Sverige
Last night I arrived back in Cardiff after just over a week in Sweden. One of the main reasons for the visit was Helena and Christoffer's wedding in Kiviks, which is a small town in Skåne where a lot of cider apples are grown. The wedding was in a small, white chapel, filled with light and situated about 30 metres from the sea.

On Sunday I finally got to hear some tracks from Niklas' new demo (due out soon), and am really impressed. Watch his myspace for more info.

During the week I finally succumbed to a visit to the Kallbadhuset (cold bath house), where you get naked, sit in a sauna, and then jump into the sea. The experience was as strange as anticipated. We Brits just aren't used to being naked and comfortable, and especially not outdoors! Just when you start to relax (while discussing theology or some such) the thought runs through your mind "I'm naked," and inwardly you cringe. Thanks to Andreas and Peter for initiating me.

I also got to visit Packebo, where Sofia comes from, and spend some time with her family. It was so relaxing to get away from the city, to walk in the woods, and to enjoy the hospitality of The Family Carlbert.

I've posted some photos on Flickr (thanks Stina for loaning me your camera)...

The Last Kiss
The Last Kiss is a phase 2 coming of age movie. Phase 1 would be the "I'm coming up to eighteen years old and 'finding myself'." Phase 2 is the 29 year old, married, or almost married crisis of "is my life now one long episode of predictability?"

It could have been terrible (and I'd read elsewhere that it was), but it wasn't. Somehow, about three quarters of the way through, it switches from angsty nihilism to something altogether more hopeful. It becomes a tale of wisdom and long-suffering, of imperfect people living out love, instead of just speaking about it, and of young learning from old. (****)

This week began as one of the busiest in a long time. Being self-employed allows for bouts of unchecked workaholism. Working two jobs, one self employed, can leave you with little time for anything besides work.

There are two kinds of discipline you need when you're working 'for yourself': self motivation; and, self preservation. If you are not diciplined in your rest you will, at best, find yourself exhausted and stressed out, and, at worst, end up hating your work.

I spent most of today asking myself "what is a vote worth?"

It all began when I woke up and realised that:
a) It was voting day, and
b) That I hadn't received my ballot paper.

I was under the mistaken assumption that a ballot paper is required to vote. At some point during the night I had also dreamed that David Cameron (Conservative) had become Prime Minister. After this nightmare I was more eager than ever to vote, and to do justice to the people who have died in order that I might have the opportunity.

The truth is you can't really put a value on a vote. You can argue as much as you like that there's no point voting, because British parties all believe generally the same thing, or that it is a huge, lumbering mechanism that rarely produces something of value, but when deprived of a vote you soon discover the value of being able to vote against someone you don't want in power.

Andreas has just entered the blogging world. Visit his site for pithy ponderings on everything from theology to jazz.

"I think most of the time, most meetings should be held without chairs. People standing up think more quickly and get distracted less often. And the meetings don't last as long."
- Seth Godin on Meetings

Stop the Traffik
Over the past year or so, thanks to some friends of mine who are passionate about seeking justice, I've had my eyes opened to the world of Trafficking. This is effectively todays form of slavery, and it really matters that we don't just let the apathy of our consumer culture stop us from standing against it. Making a difference can be as simple as changing our chocolate buying habits.

Click here to learn more.

Thursday night Andreas showed up for a surprise visit. It was great to see him and amazing that those around me had kept it quiet for so long. It was a chilled Friday around the city centre. We took in some Leonardo Da Vinci at the Museum, Llandaf Cathederal, and caught up over coffee.

On Saturday we drove west to Rhossilli Bay and walked across the hills that overlook the sea. It was a warm day, but up on the hills the wind was strong and sapped our energy. The sea was cold, but we removed shoe and sock for the obligatory paddle. Once back in Cardiff we were brought to our senses by a great British tradition - curry and beer.

It was very nice to share some unexpected time with a great friend.

Smoking in public places became illegal today in Wales. From now on going for a pint will not mean damaging your lungs.

There was a common theme running through my rss feeds yesterday...

Eric Keck
"I can't stand being told it can't be done..." [read more]

Pud
"As long as you're being creative, taking risks, and making things happen, people will always think you're crazy." [read more]

It was nice to be reminded.

