FoF: Sam Vimes

Vimes turned to look at the squad..., originally uploaded by my beanie hat rocks.

Isn't it amazing? Agh, I love Vimes so much. He was very good to me during my brief stay in A-M.

Today I was out with Ben and Dave picking up the pre-release copies of Suncaller (Ben's book). Along the way we saw a girl in a gothic lolita jacket, walking her cat. On a lead. Ben stopped to compliment her cat or something, and ten minutes later we were in her flat looking at her incredible, surreal paintings and her homemade steampunk goggles. It turned out her housemate is having some work published by Dead Star Publishing (Dave's business, also publishing Suncaller), so, you know, small world! Then we all went out for brunch.

Today has been weird, but also good.

Godforce

The world is weird and wider than we think, this is undeniable. And I can't make head nor tail of it.

For instance, I've seen the world as crackling white energy that blazes like lightning matter broken down into all that it is: structure (order) and the other stuff, energy, the force, the spirit. I saw that.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking full-on hallucinations, but I have a vivid imagination and it made sense to me because "in Him all things hold together." That's the stuff, the God-bond, that is in everything and everything is in Him. It made the world more magical and I was happy with that.

And that's us, too, sparkling brighter than the roads we walk on, full of more lightning than the seats we sit on and the beds we lie on, and why is that?

Or so I thought, back in the day, before things got a little more 'complicated' (which means boring and grey as everyone knows; it's what adults tell children when what they mean is that they got old and things stopped making sense. "Things are a little more complicated than that"). It's easy to convince yourself that you let your mind run away with you. It's really easy.

But then, well then something unexpected happened. On Monday night. A party, all dressed up as animals, I a cat of course; not the setting for a spiritual revelation but then isn't that always the way? And I remembered a poem, and asked for a notebook, and then... well then...

Do you remember I told you about a poetry Open Mic night? And how there was one guy - one poem - that snapped me to attention and made me wonder if he might live in the same world I've lost? It talks about "throwing the rocks Jesus told me not to," and there's a sensation of rain on pavement and part of it - part of the poem, it talks about seeing everything as bright white crackling energy, electricity, and I had forgotten he said those things.

But there they were, in the notebook, and I asked him about it. Yes, he's seen it, he's seen white-hot electricity in everything. And then he mentioned archetypes and I smiled and he mentioned Jung and I sighed and I nudged him back towards Ben, because those two could talk forever (Ben loves Jung, the collective unconscious and all that jazz) and it wasn't the time for a conversation about Godforce and spirit stuff.

But now I feel a little bit less delusional and a little bit more sure of the thing you can't be sure of - that someone is in charge of this mess; someone is in control. And in us.

The man on the bridge

Christmas is, of course, a time for celebration, family, and the observation of custom. But one way or another, it always seems to be about loss as well. Our minds go back to Christmases past, either with regret or nostalgia. It's the time when we remember those lost to us through death (RIP, Nana) or circumstance (single at Christmas again...). And, for me personally, it's the time I grieve my biggest loss.

Being home with my family and going back to my church always stirs up the subject of my faith again. It did last year; and this year, once again, I'm looking back on my faith and wondering what happened, and what happens next. It's not as simple as being an Atheist now, despite everything, because occasionally very specific messages seem to get through to me.

I mean, it's probably just coincidence. It MUST be superstition. It must be that I want to believe so much that I see links where none exist. I mean how could it POSSIBLY - but - oh, I don't know. Here's what happened; you decide.

When I was in my late teens, and passionate about my faith, I had a story I used to tell myself to explain forgiveness. It's extremely personal, and I don't want to go into details here, but I will explain the setting: a river by a willow tree, where Jesus stands on a stone arch bridge. As I began to lose my sense of connection with God, I'd try to picture this place, but it would be cold and empty, deserted.

I was going through a rough patch a couple of months ago, and I actually started talking to Ben (my housemate) about all this stuff. I was in tears as I told him that the important thing, the thing that really matters, is whether there's a man on the bridge. Or whether I am alone. I told him about this picture's huge importance and significance in my life, and bless him, he didn't make me feel like a crazy person for it.

