Day: Aug 8, 2024

I’m dubious about the  Christian idea that suffering is good for you

Many people suffer a lot in life most people suffer a certain amount it’s inevitable. It’s possible that sometimes it might have the effect of making you change or become more sympathetic was the suffering others but I don’t think that suffering itself should be sought.

On the other hand I don’t believe that emotional suffering is necessarily a sign of mental illness. How many people have suffered broken hearts? Nearly everybody probably in our society at some point but that doesn’t make you mentally ill.

If anything it might really be the inability to tolerate suffering in the form of painful emotions that could cause mental illness.

I have refined you, but not as silver is refined.
    Rather, I have refined you in the furnace of suffering.”
Isaiah 48:10

Truth is love

Teal skies glaze Lake Windermere again.
My lover arrives,
looking calm and kind.
He inspires me–that man
walking by me in near silence to
Stone house where my cat waits patiently
by the glittering fire.
Now gentle teal skies fade
into soft lilac grey endings.
Cat,once more.
On the prowl.
Lover in my bed
Softly caresses
my skin with tenderness.
Skin against skin.
Touching.
Love touches;
Allows goodness
And truth into this world.

The naked and the read

After dinner Mary and Stan often went for a longish walk.They liked to go to a road where the richer people of Britain lived.,where there were some Georgian houses and one Tudor house.
At dusk they would stroll by looking into the lighted windows to see how the rooms were decorated.And if the front garden was large sometimes they crept in to see more
One beautiful house they liked from the outside was spoiled for Mary by the garish tartan wall paper.
What sort of people would live there, she asked Emile who was in her handbag.with his head peeping out
Well,they have a cat called Percy, he mewed softly.
Why Percy?It is a noble name from the British past of course,she answered…
Earls of Percy were involved in affairs of state.
Well.Percy is a Chinese cat,Emile said to her wittily.
He ought to be called Hu Ar U then,Mary joked ,or tried to as her sense of humour was somewhat lacking or maybe just odd.Still she looked lovely despite her moth eaten clothes bought in Sales in colors nobody else wanted like purple and lilac and bottle green.
She and Stan crept slowly up the garden path and peered nervously into the empty sitting room trying to identify the paintings on the walls.
All of a sudden, a woman who was completely naked came into the room and lay modishly on a sofa as if she were a trained dancer.She was a sight for sore male eyes.
Are they about to have a drawing class,Stan whispered.
She must be a model for a Life Class or an abstract woman ,with cat ,if Percy gets into the frame,Mary mused
Percy might scratch her then.Stan muttered.She could scream.
Suddenly a loud voice was booming at them.
What the bloody hell are you doing in my garden?
There stood a big man in plus fours and and an oversized red jumper with matching cheeks
We were admiring your wall paper,Mary said.I think it is very unusual.
He smiled in gratification.
I chose it,he cried.All by my self.
But why is there a nude lady on the sofa,Stan enquired.
I am so annoyed, the man told them.My fiancee likes to walk around nude but she forgets to draw the curtains first.
Does she want to make an exhibition of herself,Stan enquired hopefully.
We wondered if it was for a life class, you know,students learning to draw and become artists of note.
Well,that’s a good idea said Arthur thoughtfully.
The woman got up and came over.She opened the wondow.To their astonishment she was Annie,their neighbour and Stan’s mistress too.Stan might have known but he had kept his face immobile after years of practise.
Fancy seeing you here,Annie whispered creatively in her sweet little voice
I am trying to seduce Arthur but with no success so far except a marriage proposal.
You need to be more discreet and indirect, said Stan.
If you act like this he will think you are an artist’s model and likely to be featured in the Tate Modern Annual Show of Infamy .Now, would a man like this marry or even sleep with such a woman as you appear to be walking around like Eve before she ate the apple?
I don’t know said Annie but my clothes are all in the tumble dryer,anyhow.
Did you wet yourself? Mary asked her kindly.It’s nothing to be ashamed of.We all do it now and then especially since public conveniences were shut down across the UK.And now ,even winter coats are machine washable.
Well,I knocked over some lemon barley water in a big jug and so I decided to wash all my clothes. while I was here as Arthur as a tumble dryer
That’s a very strange tale Arthur told her.You look ravishing hanging out of the window with your nipples pointing up.Let me take a photo of
you.Say,Cheese
But will you put it on Twitter,Annie asked anxiously.
No,dear.I am not so cruel.Why don’t you get your clothes and make us all some tea .
I can’t make tea,she yelled and without pausing she dialledd 999.
What is it Fire or Ambulance the lady receptionist asked politely.
It’s a kettle.
Is it on fire?
No,it won’t boil.Can you send Dave the paramedic ,please, as he makes good tea.
We are quite busy so it may be two hours or more she was told.
I thought this was an emergency service,Annie said.
But who defines what an emergency is? the lady asked her philosophically.
I will die without this tea,Annie informed her in a ringing tone
Ok ,hang up and I will send the ambulance now.
Arthur seemed a little surprised
I have private medical insurance,he cried.But they don’t make tea not even for old people.
Well,in the UK tea has always been essential to the National Health
But it will soon be drying up and we shall get flasks from the dustmen on Sundays instead.
I just don’t believe it,Arthur said and he then passed out on the rug which stood in front of a bookcase full of leather bound volumes of poetry.
Will he live?
Will he die
I don’t know but I shall cry
Awry then

And places full of light

When the sun is high and bright and strong
We feel that it will always be the same
But when we live on earth we know we’re wrong
And for that darkness we have got a name

Now in England we have lights and screens
We do not fear the dark,the devils’ night
But often in the winter we will dream
Of summer heat and places full of light

The steps at Aldeburgh where we saw the sea
The cliffs at Lyme and Charmouth in the spring
But from such places I dread memory
The pain of loss is hard and no child brings

Now the sky is lilac in the dusk
In creation I find what I trust

Down beneath the  silence of the sky

Startled by the lilac of the sky
More blue dilutes the pink I saw before
Dark branches stand like fingers pointing high

The little bay tree potted is too dry
I gave it drops of tea but it needs more
Entranced by  softest lilac ,oh, the sky

I see two trees have grown like Russian spies
They got stuck in and blossomed then I saw
Dark branches,unboned fingers pointing high

Elderberry,cherry, seeds  have strayed
Don’t tell us that  green Nature may have flaws
Enhanced by  lilac , darkening, goodbye

Soon will come the ending and the prayer
The drama is all done, if any care.
Dark branches ,boneless fingers, pointing high

We may live, but God it is that stares
Like the Langdale Pikes watch Windermere
Down beneath the  silence of the sky
Dark branches stand like judges  from on high

 

 

 

 

Like a fallen moon

Old man,bending over,
arched like a fallen moon
in a dark lilac November sky.
joy and pain wrestle my heart across the emptiness
and toss it up like a damp rocket
to fall in a hidden corner where mice live.
Would that not be a good ending,to be dust
to these little creatures nesting
in my chewed green twine and my tartan basket?
They have eyes and shiver in my hand when I rescue them
from the cat…
as any heart might.
Now night falls on the newspaper basket
where the damp Times and the Guardian mix into glue
and tomorrow the sun will rise
and it will just be the garbage
with no poetic undertones nor deathly hushes..
Heather and a silver light
you stand on a hill top like a god
looking over his domain.
Strong and now weak
it’s the humane condition
Everlasting life is too dangerous for humans.
Silent,motionless,home of beetles
bit by bit we fall away
into the mother soil
with cracked jugs and dropped coins
for a future academic to dig into.
Transparent hand touches me.
Whose might it be