Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys!

You may have seen this phrase roaming around social media recently; it seems to be popping up all over the place. There's even a couple of pages by the name now - which is where this pic came from:-

As you can see, it's a Polish proverb, so I asked a Polish friend what it means, so I got the sense of it right (though, to be honest, it's pretty straightforward). She told me it's basically the same as 'none of my business'; though much more expressive. Which may tell you something about the English character.

Anyway, the phrase kind of stuck in my head and made me think about monkeys. I went to Kenya a couple of years back now, and when we were there, we saw plenty of monkeys. They weren't everywhere, but they were quite common, and there was one feature of monkeys that soon becomes obvious - monkeys do what they want to do. They're pretty much uncontrollable; and completely chaotic. So, what does that say about life? If the 'monkeys' are our circumstances, our feelings, everything that goes to make up our personal situations, does that mean that life is barely controlled chaos?

After all, even though circuses are made up of well rehearsed performances; they're still bright and colourful and explosively eye-catching, with what look like incredibly risky close calls sometimes. Certainly sounds like a much better description of life than business. Relationships should never be treated just as a business transaction. Ever. Relationships mean treating people as people, seeing them as interesting unpredictable individuals who can be worse than you fear and kinder than you dream - which will definitely be chaotic, and probably messy at times. But that's the difference between love and tolerance - which I also wrote about in this other post involving Polish people.

(And apart from the fact that God wants us to love everyone - not just tolerate them - there's always the fact that if you help others deal with their monkeys, they may just help you deal with yours...)

Two Months Gone!

Well, where does all the time go? It flies when you're enjoying yourself, and even when you're not, it still - somehow - disappears. And once it's gone, it's gone; you can't get it back.

Just about two months back I decided to take a break from writing this blog, because I was getting a bit stressed with doing it. Not because I wasn't enjoying it, but just because I couldn't keep up with doing it. The busier I was, the more interesting things I had to write about, and the less time. When I wasn't busy, I struggled to think of things to post on; but when I had things to write on, I couldn't do it. So I decided to stop temporarily.

I didn't know how long it would be, but I was thinking it would be about a month. Clearly, as you can tell, it was longer, and it could have been longer still. I didn't have any idea of how long it would be when I started to stop, and that made it more difficult to stop stopping, as it were. It did get to a point where it felt like it was starting to get harder and harder to think about starting again; so, I kind of had to decide I was going to, or I could have continued procrastinating forever. I'm good at that.

 But when I started this blog, I wanted it to keep going on. If it does ever come to an end, I want it to be a proper end - i.e. that I decide that this ends for this reason and this other thing is started instead. Which may happen in time, who knows. But what I don't want is for it to just stop.

Like that. So, I've finally started again, thank God. I thank Him anyway, because I'm pretty sure I would have continued to struggle if He didn't help me. I had plenty of ideas, but somehow never got around to writing any of them down. And then I had a week off, and I really wanted/hoped that I would get something on the blog this week.

However, I still didn't know whether I actually would. I know what I can be like. But here we are - I've written this and you're reading it. And it's not actually the first new post - this is.

Playing, With God

This post is sort of about the new EP from Trinity, but it's not exactly a review. It's more sort of about my experience listening to it. But, as you read it, my impression of it should be clear. (Spoiler - I like it. A lot.) To set the scene, last night I was on Facebook and I saw something from Lana Vawser about just spending time with God and basically appreciating His presence. I was at home on my own, so I thought what better time than now, and I thought I'd listen to this:-

(Colours is actually one of the songs, but this is what the cover looks like - it was the best pic I could find)

So I turned off the computer and turned on the CD, and just sat  - with God. And I experienced His presence. But not in a kind of overwhelming way. He was absolutely, definitely there, but in a sort of quiet way, like I could just spot Him out of the corner of my eye, as it were. It kind of felt like He was dancing around, coming close then jumping back just out of reach laughing, and with a sparkle in His eyes. The word that sums it up for me is 'playful' - which is where the idea for the title came from.

I like the whole thing - which is why I've been listening to it on repeat since then, and not got tired of it. Partly, I think, this is because each of the songs are so different. At least, that's how they sound to me. But here are some thoughts and/or impressions from some of them.

