I can see how people get used to a life with servants but nothing could get me used to the punishment that travelling on Sri Lankan roads brings. You arrive at a destination feeling as though you have been pummeled by a boxer and shaken up and down like a rattle. It took me much of Monday to recover from our trip and I was so grateful to Stephen for pointing out to me before I went that I would need recovery time from expeditions.
However, I knew that the following day there was going to be an even bigger expedition so I needed to wash clothes and prepare for what lay head both physically and mentally. While my hostess went out shopping, I stayed at home to do just that. I only ventured out in the later afternoon with Tania to buy some postcards and a birthday card for my host whose birthday was the following day of our departure. She has been very vigilant about not letting me go out alone and I am grateful to her for such care but it means I have had little chance to see Sri lanka except from this cocoon. Although, you cannot miss the reality of the place, even if you don't directly engage with it because its all around you!
In the afternoon, I took up the sketch I had begun of some plants and a water pot in the garden, here. I hope to turn it into a painting when I return. I also re read some of Thomas Merton's Asian journal to give me some idea of his search. I know I have my own agenda for this pilgrimage and I am finding a lot of what I have been looking for. This house has a wonderful silence when you are left to yourself. We live next door to a Buddhist old people's home and the days is punctuated by bells which indicate time for their meals etc. Its like being back at Mirfield and finding one's day structured round the monastic life. I was determined when I came here to be as open as I could. I told myself that I would not try to force or arrange anything for myself and that I would accept what was happening of the flow and rhythm around me. I have found this enormously gratifying and found that. there is now need to struggle but to see what the next moment brings. Of course, here, I am in unrealistic circumstances. I don't have to take responsibility for the next meal or for clearing up. Yet, if I was on retreat at home his would be the case so I am seeing this visit as a kind of retreat/pilgrimage in which to listen and learn and hopefully to take some of what I have learned back into everyday life with me.
Friday 30 September 2011
Muddle and confusion
Please forgive the repetitions, hesitations and downright confusion in the last few blogs. I lost one blog in mid typing then managed to retrieve an old copy which I seem to have pasted onto new information. I hope you are not too confused! The reason for an absence of blogging for the past five days is that i have been away up country with no internet connection so I shall have to do a rapid catch up before I leave for England on Tuesday. The time has passed so quickly and I hope my memory does not fail me too much as I try to describe the wonderful experiences of the last five days.
Our time at the Lighthouse Hotel in Galle passed far too quickly and we found ourselves driving back to Colombo on the Sunday. I did manage two swims in the hotel swimming pools and a beach scavenging expedition And to eat a considerable variety of foods that were offered including hoppers and curry for breakfast!
Our time at the Lighthouse Hotel in Galle passed far too quickly and we found ourselves driving back to Colombo on the Sunday. I did manage two swims in the hotel swimming pools and a beach scavenging expedition And to eat a considerable variety of foods that were offered including hoppers and curry for breakfast!
Rebirth In Galle
Galle was the town in Sri Lanka that had the most fatalities in the 2004 tsunami. The East Coast suffered more physical devastation but the area was less populated than Galle and has had to recover more in terms of livelihood and overcoming fear of the sea. There are now sports charities which help people to learn to swim and therefore to feel more confident in the water.
However, it is easy to see that devastation has occurred in Galle in the recent past. There is an enormous amount of rebuilding going on sometimes on top of old foundations. A new bus station has replaced the old (which was under water during the tsunami) and there are now signs of new enterprise. I think that the goverment must have directed aid in this direction because the first motorway/highway has recently been constructed from Colombo to Galle. The old colonial fortress walls seems to have protected its interior town but even here there is a resurrection taking place. The town’s roads are being recobbled and refurbished and many western expats have bought up the old Dutch villas and are renovating them for the tourist market. For now, the town still has a rather down at heel but hip vibe and the cafes we looked into were delightful. The museum has seen better days (I hope!) but I rather enjoyed its peeling, crumbling, disinterested air. Such a contrast to the rather too bright and INFORMATIVE western museums who have overall themes and interaction which commands your attention. Here, some interesting objects were left to decay slowly and you could look at them if you felt like it or not!
