the X facta

Baraka = simply brilliant

Is there anyone else out there who has not yet seen Baraka?
I got the tip from Cheryl that this movie might be something worth watching.

No narration, just images and music. Sounded like a great Chill Out vid for the end of a busy week. So I pressed play and entered another world. Well, it was this world, but like I've never seen it before.

Originally I invited Mr X to watch it with me. He asked, "what is it?" My response of "a documentary" didn't enthuse him, so he said "pass". He was buzzing around doing a few things while I watched Baraka. By the end of the film, he was sitting on the couch beside me.

Words have failed me in trying to describe this film to others. All I can say is - watch it and see for yourself. But let me warn you. Be prepared to have your sense of wonder restored.

in the deep end

Dive! photo by Kel, © 2008

Something I find myself repeatedly doing is diving in the deep end.

My penchant for a challenge has been well and truly put to the test with my recent art project start up. What do you get when you have a transient group of at-risk 15-19 year olds, exhibition space booked in the regional gallery in 6 weeks, and limited funds for art materials? One huge big dive-in-the-deep-end challenge.

This week we had an excursion. To the scrap metal yard and car wreckers. The aim was to encourage them to think outside the square. Exercise their creativity and gather bits and pieces of cars with which they will create art.

Kids with no fear let loose in a car wreckers yard. Aiiyyeeeee.

An hour or so later we'd filled up the back of the bus with a bunch of recycled materials.

By the end of the day a couple of girls had come up with the idea of making clocks from hubcaps. Wash, dry, spraypaint, dry, spraypaint, dry. Clean up the old keys they collected from all the car ignitions, spray paint, and dry. Next week they will attach the clock parts I've sourced and glue the painted keys around the face to represent the 12, 3, 6 and 9. All their own idea.

They inspired a couple of kids who were poo-hooing the whole thing. They sidled up to me and asked if they could go up to the art "loft" and put dibs on certain pieces that had been collected from the wreckers yard.

My usual medium of pastels, paints and paper are no preparation for dealing with scrap metal, rivet guns, aerosol art and a tough group of teens.

Yep, after a couple of weeks, the dive has been deep and I'm just surfacing for some air . . .

~ ~ ~
one day a girl gets removed from home where she's been abused by male relatives
another day the local drug house where they all get their "stuff" is raided by police
then a guy has his court hearing date moved, till after his birthday, so he will now be trialled as an adult and will most certainly serve time
~ ~ ~
middle class kids in private schools - these ain't

before I do another duck dive, I'm doing the surface thing
gliding across the surface gracefully, while paddling like hell underneath

How sweet it is

Cake therapy - now we're talking! photo by kel © 2008

This shopfront caught my attention in London.

Sometimes the only thing that will help is a pot of tea and a cake.
Well, perhaps just a slice of cake!?!
And someone to share it with.

my 40th cake, White Chocolate Mousse cake with Hazelnut Praline

This was the cake Mr X ordered for my 40th birthday. It was delicious. And the cafe across the water makes it. I could do with a piece tonight. It would be very therapeutic!

we've only just begun . . .

With some 600 square metres of wall and ceiling to be painted with a sealer undercoat and two topcoats, there's many more days of painting yet to be done.

How glad are we that the living area ceiling is lined with fijian cedar ply - no painting required!

Anamrae manifesto

Holding space, photo by Kel © 2008

I'm reading a book at the moment that could likely become the Anamrae manifesto text.

According to Henri Nouwen "Reaching Out: the three movements of the spiritual life", Poverty of mind as a spiritual attitude is a growing willingness to recognise the incomprehensibility of the mystery of life.

He suggests that to move from hostility to hospitality, we cannot be be filled with ideas, concepts, opinions and convictions. If we're full of them, we have no inner space to listen, no openess to discover the gift of the other.

The more mature we become, the more we are able to give up our inclination to grasp, catch and comprehend the fullness of life, and the more we'll be ready to simply let life enter us.

Hospitality in it's truest form is not offered to change people, but rather to offer them the space where change can take place. It is not about bringing people over to our side.

