The Dance Walk
I spent five hours in the pub the other day, on my own, drinking and reading from ‘feminism and psychology’. I actually really enjoyed it. Walking home (still light), listening to The Chemical Brothers Exit Planet Dust, I really got into the music, and started ‘dance-walking’. Picture me walking in-time, jostling my body and arms the way that English people do when dancing. I got more and more into it, and found myself full-blown going for it along the path. I was so absorbed in dance I failed to notice another walker. Hmmm. When he was too close for me not to see him, ensuing awkward English ‘what on earth do I do now?’ began, mentally rehearsing possibilities.
- keep dancing, of course
So I did, laughing internally at his awkward internal English ‘what on earth do I do about this head-case?’
Smile and wave, of course.
Irony in The Rock: God well-poised
In the last couple of months I’ve been appreciating more and more the irony that graffitis all over life. Maybe better: the irony that adds colour to life. I’ve been reading Dark Nights of The Soul, by Thomas Moore, and he suggests that in some of the darkest places we find ourselves in, a sense of profound irony in our human condition and situation in life can be like breathing in a rush of fresh air. Regardless, it’s everywhere.
Today, out of the blue, the idea of God being a Rock came to me. The image of God as rock is given throughout the bible, and I often hear a Christian say that she can be sure of God when all else fails. This rock is the foundation of her life, shelter from the storm, a solid framework to interpret the world into, the one, ultimate surety.
I wouldn’t want to argue against the existence of God; I’m currently mute on such issues. But this seems to be one of the deepest ironies I’ve yet come to appreciate. Of all the debatable truths and half-truths, constructions, ideas, concepts, objects, dreams etc., the one that is most fervently defended and most incomparably relied-upon is surely the most eternally enigmatic. The divine, the supreme being that has eluded theologians and philosophers for countless centuries is that which people pin their whole lives on. How did it come to be this way? Why not something a bit more tangible, like happiness, or goodwill?
I can cynically argue that ‘God’ is poised perfectly for this. God is sufficiently transcendent, sufficiently far removed from my life to evade refutation or criticism. If God were toasters and I tried to refute her, my atheism would quickly evaporate, because toasters aren’t very transcendent. Someone would throw one at me. God is like a puff of smoke, if you try to grab onto it you fail, and your hand just passes through. No-one can put God on trial. People can (and do) get very hot and bothered, thrashing around trying to pin-down and dissect the smoke, but all the time they fail in completing this task. However, ‘God’ is also sufficiently close for people to theorise and find confirming evidence. When I was young I prayed (in hearing of my Mum, incidentally) that I would get an electric car for Christmas. I did. Thank you, God.
If people made Newtonian physics the rock of their lives, they would be disappointed: Einstein came along and showed Newton’s physics to be only an approximation that was not true in all circumstances. Although everyone appreciates Newtonian physics in their everyday lives (though probably without a formal knowledge of the rules), it is too close. Newtonian physics can, and has, been refuted.
If people made bubblewortle (an omnipresent slime that cannot interact with anything other than itself) the rock of their lives, they would be disappointed, not because anyone can show them to be wrong, but because it makes no difference. Bubblewortle is too far away. (Have I just created a google-whack?)
So, God happily sits on God’s throne, enjoying perpetual mystique whilst also being praised for good things that happen, and for the pure greatness of being God. Of course, people’s ideas of God are doubted and overthrown all the time (*Kit raises his hand*), but on the whole, people are safe to base their lives on this concept because it inhabits a space that is just beyond reach, but only just beyond reach. This is truly a God well-poised.
Or, maybe, that’s just the way it is, one of life’s (God’s?) supreme ironies to stop us getting too serious about ourselves.
Ps 94:22:
“…
God (a metaphor for that which transcends all levels of intellectual thought ~ Joseph Campbell)
the (definite article, used to indicate uniqueness)
Rock (One that is similar to or suggestive of a mass of stone in stability, firmness, or dependability)
…”
Kiting
Went power kiting with Bethany, my oldest sister, on Tuesday today. Utter madness. My biggest jump ever: 8 feet. Ache ache ache ache ache since Tuesday and now more aches. She bought a new kite to rival my 6.5 metres of blue power. Hers is a machine built for lift. I was testing it, mountain boarding (being pulled along by the kite), and succeeded in getting lifted off the ground, mountain board detaching itself from me, and slamming on my back into a huge puddle, getting dragged through with the kite still going. I gave the dog walkers something to laugh at.
I made a video, anyone know where I can host it for free?
All I can offer you at the moment is a photo:
Teething problems
I've realised that my blog hasn't been rendering properly in internet explorer or Opera: I've been fiddling around too much with the template. Think it's fixed now, but if anyone finds any pages looking strange in any browser, like pictures where they shouldn't be, please let me know.
Five words
Here's something I did for my sister's birthday card. I guess it'd be called conceptual poetry. Wondered what people's responses are, even if they are "get lost you pretentious nutter"?
The House
Here's a poem I fell in love with straight away. It sums up my attitude towards all things empirical and objective after being emmersed in it for the last three years.
Come and live, they said,
In the house of science
With its solid floor of sense,
Its tiled and timbered roof,
Its foursquare walls of proof.
But I chose instead
The house of poetry
Under its rowan tree,
Half ruin and half grave
With green grass like a wave,
Nettles and moss for bed,
And its people coming and going
Like seeds the wind might bring,
Like words in the wind's song,
Their tenancy not long.
David Sutton
From The Guardian
Imposed religion
I have had an interesting conversation with my parents. In fact, many. Here is one.
A week ago my Mum was talking about the mistakes Great Britain has made over the last half century or so. She saw the fundamental problem lying in the UK’s ‘forsaken promise’ regarding the Balfour Declaration, seeing the 1947 ending of the UK’s Mandate for ruling Palestine as the first snowball in an avalanche of bad government. I'm not an expert on Israel/Palestine so won't comment.
She included the legitimisation of witchcraft as one of these terrible decisions. Dad soon joined the conversation. We launched into a full-scale debate about whether religions that aren’t Christianity should be out-lawed, because we're traditionally a 'Christian country'. We were once a 'Pagan country', should then Christianity be an illicit religion on such a basis? It got a a little heated, and I'm not sure either side really understood the other. But it's food for thought.
Speaker's Corner
Have just spent a fun weekend in London. Speaker's corner in Hyde Park today: lots of food for thought. Most notable was one excitable American evangelical:
"where's Muhammed? Dead! Dead! Dead! Where's Jesus? Alive, he defeated death! ... Your God is too small!"
Nice to know.
Welcome to my blog
I am Kit, and I am a person. Woah, just stumbled over something there. I am Kit. What do I mean by that? This bumbling bundle of nerves and emotion and meat and consciousness, ‘I’, am Kit. This label, ‘Kit’, somehow represents me, captures me, places me, such that I find my self-definition through three little letters. Strange world. Last night I went to some MAD drum and bass, for the second time this week, with my sister. It was London Elektricity playing, who I’ve never heard before, but would now recommend. Fantastic black woman vocals, coolio emceeing white guy in hat, smoooooth double bass playing, and, of course, mad percussion. The best thing was how they mix it up, very original stuff, blending genres (most notally reggae and hip hop with DnB).
I caught up with an old friend I haven’t seen for years, which was sweet. It was like we’ve been through the end of an age separately, and come together to talk about it afterwards. We’ve both been through the works, but are both still here, and are stronger because of it.
Got back home, listening to Faithless Back to Mine, suddenly woke up in an aquarium. It was bizarre, I was looking around my room, but it was underwater, and there were loads of people around. And there as drum and bass playing. And then I realised I was half asleep. Lol.
