And finally
9th Nov 2003
its over a year since i've written in this thing. i'm long overdue. feeling so incredibly sad. feeling more than i can possibly put down here. yesterday i was in booths (the supermarket) buying food for sue's birthday party and was feeling so miserable (because of t's email) that i decided to buy something to eat to make me feel good. i wandered round and round and couldn't find anything - yeah there were loads of things i like, but nothing that could comfort me/please me/help me. as i wandered i wondered how many other people in there were also looking for something on a shelf to make them feel good. like me, they wouldn't be able to find it.
then i went to the 2nd hand bookshop. i found 'the man who was thursday' (frederick buechner quotes from it) but i decided not to buy it. then looked in the spiritual section, but started to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books and my ignorance at not knowing what to look for. felt almost panic, suffocation or something. went to the art section and for a while felt the same. then i decided to look through some of the boxes of prints from old books. really liked looking through them. half remembered a picture that was on a wall in a church classroom when i was a kid. think it showed Jesus, but am not sure. really drawn to the religious pictures - especially liked 'samson being overcome' and 'the stoning of stephen'. didn't buy any, but somehow felt 'redeemed' by the art. strange. ended up buying 2 books by sister wendy beckett with meditations on art and a picasso 'vollard suite' book. feels like something happened in that little room with the bare floorboards and low window and boxes of drawings. i think i was looking for Jesus and somehow i met him there, not just in the prints with the halos and cherubs, but in the aloneness of that room. the saggy green leather chair and the sad sad pages of books without spines. i can't explain it, maybe i shouldn't try.
its over a year since i've written in this thing. i'm long overdue. feeling so incredibly sad. feeling more than i can possibly put down here. yesterday i was in booths (the supermarket) buying food for sue's birthday party and was feeling so miserable (because of t's email) that i decided to buy something to eat to make me feel good. i wandered round and round and couldn't find anything - yeah there were loads of things i like, but nothing that could comfort me/please me/help me. as i wandered i wondered how many other people in there were also looking for something on a shelf to make them feel good. like me, they wouldn't be able to find it.
then i went to the 2nd hand bookshop. i found 'the man who was thursday' (frederick buechner quotes from it) but i decided not to buy it. then looked in the spiritual section, but started to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books and my ignorance at not knowing what to look for. felt almost panic, suffocation or something. went to the art section and for a while felt the same. then i decided to look through some of the boxes of prints from old books. really liked looking through them. half remembered a picture that was on a wall in a church classroom when i was a kid. think it showed Jesus, but am not sure. really drawn to the religious pictures - especially liked 'samson being overcome' and 'the stoning of stephen'. didn't buy any, but somehow felt 'redeemed' by the art. strange. ended up buying 2 books by sister wendy beckett with meditations on art and a picasso 'vollard suite' book. feels like something happened in that little room with the bare floorboards and low window and boxes of drawings. i think i was looking for Jesus and somehow i met him there, not just in the prints with the halos and cherubs, but in the aloneness of that room. the saggy green leather chair and the sad sad pages of books without spines. i can't explain it, maybe i shouldn't try.
1 comment:
Art and Literature... God is so good to speak to us through them don't you think? Yesterday, painting saved me from going stark raving mad. Really. I felt so inexplicably frustrated and painting was the only thing I could do that didn't increase that feeling.
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