The old dutch streets had a feel of walking in Bruges without the self conscious neatness. I found the Dutch reformed church utterly depressing with its stark table but a large pulpit with a huge canopy with its emphasis on hearing the word rather than participating in liturgy.
We wandered slowly through the baking streets, saw a man with a cobra in a basket ( much to my astonishment) and chased us with a python round his neck trying to persuade me to wear it also. No Than k-you! We bought a few reasonably priced souvenirs and were often pressed into buying outrageously expensive ones. I found that I was unable to enter into the spirit of bargaining so just refused to buy anything that I considered overpriced. We had lunch in one of the hip cafes where I enjoyed a beautiful king prawn salad and another refreshing smoothy.
We returned to our hotel with its calming view of the ocean for a well earned siesta, than popped down to a nearby beach at Unawatuna where there is naturally safe area for swimming. Tehani and her boyfriend went into the water but I just sat on the beach happily watching as families enjoyed them selves and the sun went down. I walked along the darkening beach, paddling in the incoming tide and then we sat having a coffee in one of the many beach cafe's as lights and music went on all around the bay. This beach, is now the beach party location and there was to be another Big celebration that evening. Mercifully, we returned to the hotel for supper before it got started.
Monday 26 September 2011
This is luxury you can't afford
Where was I? Oh yes, driving up to the foyer of the Lighthouse Hotel, designed by Geoffrey Bava. An intimidating number of men dressed up in beautiful matching sarongs and white shirts, dahsed up to open the car doors and to take our luggage. Then we were taken by one man into the hotel which has a huge central spiral staircase covered with almost lifesize bronze sculptures of the battle between the conquering soldiers of Sri Lanka, their horses and their weaponry. I did not like it at all but it has to be said that it is quite remarkable and certainly makes a big impact. We were accompanied up in the luft to the first floor reception where my breath was really taken away. The room opened on to a terrace where there were set out lovely seats and tables in hardwood. These overlooked the ocean which was pounding away on massive rocks with the warm breeze floating over us. I sat on a chair by the ocean as my hostess checked in, and I gasped at the beauty and terrible might of the water as it hit the rocks and sent up torrents of spray. All around me were men and women dressed in the matching sarongs or saris which were beautiful woven shades of turquoise and orange. One man came up to me and offered a drink of iced lime soda, papaya juice or something else which i could not identify. The lime soda which I chose tasted wonderfully refreshing and I sat and sipped it, drinking in the view in front of me. Tania came and asked me if I would like to hurl myself off the rocks into the sea. I said I would but it would not be an advisable thing to do. It struck me that we talk rather glibly about the ocean of God's love and here was the reality of that ocean: wild and terrible, wonderful and strong. Yes I would love to hurl myself into it but I would perish if I did so recklessly. What does that say, I wonder?
tHE ROOMS DESIGNED BY GEOFFREY BAVA HAVE A MARVELLOUS AFINITY WITH THEir natural surroundings. The turquioise painted doors are distressed and inside the rooms were a haven of light and coolness. each room looked on to tghe sea and had huge hardwood bedheads and dark, tropical wood forniture. The bathrooms were very luxurious but not in the standard, clinical hotel way. the back of the bath was mirrored and reflected the ocean, there were cadles to light and lovely bath smellies in refillable blue pottery glasses, cinnamon and lime soap and gorgeous spicy body lotion. The sink had marble surround an there was a separate wet room where I had umpteen showers in two days jjust because i was so pleasurableto the
tHE ROOMS DESIGNED BY GEOFFREY BAVA HAVE A MARVELLOUS AFINITY WITH THEir natural surroundings. The turquioise painted doors are distressed and inside the rooms were a haven of light and coolness. each room looked on to tghe sea and had huge hardwood bedheads and dark, tropical wood forniture. The bathrooms were very luxurious but not in the standard, clinical hotel way. the back of the bath was mirrored and reflected the ocean, there were cadles to light and lovely bath smellies in refillable blue pottery glasses, cinnamon and lime soap and gorgeous spicy body lotion. The sink had marble surround an there was a separate wet room where I had umpteen showers in two days jjust because i was so pleasurableto the
Sunday 25 September 2011
The road to Galle
The reason for no blog for two days has been that we have been staying away from Colombo in Galle. Galle is a fortress town in the south of Sri Lanka. It is believed that it may be the ancient city of Tarshish ( according to the Rough Guide and historian, James Emerson) and was on a major trade route for many ancient nations. Solomon was supposed to have picked up his supply of peacocks and ivory from here. Maybe it was the ancient world's equivalent of Ikea, or perhaps Heals?
