life is really the most important artwork

(david gray on the radio)

i heard david gray on the radio just now. i am smiling; a big smile full of memory. driving round the north coast with jill after we'd finished our a-levels...speculating about the future...plans and a hope...an omagh weekend, building bridges of hope across northern irish divisions.

let go of your heart, let go of your head.

it's still not easy...to let go. to be wreckless.

to concentrate on work. ani di franco called it *building up skyscrapers to procrastination*...

maybe concentration will come...

(i am a city)

apparently, i am washington dc.


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hmmmm.

(sparks in the corner)

today, we played russian roulette with exam questions...got distracted easily...walked home in the rain. we talked of love and of death...our lives...our summers...what we will do when this is over.

i got inside just as the storm broke. i glanced up just after the first lightning flashed, and the thunder - great big rolling waves of it - confirmed what i thought i saw. a storm.

and now the thunder is receding, drifting to the edges of the view from my window. the rain rolls down like a holy waterfall...coldplay reassure me that sparks hide out in every corner. and in this corner, too, light will somehow guide me.

(nine fourteen pee emm)

it is nine fourteen pm, and today is a good day...la díssértátíon is finally finished and eleven-thousand-three-hundred-and-thirty-eight-words-later, i have a breathing space...before the relentlessness of coffee-revision-coffee-revision-neighbours-revision...

for now, though, i can rest.

*those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength...they will rise on wings like eagles...they will run and not grow weary...they will walk and not faint*

He will not let me slip.

(why i hate worms)

and i really, really, hate them. they have never harmed me personally, but there's something about the clammy sliminess...the slow inch.inch.inch forward...the getting in everyone's way...and today, when the rains came down, the worms emerged and taunted me with their slow inch.inch.inch across my path. why does rain bring out the worms? i saw other people dancing across the paths around campus to avoid them...so i am reassured. i am not alone.

campus was strange today, empty and yet somehow busy with other finalists looking perplexedly at the library with their minds on essays and dissertations and exams. busy too with clouds of conference guests, suited and badged, clutching cigarettes and anecdotes to mask nervousness. passing business cards and faking smiles. the conference season is here.

(sundays)

today is a sunday. quiet music and early mornings. coffee and birds under the wheels of the car...the thirty minute drive to church. i am realising how much i have missed this...and in church, a look at jacob and the ladder he saw to heaven. how God used jacob's frailty and his brokenness, the very things that made jacob as human as you or i, to do amazing things...i was astounded all over again that God uses broken pots as His vessels. He uses me even though i am broken and i am frail and i make mistakes. and i resolved to seek to be aware. of God in everything; of His fingerprint on my soul...of the love that dwells in me.

i am still making sense of the bigger picture. learning to be faithful in the small things.

(the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth...)

...you know how it finishes. and tonight i am pondering...and questioning. honesty at what price?

we conceal ourselves. what are we afraid of? can a certain kind of morality be enforced? should it be?

the responsibility we take for our own actions...or don't take. the consequences of a throwaway remark. the silky voice of a caller who knows you inside out. who plays with your mind causing you to care but who doesn't seem to care himself.

listening to norah jones and pondering.

it's just the nearness of You...perhaps this will make sense tomorrow.

(rain on the window)

and what a comforting sound it is. the special april rain. cold, but warmer than winter. wet, but unless you stand outside for a while, not so wet you'd notice.

music and coffee and the comforting sound of rain on the window.

(back to the beginning again)

...except, this is not really a beginning...but i am back dans l'angleterre in the rain and the cold [although come to think of it, northern ireland isn't tropical...but i was a lot warmer this morning]. in fact this morning feels like a different day; i think it's still thursday though.

back for three intense communication-shut-down weeks, and then...america...joyous faffing...chilling in the sunshine [o please let there be sunshine]...the CU ball...andy's wedding...graduation.

in first year, now seemed like a long way away. and now we are here, i'm thinking...where did time go?!

soon, we will finish.

(extravagant living)

today, i went over my overdraft limit. i'm not really sure how it happened (i blame my mobile phone bill, frankly) but happen it did. and the whole thing reminded me of a converstaion i had with flatmate andy a while ago. he was pointing out a few home truths about my amazon cravings (he's right, you know) and somehow we got to talking about how you can live extravagantly without any money.

he thinks you can't.

but exciting doesn't have to mean lavish, and extravagant does not always mean expensive. it came to me last night: live extravagantly by loving. by showing God's love to the people who flit and and out of your day. by being extravagant with your time: lavish your time on people when they need it. by being extravagant with trust...and i know; cynicism does not die easy.

someday...

it will. until then...i will strive to prove andy wrong on this (and possibly, many other things) as often as i can.

however, he is still right about amazon.

