So, here’s where technology appeals to me: me an’ Yann and the cat and the rabbit are all outside on the Good Half of the Balcony (the Bad Half being dedicated to my son’s obsession with bicycles). Yesterday, I finished the Tea Garden on the Good Half of the Balcony: 5 different kinds of mint, English lavender, lemon thyme, and some coleuses for colour. And some catnip. The catnip is not for me. Here, on this side of the balcony, we’re shaded, but the sky is clear and the birds are doing their thing in the tree – their thing is, apparently, cat entertainment. Down below me, there’s a lot of traffic because everyone comes to my perfect little village on holidays, but I can’t see it over the edge of the railing, and my lack of hearing has the noise set on white. Who needs waterfalls and babbling brooks?
I’ve never been able to blog from the Good Half of the Balcony before.
I’m actually supposed to be working on the Good Half of the Balcony, but Yann is promising to lie for me. He’s a good little computer.
Yesterday was Pentecost. For those of you who don’t know about such things, it’s the birthday of the Christian church, the day when Jesus had ditched his apostles forever and left them to deal with it all by themselves. Little tongues of flame appeared over their Christian heads, as they were filled with the Holy Spirit.
Symbolism, people. Not reality. No one is setting the Brylcreem alight.
Yesterday, we all wore red to church, and the new priest stood on the chancel steps in her sandals and her red chasuble, and she gave the kids sparklers. Very cool. Very hip. She’s in good with the kids, now. She’s in good with the people who sit in the pews and watch the show. The Chancel Guild is out for her blood.
I’m having to make a decision about this church, soon. I’m not sure that sparklers are enough to keep me there.
I’ve been introducing the kids at the church to Revelation. Cool book; I thought they’d like the images, and there are several who are ready for the questions Revelation demands. Last week, we talked about the 6th Seal, where the 144 000 are chosen from the 12 Tribes of Israel. Yesterday, I asked any of the kids if they were a member of one of the 12 Tribes.
No, they said, not us.
So, I asked, are you going to be one of the 144 000, then?
How will that work?
I just am, that’s how.
We talked about symbolism. We talked about relativity: 144 000 was a big number 2000 years ago. We talked about drug and alcohol usage (how else do you explain St. John’s writing style?). I like the little frowns they all got. I didn’t assure them, one way or the other, about The New Jerusalem. I just let them think about it. At some point, they have to work it all out for themselves. Now is just as good a time as any.
I think the 8-year-old is actually better at working through these things than the 12-year-old. He doesn’t bother with dogma, just uses logic and his own perspective. I have a lot of respect for that kid.
That kid might be enough to keep me at this church.
But maybe not. I’m greedy, and want more than one reason to do this.
So I’m sitting here on the Good Half of the Balcony, thinking about these things and writing on a machine which was inconceivable when I was born. I think I’m getting old: things are often striking me as really deep and heavy. No, I have not been smoking whatever St. John was smoking… although things might make more sense if I had. Maybe I’ll take it up in my old age.
‘Kay, well, that was that: the rabbit’s trying to bugger the cat and the cat’s screaming like he’s going to murder someone and the next-door neighbours have turned on their music. So much for the Good Half of the Balcony.
Is that a spider I see?