A couple of days later, Ben and I are wandering around the shops, and I start to feel stressed and freaked out by the crowds. "Can we go get a drink? Chai, or something..." He'd introduced me to chai tea recently, and I found it to be very soothing. There are five or six coffee shops on Albany road alone, but I chose coffee #1. "Upstairs or downstairs?"
"Upstairs," I replied, already heading for the comfy chairs.

There was only one table free up there, and while Ben got our order, I sat in the only place available to me and stared at the wall.

Painted onto the wall was a tree. By a river. Over the river, a stone arch bridge. And on the bridge... a shepherd.

So, what that means, if anything, I don't know. But it's one of the reasons I don't call myself an Atheist. I may have been hurt by the loss of my certainty, I may not know what or who is in charge of this mess, but maybe there's something.

So, I'll be going to church on the morning of Christmas day. Because it's traditional, and because my friends and family will be there, and because maybe if I'm very lucky, another clue will get through.

Photographs and pachyderms

2 weeks between posts? Impossible! Unfathomable! Unheard-of!

Well, as it's the run-up to Christmas (sudden realisation: 3 DAYS?!), everyone's been very busy, myself included. I've made the should-have-been-so-simple journey home...

It was an interesting journey, actually. Our train broke down, so we had to board a second train that would take us two stops so that we could get on a THIRD train that would take us the route we were supposed to go in the first place. I was on the second train, wrestling my unwieldy bag into one of the less crowded corners, when I got talking to a girl called Amy. For once, it wasn't me who initiated the conversation, and I was grateful for someone to talk to.

It turned out that she had come from Cardiff too. She's studying maths at Cardiff uni, and plans to take teacher training. However I suspect that in the 20 minutes we were talking, she found out more about me than I did about her. She found out about my course, my depression, my boyfriend, and which church I'm going to. Apparently she lives just round the corner from me, and occasionally even goes to an event held at my church! Chalk that one down to coincidence, providence, fate, whatever. But it was interesting.

Last Friday was particularly lovely; Gavin always makes it very special when he gives me presents - candles, music, performing bears and the like - and this was no exception. He made a real song and dance out of giving me my present, and rightly so.

I am now the proud and excited owner of a Nikon D40!


The lens I've got is better than the one shown; 18-70mm instead of 18-55. The D40 is the camera everyone has recommended as a good entry-level DSLR. I've spent the past few days trying to familiarise myself with all the buttons. There are a lot of buttons.

It actually took me about a year to find all the functions on my little digital camera, mostly because I never intended to get as interested in it all as I did! I thought it would be fun, a toy; a way to make memories. Instead I ended up wishing I could fiddle with the depth of field... well, I can now.

I haven't taken many photos yet, and very few that are fit for the public to see, but you can always check out my flickr page if you want to see what I've taken recently.

Interesting thing of the day: Achievement Unlocked, a cute and quick little game in which you are an elephant.

How peculiar

On Thursday, I met my new cell group. And in traditional "my life is rather odd sometimes" fashion, one of the girls mentioned that I looked familiar, and was I from the Isle of Wight?

I was indeed.

And did I know Hannah Barker?

... Yes, yes I do.

And had we met once before at (insert random Christian event here)? We had. And were we in the same team at (insert other random Christian even here) back in London in 2004? ... Quite possibly, yes.

Funny how things go.

Anyway, after that we went to an event at our church - yes, at this point you're realising that random Christian events make up a large portion of my life - and Gav did his thing.

His thing is being awesome.

This time his awesomeness took the form of beatboxing, and everybody was very impressed, and I was slightly smug. I'm thinking of learning a skill for the next open mic. Whaddaya reckon? Stand-up? Poetry reading? Poledancing?

Wait scratch that last one I just realised it wouldn't really work in the church.

Their pole's out of order. (The whole freaking SYSTEM's out of order!)

