Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

Archives for July 2010

The Dingle Way. The Gallarus Oratory and Beehive Huts

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We spent a few days on the Dingle Peninsula.
The Irish are amusing in that they drive their cars and camper vans straight onto the beach, disregarding the beware of soft sand signs.
Not being Irish, we got our car stuck, and asked some freckly youngsters for help. Six or seven of them pushed us out of the sand, saying, ” Don’t worry. We are good strong lads.” An older Irishman told them, “Do you know, in England you could get arrested for driving onto the beach?” “You don’t say,” they answered, eyes widened.
Walked by the beach. It exhilarates me and restores my soul, puts me together again. Lovely!!
Slept on Inch Beach, soundly, lulled by the sound of lapping waves, and the air apparently charged with negative ions.
We went on the Dingle Way today. Full of early Christian sites. When we asked the way, an Irish lady crossed herself and said, “These are Holy Mary Roads.” “What’s a Holy Mary Road?” the girls asked. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us, sinners, Now and at the hour of our death.” “Amen” we replied.The Gallarus Oratory was truly a marvel of the “Dark Ages,” 1300 years old, a drystone construction, entirely built without mortar, bell-shaped, like a stranded stone ark, an intricate construction of stones, carefully placed one on top of the other. Claustrophobic and dark inside, the bright and glorious sea outside.
Interesting that the early Irish monks felt they had to shut out the lovely natural world to focus on God. I suppose we do that when we close our eyes, and bow our heads to pray.

Fascinated by the tiny early Christian beehive hermitages, intricate, drystone mortarless constructions, in which their hermits lived year round, and which were provided as accommodation for travellers.. So claustrophobic and dark for us, but probably welcoming with a fire inside, and snow outside.

Also, saw some inpregnable ancient stone forts, with claustrophobic tiny rooms, but certainly enemy-proof, also a dry stone, mortarless construction.The Irish were sure shorter than us in the prehistoric times.

The Dingle Peninsula has scarlet and purple hedges!!–fuschia imported from Chile in the last century, and now naturalized! And delicate sprays of orange cocosmia, also naturalized in every hedge and ditch, a veritable palette of purple heathers and yellow gorse, colour gone mad!
Roy said our family was ruined, so we took a break and had a beach morning. Got caught out tidepooling by high tide. Oh, but to see the magical world of once inert sea anemones opening their myriad red arms like happy underwater flowers; sea stars swirling, mussels opening for plankton, barnacles and their feathery, food-gathering feet, all coming to life with high tide, was well worth it.

The Lake Isle of Innisfallen, Ireland

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I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfallen.
We are in Killarney National Park, camped (well, in our motor home) on the shores of Lough Leanne. Perfect stillness. Saw a swan and 7 grey cygnets. Enjoyed a walk through lush rain forest, thick with ferns, bracket fungi, massive oaks and strawberry bushes, to a perfect view, the lake with gentle sound of water lapping at its shores, and a 180 degree view of a mountain range, MacGillicuddy’s Reeks.
We rowed today to the Lake Isle of Innishfallen,  incredibly peaceful and well-maintained with the ruins of a 7th century monastery established by Finian the Leper. Lovely trails around the Island. Wonderful rowing though a flock of swans, which we appeared to be herding. Nothing more relaxing than mucking around in boats.
The Monks of Innisfallen painstakingly wrote The Annals of Innisfallen, a chonicle of Irish Church history between 433 and 1450 AD. It is now in the Bodleian Library, in Oxford, which ironically, we toured last week.
One day, perhaps all expropriated artefacts will be returned to their countries of origin? Though probably not in my lifetime!

The Prayer of Relinquishment and Utter Exhaustion

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One of the first books I read when I became a Christian, aged 17, was Catherine Marshall’s “Something More,” and I remain very fond of it.

She describes a very powerful form of prayer, ” The Prayer of Relinquishment” she calls it. It’s essentially saying, “Have thine own way. It’s okay if you grant me this desire I want so desperately. And okay if you do not.” A Gethsemane prayer.

