Sabbath, 20/9/2009 Record

After liturgy at St. Andrews at 8 AM, I embarked on an adventure.

Just my bike and I - off for a Sabbath rest to remember that God created me a human being... not a human doing. And after a busy week of researching about six to eight hours a day, it was immaculate timing.

I "forgot" my camera, which was rather therapeutic. Thus I could just wander, soak in the delights, and never worry that I was missing the documentation of such experiences.

C.S. Lewis writes in Surprised by Joy that joy itself has one characteristic that he can fathom. The one who experiences joy will desire it again. Joy is never in our power to remain. It is like trying to hold water with a sieve. Impossible. It flows in and out when and how it pleases. But joy is not pleasure, for Lewis writes, "Joy is never in our power and pleasure often is."

Joy.

If it was possible - I'd ask you to now shut your eyes fast and imagine with me the setting I shall depict. In this instance, I do not defer to the idea that a picture is worth a thousand words. Had I had a camera, no amount of photos would have sufficed. A word, I believe, is worth a thousand pictures.

Sunshine - deliciously touching glistening grass... flooding autumn breeze with warmth - life

Rustling of emerald leaves on trees resurrected from Middle Earth - dusted with gold

Hidden gates, forgotten paths, dilapidated docks

A grand palace - marvel of human hands

The smell of earth, the crunching of soft, dry grass under bare feet

Solitude vast and unmeasured

Amidst the backdrop of a painted sky, of dollops of cloud and puppet birds

A girl - ragged jeans and weathered cap - dreaming, wishing, hoping

Time could stand still.

So that sums up my day in the best way possible. I sabbathed at Blenheim Palace. Rode my bike there, had a meat pie for lunch, and washed it down after with a hot chocolate. Went tromping through the back gates that peasants used hundreds of years ago into the palace gardens. The Rose Garden was amazing. Have you ever realized that each rose smells distinct. I wonder if that is what God means by a fragrant sacrifice, in a way. Perhaps each human gives off a special, unique scent in sacrifice.

Well, must be off. Cheers!

PS - all these photos are off google.