Anyway, the town was obviously a magnet to would be conquerors and was captured by first the Portugese, then the Dutch and then the British.
The town is all inside the Garrison walls and nowadays has a charming, down at heel, colonial feel. However, all this is soon to change. Galle was the town with the most fatalities in the 2004 Tsunami. It was not so badly damaged, structurally, but due to the density of the population, many people died. Since then it seems to have attracted both money and entrepreneurial spirit. The town's bus station, which was outside the walls and covered with water has been rebuilt and the country's first highway is being built from Columbo to Galle.
It was supposed to have been finished by September but it is not ready, alas, which meant we had a three or four hour drive along the old Galle road. It was certainly an education. I had enormous respect for our driver at the end of it. How he keeps his cool on such roads I don't know. I was very glad to be sitting in the back. The tuk tuks and motor bikes come out of nowhere and cross your path but more terrifying is that because it is a single lane road everyone crosses over to the other side of the road to overtake, which they do ALL THE TIME, irrespective of what is coming in the opposite direction. The driver just beeps his horn and out he goes. Very often I looked up to see a lorry or bus coming at full pelt straight towards us. It was not for the fainthearted. One of the girl's boyfriends said that he thought Sri Lanka was bad until he went to Bangla Desh. there all cars are fitted with cow catcher bard back and front. Nobody stops if they hit you and the rickshaws which have no brakes actually stop themselves by bashing in to the back of the vehicle in front. So you are often feeling a thud, thud as the next rickshaw driver, drives into you!
The route along the Galle road was very congested nearly all the way but we had two refreshing stops. One to have a cupof tea and a hot dog ( a real hot dog, complete with slices of chilli!) and two to pick up a painting for a friend at the house of an artist in a little village off the beaten track. The house was a tiny bungalow in which some of his paintings were hanging looking very dirty and neglected and then a hut which he used for a studio. However, the man had an amazing talent. His watercolours, particulalrly, were so beautiful. He prefers to stay and paint in his village than move to Colombo and likes to paint local people going about their daily business: fishermen, craftsmen, women, monks and people of different faiths, whom he says get along quite harmoniously, together. I was completely taken by a picture of a buddhist monk walking along looking so contemplative and peaceful. I asked him how much the picture would cost, but, alas, it was outside my league, costing the equivalent of £90. However, such a picture could fetch three times that in England. I felt very sad having to leave it behind as it mouldered away on his wall.
He generously spent a lot of time showing us his pen and ink drawings of nature ( which were exquisite) and his sketch books. He also teaches art and lives alone with his ancient mother but has had several exhibitions in Colombo and elsewhere thanks to American sponsorship money.
We said goodbye and then sped on to Galle. Hot, dusty, and tired I suddenly found us driving up to the Lighthouse Hotel, one of the most famous luxury hotels in Sri Lanka and what an experience that was!
More tomorrow.......
Anyway, the town was obviously a magnet to would be conquerors and was captured by first the Portugese, then the Dutch and then the British.
The town is all inside the Garrison walls and nowadays has a charming, down at heel, colonial feel. However, all this is soon to change. Galle was the town with the most fatalities in the 2004 Tsunami. It was not so badly damaged, structurally, but due to the density of the population, many people died. Since then it seems to have attracted both money and entrepreneurial spirit. The town's bus station, which was outside the walls and covered with water has been rebuilt and the country's first highway is being built from Columbo to Galle.