(we do not understand each other)

we. us. you and i. we have found ourselves in stories that are not mutually kind. perhaps we are looking in opposite directions...perhaps we are not looking anywhere at all. could we both be blind? i am not sure. i'm not sure when we started to be different.

and i wonder whether it really matters. molehills so easily become mountains...miscommunication becomes resentment. difference becomes objectionable. and maybe we resent each other because i am not like you, and you are not like me. maybe that isn't the case at all. there seems to be little peace, and if anything is broken i don't really know how to fix it.

but perhaps it's all just dawson's creek pop psychology.

who knows?

(God put a smile upon my face)

and so on this good friday i am a year older than yesterday...older, and a little wiser. what have i learned? to be me...to trust...to let go of that which holds us back...i have tried to learn patience...hope. in all these things, i am still a work in progress. but the word progress itself means moving forward. means growth. means increasing in faith and deepening belief.

[spoken in faith] this will be an amazing year.

God gave me style, and gave me grace...God put a smile upon my face...

(cry me a river)

today, i returned to the swimming pool after a considerable absence. and as i do each time i return to the water, i think i should really do this more often. the clean slice of skin through water. the strain as each muscle performs its duty and goes above and beyond that. pushing through to get that adrenaline rush. the cries and laughter ebbing and flowing as you dip in and out of the water. even the music [justin timberlake's cry me a river] makes the experience. and as i swam i was lost in the rhythm of breathing and counting...the steady soothing kickbreathekickbreathekickbreathe...

a joy to experience.

and later, maunday thursday's church...the words were beautiful [i have forgotten the poetry of st nicholas' services...and it reminded me of midnight mass on christmas eve...]...and i was reminded of God's grace in the everyday...the perfect grace that saves us...everyday. a holy mystery...the holy mystery of God. we took communion, it seemed too lightly and frivolously at such at time as this. grace seems too big and too...undeserved...

but that, i guess, is the point. grace is bigger than we can ever imagine possible. and we are somehow redeemed by what Jesus sacrificed on the cross...we are redeemed...and loved...and made whole. even though we are undeserving...

Christ the sun of righteousness shine upon you
gladden your hearts
and scatter the darkness from before you...

and so He will.

amen.

(like poetry on water)

the edge may have receded a little. still, i feel like poetry on water...permanent and impermanent. here and not here. betwixt and between. working and listening to the kids in the street having fun...and i am struck by the revelation: none of this is about me.

Yaweh God...Wonderful Counsellor...Almighty God...Everlasting Father...Prince of Peace...

*my heart is steadfast, o God, my heart is steadfast. i will sing and make music...i will praise you o Lord among all the nations...i will sing of You among the peoples, for great is Your love, reaching to the heavens,Your faithfulness reaches to the skies. be exalted o God, above the heavens, let Your glory be over all the earth...*

the desert will become an oasis...and You will be glorified.

(ask the guy selling hairdryers out of a gym bag)

i am watching the sun set in a clear northern irish sky and listening to ani di franco and i am wondering.

ten...nine. eight. sevensixfive. four three. two.

one

and ker plooey you're done for. you're done for good.

so. when will the answers come? i know you don't know. i know i don't either. but it's the questions that drive us, neo. the questions we find ourself in. i realise as i write this i am edgewalking again. pressure from all sides. but most of all, from me.

life...on the edge. i struggle to remember what i learned last time. there must be rhythm here somewhere...

somewhere. there is hope.

(he doesn't have the head for baldness)

early morning coffee at my computer after a very late night...and somethings never change...but some are completely different. an evening of wine and friendship and laughter with catherine and jill ... but there was strangeness too ... growing up and growing old and not being sure of anything. feeling jill's baby flutter and dance 19 weeks before birth and being filled with wonder...at life. and death. and love. what links these three?

wishing it could be the way it was and knowing it can never be the same as it is even now.

change.

unsettling. moving. inevitable.

i wondered who the future might bring...where i will be...what vision i will have for then. right now, i tread water and try not to let it close over my head.

hope.
faith.

these shall keep me afloat. i will hold on to them for all my worth.

there is no plan b...and i want somewhere to feel like home...and i want to be quiet.

(nothing heals me like you do)

and so i am home...laughter and friendship and chilling...home. space and the sea and good wine...and i am yearning for rest.

so good night, blog, and tomorrow i shall whisper to you of my journey and all that has been.

Lord, keep us safe this night, secure from all our fears...may angels guard us while we sleep, til morning light appears.

