For those of us who like to use our religion to get some good feel-good feelings, this hasn't been a great day.
Obviously I can't complain too much. After all, I have my health. And a completely improper amount of tax-free cash stashed away beyond the reach of that pesky so-called 99% and, more relevant, George Osborne.
But you know, last night's Beltane celebration was dismal. Cold, wet, the Wicker Person didn't catch fire. And it's no fun, sacrificially getting up at 5am to discover that the warm half of the year is being launched in driving rain under a cold, gray, merciless sky.
It's at times like this that lighting a tea light just doesn't help. God's a million miles away, even the ability to manufacture spiritual feelings is seeping away. I tell you, I'm so down that even the sound of the cash register in the Beaker Bazaar can't cheer me up. Not least because, given the foul weather, our Spring range of Beaker Prayer Kites is hardly flying from the shelves. Get it? Flying from the shelves? Nah, didn't make me laugh, either.
So I've been dwelling on one short sentence. In the absence of any decent experiences or gooey feelings you may not think it of much import. It doesn't fill me with love for my fellow Beaker People, it doesn't give me the urge to sing happy songs, it's just the thing to hold on. It still seems to work in a way, so I'll cling onto it.
"On the third day he rose again".
Can't prove it, can't persuade you of it, don't even feel like living like it's true. But it's what it is. It'll have to do.
I thought that you would have been at the Traditional service to Welcome Summer at dawn on the beach at Whitstable.
ReplyDeleteThe Lord Mayor of Canterbury City, was there with a whole throng of Morris Dancers, Druidic types from Kent and the odd Bishop or two.
This is the place to be on Solstice days, particularly when the Whitstable Oyster season starts.
Druids coming out of your ears, on bikes and all sorts of transport, down to 'Del Boy's' Robin Reliant, converted into mean riding machines.
And the droughting at dawn, was the ideal setting to the backdrop of the lighting sky and the dark, gleaming sea. Almost a religious experience.
To celebrate Mo and I went for a tramp in the woods... Sadly he got away unscathed....
ReplyDeleteThe drear is here too, and to top it off, the tweens I teach have summer fever even as the water pours from the dark clouds. So the headaches begin from kids who have even less-than-usual interest in being in a classroom and I don't even get to cheer up with a bit of sunshine afterwards.
ReplyDeleteUKViewer, the clue's in the "Husborne Crawley" bit, I think.
ReplyDelete