This is Life

I have not been around much, don't know what happened really, except that summer turned into a long, long dry spell.  Six months of mostly fine weather, and a garden that could not be watered enough.

Okay, the garden might be a little bit of an excuse, but a gardens constant need for watering does consume a lot of time, especially when the soil seems to let go of moisture quicker than soak it up. Strange because I didn't think this summer was extremely hot, or have I lived through too many hot summers to notice, what I did notice was that my plants were always dry.

To go with the garden I spent time learning how take better pictures with my camera, You Tube tutorials, need more be said.  A few story ideas to work on, and are still going, all take more time than I thought they would.  Then before I knew it, days turn to weeks and weeks to months, and I realized I have taken too much time off from my blog.

I was planning to do more, but then I don't seem to be all that organized this year.  Or I have to much I want to do and nothing gets done.  Seems to be life these days.

The Kobalt Influx 8th Instalment

Norman felt his stomach swirl and gurgle, the pieces of bubble bread digested quickly.  That is what happens when one thinks about layer cakes and ducks.  His stomach was so empty that even thoughts of food stirred the gastric juices.  People pay for this experience, Norman was thankful that meals were included in the contract, he had thought that meals meant a table, chairs, meat and three vegetables.  

The man seated next to him radiated discontent that crashed into Norman like a wave crashing on a rocky shoreline.  Norman was surprised that he could feel the emotion.  He put the feeling down to the lack of food. That anyone who felt so strongly about the current situation and did not complain was strange.  Something, there was something about the man next to him.  A flood of warning swept over Norman, the man next to him was dangerous.

Norman looked at the picture, hoping for a safer option.  In the picture Norman noted that the garment of the man seated in the middle of the table touched the garment of left arm of the woman seated next to him, the pose, the artist was suggesting something, a close comfortable companionship, no the relationship was closer.  Even if the woman was leaning away from the man in the middle to politely listen to something a man holding a knife was telling her. There was a secret, he could feel the presence of a secret.  Was it the relationship between the two people in the middle?

I need food, Norman said to himself.  Now I’m seeing things that tradition does not hold with; how do I know things like that?  The picture is a reconstruction, the artist painted something for a patron. Norman closed his eyes, he seemed to have an antenna that was receiving transmissions from the picture.

A tide of waiters serving the next course flooded into the room, disrupting Norman’s thoughts about the picture.  Bowls of steaming liquid were placed in front of the diners.  Everyone had something different, his bowl looked like a green, purple and white lollipop and he wanted to lick it rather than eat it with a spoon.  Looking into his bowl of soup made his head feel light, as if it wanted to float away.  

Now that is just down right weird, thought Norman, I look at my food and my head wants to take off.  To check that it was his food Norman glanced at the bowl on his left, a greenish mustard coloured soup was in the bowl.  Feelings of bitterness and something Norman could not place, he wanted to argue, but did not know what the argument was about.  The emotion surprised and frightened Norman, he looked at his bowl and found that he felt he was floating, higher and higher, he had freedom.

Intrigued and cautious he took a squint at the bowl on his right hand side, the contents of this bowl were red, with a white centre, the mood of the bowl was heavy, there was a weight, something was  carried.  Am I going to survive this meal?  Norman asked himself.  I get emotions from objects and people.  This place is weird, but then people love to pay for the unusual, so far I would not be disappointed.

The silence was broken by a voice sounding like a booming bell, “Eat, this is your meal, this is the course you have chosen.”  

Norman picked up the spoon was next to his right hand, hunger was motivation to eat, but with the strange emotions running through him he wondered if eating the food in his bowl a wise choice.  He did not expect that the food would kill him, it might make me stronger, but that thought in itself concerns me.  Stronger for what?  Norman counted to ten and decided that he was too hungry to care.

50 Days of Easter

Yesterday at 7.30 am I was seated in front of this cross and sign waiting for a dawn Church service to begin.  This year clouds thick with moisture from rain, the first decent rain in five months, hung around in the east blocking the sunrise.  Much easier to deal with than a frost, and no rain.  It was a long hot summer.

Yesterday was also my time to reflect on the first Easter, the disciples, Peter and Andrew, James and John sons of Zebedee, Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Mathew, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot, found themselves in a strange place, the man they called Messiah was dead.

Each man had his own personal regrets about how he had reacted to the trial and execution of the man they had followed for three years.  The events of three days meant that these men had to readjust, did they understand what was happening the day that Jesus was crucified?  No, I don't think they did.

That day, the day we celebrate as Good Friday, the disciples lost their Best Friend Forever because another friend, Judas Iscariot, had betrayed him with a kiss; he had been considered an apostle, Judas was lost that day too.  Would I have wanted to speak to someone who had betrayed my BFF?

The complexity of emotions in this group; they came together, to morn their loss, but their sorrow was interrupted by a couple of excited women shouting, screaming that the Lord has risen. The emotional roller coaster was too much for the apostles, they went out and checked things for themselves and were told that the one they were looking for was not in the tomb.  Another downhill run, if Jesus wasn't in the tomb, then where was he?

In the most unexpected places.  Jesus simply dropped into or popped into the lives of the disciples, he appeared on a road, and in a room, the disciples had to learn to recognize their friend again, Jesus was different, their lives were changing, because the friend that they thought they had lost was with them, 24/7.

This presence became a comfort for the disciples and is the presence that continues Easter for us today, for believers continue to find that Jesus turns up in their lives unexpected, sometimes soothing and sometimes challenging, but always guiding us to understand a little more about the depth of God's love and forgiveness.



 

7. The Kobalt Influx

from Wikimedia Commons

Silence patrolled the room like an eagle flying high over a field watching for the movement of a small animal, condemned for moving . The diners conscious of silence, patrolled the room with their eyes.  When a sound was detected they turned their eyes towards the place emitting disturbance, a rustle of garment or nervous cough, gave focus, cautioned, and begged the offending diner to cooperate, reminding the diner that silence is golden.  

The man next to Norman gulped his glass of water.  The man’s hasty drinking, turned heads, and eyes searched for the source of the noise.  Norman noticed the man vanished into his garment.  One blink of an eye was all it took, all that was left was a robe sitting in a chair.  

Not satisfied with just a robe, because garments don’t make a noise when on a hanger, and the diners, restless from silence and the slowness of service, settled on the nearest source to the noise they could find, that Norman did not have an empty glass in front of him did not seem to matter.

Norman could feel the stare of eyes.  His face and skin heated from blood rushing to the surface of his skin, blushing.  The feeling embarrassed Norman and encouraged heat to flush his cheeks again.  Norman did not need a mirror to know what was happening to him.  He wanted to say a few terse words to the man next to him, but that would mean breaking the rule of silence, and that was something he was not prepared to do.

For relief from the roaming eyes,  he focused on the painting, he hoped that the eyes would follow his gaze, and not stare at him.  The painting was a copy of a copy, but precious.  Norman remembered seeing a smaller version of this picture, it had been found in a library, but the library itself was a copy, the picture was originally painted on a wall in a refectory, similar to the room he was seating in.

Painting on the walls of buildings, inside and outside, was an ancient custom, only the styles and content of the art work determined the period, it was hard to make sense of the past.  The stories and records of the time before the catastrophic event that began time present was blamed on a flood.

He did not dispute that there had been a flood, there was evidence of flood and floods, the problem was deciding which flood was THE flood; so many stories, so long ago, something happened, but the trouble with stories that old is that they are like a layer cake that is hit by a ball, left for a while, then picked up and put back together.  A  very good chance that the layer cake is a lame duck, but still a layer cake, only the layers are harder to define.