(leaving on a jet plane)

and so i am leaving again. my bags are packed; my ticket twinkles on my pillow; in my head i think i am ready battles i hope i have not left anything important...like my dissertation...

the mind boggles. so, i think i am ready. and i decided to blog, because who knows when i'll be back again? the flat is quiet. brianne is in bed. my computer wheezes [it has asthma, bless it] and heather nova ponders and rocks in the background.

this is what i am leaving.

i hope i have not left anything important.

(a speaker in the square)

we hear her in the square. at two o'clock
fawn moths in thousands enter shops and cars.
there's a rush to shut the windows. then
she steps to the platform without the brazen bearing
of usual parliament men. she can't do
miracles and sway the crowd; make listeners
advocates. she is heard
less for what she says than for her tossing
hair. her love is to ideas,
the devastating love. richness of feeling
is the prosperity she advocates.
'we won't permit a frozen future
or a manipulated one. rebel.
not by knifing constables, filling
the square with shots. no military coup.
only a rise in temperature.
freedom isn't freedom if people are cold.
truth isn't truth if told by citizens
who don't care. we need an illumination
from glances. human sunlight...'

newspapers say it's true: WAR IS OFF.
for how long? history hasn't yet related.
can the prime minister stay in office if
no war is threatened? he faces novel problems
when electors aren't too deeply worried.
without a mandate to be frivolous
he feels he must resign.

author of elegant iambics, she
comes in a wintry moment, melts the ice
in a masculine country famous for reserve,
is carried to power by a flock of writers.
the poetic state is founded.

[george buchanan]

(tales of an accelerated culture)

i do not wish to be another faceless young person. i say this after i met an old lady on the bus today...she was lonely and i was listening to her and although we had a few accent difficulties i think we understood each other well enough. our conversation was somewhat unexpected: random speaking to strangers rarely happens to me outside of northern ireland.

however. listening to her made me wish i could have done something to help her, something more tangible than listening. more tangible than respect. but i couldn't, or, didn't, and we chatted on. and i came to realise that, fiercely independent as she was, all she needed me to do was to hear her, unlike the many who had not heard her in the past. and so i listened. she talked about isolation and ill-health, the desire to be independent and the realisation that when there were things she could not do for herself she was alone. and as she talked, underneath her words i heard a silent thankyou. unspoken words that said you listened when you could have ignored me. thankyou. but i almost did ignore her. and this troubles me. because i am young, i am visible...and i do not know whether this visibility decreases with age...but i am resolved to talk with strangers on the bus. to hear them when they need to be heard.

she wished me a safe rest-of-journey and made her way to the council offices. as she struggled off the bus i prayed Lord, keep her safe this night. send her angels that she might welcome them and dispel her solitude.

and for the rest of the journey i sat in silent thought. wondering about the stories of my fellow passengers...the girl with the angry face who sat in front of me. the loud couple a few rows back making [loud] plans for later this evening. the man who sat next to me who smelled of bananas [i have no idea either]. the women behind me who suffered from depression and talked to each other in weather metaphors. people. time and again i am reminded of the george buchanan poems a speaker in the square and conversation with strangers.

freedom isn't freedom if people are cold.

truth isn't truth if told by citizens who don't care.

we need an illumination from glances.

human sunlight.

and so i will talk to strangers on the bus as often as i can.

(piling up sandbags against the floodwaters of fatigue)

i cannot face the news today. instead, i have surrounded myself with a keele-shaped bubble and listened to the rhythm of my thoughts. i have flicked from radio station to radio station to avoid the outside creeping in. edited relentlessly. was lost in everyday things, thelaundrythedishesmakingmybed. watching the sun set in a blushing sky...thought about the books i will read when may comes.

and today has thus been good.

(is everybody happy now...is everybody clear...?)


tonight i am thinking about it all...i am wondering. what the truth is. where the real story is. why iraq why 2003 why now.

i am not sure. maybe we'll never know. when the truth is uncovered we might want to know it any more. and as me and chris and bri watched panorama we found within ourselves the capacity to be light-hearted...looked at ties that did not match shirts. goodnaturedly mocked plummy-english-military-officer accents. found humour in the northern irish references (urban guerilla warfare).

if we did not laugh, we would weep. that northern ireland taught many soldiers what they know of war. that there is war, that right now there is little hope to be found of peace. that the decisionmakers see people "we", "us" as collateral damage.

i sit in my room in a silent flat...and i wonder about what tomorrow's news will bring.

(when everything's made to be broken...)

another weekend closer to summer...a wedding (paul and helena)...a dissertation (still 5000 words to go)...some chill time (the cider house rules)...and i was joyfully captivated by the beauty of a great story. i was somewhere else for a while, somewhere forgotten but still somewhere...engaged. challenged. moved.

and i think we all need to be known inside the horizons we put ourselves in.

i am reminded of the goo goo dolls song:
when everything's made to be broken, i just want you to know who i am...

