What's in a Name?

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet".  True, but the name 'rose' is for all time connected with that loveliest of flowers, so that now no other name would do.

My good friend Jean Rolt of "Tregear Vean" who is currently awaiting surgery to remove a growth on her face, brought home to me very sharply the importance of names.

In a recent post she blogged that giving the 'wart' with which she has lived for years a title has totally changed her perception of it.

Have names really such power?  Yes, I think they have.

Someone living in an abusive relationship which has become habitual, often fails to recognise it for what it is and when finally brought to realisation by an outside source will at first deny and only then become shocked by it being named.

My late husband who had been unwell for many years was finally diagnosed with the disease which killed him, was completely unprepared for the naming of his disease, and from that day onward began to live differently, much more fearfully than before.

On an apparently different level, when i was singing back in the sixties and seventies, I was almost paralysed by fear when faced with the prospect of an audition.  Yet, if someone, no matter how exalted or famous said to me "come and sing this to me", I was relaxed and able to perform at my best.  Is the word 'audition' really so terrifying?

People who have done a particular job for many years without any real recognition of their efforts will be overwhelmed by the job being given a title.  The job will remain the same, but the person who does the job will be for ever changed.

So, what  is in a name?

Doldrums

This is the only Google image I could find which accurately illustrates my current state of mind/writer's block.

Things are happening in my life of course, but only negative ones at present.

I appear to be going through some kind of low-spirited apathy, not "The slough of despond" exactly but something similar.

This is not a new thing for me of course, I have a history of depression, sometimes mild, sometimes more serious, but this long period of disinterest in everyday affairs is unusual.

It's not as though there is any lack of things to do (albeit almost all of them to do with St Mary's), but I am finding it very difficult to raise any enthusiasm for any of them.  Even music is failing to arouse any but the most feeble response.

There is a spate of birthdays in the close and invitations to go with them but I am simply not able to feel any real interest.

My garden which is becoming daily more overgrown is not encouraging any active response, more an increase in apathy combined with anxiety.

Housework has always been a bit of a no go area for me and it is now a real effort to make myself do the basics.

I read the blogs but can only seldom raise enough interest to comment.  I cannot write anything other than rants and do not want to put off for ever the few readers I still have,

This coming Sunday, instead of the normal attendance at St M's, my friend the parish administrator and one other lady and I are going to see our previous, greatly missed incumbent and his wife in their new church and then to lunch.  We are all looking forward to this and I am hoping (perhaps unrealistically) that this will prove the 'spell breaker' which will restore me to a better frame of mind.

It is perhaps unfair to pin too much hope on the reunion proving a catalyst but I feel that some kind of spiritual refreshment will take place.

Watch this space.

Why Bother?

Several times in the past few weeks I have heard people say "I don't vote, it's a waste of time, nothing ever changes".

There are a number of ways to interpret that statement,  "I can't be bothered".  Fair enough but don't complain when it has become clear that nothing is going to improve in your particular areas of interest.

" I don't trust politicians".  Politicians are people and behave like people, some are trustworthy others are not but you can't go through life trusting nobody.

"They say they will do such and such, but once they're in power they forget all their promises"
There are many ways in which you can influence that.  Local complaints and campaigns to rally support.  If you don't speak out nothing will change that's for sure.

"I don't like so and so, he talks posh, he doesn't understand working people".  It is quite likely that his 'posh' speech has been slowly and carefully acquired over  a long period of time in order to be accepted by the rest of his party.

"She is a working class snob, she resents us and our money is not safe in her hands".  It may or may not be true, but if your monied and privileged background hasn't taught you how to look after your wealth, tough!

The one that really gets to me is "I'm not  interested in politics they're boring, nothing to do with me".

Really? So 'we' are one thing and in our own little cloud and 'politics' is in a little box, just over there, nothing to do with the stuff of ordinary life.

Well I've got news for you.  Life is politics.  Every single thing we do is influenced by politics and failing to use your vote to  at least attempt to change the things you don't like.or to improve the things which are already in place, whether your interest is in housing, education, health, community or any other aspect of daily existence is a shameful waste of opportunity.

In this country we have a reasonably democratic way of life, with many freedoms not available to people in many other countries.  It is our right certainly but also our sacred duty to use the vote our predecessors fought so hard for.

Not going to vote?   Shame on you.

Balance - perspective - joy - sorrow and survival

First thing this morning I saw the appeal on BBC TV by the DEC for the Nepal tragedy.

I phoned my donation through early so I could turn off the TV and think of something else.

All the way in to St. M's I found my mind turning to the dreadful pictures and stories that are unfolding in this latest and most dreadful of natural catastrophies.

This was my SPACE duty morning, always very busy, sometimes fun, more often challenging I was glad to be occupied and in a manner which had some merit.

Later someone told me they had had a pet cat put down yesterday, once more dropping the mood down to zero.

Returning home this afternoon my neighbour's son came round to let me know he has passed his driving test.  Full of high spirits he lifted the feel of the day back onto a happier level.

