Lecce | Italy

It's been a shockingly long time since I've posted anything. So here, for your viewing pleasure, are some pictures of a brief but lovely weekend in the very south of Italy with my dear friend Debs.

Central square

Possibly the prettiest tourist information point I've ever seen.

The colour of that stone, though!

Of course we peeked in at the wedding.

On our way to Gallipoli (not the famous one, but lovely!).

Lots of graffiti -- and my finger in the corner of the shot.

Gallipoli

My affection for lighthouses continues.

So glad Debs decided to organise a (for her) post-exam holiday -- and to invite me along!

Such a lovely meal looking out over the sea!

Couldn't decide which was my favourite!

Cutest old men weaving baskets!

Back in Lecce.

Sunday people watching in the park.

A'Roma -- beautiful food!

When in Lecce...

On sharing

I had to learn to share from a young age, since my first little brother came along well before I was two years old. I had to share my Duplos (anyone remember those?) as well as our parents' attention.

As time went by, my life was enriched by the coming of more little brothers. It was also complicated, as I learned to share more than just my toys. I didn't always like it when my brothers butted in on 'girl movies' I was supposed to be watching with just our mom. Sharing time and attention didn't come naturally.

Then, as I got into those overwhelming teenage years, my parents kept telling me I had to learn how to communicate -- to share those icky, messy feelings and the deeply personal thoughts that lay beneath (some of) them.

If we're being honest, I think for many of us that's a lifetime's work right there -- learning to share our deepest thoughts and emotions (and discerning with whom to share them). Vulnerability: in my head it comes with the image of standing naked in public. Both sound fairly unpleasant.

Yet, as that famous Lewis quote reminds us, "To love at all is to be vulnerable" (C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves). So the inverse is true: if we refuse vulnerability, we're cutting ourselves off from love. I think that's the one thing most of us fear more than vulnerability -- a life without love.

Before you decide I'm just repeating what has been said more eloquently by others, what I'd actually like to consider in a bit more depth is the intersection of love and beauty. Not in the conventional sense of how physical attraction relates/should relate to love, but how loving others relates to sharing experiences of beauty.

This is something I'm not always very comfortable with, because it requires a particular type of vulnerability. You're inviting someone else into your interior life, showing them the things you cherish in the privately curated museum of your soul. Whether it's a poem, a symphony, a fiery sunset, an indie rock song or an impressionist painting, we're not only sharing something we find beautiful, but we're also sharing something about ourselves -- how we see the world and how its beauty touches us.

And of course, with this openness enters the possibility of rejection, of ridicule. Sharing is always a risk, because the other person can, if they choose, just take and never give back, or stomp all over the thing we've given them. Still, if Lewis is to be believed, it is a risk worth taking.

We must also allow others to share their appreciation of beauty with us. This requires us to be open to the idea that we don't have a monopoly on good taste or sensitivity to beauty, which should be obvious, but is easy to forget in practice. Humility -- not a hugely popular word, but a Christian virtue (1 Peter 5:5) -- plays a role here. Philippians 2:3 instructs us, in love, to esteem others more highly than ourselves; I think it is safe to say this includes giving weight to others' opinions on and perceptions of beauty (though of course we mustn't abandon discrimination/taste altogether -- another post in that).

The goal, in the end, is "love unfeigned" (2 Corinthians 6:6, KJV). I love that old-fashioned word. It's the genuine article, illustrated perfectly of course in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who sees and can redeem the beauty in each one of us -- because, of course, he put it there.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time."

- Ecclesiastes 3:11 - 

Cambridge | March 2017

Life has been your art

“Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets.”
Oscar Wilde

I've started reading Hidden Art, by Edith Schaeffer, and I've found it so encouraging both as a Christian and an artist (in the broader sense, i.e., a writer, sadly with no special talent for painting/sculpting/sketching). Here's an extended quote -- her thoughts really need no introduction.