Odd thing, in my own life, praying like that has been the precursor to getting the thing I wanted so badly. However, there are no short-cuts to it. You do have to tortuously and painfully get to the stage at which you want God, his blessing, and his wise choice for you in the circumstances more than you want your heart’s desire.

One thing that, of late, gets me to the prayer of relinquishment is occasional exhaustion. Roy and I have reached middle-age throughly unprepared for it. For one, we have not been good about exercise, so are not as physically strong as we should be (though we are now trying to rectify that). For another, we still live as fully and intensely as we did when we were first married, with several interesting balls in the air at any given time. Until exhaustion strikes. As it has now.

And then, how easy it seems to surrender your life once more. ” Have thine own way, Lord. Take it, oh Lord, take this life of mine. It’s really not of the greatest interest to me. Work in it and with it. Create something beautiful with it.”

 

"There are no demons in Sweden"

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One day, I will be organized. I will take my Bible to church, and my notebook, and my notes will be orderly.

At present, since sermons usually provide memorable moments of amusement and inspiration (often both), I scribble them on the back of news-sheets. And am now typing them up, to leave a tidy house for the friend who will be staying.

And here’s an amusing anecdote. Our preacher, Gordon Hickson, was conducting a series of charismatic meetings, which included, as they usually do, deliverance ministry.

The hosting pastor was offended. “There are no demons in Sweden,” he said.

Which strikes me as very funny. The arrogance of the statement, and the fact that, after you laugh, you can see his point.

Swedish demons, like their hosts,  are probably far more reserved than those in Haiti, or India or Nigeria.

However, goodness and evil are equal opportunity domains, and the shrieks and cries and shaking  apparently surprised the host and the attendees. Even in Sweden.

 

Writing Schedules

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Lee Gutkind
My triumph climbing the rope led to my understanding and appreciation of a writer’s real secret of success: discipline–an attempt to be creative and productive on a regular basis.  Virtually every writer I have ever known or read about, regardless of genre, lifestyle, or location, writes or “works out,” on a regular schedule.  From Styron to JC Oates to McPhee, writing regimentation is the key to success.
Writers usually work under regimentation: a disciplined, regular schedule, morning, noon or night, day after day, through most of the year.  This is how writers become writers.  They may write an impeccable essay, seemingly with ease.  But they trained hard with disciplined regularity to produce a memorable literary effort.  We often don’t think of writing as a deliberate act of discipline, but that is exactly how the artful essay begins.

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Prayer and an Ipod Touch: A Tale

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Monday

Major tears and  heartbreak chez Mathias. Irene,11, has lost her Ipod Touch.

My prayer group–Anne, Juliet, Helen, Bea and I– prayed that her she would break her addiction to her Ipod and to computer games. The latter we accomplished by moving her desk around to face the couch where Roy works and password protecting her games account. The latter God accomplished, though it cost us £140. Be strong, mum, and don’t buy her another!!

Tuesday

Irene is totally awed by the power of prayer. She was addicted to her beloved Ipod touch, listening to books, emailing, playing games, sleeping with a story playing, waking to its alarm. It was becoming her life, as she said rhapsodically, and I said mournfully.  I asked my prayer group to pray. And, “oddly” in 6 days, this treasure was lost. She snuggled up to me & asked, “Mum, do you think that if you all hadn’t prayed, I would have lost it?” “No!” I said. “I believe you lost it in answer to our prayer.” She sighed!

Wednesday

Roy is not sorry for her. He said that her Ipod was gaining the power of Tolkein’s ring over her.

Thursday

Irene, this morning, sadly, “You know, mum, God isn’t very logical!” Then she realized that would be suggesting that she has a better mind than God (who is one person definitely and undeniably smarter than my curly-headed brilliant sweetie) said, “Oh!” stopped herself, and was sad, silent and thoughtful!

 

Monday

Final installment. Yay! After several months, Irene has gone back to compulsive reading, and is really enjoying it. Yay, and yay, and, to be more theological, praise God!!