Thursday 3 December 2020

Wednesday 3rd December

 Today's chocolate was eaten at lunchtime - it was that kind of morning.

When we opened the curtains it was still black night; all I could see was the streetlight outside the bedroom window, with occasional streaks of gold when raindrops fell from the lamp to the ground leaving a trail like a shooting star.

Rain is what it did, all day, and I don't think I have felt properly warm until now; this computer is right by a radiator! 

Today's tea;


Matcha green tea - okay - with cranberry and lime - less okay. I didn't notice the manganese making much contribution to my energy, metabolism or well-being, but I guess a rainy November day is a tough challenge for any cup of tea.

Still, tea is in many ways a symbol more than a drink - a glass teapot with a fancy tea and a glass mug on a tray with a tray cloth mean 'taking time for me'. So, as an experience, it was still good.

I had another routine hospital cardiology appointment over zoom today. I enjoy meeting the consultants - they are a cheerful, amusing and straight talking bunch. We came to the conclusion that I'm still alive - no, I should be serious! I'm pretty much unchanged from the beginning of this year, or indeed from last year. He was pondering what to say in the letter that gets sent to the other clinics and the GP - I suggested he just change the dates and send the same one, but he thought that might be unprofessional. 

I then phoned the hospital to see how my father is doing, and to garner news for an email out to friends and family; so far, so good. He's very cheerful, instructed me to inform everyone that he was going to go back to his flat next week for palliative care. With cancer, and at his age, it is anyone's guess how long things can carry on, but we are thinking in terms of months, not years.

The astonishing, and wonderful, and comforting about this whole state of affairs is how positive he is at the moment; while accepting the diagnosis and likely prognosis, he is managing to stay upbeat rather than sink into doom and gloom. At least when he is on the phone to me.

Today's pictures; - if I do two or three a day I should slowly catch up on the half dozen blank pages in my sketch book;

I've been prepping some pages by swooshing paint over them like this;




and then seeing what kind of pictures emerge; (the backgrounds are not the same as the ones above)

like the animal head


or a memory of the yellow flowers that shone in the border back in Jull and August 


or the ships sailing up and down the waves in a wild sunset; I member my grandmother saying, on the subject of bringing up your children, 'when you build your ships you must let them sail' 




 
Today's Advent poem; Suddenly by RS Thomas

As I had always known
he would come, unannounced,
remarkable merely for the absence
of clamour. So truth must appear
to the thinker; so, at a stage
of the experiment, the answer
must quietly emerge. I looked
at him, not with the eye
only, but with the whole
of my being, overflowing with
him as a chalice would
with the sea. Yet was he
no more there than before,
his area occupied
by the unhaloed presences.
You could put your hand
in him without consciousness
of his wounds. The gamblers
at the foot of the unnoticed
cross went on with
their dicing; yet the invisible
garment for which they played
was no longer at stake, but worn
by him in this risen existence.


Oddly enough, I have copied this from a web page which in which this poem was used as an Easter reflection. The last seven lines, of course. It is less obviously an Advent poem, but the these of this week's reflections is 'waiting'.

This is what I posted on the Reading Group facebook page;

There are times when, for apparently no reason at all, with no warning, I suddenly feel completely happy, joyful, content.
Is it because of something I've just seen, or heard, or done, or made?
No, it comes unannounced, not because of anything, but as a gift, and affirmation, and as soon as I have realised what is happening, it seems to smile and move on (to the next person?) leaving me with the smile, and feeling gently completed.
















There are times when, for apparently no reason at all, with no warning, I suddenly feel completely happy, joyful, content.
Is it because of something I've just seen, or heard, or done, or made?
No, it comes unannounced, not because of anything, but as a gift, and affirmation, and as soon as I have realised what is happening, it seems to smile and move on (to the next person?) leaving me with the smile, and feeling gently completed.

1 comment:

  1. Ah, your thought on that unexpected gift of joy is so true and so aptly put! I really love it when that happens too. I find myself smiling at strangers and the world seeming a very good place.
    Your swooshy paintings are wonderful- so clever the way the picture emerges- I am especially enamoured by Mr Foxy head.
    I'm glad to hear your Dad is positive- it must be hard to receive a diagnosis and know your time is limited- I pray that he will remain positive and supported by faith.x

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