What is creativity? What is it we do when we create something? We start with an idea, or a number of ideas. Something comes into our minds. We have a flow of ideas, sometimes a tremendous flow of ideas, at times in one direction, or at other times in another direction; or perhaps even ten directions at once. And we have to make a choice. We cannot do everything that comes into our minds, nor can we create everything that comes into our imaginations, whether it be in a very great or complicated area of science or art, or in a very mundane area . . . There is choice involved in the very simplest form of creativity, because as any set of possibilities comes into our minds, we have to choose.

Man, because he is limited, has a very limited choice. He is limited by time, as well as talent. He is limited by the resources at his disposal as well as in the skill to use what he has. We do not all have the talent to produce all the ideas that come into our minds . . .. A man might think of some great painting in his mind, but not be able to execute it on canvas at all, because he does not have the talent to paint.

But time is also involved. We each have a very limited number of hours in a day. Often I would like to add to those hours, but have never found a way to do it. There are just seven of those twenty-four-hour periods in a week, and a very limited number of weeks in a month, and there are only twelve months in a year. Then, how many years are there in a life? It really goes -- like that! It does not take long to disappear.

And so -- what can we get done in those few hours and days and weeks and years? We are limited by time and by areas of talent and ability. So our creativity is not on God's level at all. His creativity is unlimited and infinite. Nevertheless we have been created in His image, so we can be, and are made to be, creative.

Man has a capacity both for responding and producing, for communicating as well as being inspired. It is important to respond to the art of others, as well as to produce art oneself. It is important to inspire others to be creative as well as to communicate by one's own creative acts.

And, skipping ahead a bit:

Is a Christian -- one who is in communication daily with the Creator (communication made possible because of redemption through the blood of Christ) -- to divorce himself from the things God created and intended man to have, and which demonstrate the fact that man has been made in the image of God? In other words are we, who have been made in the image of our Creator, and who acknowledge and understand what that means because we know God exists, and experience communication with Him -- are we to be less creative than those who do not know that the Creator made them in His image, and who have no contact with Him?

It seems to me that the marks of personality -- love, communication, and moral sensitivity -- which are meant to sharpen as we are returning to communication with God, should lead to an increased rather than a decreased creativity. The Christian should have more vividly expressed creativity in his daily life, and have more creative freedom, as well as the possibility of a continuing development in creative activities.

 [Quotes taken from p. 24-25 and p. 28-29 of Hidden Art]

Trinity College, Cambridge | February 2017

Here we have no continuing city.

 For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.

Hebrews 13:14

It seems appropriate that I am presently spending a lot of time volunteering in what was designed as a wayfarers' chapel, given that I've felt a bit of a wayfarer myself these last few weeks. I left California for London in mid-August, left London the next day for Wales, spent another several days in London, left again for about five days in Cornwall, returned to London, moved up here to Cambridge, then back to London for a wedding -- and now back in Cambridge for a bit. 

I had no idea, at the beginning of this year, that I would be living in Cambridge. In March it appeared that I would be leaving England, only to return for a visit in late summer, but with no real long term prospects, visa-wise. The way things came together still slightly boggles my mind, but I know that I am meant to be here this academic year anyway, and am trying to remind myself to stay open to what God has for me to learn, be, and do.

Here are a few pictures from my travels over the past few weeks.

Min, who kindly welcomed me to London and dealt with my jet lagged self!

At the Green Man Festival, in the Brecon Beacons (Wales).

Not sure why, but this installation was called The Shipping Forecast, a la BBC Radio 4, presumably.

My first-ever real festival!

Debs and I!

My jacket apparently doesn't cast a very flattering shadow.

Mousehole, Cornwall. Retreat with the London (now former) housemates.

St Ives.

Reading on the beach.

Not even posed!

All four of us! Julia (taking the picture?), myself, Sarah and Lucy.

Beach!

Julia at the Minack Theatre

Oh, the places you'll go!

St Michael's Mount

Birthday in west Cornwall!

Poldark country.

Cambridge

Now I know what asters look like. This is the dining area in "my" new flat.

More to follow, including possibly some pictures from Heather and Tel's wedding, if you're lucky.