****
I've done something to mark the start of Advent. I've deactivated my Facebook Account. Perhaps in due course I'll reactivate it again but at the moment Im rather inclined not to. I'm not going to post on here for a while either. I guess I no longer feel the need to live any of my life in public. Perhaps I no longer think I have anything to say. Perhaps I'm clearing my head of LED Santas to make more room for what the nuns are singing about.
This poem captures it perfectly Camino. The way forward, the way between things, the way already walked before you, the path disappearing and re-appearing even as the ground gave way beneath you, the grief apparent only in the moment of forgetting, then the river, the mountain, the lifting song of the Sky Lark inviting you over the rain filled pass when your legs had given up, and after, it would be dusk and the half-lit villages in evening light; other people's homes glimpsed through lighted windows and inside, other people's lives; your own home you had left crowding your memory as you looked to see a child playing or a mother moving from one side of a room to another, your eyes wet with the keen cold wind of Navarre. But your loss brought you here to walk under one name and one name only, and to find the guise under which all loss can live; remember you were given that name every day along the way, remember you were greeted as such, and you neede
Comments
This year our choir featured 'Lutebook Lullaby' and 'In Dulci Jubilo'. Last year it was 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring'.