Please please me

"It is said that we are all three different people: the person we think we are (the one we have invented), the person other people think we are (the impression we make) and the person we think other people think we are (the one we fret about). You could say it would be a lifetime's quest to reconcile this battling trinity into a seamless whole." Read more (via)

Reading this article this morning I was reminded of this.

There is a game that we play among fellow human beings which screams simultaneously "I am desperately intelligent, stylish, suave and good looking," and "Please, please, please give me some value." It's a game that we barely remember because it becomes so deeply entwined with who we are. We so badly need others to tell us we are worth something that creating a fictitious self to get it somehow loses its absurdity.

Strangely, we are told by a somewhat marginal stranger, that the way to find rest, the way to "reconcile this battling trinity into a seamless whole" is to escape this unsatisfying game.

White Van Man
This weekend Dave and I took a trip down to Plymouth in a white van. It was fun to see Mr Henson again and to enjoy some Wagamama Yasi Katsu Curry once we were back in Bristol. We watched Identity and I fell asleep just as the plot was coming to a head. When I woke up it waas the end credits and I made Dave explain the entire film.

While I was away from Cardiff, Wales beat England 27-18 in the Rugby (watch it here) transforming my otherwise sport-dispassionate father into a huge fan...

Why Britain will not win the Eurovision Song Contest 2007

'Our' entry

In Britain no body keeps track of the Eurovision and its entrants. It fits comfortably in the category of 'crap music,' which, by British standards, means 'worse than X-Factor,' and therefore attracts little attention. The one reason why a few people tune in on the night of the main contest is seasoned radio DJ, and comedy genius, Terry Wogan, who, as UK compare, is paid to make a mockery of the whole thing.

There was one thing that drew the interest of the press this year and that was the involvement of Morrisey, who wanted to write and perform a song at this years event (I'm told that he loves the Eurovision, and cites a past Swedish contest entry as his all time favourite song, despite being clueless as to the words).

Sweden's Entry

In Sweden, on the other hand, Eurovision, or Melodifestivalen as it's known there, is serious business. It's an event that makes headlines and is carefully constructed to extract revenue from the 12% (upwards) of the population who tune in through every week of the preliminary selections.

Not only that, but it attracts 'serious' artists, such as this years' winner The Ark, who have toured with the likes of UK favourites The Darkness. Carola, who has represented Sweden twice (and here in English) at the Eurovision, is one of the most famous people alive in Sweden today.

Swedes have a word for everything, and the style of music at The Contest is no exception. Swedish artists are proud to rise to the challenge of writing a piece of 'slager' for the event.

What Church is not...

As I'm sure you've figured out by now I'm back in Cardiff. It's actually been an entire week and I'm just about getting used to it.

Leaving Malmö was as difficult as expected. The last few days were bittersweet, being with great friends, knowing that I'd soon be gone. However there was hope mixed in with it, the hope of growth and adventure.

The Sunday before I left I met up with Andreas for the last of our weekly catchups, and was just about to leave (about 18:00) when the doorbell rang. When Andreas opened the door there was a small collection of people, all of whom I knew, but was surprised to see together. It turned out he had organised a surprise leaving party. It was a great surprise - Thankyou to all concerned!

Designing
One of the things I've been working on recently is the Skapa website. For those of you who won't get much out of the site (it's in Swedish) Skapa is an organisation that exists to explore the overlap between faith and art. This is primarily expressed through an annual event, where these elements are brought together. The theme for this year is Black/White, Life/Death and contrast, and the site design reflects the idea of this contrast. It was a challenge working primarily in black and white (there is a hint of colour in the links), but an enjoyable challenge.

I found this in my notebook today and thought it would be ironic to post it here...

I do not write
for public consumption
Because I fear
the contrived

Originality has become
my captor
A kind of "End of
level guardian" to my
creative juices

(more posts to follow)

So the biggest news of my life right now is that I'm leaving Malmö on March 1st. The plan is to take a course in "Church Planting" (the buzzword for starting communities of faith centred around the life and teachings of Jesus) across the pond, starting in September. Before then I will spend some months in Wales, saving, and enjoying my family.

