Friday, 17 April 2009

Final post from Lenten gathering 11 April

40 DAYS and 40 NIGHTS:
an itchy twitter

the pots shown below represent the forty days of Lent and the tiles the forty nights.
The puzzle is first to arrange the tiles so that they form the following text which has forty syllables and one hundred and forty characters, the length of a full twitter. Then the pots sit on the tiles in the sequence of the week, starting on (Ash) Wednesday and ending on this Holy Saturday (omitting Sundays)

. . . . the underclothing was completely unwrinkled before they were enclosed in their space suits, lest an unsratchable itch arise that shld torment its victim into madness . . . .

An itchy Twitter overview

An itchy Twitter detail

An itchy Twitter detail 2

An itchy Twitter detail 3

Friday, 3 April 2009


this is to invite you all to a gathering on Saturday 11 April at The Pavilion in Grantchester to mark the end of Lent and usher in SpringTime. Please come anytime between I and 5 o'clock to share drink (bring a bottle), cake and your Lenten "reports" (optional!) Carnival atmosphere, even dancing if weather permits! Drums, fiddles, voices to celebrate the return of LIGHT.
Do get in touch if you need directions to the Pavilion

elspeth's itches!

My scratching ban has suddenly become redundant - I had nits, not sebhoerroic dermatitis, and I have (I think) eradicated them with a dose of Hedrin. Does this mean my sacrifice is null and void?

misha 4

Wednesday 1 April
Approaching the First Quarter

Tomorrow is the full first quarter. Last night I see her in the sky hanging clear. Approaching.
She is growing.
The Grass Moon.

I left a space, last week.
I made a space. I made a clearing in myself. A silence.
So much moving that I needed to get lost inside it all for a while.

It is uncomfortable.
The not knowing of something new.
The not knowing as something new taps you on the shoulder.
How will I recognize the thing I am looking for when I see it?
How will I know you when you call me?

I rush to meet life with vigor.
I am so full of passion it swims in my ears until I loose my balance.
I am so ready for the new time that I ache. And I am so impatient that I can kill everything.
I am so afraid of missing it. My life.
I create so much that I can’t see myself.



Birth is silent. She waits for no one.
She slips outside time.
And all of sudden, the invisible becomes visible.


It is all happening. The tides are in motion. We just need to be willing to open to the greater forces. The things that are so massive that they exist beyond… everything…. we … can…. Imagine….

Bless this new life.

birth 1

birth 2

birth 3