'River Run', the title track is, to me, both gentle and poetic. It reminded me of a poem I read about people without hope - except here, there is Hope. And an invitation.
'First Love', another one sung by Jules Woodbridge, is beautifully passionate. It reminds me of an album written and recorded by a Christian couple just after a personal tragedy, where they sung about trusting God and relying on Him, and you could feel that they meant it. That it meant something to them. And in the same way (though completely different), this song makes me feel that Jules knows Jesus. She loves Him, and she knows she loves Him; and this comes across so strongly.
'Colours' (mainly) by Jemima Woodbridge, who is clearly developing into a great (singer and) songwriter, on the strength of this; but it resonates with me for personal reasons. I've been thinking a lot about art and creativity recently (yes, more than usual), and this goes right along with that; that anywhere there is beauty, there God can be known.
And 'Grace Has Won', sung by Josh Chesworth and Becky Bull, which feels to me somewhat like a hymn. Which is definitely a good thing. There are lots of great hymns with fantastic words and tunes, and this has something of that to it. Plus it has Becky singing, which is always a good thing, so I'll leave you with that. Enjoy...

What's The Point Of Christian Fiction, Anyway?

I recently wrote a review of a novel by a new Christian author, and am currently reading 'Heidi' by Johanna Spyri; both of which talk about God clearly, but in completely different ways.

Hardly surprising, as one is set in a dystopian future and the other is set in the Swiss mountains in the late 1800s - I'll let you guess which one is which. However, one thing they do have in common in this regard is that they both talk about God in how He is there, and involved in the characters everyday lives.

But 'Heidi' wouldn't ever have been regarded as 'Christian fiction'; indeed the author would have probably had trouble understanding what the term meant. But it's not because 'back then' everyone wrote about God so it wasn't anything special - that's clearly wrong, for instance, Jane Austen's novels have hardly any mention of God, and yet she was a vicar's daughter who wrote poems and prayers that are full of faith - but rather the opposite. There was no 'Christian fiction' because it was quite 'normal' to read about God. Not everyone wrote about Him, but no-one thought it anything out of the ordinary when people did. And, more importantly, no-one minded particularly.                                   

But now, the prevailing opinion is that 'no-one wants to read about God'; or, at least, not enough people to make it worth trying to market it. And so, a market has grown up for those who do - and for those who naturally do want to 'write about God' (or at least include Him), this has become the natural market to aim for. Seems sensible to find the people who will probably want to read what you want to write.        

But 'Christian fiction' means more than that, or it has come to. It was designed for those who were fed up with not being able to find something to read that didn't contain bad language, drunken excess, violence and sex scenes. You may ask what's wrong with having those in a book, and I can say 'nothing, as long as it adds to the story'. Having them in doesn't make a book good, or not make it bad - that's my view on it.  And I've read plenty of both.

And I can also say that I have a lot of sympathy with this view. I read a lot of chick lit/romantic type fiction and I have to say that after a while sex scenes begin to get a little...boring. There's only so many ways you can describe it, after all. I often find myself wanting to skim through those scenes in order to get back to the story. There's one series of books I read set in Regency times, and in pretty much all of them the couple has sex before the wedding day. Now I realise there were quite a few 'honeymoon babies' who came suspiciously early - or might have - but it would have been far less than in modern times. Still, every single one of the books also features a love match, and that certainly wouldn't have been the case.

The problem comes if or when it becomes more important to have certain elements and exclude others. In both the books I mentioned at the start, God appears naturally, because everything that could be included naturally is, and a relationship with God is treated exactly the same way. Which is exactly the way things should be (and how John Grisham, for instance, gets away with openly talking about faith issues in his novels), but while we still have a situation where, for the most part, God is 'excluded', then unfortunately, the current situation is the best we're going to get. We just have to hope that Christian writers (and readers) get more daring with what is acceptable.

Blank Page...

Sitting in front of a screen, sighing, wondering what words to write. I have words at hand, just waiting for me to reach out and grasp them - but which ones? And in what order?


Sometimes I just have ideas, or images of something not quite... there. Not quite clear. Or whole. Maybe the words would come easily, oh so easily if, when the ideas become what they could be, should be.


And when that idea comes, where will it go? How will it get there? How do I get there? What path do I follow? Or make? Where do I forge my own route? Where will I go? Where will I end up? Sounds a bit like an adventure, yes - exciting? It could be, hopefully will be - but not yet.