ANYWAY! Today's interesting thing! Because I have not shared anything interesting in quite some time! Free Rice. You may well have seen it before, and indeed I have mentioned it in the past, but do go play it again please. Feed the hungry!

A dinner party in a car park

Yesterday, walking back from university, I was greeted with the sight of a group of people, dressed up very nicely, having a dinner party in the middle of a car park. They invited me to join them, so I did. They gave me lemonade and apologised that the pizza wasn't there yet. They asked me about myself; who I am, where I'm going. There's something nicely concise about explaining yourself in thirty seconds, as if you're left with a better idea of things than when you started.

They recited a traditional Celtic toast for me to celebrate my coming move to Cardiff.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Plymouth is a place of hills and uneven roads, cracked pavements and slippery slabs.
Wind enlivens me like nothing else, almost convincing me that I could fly if I tried.
I long for the summer, for the warmth and joy of a sunny day.
I have noticed recently more than ever the soft, earthy smell of freshly-rained on ground.
And nothing, nothing in this world, makes me happier, happy to the point of tears, happy to distraction and beyond all reason, than the feeling of being in God's hand.

It was a strange event, them sitting there in their elegant outfits, me in my jumper and jeans. But there's something so right about seizing the moment. May we all learn the courage to do so more often.

Small Talk

I'd like to tell you, my wonderful readers, about a little event that took place two - well, three if you want to be picky - days ago.

Picture the scene, if you will. The man I love is hanging out with some of his friends, people I like and admire very much, when suddenly the theme tune of a 90s quiz show comes on. Small Talk. The concept behind the game is that adults have to guess how colossally stupid any one of 9 opinionated, extroverted children are. My beloved volunteers the information that I was on this programme as a child, and that I am still very much traumatised by it. At that very moment, the jolly announcer chappy introduces Annaaaaaa! And there I was, waving at the camera, no doubt smiling a goofy little smile. Or possibly just looking smug.

He called me at that point to inform me of my reappearance on television. My response was (but of course) the epitome of maturity - I believe it was something like "NO SHUP I HATE YOU!" and then hanging up. Smooth, me. I then sat down in my living room, head in my hands, and - dear God, why - telling my housemate.

So, yes. we watched it. She found it hysterical, accurately describing the situation on the phone as "my housemate's on TV, it's hilarious, she's absolutely hating it!" We watched as the contestants called on me time after time, confident in my knowledge and wisdom, which my 8-year old self was only too glad to impart. We watched my thoughtful little face, listened to my posh (and higher than I remembered) voice, as I described hammocks, humiliated a classmate, and denounced war as "a bad thing". Way to go, little me.

I was hiding behind a cushion for most of it, emerging only for the half time pep talk from my love. Apparently all his friends thought it was very amusing, and possibly even something to be proud of!

Proud of? Hmm. Novel idea.

Another phone call at the end of the show had the rather strange effect of actually convincing me that maybe it wasn't so terrible. That maybe it was even a good thing that he'd seen it; and indeed that it was only fair since I've seen video footage of Little Gav. I was even told that the same mannerisms I display now were evident in little me. (So maybe I haven't changed as much as I feared...)

And suddenly, it's not such a big dark secret any more. Suddenly it's ok. Not least because, with both episodes out of the way, I can sleep at night knowing that nobody will be putting me on youtube!!

Ah yes, both episodes... well, the one detailed here was the second. A few days previously, I'd received this facebook message out of the clear blue yonder.

Well, it's time I went to bed like the good little diddums I am. But I would like to ask one question of you all first...

What are the freakin' odds?!

The Thing, and the Idea of the Thing.

I was wandering happily through Cardiff the other day, when I saw Orion in the sky and pointed it out to my boy excitedly. He said that it was just a bunch of dots and that it looks nothing like a man, and of course he's right... but this is sort of not the point.

Think of stars themselves. The Thing is: a star. A ball of gas burning billions of miles away (ten points for quote-spotting). But the idea of the thing is "like a diamond in the sky", a small twinkling jewel that children make wishes on.