It was supposed to have been finished by September but it is not ready, alas, which meant we had a three or four hour drive along the old Galle road. It was certainly an education. I had enormous respect for our driver at the end of it. How he keeps his cool on such roads I don't know. I was very glad to be sitting in the back. The tuk tuks and motor bikes come out of nowhere and cross your path but more terrifying is that because it is a single lane road everyone crosses over to the other side of the road to overtake, which they do ALL THE TIME, irrespective of what is coming in the opposite direction. The driver just beeps his horn and out he goes. Very often I looked up to see a lorry or bus coming at full pelt straight towards us. It was not for the fainthearted. One of the girl's boyfriends said that he thought Sri Lanka was bad until he went to Bangla Desh. there all cars are fitted with cow catcher bard back and front. Nobody stops if they hit you and the rickshaws which have no brakes actually stop themselves by bashing in to the back of the vehicle in front. So you are often feeling a thud, thud as the next rickshaw driver, drives into you!
The route along the Galle road was very congested nearly all the way but we had two refreshing stops. One to have a cupof tea and a hot dog ( a real hot dog, complete with slices of chilli!) and two to pick up a painting for a friend at the house of an artist in a little village off the beaten track. The house was a tiny bungalow in which some of his paintings were hanging looking very dirty and neglected and then a hut which he used for a studio. However, the man had an amazing talent. His watercolours, particulalrly, were so beautiful. He prefers to stay and paint in his village than move to Colombo and likes to paint local people going about their daily business: fishermen, craftsmen, women, monks and people of different faiths, whom he says get along quite harmoniously, together. I was completely taken by a picture of a buddhist monk walking along looking so contemplative and peaceful. I asked him how much the picture would cost, but, alas, it was outside my league, costing the equivalent of £90. However, such a picture could fetch three times that in England. I felt very sad having to leave it behind as it mouldered away on his wall.
He generously spent a lot of time showing us his pen and ink drawings of nature ( which were exquisite) and his sketch books. He also teaches art and lives alone with his ancient mother but has had several exhibitions in Colombo and elsewhere thanks to American sponsorship money.
We said goodbye and then sped on to Galle. Hot, dusty, and tired I suddenly found us driving up to the Lighthouse Hotel, one of the most famous luxury hotels in Sri Lanka and what an experience that was!
More tomorrow.......
Thursday 22 September 2011
putting my toe in the water
Today, I ventured out into Columbo with my hostess, albeit in the sheltered comfort of an air-conditioned chauffeur driven car!
We went to the bank to change some of my travellers cheques which took an inordinately long time and required the attention of two different people and three helpers. I have noticed a good surplus of labour everywhere i go according to western standards. It took four people to sell me two greetings cards and three postcards in one shop. One to point to where I had to go, another to take the cards, one to operate the till and another to put them in a bag and hand them to me. There are door openers everywhere. This morning when I awoke I found at least five people doing the garden, including one man down on his haunches pulling out the brown bits of grass so the green could grow through! It seemed to me that this was a wonderful example of servant priesthood but try saying that to the Cof E or the Vatican! Actually, its lovely to interact with people rather than the awful machines we have to deal with in the UK even if there are an awful lot of them
Afterwards we visited two shops which sold fabric wares, one of which was more touristy and therefore more expensive. However I resisted the urge to buy everything in sight and browsed carefully for future purchases. I did buy a table cloth to fit our very long dining table but resisted the marvellous sari and sarong lengths in silk or brightly coloured woven cotton. We refreshed our selves in the cafe of the second shop in a courtyard which was decorated with all sorts of beautiful oriental artifacts and brightly coloured tablecloths with the unlikely strains of Adele belting out on the sound system.
Then I was taken to the public art gallery which had no art exhibitions on today, thank-you, so I was dropped at the National Museum and left to myself for an hour or so. This was housed in a large white painted Victorian colonial building with huge, ancient trees and the obligatory statue of a seated Buddha under a lovely tree in the surrounding gardens. ( Even the roundabouts have Buddhas on them here!)
