Autumn Cottage Diarist

Springtime is Open for Business!

 

The doors of the summer house and the pages of the summer house journal are open again. I'm sitting and writing in here for the first time this year with the first real days of springtime all around me.

You know the sort of day? - when there is suddenly enough warmth in the sun to cancel out the chill from the breeze, when the birds are suddenly very determined about the song that they sing incessantly...the sort of day when the arrival of frogspawn in the pond thrills and surprises you once
again? (It thrills and surprises Lissie, too - with the result that she now waits for ages for another frog to appear!)

The daffodils are fully open, the birds are trilling enthusiastically in
the bushes right outside the summerhouse - once again, and moreso as
time passes, I feel even more grateful and relieved that I am coming out
of the long, grey tunnel called winter.

I'm sitting here at mid-day, with a cup of tea and a banana sandwich for my lunch, listening to the melodious sound of the Japanese wind chimes, before setting off for class 6 (already!) of my course. It seems strange to be going off to study the Rituals of Death with life bursting forth all around me.

But don't those two apparent contradictions encapsulate everything that we can observe of our time here? - in the midst of life, we are with death - but also, after the darkness of winter, always comes the spring.

The summerhouse is an untidy mess, as always at this time of the year - dirty, algae stained windows, leaves blown in through the missing pane of glass, dust and cobwebs, dead spiders and debris of a winter past.....but it won't take long to clean it up, and then my peace-haven
will be ready for a summer's worth of watching and writing once again.

Death In Winchester

High upon the Choir Arcade - can you see the coffin of a Saxon King?

Winchester Cathedral  - 5.30 pm on Saturday last. In just a couple of
hours, the cathedral would be filled with the audience awaiting the
start of the St John Passion - but at this moment, I had the cathedral
virtually to myself, along with about four other people.

The light was dropping, all inside the cavernous interior was in
darkness, except for pools of light which fell upon the honey coloured
stone, together with lights that could be switched on to view ancient
paintings and sculptures for just a few minutes.

In my experience, Winchester has never been a bustling tourist
attraction, in the same way that, say, Westminster Abbey is. But I felt
especially privileged to walk around in solitary silence, passing 14th
century knights and bishops, forever in stony repose upon their tombs -
to walk over 13th century floor tiles, surrounding the site of the
Shrine of St Swithun, within the benevolent, gilded, shimmering view of
the arcade of icons looking down upon the shrine from the back of the
choir.

And just before I left, a glimpse of the 12th century wall paintings in a tiny chapel (The Holy Sepulchre Chapel) not far from the grave of Jane
Austen in the North aisle. Kept in gloom, pressing a time switch illuminated them and brought the decorative vitality, as well as the
acts of devotion of this ancient place of prayer vividly to life.

Only a brief visit, but a special one, part of a special day in the year so far. I was spending the day in Winchester to attend an all day series
of talks and performances as part of the "Art and Mind" festival, organised jointly by the University and the Dana Brain Foundation, an exciting organisation which seeks to bring together and discover the commonalties and differences between brain scientists and creative artists from all fields.

Too much to describe in detail, but I was left with a mind expanding series of questions and challenges after listening to such topics as
"When does life begin and end?" "How the dead help the living  - exploring the death beliefs of nine indigenous peoples", "The Mexican Days of the dead" and "Near-death and out of body  experiences" - and enjoying poetry readings and  stunning drama based on the wonderful book "Intimate Death" by Marie de Hennezel.

I was also privileged to be asked to join for supper my Course Director,
Dr Christina Welch, who had spoken on Indigenous Peoples, Chloe Sayer,
The lecturer who had spoken about Mexico, and Professor June Boyce-
Tillman - a composer of Liturgical music and an authority on Hildegard
of Bingen. Can you imagine how the conversation ranged? - I just kept my
mouth shut (well, most of the time, anyway!) and sat in awe at the sheer
excitement and delight of having access to such interesting thoughts -
knowledge is such a luxury to me now - and the warmth with which this knowledge was shared so willingly by these encouraging women is such an enriching experience.

The evening ended with a screening of a film - "Ivan's xtc", Directed by
Bernard Rose. Low budget, digitally filmed, it is based upon Tolstoy's
story "The death of Ivan Illych" - and dealt, in this interpretation ,
with the glamorous but superficial and  empty life of Ivan, a Hollywood
film agent, and his death from lung cancer. No punches pulled, but in
the end, amidst all the excess, it was the warmth of a human heart,
extended by the touch of a human hand, which had the most impact, and
unlike all the tinsel of Tinsel Town, of incomparable value.

If you ever get the chance, see the film......it is tremendously moving, and vividly confirms the main reason why I chose to take this course of study in the first place, because studying death is really a way of looking at how we live.