing that renders the small talk of "How are you?" moot except as a conversational placeholder, the polite and a bit tired (we'd both been working all day, after all) chitchat that in some relationships seems to bring people closer rather than hold them at arm's length. We're both very busy and Leafy Surburb is a good 90 minutes' commute from where I live, so we don't get to see each other much; every visit is a blessing. And every visit reminds me, in turn, what a blessing this woman is to the world and what a blessing this friendship is in my life, what a blessing so many other friendships are to me.

Even the journey home seemed charmed: I didn't have to wait long at either of the two changes, which always makes things a little easier. That's a small thing, but still very much a blessing. All of the little joys I've mentioned can be seen as small or insignificant in face of the trials and evils in this world, but not to acknowledge them and partake of them would just be to add to the trials.

What blessings did you notice today?

Have a heart. And a liver. And some kidneys...

As most readers here will know, Roseann over at Give Peace a Chance needs a kidney. I don't really know Roseann, but I've been praying for her all the same, because she seems to be part of this community and you all seem to care, and a little more prayer isn't going to hurt her or me. And I've known others waiting for kidney transplants and it is every kind of not fun, folks, that you could ever imagine.

Roseann has been turned down for a transplant waiting list, because she's considered too high-risk by that particular medical institution. Now, there are lots of things wrong with that, and they'll probably be discussed elsewhere, but here's the thing:

She's been turned down because there are so few kidneys available that only those with the greatest need and the greatest chance of survival even qualify for the waiting list.

If you aren't on the organ donation register in the country where you live, I want you to have a good long think about why not. If you were hit by a bus tomorrow, what would happen to your liver, your kidneys, your heart? Those could save three or four lives, and you'll have no need of them.

If you aren't on the organ donation register in the country where you live, and you have no strong objections to donating your organs after you're done with them, I'd like you to sign up. I would consider it a personal favour.

Here's how to get started in the UK.

Here's how to get started in the US.

I'm not sure about other countries, but feel free to add links in comments.

Consider, also, becoming a living kidney donor. I've considered it--seriously--but my own health problems prevent me being a suitable donor at this point.

(It's quite likely that this did the rounds months ago, long before I got here. Too bad. It's important enough to repeat.)

419

I'm really upset by the Church of Nigeria's support for anti-gay legislation. Come on, people. Humans can do better than this. We can love better than this, we can live better than this, we don't have to be so afraid of one another that we would imprison those who are different from ourselves.

All theological or doctrinal issues aside (and I've got a few of those), how can I even consider joining a Church which is in communion with people who support such hate and violence? I do not expect perfection, I expect there will be diversity and disagreement. I expect people to make mistakes, and I expect it to take time for those mistakes to be rectified. I expect I make a fair few mistakes myself, the sort that frustrate others. But I don't see how this kind of hate-mongering is ethically acceptable. I certainly don't see how it follows Jesus Christ, who (as I understand it) preached love and forgiveness a lot more than judgement and punishment.

It's one thing when your child gets caught shoplifting, age 13, and you take him back home and have a Serious Talk about why that sort of thing is Not Okay, and also seriously examine your own parenting skills. It's quite another thing when that same 'child' is 25 years old and has moved on to armed robbery and is still living in your home. At what point does supporting a person condone their actions? At what point is that support collusion rather than just tacit approval? And yet, and yet. People have to make their own choices. Turfing out that 13-year-old would be considered too harsh. Turfing out the 25-year-old would be, well, it would be too little too late. And where did that 25-year-old learn that armed robbery is an acceptable strategy for success, anyway?

As far as I can tell, as long as the Anglican Communion accepts this sort of thing, it is aiding and abetting some pretty vile discrimination. I don't know how to respond to that, or to the discrimination--less violent, but still marked--within the Communion in supposedly more 'civilised' countries. But joining up doesn't seem like a very good idea.

Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me.

Lord, have mercy on these people who re-crucify You, two thousand years later. Apparently Your forgiveness is infinite. Alas, mine isn't. I can't even forgive the sins of my own insignificant life without Your help. I'm pretty sure I don't even perceive all of the ways I nail You to the cross every day. I cannot comprehend mercy on this scale.

(In other news: the essay is going to be a day late. I'll take a 10% docking of marks for it. I'm annoyed but resigned: I can't do everything. Still.)

Itch-a-Sketch

I'm meant to be working on an essay today, it's due tomorrow. Organ improvisation and DuPré's Vespers Op. 18, and how he communicates the text (bits of Song of Solomon, Ave Maris Stella, and Magnificat) in the music, in case you're wondering, but most of you aren't! The potential to get sidetracked into Gregorian chant is very high in this essay but I've got most of an outline done, just need to keep fleshing it out with more detail until I get to my required number of words.

So, since I'm meant to be working on an essay, I've actually been thinking profoundly deep theological thoughts pissing about on teh internets.

Things I've been thinking:

A post at Questioning Christian has made me think that maybe we humans go about this whole "repent and be saved" thing the wrong way around. A strong sense of the existence of God and an acute sense of my own imperfection don't seem to be enough for me to actually improve: perfectionism takes over, and I get stuck. A sense that God loves me, a sense that God's love is abundant and freely given and absolutely unconditional, has the opposite effect. I worry less about getting things 'right' or 'perfect' and just try to love the world as much as I can, with God's help. The perception of God's love in my life right now is fairly embryonic, I'd say. My conscious awareness of it can be fleeting and I am most unaccustomed to feeling this way. But it's there sometimes, and it seems to be growing. And I think that is good. And I think, maybe, that is making it easier to improve.

I read a lovely webcomic called xkcd. This comic has been stuck in my head since it was posted last week. I keep thinking, "Hey, there's a cross in the etch-a-sketch, what does that mean?" and I know it's just how the thing works, nothing deliberate, and I'm pretty sure the author didn't mean any reference to Christianity. But...it itches. There's a cross in the etch-a-sketch. I feel that way about Christianity in general, I think: I know it fits somewhere in my life, but I'm really not sure about the how and where of it. Perhaps could fit somewhere is more accurate: I'm still not convinced it has any truth to offer that other major religions do not touch on in some way, and many of the reasons I feel drawn to Christianity now could very well be social and personal rather than based on any profound spiritual uniqueness. But the etch-a-sketch could have had a triangular mechanism, and the reasons it doesn't are pragmatic, not aesthetic. Maybe it's okay for some of my approach to spirituality to be pragmatic, too.

I'm not sure how those two things relate to one another, but it does feel like there's some connection.

Pragmatism says it is well past time for me to eat lunch.