Most of the artifacts were presented in rather ancient display cabinets but the information posters printed in Tamil, Singalese and English were plentiful. I learned about different kinds of Buddhist buildings , different hands positions in meditation. There were marvellous statues of Siva and Parvati which I loved more than the golden Buddhas and the bejewelled crown and throne of the last King of Kandy which the British seized (or stole, in other words) and then gave back later. But I think the most interesting exhibit in the museum was ME. That is what many of the children there decided, anyway. I had a constant stream of them coming up to look at this peculiar foreigner and to say "Hello" which was about all the English they could manage. I tried to converse with them by using words like "Football", "Arsenal" and "Manchester United" but to my astonishment they did not understand. I think, on reflection, I should have said "Googly" or "silly mid off" and that would have had greater impact on such a cricket crazy nation. My hostess said they were most probably children from out in the country on a school trip who would have no idea of English football teams. Anyway, I did not have to say much, just wander around looking foreign which was enough to cause much interest and some hilarity.
My hostess is worried abut me getting a curry tummy so she is serving me rather bland food. However, I cannot complain about the delicious bowls of papaya and banana we have had for breakfast or the lovely drinks of mango or papaya juice. Tomato and lettuce sandwiches with sugar in them are rather unusual but not unpleasant. Tonight, we are having spinach soup and moussaka which I love but I am hoping I will be allowed to graduate on to more Sri Lankan style curries, eventually. The rice served is red rice which is very good. It has more fibre and flavour than traditional white Basmati. Tomorrow, is our host's birthday so we will have milk rice for breakfast which is traditionally served on auspicious and happy occasions.
I am hoping to downlaod some of the first photos today so you can have some images as well as all my blurb. We'll see!
We went to the bank to change some of my travellers cheques which took an inordinately long time and required the attention of two different people and three helpers. I have noticed a good surplus of labour everywhere i go according to western standards. It took four people to sell me two greetings cards and three postcards in one shop. One to point to where I had to go, another to take the cards, one to operate the till and another to put them in a bag and hand them to me. There are door openers everywhere. This morning when I awoke I found at least five people doing the garden, including one man down on his haunches pulling out the brown bits of grass so the green could grow through! It seemed to me that this was a wonderful example of servant priesthood but try saying that to the Cof E or the Vatican! Actually, its lovely to interact with people rather than the awful machines we have to deal with in the UK even if there are an awful lot of them
Afterwards we visited two shops which sold fabric wares, one of which was more touristy and therefore more expensive. However I resisted the urge to buy everything in sight and browsed carefully for future purchases. I did buy a table cloth to fit our very long dining table but resisted the marvellous sari and sarong lengths in silk or brightly coloured woven cotton. We refreshed our selves in the cafe of the second shop in a courtyard which was decorated with all sorts of beautiful oriental artifacts and brightly coloured tablecloths with the unlikely strains of Adele belting out on the sound system.
Then I was taken to the public art gallery which had no art exhibitions on today, thank-you, so I was dropped at the National Museum and left to myself for an hour or so. This was housed in a large white painted Victorian colonial building with huge, ancient trees and the obligatory statue of a seated Buddha under a lovely tree in the surrounding gardens. ( Even the roundabouts have Buddhas on them here!)
Most of the artifacts were presented in rather ancient display cabinets but the information posters printed in Tamil, Singalese and English were plentiful. I learned about different kinds of Buddhist buildings , different hands positions in meditation. There were marvellous statues of Siva and Parvati which I loved more than the golden Buddhas and the bejewelled crown and throne of the last King of Kandy which the British seized (or stole, in other words) and then gave back later. But I think the most interesting exhibit in the museum was ME. That is what many of the children there decided, anyway. I had a constant stream of them coming up to look at this peculiar foreigner and to say "Hello" which was about all the English they could manage. I tried to converse with them by using words like "Football", "Arsenal" and "Manchester United" but to my astonishment they did not understand. I think, on reflection, I should have said "Googly" or "silly mid off" and that would have had greater impact on such a cricket crazy nation. My hostess said they were most probably children from out in the country on a school trip who would have no idea of English football teams. Anyway, I did not have to say much, just wander around looking foreign which was enough to cause much interest and some hilarity.