I haven't got there yet. I haven't got anywhere, it seems. And, it seems like I'm never going to get anywhere. Not at the moment. Maybe not ever. Who knows, maybe I'll never write again.


I know what I want to say. Almost. Sort of. I'm just not sure how to say it. Where to start, where to go next. What words, phrases will be best, be right. If any - there have to be some, right? Right?


I've done it before; I must be able to do it again. I must. It can't be that difficult. It can't. It is. It was never this difficult, I'm sure. I can't do it, I'll never do it. Never again. I give up...

I Am Margaret

I recently read an ebook - a debut novel by a Catholic author. I was given Amazon vouchers for my birthday, and was wondering what to spend them on, when I saw an ad for this:-
                                              
                                                            

This is the cover for 'I Am Margaret', and I think it's brilliant. It's both simple and powerful, partly because it is so stark. It gives something of an impression of what the novel holds, while also showing somewhat the tone of the novel. Stark and powerful - both the cover and the novel itself.

Set in a dystopian future, it is the story of Margaret, who is judged imperfect and taken to the Facility, where she will ultimately be dismantled, broken down for spare parts while fully conscious - unless she can escape. But no-one has ever escaped from a Facility before...

And it is the story of those in the Facility with her, not all of whom survive. The Facility is the ultimate expression of the world they exist in; a world where people are valued for what they are rather than who they are, a world where the material is all that is allowed to exist.

Without giving too much away, I will say that there is more going on in this book than at first appears on the surface - and that 'I Am Margaret' is the title of more than just this book. It peels back the layers of society in much the same way as the society peels away the layers of those who are dismantled; and it questions whether people really are just what they seem on the surface. Is there more to life than this - and, if so, what?

I also really liked the characterisation of the various people in the book, both guards and inmates. Particularly the character of Sarah, who is brain damaged due to an accident in her childhood; and genuinely has no idea of why she is there, and not much more of what could happen, what will happen.

This reminded me a bit of 'The Cure' by Michael Coleman, and like that ended with a note of hope; but unlike that, the story doesn't end here. This is the first of a trilogy, and I have to say I'm very much looking forward to the next in the series. but for now, I'lll leave you with this trailer:-

                                                                  

The Trouble With Modern Vampires

I talked about vampires before, and I described how they changed from being seen as evil spiritual beings to just beings - that may or may not be evil. Which leaves us with a problem. Simply put:- Where Does The First Vampire Come From?
                                                 

I mean everyone knows how new vampires are made; at least in as much as they know that one vampire bites a human - the process differs from story to story. But the essential point about that is that there is already a vampire there (well, duh). But before that, how do we get from no vampires to lots of them?

If we start off from the idea that they are demonic somehow, then we have a place to start. We get that they must be evil, or at least damned. We understand that they can have powers that humans don't tend to have, as well as 'living' forever. And we can accept that they have weaknesses - because, though demons are powerful, they are far from omnipotent - whether you believe in one god or more. Even the whole idea of undeath is a 'weakness' - it's the closest the demons can get to giving eternal life. And it also gives some idea of demons' character:- that what they offer is something that no sane person would seek. That all makes sense in a sort of twisted way.

But if we remove the demons and/or evil from the equation, how do we make sense of the vampires. If they were made by some random god/spirit, why? And why those weaknesses? For instance, traditionally, the best woods to make stakes from were rowan and hawthorn; which often grew in graveyards - consecrated ground. But, more obviously, why would crosses have any power over them? Unless there really is power there. Every way we look at it, a demonic origin seems to make the only kind of sense it is possible to make.

If we take the idea that they are just immensely powerful beings of some kind, then it is even nonsensical. Because, clearly, vampire abilities don't make sense in the 'normal' laws of biochemistry. So, if the 'original' stories were some sort of morality tale, then, in context, they made as much sense as such stories were ever going to make. Simply put, they are about good versus evil; a struggle which, ultimately, evil will always lose - and it doesn't have ever complete free rein. It seems that, in trying to make sense of them for a modern age, they make less sense than they used to - the more realistic people try to make them, the more fantastical they become. And if there ever were any grain of truth, they are now even less believable...