It's going to be so hard leaving this wonderful place, and even harder to leave the wonderful people I've come to know while I've been here.

My Weekend

photo (c) Emma Nordeborn

Beatbox
Here is a guy called Reggie Watts producing soulful, skatty, hip-hop with the use of just his voice and a small sampling machine... (via)


The clip below, from the same guy, made me smile too...

Last night Niklas and I had the pleasure of witnessing Plunge record their next album at Gula Studion. It was a great night of firsts, first time in a 'proper' studio (where the likes of Franz Ferdinand, The Cardigans, The Ark, Marit Bergman etc. have recorded), first time hearing Andreas play with his own band, first introduction to live, freeform jazz. Actually, I'm told that calling it 'freeform jazz' is really just a demonstration of ignorance. Plunge should apparently be discribed as (something like) "an experimental, existential, minimalist trio who express influences from the world of jazz along with other forms of improvised music..."

It was surprisingly relaxing and so inspiring to hear such great musicians and to watch their musical interaction. Now I have a sense of the "conversation" that Andreas has been trying to describe to me for so long.

The great thing about Sweden is there are still people who dress like Rupert the Bear - matching chequered trousers and scarf!

Last night I was chilling out with Christopher and Anna and we decided to play Scrabble. The strange thing is that in Sweden it's called Alfapet, and has extra letters Ö, Ä, and Å. I told them that I would play in English, but that they were welcome to use Swedish. They chose to play in English. The game was really strange when it comes to scoring and the making up of words - we decided that the extra letters would count as As or Os, but in the Swedish scrabble there aren't as many Es, and Cs are worth 8 points, instead of the usual 2 points (or is it 3?) Confusing.

Made to Mingle?
After eluding to questions of calling and purpose over passing weeks I thought I might unveil a tiny fragment of what feels like mine...

I think that one of the aspects of my 'calling' is the hosting of parties. This evening Peter, Ellen and I hosted a party at the apartment, which felt like a success. One of my passions in life is bringing together people from different walks of life, introducing them to each other, and seeing the interesting network of relationships that blossoms, along with the cross-pollination of ideas.

A couple of years ago I was at New Wine and I heard Mal Calladine teach this concept - that some people are supposed to be hospitable through the throwing of parties. I like the way it expands the concept of vocation. Living as something of a nomad in recent years (barely staying in one place long enough to decorate my room), I haven't had as many opportunities to throw parties as I would like. Whenever I have, however, I feel elated, kind of like I'm doing something I was made for.

Breakfast in Sweden is a serious business. Since I've been here I've gone through several favourite breakfasts...

1. Gröt med Lingonsylt (Porridge with Lingonberry jam)
I arrived last November to the coldest and longest winter I had ever experienced. Thankfully, unlike us Brits, Swedes keep the heating on all night. Anyway, for probably 4-5 months I thought there was nothing better than waking up to a warm, sweet bowl of porridge. However a few months ago I was mocked by a pastor for this porridge-preference, "Man, that is sooo Småland! You should try it with Äpplemos, that's WAY better..." I actually disagree, and I feel no need to apologise, as I was taught by a real life horse-riding, forest-dwelling Smålander...

2. Filmjölk och Müsli (Sour milk and Museli)
As soon as I tasted Fil, a product that is not available back home, and is like a cross between natural yoghurt and milk, I loved it. It gives a refreshingly sour flavour to the morning.

3. Frisk Bröd med Apelsinmarmelad och Ost (Fresh Bread with Orange Marmelade and Cheese)
It's not very British to eat untoasted bread for breakfast, or cheese for that matter (especially not with something sweet), but this ROCKS.

Now for my current favourite...

4. Mild Vaniljyoghurt och Müsli (Mild Vanilla yoghurt and Museli)
Where Fil is sour, Vaniljyoghurt is light and slightly sweet (though not too sweet for breakfast time). mmm mmm dee-licious.

Music
For me, Christmas, and the winter season, always brings with it a hankering for the mellower edge of my musical tastes. I was delighted to receive Johnny Cash's final contribution to the musical world, 'American V: A Hundred Highways' and also Sufjan Steven's 'Illinois' this year.