My hostess is worried abut me getting a curry tummy so she is serving me rather bland food. However, I cannot complain about the delicious bowls of papaya and banana we have had for breakfast or the lovely drinks of mango or papaya juice. Tomato and lettuce sandwiches with sugar in them are rather unusual but not unpleasant. Tonight, we are having spinach soup and moussaka which I love but I am hoping I will be allowed to graduate on to more Sri Lankan style curries, eventually. The rice served is red rice which is very good. It has more fibre and flavour than traditional white Basmati. Tomorrow, is our host's birthday so we will have milk rice for breakfast which is traditionally served on auspicious and happy occasions.
I am hoping to downlaod some of the first photos today so you can have some images as well as all my blurb. We'll see!
Wednesday 21 September 2011
Arrival
Blog day 3
ARRIVAL
It seemed as if we had entered the orient as soon as I boarded the Sri Lankan airways flight in London. We were greeted by beautiful hostesses in Turquoise saris emblazoned with peacock tails design who gave us the traditional greeting with hands together and “Ayubowan”- “ may you have long life”. The plane was full of nose- tickling smells of spices and subtle perfumes. I was very fortunate to have a whole four seat row to myself, so when it was time to settle down for some sleep I could lie down and stretch out. It was pity that two, young English girls in front of me spent the night drinking heavily and talking in loud voices. Ah, the English, such good manners, we have!
The arrival in Sri Lanka was what one might imagine. The first view was of palm trees in the early morning, grey light. However, gradually the cocophony of noise and bustle increased. After some anxious moments, in arrivals my hostess rushed in a little flustered because the flight had landed nearly half an hour earlier than originally tabled. However I had told myself all would be well and had been content to wait and watch people coming and going.
A very smart four by four drew up with her driver, very slight man, who made astonishingly light work of lifting my HUGE and heavy suitcase into the back and then we made the long journey home. It was long because it was rush hour and there was a great deal of traffic and people. Picture any film of a bustling Asian city and you have the scene. Sentinel upon sentinel of smart ,traffic police blowing whistles and directing traffic in white gloves who don’t appear to make any difference to the tangled, noisy weaving of all sorts of vehicles- many, many tak taks and decorated, private buses with improbable names like “ Praise the Lord” and “ City of Verona”. There were fewer private cars but wonderful, wooden lorries, beautifully painted and decorated. Lots of children were perched on the handlebars of their father’s bicycle or scooter and appeared completely at ease in the mayhem of hooting and tooting and rushing traffic.
We passed mile after mile of seedy looking shops and buildings and bright beautiful people on their way to work or school. All the school children were immaculately turned out, the girls with shiny hair in plaits with matching coloured ribbons and white dresses. The boys in white shirts and trousers and with smooth, glossy hair. Hardly anyone looked dirty or unkempt. Even when we passed through what was described to me as a slum area, a woman in elegant sari and immaculately coifed hair climbed up from its dank and dirty depths to the road. A man in a sarong was dressing in a freshly pressed shirt from a roadside cleaners. Not a pair of ripped jeans in sight!
It is quite hard to adjust to a life with servants and to refrain from picking up plates to take to the kitchen etc. The house is beautiful and cool, simply furnished with elegant, dark furniture and cream covered sofas and rattan chairs. The garden is a delight. They based the design on a Maharajah’s garden in India and each shrub or tree looks to have been placed with care to create the maximum effect. I hope to draw some of the plants while I am here. It doesn’t look a though I will be short of leisure time. Which is wonderful!
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Travel Day
Today is the Day. The suitcase is full to bursting and only just under the limit. I have not yet learned to travel light and so I am very unpilgrim like. "Take nothing for the journey" has not managed to impact on me yet.
However, my usual portable library has been pruned. I have been trying to do some preparatory reading beforehand. I was struck by these words which I read on Saturday on the way to an Amos Trust conference:
"Written by Geraldine Smyth, a Dominican nun in Northern Ireland, [the essay] argues that part of the point and power of what she calls 'a pilgrim journey' is to cross boundaries and to become a stranger."
