Most of the day I have been marking student assignments. They show thought and insight - and are challenging and full of interesting resources. I have especially enjoyed marking this cohort of assignments because I have got to know the students better than I usually do. This year I have attended all residentials and the summer school. As I read each assignment I could hear the voice of the student reading it to me. With so few students even 'blind marking' I would know who had written it! Their voices and own approaches shine through.
Much to reflect on and consider.
In between times I have been dreaming dreams - furthering thoughts of community and just beginning to evolve an idea for a new novel.
All very tentative and embryonic and too new to discuss or permit to be scrutinised just yet!
I am also aware of claiming and delighting in friendship just now. We have lived in the Highlands for five years and during that time have had to work hard to find our niche. I was aware that at times I was lonely - and I am delighting in the friendships we are discovering and deepening. Meetings of minds; humour; some - spiritually and psychically enlightening - all adding life and bringing many blessings.
In Chapel each day we have been reading a book by Jane Tromain with the rather unpromising title of St. Benedict's Tool Box. It has proved a timely reminder of hospitality and the practice of generosity and good humour.
A meditation of sorts came to mind:
ENTICING
Inadvertently slumped,
unexpectedly beached
and newly sentient,
we move a little, stretch and shake,
shifting to find our bearings,
recognising the familiar;
reluctant to touch the wounded crag;
the jagged scab
that reminds us
all too quickly that all is not what it seems.
Slithering to life,
we risk a gentle manoevering
and set out boundaries in mounds of sand,
marking our claimed territory
until such times as we can
deconstruct our defences.
Rememberings return
and take us back to the yearnings
which we now investigate in intimate proximity.
We recognise destiny.
It is an uncomfortable reckoning that some things are beyond our control.
We shuffle bulbous parts against the dankness
making our mark for this time
and roll about a little
testing
what we might consider we can do in our prime.
Catching breath.
The angels are fascinated,
a little nod of intrigue.
They have invested in our outworking
and are busy setting our egos imaginings to the music
of the oldest dance in time.
They make it clear; quite, quite clear,
They, as a multitude,
are of one, unequivocal mind:
they detest even the slightest hint of sand between their toes.
JEW
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