It is not educated intimidation wtih good books, good stories and good works, but the liberation of fearful hearts . . .

Hospitality is not a subtle invitation to to adopt the lifestyle of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own.

Creating space is far from easy in our occupied and preoccupied society. Yet if we expect any salvation, redemption, healing, and new life, the first thing we need is an open receptive place where something can happen to us.

We cannot change the world by a new plan, project or idea. We cannot change other people by our convictions, advice and proposals - but we can offer a space where people are encouraged to disarm themselves, to lay aside their occupation and preoccupation and listen with attention and care to the voices speaking in their own centre.

Chartres Cathedral

The one thing on my "must do" in France was to visit Chartres Cathedral to walk the labyrinth. The town of Chartres is 100km southwest of Paris. Rather than take a group tour, we travelled independently and caught a train from Montparnasse in Paris.

Outside looking in

By the way this post is in blue in defference to Chartres Blue - the unique colour in the windows. It was a secret colour commisioned by the then bishop, the recipe which died with the glaziers, and apparently to this day has never been replicated.

When you first enter, it's very dark. It takes awhile for your eyes to aclimatise. Slowly you start to see vivid splashes of colour on the floor from the stained glass windows which glow like jewels. Chartres is said to have one of the most complete collections of medieval stained glass in the world. Of the original 186 stained-glass windows, 152 have survived.

Inside looking out

Chartres has the widest nave in France and is 36 metres high. There is an unbroken view from the western end right along to the east, 128 metres away. The transepts [transverse arms, north or south, of a cross-shaped church] hold chapel areas such as these.

But what about this labyrinth, I hear you ask. People walk a labyrinth slowly as an aid to contemplative prayer, meditation and reflection, as a spiritual exercise or pilgrimage. With my penchant for experiential right brain activities, my fascination with the labyrinth made sense when I recently read that a labyrinth is a right brain task. It involves intuition, creativity, and imagery. Unlike a maze which is a left brain task that requires logical, sequential, analytical activity to find the correct path into and out.

Kel in the centre of the Chartres Labyrinth (yes, the one wearing the purple beret)

Chartres' stone floor holds the ancient labyrinth (1205). There is just one path through the labyrinth and it is 295 metres long. The circumference of the labyrinth is 40 metres, almost exactly the same size as the West Rose window. Intriguingly, the labyrinth is the same distance from the west entrance as the West Rose is from the floor — so if the west wall fell inwards, the rose would land directly on the Labyrinth. Something you would not want to be there to experience!

Wanting some music to accompany my labyrinth walk, I had Delerium's Silence on my mp3 player. Press play, walk the labyrinth, enter a parrallel universe. Right brain? Yes. Experiential? Yes. Spiritually profound? You bet.

Triumphant stories

Arc de Triomphe, photo by Kel © 2008

The Arc de Triomphe is the world's largest triumphal arch. Napoleon commissioned this monument to commemorate victories of the French army.

I don't know about you guys, but I find it very easy to be hard on myself. I can easily recall moments when I could have or should have done better than I did. Or times I didn't see my goals or plans come to fruition because of circumstances beyond my control.

When one is being battered about the head by others, it's important not to become part of the battering ram. This is the time one needs to remember the victories, remember the achievement, remember the times you did good!

Despite what some may try and get you to believe - you are good. Don't sell yourself short. Remember your moments of triumph. That's your "homework" for the week.

If you keep a blog, I invite you to share your triumphant stories.
Drop a comment below to link to your story.

If you keep a visual diary, I invite you to create images and symbols that speak of your triumphs.