There's a huge gap between what something actually is, and what the idea of it is.

So yeah, Orion is technically a bunch of dots, or literally several balls of flaming gas, but it's more than that to me. It's a legend about a hunter immortalised in the skies; it's a symbol of my slightly superstitious tendencies; it's a reminder that God's still there and hasn't left me alone. And it's just pretty.

52

I've been agonising over finding accommodation for university for a while, so it was blissfully relieving to find the right place first try. I have a place to live! Brilliant! I am (I know) a very, very lucky girl.

I'm not superstitious about the number 52, my subconscious just always seems to pick it out of a lineup. I'm always noticing it on license plates, house numbers and so forth. On the train up to Cardiff, I sat in a random seat and later noticed it was number 52. My brain really needs to stop doing that!

It would be silly to claim that my life is ruled by coincidence. But it is interesting that, on my first day in Cardiff, I bumped into Dave. A few of you will know Dave; he's doing a gap year in Wales and just happened to be passing through the park while I was out with my boy. So that was nice, and I had hugs!

So, life continues strange but wonderful, long may the slightly baffling magic continue! More detail to come no doubt.

Ignite

So, today started out with me being slightly irritated and concerned that I hadn't heard from Gav. I got fed up waiting around online when the weather was so beautiful, so I went outside with the intention of buying lunch and eating it in the park, reading the book he'd lent me.

Things didn't quite go to plan; I was only halfway into town when God suddenly reminded me of something I'd heard the day before about not letting the fire die. It hit home. You know, that way things sometimes do, when a little thing takes on such significance that you can't believe you missed it.

I have a vivid imagination, and it's been the case for a couple of years that I think of God's Spirit in me as a flame, flickering and wavering but always there. I started crying, right there, in the beautiful sunshine, on the way into town. I was overjoyed that God hadn't forgotten me, that I still had fire (however fragile) burning in me. That's when God started grabbing the reins of my day. He convinced me to go into the Christian bookshop, to buy a book I was recommended yesterday (something I very rarely do), and to go to a different part of the park than usual to eat.

I sat down on the grass, thoroughly happy with how everything was going, and started to read an inspirational poem in that book known as The Vision - while an orchestra that had set up opposite me played "I will follow him". I must have been reading and giggling at the sheer brilliance of it all for about half an hour. It was so perfect!

If there's one message I want you guys to take from this, it's that you must NEVER EVER let your fire fade. Be you, as beautifully and brilliantly as you can, because nobody else will ever do it as well. Live passionately, as if everything you do matters - because it really does. Love extravagantly and wholeheartedly. Whatever you do, commit everything in you to it. And I pray that I learn to do the same.

Three times is a charm

When God tells you something three times in one day, you should listen.

As some of you know, I've been working this weekend with a group of Christians from Maidstone. We wrapped things up tonight with a worship session, and (just like at Catalyst on Friday) I began to cry. I just felt crap about myself. I know God treasures me and everything, and I know some would tell me different, but somewhere inside me there's still a twelve-year-old girl who's convinced she's ugly and worthless.

One of the visiting girls came to pray for me. She pulled out her bible and read Romans 8:15, which says

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father."

After that, she began to tell me how important it was to know what it means to be a daughter of God. Just then, another girl came over and said God had just shown her a picture of a little girl looking up at her daddy with an expression of trust and love on her face. She said how important it is that I trust God as my father, and that all I have to do is take His hand.

I've just got home, tired from a long couple of days (and quite a lot and emotionally wearing week), and trawling through the humanbeatbox.com forum, I came across Romans 8:15 again.

Maybe I'm just hormonal. I fully accept that this may be the case. But I think God might be trying to tell me something as well.

And as for the Maidstone guys: they were the kindest people you could imagine, truly warm and friendly, and we've all been very blessed to have them with us.

Thought Life

What a weird phrase. Thought Life. I've come across it three times today, which is enough of a coincidence to make me think about it. Again and again today I'm coming across the same verses.