This is taken from this year's ABC's Lent book:" Barefoot Disciple" by Stephen Cherry.
He goes on to describe how reconciliation is something we are engaged in all the time. Reconciliation means to be always observing or crossing boundaries of diversity and division. It is based on empathy and enables us to hear but also to own "a plurality of voices and identities"
If we take the risk of not going on a trip but a VISIT where we have to learn to develop openness, we run the risk of being with others whom we don't, and, possibly, can't understand. We can shrink back in fear and hide in our shell or we can try to be open and stay in dialogue with the other:
"Open engagement will allow us to adjust, accommodate and learn in response to realities which were previously beyond our experience."
I hope that I am travelling light enough, mentally and spiritually to do this, even if I am lugging a huge suitcase ( and computer) with me!
However, my usual portable library has been pruned. I have been trying to do some preparatory reading beforehand. I was struck by these words which I read on Saturday on the way to an Amos Trust conference:
"Written by Geraldine Smyth, a Dominican nun in Northern Ireland, [the essay] argues that part of the point and power of what she calls 'a pilgrim journey' is to cross boundaries and to become a stranger."
This is taken from this year's ABC's Lent book:" Barefoot Disciple" by Stephen Cherry.
He goes on to describe how reconciliation is something we are engaged in all the time. Reconciliation means to be always observing or crossing boundaries of diversity and division. It is based on empathy and enables us to hear but also to own "a plurality of voices and identities"
If we take the risk of not going on a trip but a VISIT where we have to learn to develop openness, we run the risk of being with others whom we don't, and, possibly, can't understand. We can shrink back in fear and hide in our shell or we can try to be open and stay in dialogue with the other:
"Open engagement will allow us to adjust, accommodate and learn in response to realities which were previously beyond our experience."
I hope that I am travelling light enough, mentally and spiritually to do this, even if I am lugging a huge suitcase ( and computer) with me!
Friday 16 September 2011
Getting Ready For Sri Lanka
Four days to go before fly to Sri Lanka! Which is a short time ( unless you are trying to hold your breath, Stephen says) and holding my breath is what I am doing, metaphorically.
I have never travelled on an aeroplane on my own before nor have I ever been to a country with a non western culture so this will be a great learning experience for me.
Fortunately, I am staying with friends: Two lovely sisters; economics graduates who studied at UCL, and their kind parents who have made this visit possible.
However, this trip is more than a holiday. I am hoping to see something of what Thomas Merton saw when he visited the giant statues of the Buddha at Pollunaruwa shortly before his death. This is how he describes the experience in his "Asian Journal":
"Then the silence of the extraordinary faces. The great smiles. Huge and yet subtle. Filled with every possibility, questioning nothing, knowing everything, rejecting nothing......"
He goes on, but maybe it will be later to share more. For now, I prepare to go with those words in mind; open to every possibility, accepting what I find, knowing that love is all and that even discomfort, disaster and pain can lead to love. We'll see!
Please pray for me if you pray or hold me in your thoughts and hearts if you don't, which is the same, anyway.
BAck to ironing, sweing and packing!
I have never travelled on an aeroplane on my own before nor have I ever been to a country with a non western culture so this will be a great learning experience for me.
Fortunately, I am staying with friends: Two lovely sisters; economics graduates who studied at UCL, and their kind parents who have made this visit possible.
However, this trip is more than a holiday. I am hoping to see something of what Thomas Merton saw when he visited the giant statues of the Buddha at Pollunaruwa shortly before his death. This is how he describes the experience in his "Asian Journal":
"Then the silence of the extraordinary faces. The great smiles. Huge and yet subtle. Filled with every possibility, questioning nothing, knowing everything, rejecting nothing......"
He goes on, but maybe it will be later to share more. For now, I prepare to go with those words in mind; open to every possibility, accepting what I find, knowing that love is all and that even discomfort, disaster and pain can lead to love. We'll see!
Please pray for me if you pray or hold me in your thoughts and hearts if you don't, which is the same, anyway.
BAck to ironing, sweing and packing!
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