Hazards of an over-fertile Imagination

Image courtesy of Idea go at freedigitalphotos.net

Is it just me whose imagination goes walkabout at the most inconvenient times? Like the Ascension Day service, for instance, as we were busy All Hail (ing) the Power of Jesus' Name, Let Angels prostrate fall...I'd visions of said angelic beings toppling over like a line of dominos.  It could have been worse, I suppose.

Does anybody else suffer from an over-active imagination?

Lost In A Labyrinth?

Near Hadrian's Wall - Durham to Iona Pilgrimage, April/May 2011

A 'first,' for me yesterday; I actually got lost in a labyrinth. What an odd feeling! I was caught totally by surprise; a labyrinth has only one path winding in and out from the centre, after all. What confused me, was, I think, the overall shape, which was more of a square, with some sharp angles and meditative prayer stations along the way; a great idea in theory, yes, but in practice this introduced not only the usual need to  step off the path to let other walkers go by, but also decisions as to whether to wait patiently at intervals behind somebody deep in prayer, (which to be honest, I felt might appear rather intrusive to the person concerned) step right round them (intrusive again) or, as I eventually did, walk right off the labyrinth. I'm not famed for my sense of direction at the best of times, and after a couple of these diversions, I found myself totally confused and lost.  Several kind helpers appeared to point me back in the right direction, but I decided to call it a day. 

Though they may not have realised, I was quite happy to step off the installation and sit quietly with my thoughts.  I've been musing a fair bit recently about self-esteem issues and my tendency to let set backs, like the one I had earlier in the week, send me hurtling down a spiral of hurt despair and unhealthy self-absorption; as if I'm in some ghastly, cosmic game of Snakes and Ladders.   From where I am it looks as if The Only Way is Down and the temptation, I find is often to let the  downward pull define  everything else I'm about; surely the blips and set-backs are only an indication of my (abysmal) lack of self-worth and abilities. It's that old Imposter Syndrome: If they really knew how useless I am ...blah de blah...I might as well give up.  The trick, I've found, is to know when to push against this; the old   not in desolation going back on a decision made in a time of consolation bit.  I'm finding this easier of late; though this last has involved a few days snivelling away at a bemused but sympathetic Mr GP and much raging at God during the wee small hours.  Stepping back  now, I'm starting to  see the set-back in context.  This is where the labyrinth comes in again, mirroring, as it so often does, those unexpected twists and turns of life when you think you're travelling further away from your destination, but in reality are still on the path. Old cynic that I am, I sometimes find the old hymn God Moves in A  Mysterious Way,  a wee bit too off pat for my liking, but I do (grudgingly) have to admit there's more than a grain of truth in it. 

So, for all kinds of reasons, some of which won't make it on to this blog, the event that I was involved with yesterday, which I could so easily have decided to back out off at the last minute, has done wonders to boost the Greenpatch self-confidence; I've squared up to and stared down the old Inner Critic (for now, at least) and am back on the pathway.

To be a pilgrim: All Who would valiant be - Hobgoblin-free zone

                                            Feeble apology for a hobgoblin - Christmas 2010


Great full-colour cartoon by Dave Walker in this week's  Church Times supplement on Back to Church Sunday: What to expect incorporating some suggestions from his readers  adoring fans, including Yours Truly. Thanks Dave,  for including mine on inclusive language in familiar hymns.  If you're not expecting it (inclusive language, not Dave W), as was I this morning, it can cause not a little dissonance twixt eye, voice and brain, resulting in a strangled squawk not unlike that of poor John Bunyan's hobgoblin. I already knew that he'd been banished, along with the foul fiend; earlier than I'd thought -according to this info on the hymn based on a poem from Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, the modifications made by Percy Dearmer were made way back in 1906. Well, I certainly don't date back that far, yet I distinctly remember singing the original Who Would True Valour See throughout my schooldays. Maybe we used in in solidarity with the local boys' grammar school - according to one source, they had Bunyan's version as a school song. Ours was, and as far as I know still is One Church, One Faith, One Lord, (in itself a topic for a blog post), but I digress.

Going back to church today - whatever version we were singing, it read even more inclusive and san (nearly said 'sin') itised than Perce's masterpiece! All Who Would Valiant Be...? Never mind. One good thing to be said for modernising, at least it forces you to really concentrate on what you're singing about; easy to let the tried and familiar blind you to the underlying meaning. And to be honest, when I think about  the potential horrors in some of the more contemporary output, (Shipoffools.com's Crappy Choruses and Horrible Hymns thread saw me through many a dark night), I'll forgive Newchurch any amount of inclusive language use.

It's just - if you've been brought up on robust Anglican hymnody and even more robust poetry: I remember learning Gerard Manley Hopkin's glorious  Pied Beauty, his  God's Grandeur, and Coleridge's Rime  of the Ancient Mariner, at school between the ages of seven and ten (so there, Mr Gove!), anything less can seem like dreaming in sepia tones when you've been accustomed to all the colours of the rainbow.