(home)

i've just read this article in the belfast telegraph and i am so angry i can hardly speak...

i note with interest that there is no name attributed to this article...i'm not sure whoever it was could have had their lips closer to shrub's ass. and if i wasn't so angry, i might even think they were joking. sadly, i know this was not intentionally hilarious.

i still cannot believe they published this...when did the belfast telegraph sell out and suddenly fall into the party line?

i am appalled.

(read my lips)

but whom should we trust? this seems to be a war of information above all else.

there's a movie tagline that reads trust no-one...and i wonder who or what is closest to the truth. i'm not sure we'll ever be fully aware of what is happening...maybe not until it's too late.

we need a raincoat...we need a big love...but it will always be a small world...

(african-american women in the struggle for civil rights)

finally...motivation...and i got excited about this book which i'm reading for my dissertation...and i realised what i have suspected for some time: i am a geek.

friend rebecka and i were talking the other day...after we had passed a milestone (our last essays had just been handed in)...not about celebration or frivolities...we talked of ethnicity and nationality and what is means to be something. as an irish girl in england does that make me an ethnic minority? are the jewish diaspora a religious group, a racial group, or an ethnic group? we decided let's turn this into a research project someday. and, worryingly, i think we will.

we even located where the nearest synagogue was (we passed it on the bus).

still underlining said fact: i am a geek

(you're so pretty the way you are)

i'm having trouble focusing tonight. i'm not sure why...maybe it was the friday night tv...maybe its the i-haven't-slept-properly-for-at-least-three-weeks tiredness...maybe it's the fact that it's friday.

i watched graham norton in new york...and i'm not sure americans get it...whatever it might be...still...much amusement to be had...it seems lately, there is little to be sure of...

i have finished full-time education...i no longer have classes...ever...and it feels weird...like there is a sixteen year period of my life...simply over. just like that. end of story. unless i am inspired to start a master degree...unless my dreams take me somewhere unknown (entirely possible)...the cranberries sing in the background...and in my head...i sleep and dream of the future.

sleep tight.

(the prayer of st patrick)

Christ, as a light
illumine and guide me.
Christ, as a shield
overshadow me.
Christ under me;
Christ over me;
Christ beside me
on my left and my right.
This day be within and without me,
lowly and meek, yet all-powerful.
Be in the heart of each to whom I speak;
in the mouth of each who speaks unto me.
This day be within and without me,
lowly and meek, yet all-powerful.
Christ, as a light;
Christ, as a shield;
Christ beside me
on my left and my right.

(early mornings)

this morning, it is early. and i have the potential to be late, as i always do (i am never on time for anything). instead of making me move faster, my actions slow down (it could be the coffee hasn't kicked in yet) and lateness tempts me toward absence.

it twinkles and taunts me with the thought of sleep...and coffee...and music and a good book.

but i will be resolute. i will make it...but maybe five minutes late is okay...

(the pianist)

i have puzzled since...walking home under the stars and wondering...caught up in the beauty of it and stunned by the brutality of war...wondering.

i seem to not have any words...my mind still dwells on adrien brody sitting at a steinway pouring out his soul.

(there's a new way to be human)

but you have to let yourself be found...and that is harder than i ever imagined. i am struggling today, and i'm not sure what i'm doing. who i am with. whether i am me right now. the dreams...i'm holding on to the dreams...eyes the colour of the sea after a storm that looked at me in surprise...anticipation...did i dream love into those eyes?

in the cold light of day i think i might have seen want i wanted to see. but when i try to remember i can...i can see then while being in now.

i got post today and i felt special...someone loves me enough to think of me and post me something. and walking up the hill after my class i heard and then saw a helicopter...and without thinking my stomach churned and i shivered and i thought i no longer want to be here. i need to get away from wherever that helicopter is heading.

and then i remembered in england a helicopter means nothing. i am in england, and a helicopter means nothing. i took the rest of my walk home for that to sink in...the april sky is beautiful and i can see the bottom of a rainbow. i am reminded of God's promises...and i think of dreaming.

i can relax when i hear helicopters...i do not have to be afraid...i do not need to fear. and even after three years of being away...i still tense at the sound...but i need to learn...that i do not need to be afraid.

(there goes the world off of my shoulders)

but it's not that easy...would You catch me if i fall? would You stop me if i try to run away?

a mere 5000 words and 2 exams stand between me and graduation...and i wonder...will i make it? it feels like i'm hanging by a moment...and i hope that these moments will be enough to keep me.