This is an attempt, long planned, never ventured until now to 'get some thoughts out there'. I've certainly felt for too long that there are far too many 'in here' for comfort or long-term sanity. I'm also curious what the rest of the world might think to the perplexed workings of my mind; and looking for the discipline that a regular blog might helpfully give me in terms of reflecting and writing. Here I'll be writing about theology (God-talk), politics, justice issues, gender, India, parenthood and my experiences of living in community. I like ideas and I like to join the dots, so to speak. However, you may also find meanderings on things as disparate as Jackie O's impeccable style instinct, charity-shop shopping or foxgloves. I don't like to be boxed in.
My reservations on blogging are several:
1. The word *blog*. Whoever came up with such an ugly-sounding word? As someone with a reverent appreciation for the wit, nuance, subtlety and wide-ranging magnificence of the English language, its ugliness and unimaginativeness fundamentally put me off me and has, in large part been responsible for my reluctance to start one (you think I'm joking). Surely we could have done better than that? Short for 'weblog' (apparently), even 'webbie' or 'webler' would have been preferable. Just so you know, I will not be using it if I can avoid it. Suggestions on an alternative word that I can use and so start subverting the use of 'blog' would be very welcome. For now, and in honour of my brother and his well-established practice of making up his own words, I'm going to use the term eweb...
2. I'm a perfectionist and a narcissist. The first I can't really help but it does mean I won't publish any posts unless they are absolutely spot-on, and you may all lose interest in the time it takes me to create each masterpiece. The second I can help, and need to, and I'm not sure that journaling to a global audience (which is effectively what this is) is going to help matters much. For my own spiritual health I may need to stop if things get too bad...
3. I'm still not convinced about the quality of debate online, however thoughtful the original contribution. I'm downright alarmed by the abuse that seems the norm in the comment sections of just about anything you read these days, and by all accounts female ewebbers with something (anything?) to say are particular targets for trolls and the mindlessly hateful.
4. I used to be an avid reader and meditative thinker, thinking great thoughts all day long. Two things of late have shot my concentration to pieces: a toddler in my life, and a broadband connection. I'm not at all sure I need more encouragement to fill up my 20 mins here and there of free thinking time with yet more screen time, to the further detriment of that slowing down and listening to my own thoughts, and the thoughts of the Spirit within me. Oh well. It's an experiment. As I said, I may need to stop if things get too bad.
Why Ring Them Bells? You may recognise the Bob Dylan reference. His fine song of that title talks of 'ringing bells' for 'the poor man's son', for 'the child that cries/When innocence dies'and 'for the blind and the deaf', bells that warn and draw attention to clear injustices. I'd like to be part of that bell-ringing party, and I'll be using this eweb to talk about such things. However, the song has a slightly chilly ambiguity.
In the best Dylanesque apocalyptic tradition, the lyrics use powerful images and symbols which immediately resonate but which can be interpreted a number of ways - you may read the song differently. But the warning I take from it is that bells are rung for all kinds of reasons, not all of them good, and not all of them effective and the people and institutions we look to to care about the sorry state of affairs we're in ('the world's on its side') are not always doing their job and sometimes hopelessly compromised. Would-be bell-ringers be warned. And so, feel free to remind me of this whenever you think I'm getting too polemical...
The lyrics in full:
Ring them bells, ye heathen
From the city that dreams,
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries
Cross the valleys and streams,
For they're deep and they're wide
And the world's on its side
And time is running backwards
And so is the bride.
Ring them bells St. Peter
Where the four winds blow,
Ring them bells with an iron hand
So the people will know.
Oh it's rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down
Upon the sacred cow.
Ring them bells Sweet Martha,
For the poor man's son,
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one.
Oh the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled
With lost sheep.
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf,
Ring them bells for all of us who are left,
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many when the game is through.
Ring them bells, for the time that flies,
For the child that cries
When innocence dies.
Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room,
Ring them from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom.
Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they're breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong.
My reservations on blogging are several:
1. The word *blog*. Whoever came up with such an ugly-sounding word? As someone with a reverent appreciation for the wit, nuance, subtlety and wide-ranging magnificence of the English language, its ugliness and unimaginativeness fundamentally put me off me and has, in large part been responsible for my reluctance to start one (you think I'm joking). Surely we could have done better than that? Short for 'weblog' (apparently), even 'webbie' or 'webler' would have been preferable. Just so you know, I will not be using it if I can avoid it. Suggestions on an alternative word that I can use and so start subverting the use of 'blog' would be very welcome. For now, and in honour of my brother and his well-established practice of making up his own words, I'm going to use the term eweb...
2. I'm a perfectionist and a narcissist. The first I can't really help but it does mean I won't publish any posts unless they are absolutely spot-on, and you may all lose interest in the time it takes me to create each masterpiece. The second I can help, and need to, and I'm not sure that journaling to a global audience (which is effectively what this is) is going to help matters much. For my own spiritual health I may need to stop if things get too bad...
3. I'm still not convinced about the quality of debate online, however thoughtful the original contribution. I'm downright alarmed by the abuse that seems the norm in the comment sections of just about anything you read these days, and by all accounts female ewebbers with something (anything?) to say are particular targets for trolls and the mindlessly hateful.
4. I used to be an avid reader and meditative thinker, thinking great thoughts all day long. Two things of late have shot my concentration to pieces: a toddler in my life, and a broadband connection. I'm not at all sure I need more encouragement to fill up my 20 mins here and there of free thinking time with yet more screen time, to the further detriment of that slowing down and listening to my own thoughts, and the thoughts of the Spirit within me. Oh well. It's an experiment. As I said, I may need to stop if things get too bad.
Why Ring Them Bells? You may recognise the Bob Dylan reference. His fine song of that title talks of 'ringing bells' for 'the poor man's son', for 'the child that cries/When innocence dies'and 'for the blind and the deaf', bells that warn and draw attention to clear injustices. I'd like to be part of that bell-ringing party, and I'll be using this eweb to talk about such things. However, the song has a slightly chilly ambiguity.
The lyrics in full:
Ring them bells, ye heathen
From the city that dreams,
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries
Cross the valleys and streams,
For they're deep and they're wide
And the world's on its side
And time is running backwards
And so is the bride.
Ring them bells St. Peter
Where the four winds blow,
Ring them bells with an iron hand
So the people will know.
Oh it's rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down
Upon the sacred cow.
Ring them bells Sweet Martha,
For the poor man's son,
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one.
Oh the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled
With lost sheep.
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf,
Ring them bells for all of us who are left,
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many when the game is through.
Ring them bells, for the time that flies,
For the child that cries
When innocence dies.
Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room,
Ring them from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom.
Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they're breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong.