Watching the 6.00 pm news this evening more details were becoming known of the extent of the Nepal disaster  and knowing there was nothing I could do I once more turned the TV off.

At 8.oopm I settled to watch my long-time favourite Holby City.  A good storyline with some ups and some downs, my spirits rose to dizzying heights when the end of the programme saw the return of my hero - Heinrich Hanson.

My cup runneth over.

But.

What absolute nonsense.  How can a mere TV programme cancel out the misery of the events in the real world?

Well of course they can't, do not really do so, but what they do manage  is to restore the balance in a day filled with highs and lows.

When people use the very over worked expression "a roller-coaster ride", this is, I think, what they mean.

Without the redeeming factor of light-hearted trivia we would all sink into the depths of depression if we allowed bad news to take over our lives.

Finding the balance is tricky and is difficult to  sustain at times but is the key to survival. We are of  no use to other people if we are not able to retain our own stability.

Anyhow, to end this wandering reflection, may God bless and help and inspire us to try to help the poor victims in Nepal.

Oh, and God bless Heinrich Hanson. :-)

Let it Rain

This in case anyone has lost sight of the fact, is April.

So, where are the April showers?

Yes I do know that as soon as it starts to rain I along with half the population will be begging it to stop, but oh it is so dry.

Yesterday at 6.15 am out in the garden putting my morning bird-table and ground bird seed 'breakfast' out.  I nearly stepped on a dead starling.

How it was killed I don't know but it was very flat and was a very young bird, obviously too young to have learnt caution.

Taking a spade from the garage I started to dig a hole for the burial.  The ground was like concrete and all I could do was hack out a rough space lift the unfortunate little corpse into it and cover it with the solid block of rock-hard soil.

At lunch-time on my return from St. M's I filled a watering can with water adding some Jeyes fluid and soaked the area to seal it  from predators and to help disinfect the area.

Looking at my rapidly browning daffodils and Hellebores I realised that if it doesn't rain soon all the new growth will  be straw and of course the rampant weeds will resist all attempts to pull them up.

Once, back in the mists of antiquity I loved gardening.  Now the combination of dry Springs, hard clay soil and my own ancient body make it an almost impossible chore.

It wouldn't be so bad if the drought was accompanied by warm sunshine, but though there is some warmth in sheltered places, the evil strong East and Northerly winds cancel out the benefits while drying the earth out even more.

Every time we get a weather forecast which promises rain, the clouds gather overhead then thumb their noses at us as they sail by on their way elsewhere.

This Friday they are again promising rain.  I'm not holding my breath.

Meet and Greet

Every Wednesday it is my great pleasure to sit at the 'welcome' desk near the entrance to St Mary's.  A somewhat chilly post on many days since both the outer and sometimes the inner doors are wide open.

Nevertheless my 'meet and greet' partner and I thoroughly enjoy our weekly exchange of views, personal chat and deeper discussions, interspersed with visitors of all kinds.

Some scuttle in, heads averted so as not to catch our eyes and manage only the barest nod in return to our "Good Morning"s

Others drift up to the desk and linger and chat about their own churches, or sometimes their family stories, while some, just a few ask deeply interested questions about the age of the church and which are the bits to look out for etc.

Occasionally we get musicians who have heard that our accoustics are particularly fine and want details of concerts etc.
We have visitors from Australia, America Germany, Nederlands and many other countries, as well as coachloads now and then from all over the UK.

There are days when no-one crosses the doorstep and days when there are endless trickles of couples, groups and single callers.

All are grist to our mill, and the chance to have a really good chat about our various 'treasures' is really welcome.

Best of all is when someone on leaving says."thank you so much for making our visit so interesting"

A couple were on their way to the door last Wednesday when I remembered that they were particularly interested in old wood and I had neglected to show them our (four) misericords in the choir stalls.

I apologised for delaying them but said I hoped seeing these hidden carvings would make up for it.
They were so effusive in their thanks that I still had a smile on my face half an later.

Volunteering can be dull and sometimes seem a thankless exercise, but it can be such a source of joy too.

Oh dear, I sound like Pollyanna.  I'd better go and lie down. :-)

Belated photos

The two pictures above
are two of the four I took to illustrate my balloon story.  Have managed somehow to retrieve them fromthe clutches of my evil blog gremlins, but couldn't help the other 'prisoners'.

They are still just about surviving but the six smaller ones are about grapefruit size and Mummy has now wrinkled, descended to ground level and is looking at the floor.

All this just so I could discover how long they could remain with some helium still in them. (19 days so far).

If this sounds slightly off the wall I must plead Easter exhaustion.  Three mammoth days gone, and one remaining.

Musically it has been a wonderful experience but physically draining.  Some 11 hours so far.

Tomorrow we will round off the service with the Hallelujah Chorus.  By which time none of us will have any voice left.

There have been some rather odd changes to the 'normal' way of doing Easter, courtesy of our American rector, but he is getting used to us and we to him.

Much as I love Easter, I am glad it comes only once a year.

Spiritually rather traumatic, musically uplifting and exhausting in equal measure and mentally taxing it is a mixed blessing.

Happy Easter everybody.