“...Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right , whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable… think about such things .” Philippians 4:8

“...Take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ." 2 Corinthians 10:5

That's the kind of discipline I've forgotten lately. The kind that keeps an iron grip over my thoughts, not allowing my mind to wander too far from what I know is acceptable in real life...

But let's not be too serious, eh?

Which is about bombs, Guildford and two chance encounters.

As you are all no doubt aware, Thursday saw some scary stuff. Four bombs; three on the underground and one on the no. 30 bus. I heard all this when I was at school, and it terrified me; my sister works there. So I got home as quickly as possible, praying like crazy that she would be ok. I got in to find a message on the answerphone, "Don't worry, I'm fine..." I missed the rest, I was just so relieved to hear those words. "I'm fine"; thank God. Then mum came in the door telling me that my sister and my aunt were both ok. It's near enough to a miracle; my sister was ill that morning, otherwise she might have been there. It's a scary thought. And my aunt, Sarah, goes that way most days; about one day a fortnight she doesn't take that route, and thank God that was Thursday. That left me pretty rattled. I still can't believe it. Most importantly, I can't think of who did it. I'm treating it in my mind like a natural disaster, like the tsunami; something you can't hate and can't get angry at. I just can't begin to understand people doing this; it doesn't make sense.

Friday was interesting too. I was going to go midnight shopping, but it never happened; instead we just hung around outside Bogeys talking to people and trying to make decisions. I mentioned my stress the previous day over my sister, and the guy I was talking to (Rob) said "Who, Naomi?" I said "Yeah, ... hang on..." and then I said the words I've said so many times: "How do you know my sister?" Turns out they knew each other at school, and worked together on Romeo and Juliet. I remember seeing that; he was Parras. I was 13 at the time. Dude, that's trippy.

Saturday, we went to Guildford. Hoorah! Sunny and exotic Guildford! That's what I always call it when other people are talking about what Caribbean islands they've been to. They think I'm kidding. But seriously, once again the weather was utterly perfect for us, sunshine all weekend. Anyway, we were there for my aunt's (Rebecca this time) birthday party. It was brilliant! We played an embarrasing game called musical newspaper, which is great fun. When the music stops you have to stand on scraps of newspaper that get smaller each time... it's difficult to remain aloof when you're clinging on to a random stranger's waist for support. And the music
was brilliant; we were dancing for hours, utterly crazy stuff. And our new uncle Hugh (11 months now, but he's still the newest one we've got) was breakdancing truly brilliantly. I swear, I still don't know how it's physically possible to jump in slow motion, but he did it. And he sang to Rebecca. Ahhhhhh.

The next day is today; we went to their church (which I nearly fell asleep in repeatedly), then it was a few more hours at Rebs and Hugh's place, then we went home. Oh, and I told Naomi about Rob. She told me... some stuff... and to say hi. On the ferry home, my imagination was doing the strange. I was doing "what-ifs" in my head, including what if Matt was on this boat? I knew he was coming back to the island any day now. But that was a one in a hundred chance, so I didn't pursue that too far.

Then I saw somebody who looked like Matt's brother Jonathan. My train of thought went as follows:
Hey, he looks like Jonathan.
What would he be doing here? Can't be.
That looks like Mr. Reading.
And that, as far as I can remember, looks like their mum.It's definitely them.Therefore, that is the back of Matt's head.
Help. What do I do?!

I have heard that "what-ifs" are meant to prepare us for stuff that might happen, but it all seemed a bit far-fetched. Well, there ya go. It was nice to have a quick chat with him, anyway.

But anyway, I have been in so many situations like that that just make the world feel so tiny. Everybody knows everybody else! I can't meet one random person (i.e. Rob) without there being at least one connection to somebody else I know.I should be used to it by now, really.

Also, I can't believe I fancy a guy who was in school with my sister and has a kid.

TODAY'S WISDOM: The problem nowadays is that if you tell somebody that television rots their brain, they'll say "You know, you're right!" and then they'll change the channel.