Chin up!
You have been victorious.
You will be again.

simple small things

twin blades of grass
golden sheaves
nowhere to go
no-one to please

but simply by growing
where they were put
the pleasure's all ours
if only we look

we all strive for greatness
in both deed and word
but the simpler the story
the better it's heard

if only we'd get it
it isn't that hard
the great opportunities
lie where we are

Dancing to . . .

photo by Kel, © 2008

ever felt like you dance to the beat of a
different drum

then realised it wasn't even a drum
to which you danced

going against the flow
thinking outside the square
living beyond the norm
square peg round hole

~

My life has always been lived in the tension between doing the standard 9-5 to pay the bills. And doing independent, entrepreneurial, creative things. Which more often than not, don't pay the bills. I'm not sure how this "do what you love and the money will come" theory is supposed to pan out. Every time I've tried panning for gold, I end up with glitter. Pretty but worthless.

This week the media has been full of doom and gloom stories on the rising costs of living. They don't need to do a special feature on A Current Affair, or a centrespread lift out in the newspaper to tell me the cost of filling the pantry each week is skyrocketing. The cost of fuel means we now take one car into town. And don't even get me started on how much our mortgage payments are - after 8 interest rate rises in the past 18 months.

Moving to the country, I now have to work full-time to make the same money I did part-time in the city. And in an environment that challenges my definition of professionalism at every turn. Let's just say that tension cable has snapped.

And right now there's an opportunity swinging past that I have to leap out and grab. There is risk. And stress. And plenty of unknowns. And a small town everybody-knows-your-business atmosphere which makes it even more challenging.

But this pan has gold in it. For doing something I'm passionate about.

~

excuse me while i go polish up my flute playing skills
after all, i was never cut out to be a drummer

Dive !

If you ever check out my regular reads list on the sidebar, you'll see right at the top Abbey of the Arts. Among many other creative and spiritual things she offers there, Christine hosts a regular poetry party. This week's invitation caught my attention.

"When I was in Maine I was struck by all of the weathervanes on top of buildings, something you don’t see as much in other parts of the country. I loved the image of finding the direction the Spirit is blowing within you. What would an interior weathervane or compass look like?"

And here's my RSVP:

to find north

one must know where south is

to find south

one must be willing to dive

sinking

the

watery

depths
where

monsters

the

mind

thrive

to navigate

not by sight

but by sound

to discern

not by fact

but by mystery

dive ~ dive deep

for therein lies the way

of the spirit

Web of Intrigue

La Pyramide Inversee, Louvre, Paris, photo by Kel, copyright 2008

I had never read Dan Brown's famous novel, The Davinici Code. Since I was going to Paris, I thought it would be a good read for the trip over on the plane. I didn't get very far into the book, and was still reading while in Paris.

When I first visited the Louvre, I was taken by the upside down pyramid in the Carroussel, a large subterranean arcade under the Louvre. The play of light coming down through this structure was fascinating. And then I looked up and saw a hilarious sight. Red webbed feet squelching across the top glass panes. The light shining through them from above.

Web of Intrigue, photo by Kel, copyright 2008

At the time mum [who had read the book and seen the movie] was laughing at me because I was so taken by the inverse pyramid. I was getting very annoyed because so many people were standing right up next to it to have their photo taken. I had to wait for ages to get a shot with no people in it.

Of course now that I've finished reading the novel, I understand why it was one of the most photographed spots in Paris. I'll leave it at that for those of you who have yet to read the book [if indeed there is anyone left on the planet who hasn't]. The book was brilliant. Best thing I've read in a long time. And I'm so glad I didn't read it when it first came out. Being in Paris and reading the book was a good way to do it.

Breakfast in Paris

First morning in Paris, we hunt for a great cafe. Being Easter Monday, we found things a little slow in opening. Mum tried to convince me we should go to Starbucks, as it was the only thing open. I said I'd rather starve than have my first breakfast in Paris in a Starbucks!

My determination was rewarded when just 50 metres down the cobbled lane we found a delightful rustic cafe serving organic breads and pastries, granolas and yoghurts.

And bowls of coffee. Okay - I love Paris!

Breakfast on Rue Montorgueil, photo by kel 2008

Most people remember from science or PE classes how our sex is determined: The combination of two X chromosomes during fertilisation will result in a female being born; the union of an X chromosome with a Y will produce a male. While this blogger looks at life from the feminine perspective, she embraces the fact that every human being has an X facta. Something special, magic, unique.