I love the rawness of Mr Cash's final recordings, which he made in collaboration with Rick Rubin, the guy who founded seminal hip-hop label Def Jam. There's a beauty and wisdom in his tired, old voice. I was also moved to read that, in the days leading up to Cash's death, Reuben and He were daily celebrating the Lord's Supper together...

As for Sufjan Stevens, I was delighted to hear that Mark Churchill's ravings were not in vain. Stevens really is a gifted songwriter and musician who seems to grapple with some of the intricate tensions of life with inspiring grace. My favourite track from this album is Casimir Pulaski Day, the lyrics of which you can read here.

Finally, while I've been aware of his existence for some time now, I've really only just began to appreciate Ray LaMontagne. He played at Jools' Holland's annual Hootenanny, and his voice was as rich as any recording I had heard. He also has an amazing beard.

As I sat in Dublin Airport on Thursday morning, awaiting my flight to Malmö, I listened to the Ricky Gervais Podcast. The show turned out to be so funny that I couldn't just sit there looking serious (as you're supposed to in an airport), but instead began to shake uncontrollably like a child in a classroom who can't laugh out loud because he doesn't want to get into trouble with his teacher. Eventually I paused the podcast, so as to compose myself, and hoped that when I turned it back on it wouldn't seem quite as funny. It didn't work, the show was just as funny and I was forced to continue with my muffled laughter.

Mmm mmm I just made the nicest Lentil Soup. It's the first time I've made a soup, and it marks me getting over a strange fear of lentils that I've had for a while. Fear is probably an over exaggeration, but I think they would be harder to use...

Here's the recipe:

Ingredients
1 Onion (finely chopped)
2 cloves Garlic (crushed)
1 litre Vegetable Stock
300g Lentils
3 potatoes (sliced small)
1 tablespoon Olive Oil
2 pinches Curry Powder
1 pinch Salt
2 pinches Black Pepper

Instructions:
1. Saute the Onion in the olive oil until it goes transparent, then add the the garlic.
2. Place the Vegetable Stock in a large saucepan and heat until simmering.
3. Add the Onion and Garlic.
4. Add the rest of the ingredients and simmer for 45min-1hour, stirring occasionally.
5. Serve with fresh bread.

There are two adverts running on Swedish television at the moment that use the same background track - 'Hoppipolla' by Sigur Ros. One ad is for a nature channel (at least that's what I think) and the other is for movies on TV3 (Swedish channel). The strange thing is that they often appear in the same sequence...

While Christmas and New Year were lovely times of relaxing with family, eating lots, and having fun together, there was another, more serious side, to the whole thing. There was a sense of God calling me towards himself, reminding me who I am and asking me to put him first in everything. I've been reassessing and rediscovering my purpose - the one thing that I could say I was made for.

It says in the Bible that "Where there is no vision, the people perish," and I'm sure that this is true. Vision is the target that you can set your sites on, it is the context into which everything you do fits. It is the thing against which you can measure your priorities, and assess, out of all the potentially good things you could do, which you are supposed to do.

I'm told that while pursuing your calling won't always be easy, when you are doing it there is a sense of peace, a deep sense of happiness.

On another note, I'm loving Rob Bell's Nooma Videos at the moment. I like the way he uses such short clips to capture a single aspect of who God is, or how we relate to Him.

Challenging artwork

"I projected photographs of mutilated and dead Iraqis on American houses, supermarkets, churches, and parking lots. I was thinking of this new generation of kids who will be traumatized for life by growing up during wartime. It was a desperate gesture: my personal protest for the lack of interest for the non-american victims..."
Jean-Christian Bourcart

Sherlock the Shitsu
A few hours of Zoe's and my Christmas Day were spent rescuing a Shitsu named Sherlock who had somehow escaped from the care of his owner. We found him crossing the busy main road that runs through Llandaff North, and Zoe, who has a running history of dog-rescue immediately wooed him with a combination of stroking and dog-talk.
We couldn't care for him in our home because of Oscar and his territorial nature, so put him in our garden while we tried to locate the owners, who, it seems, had gone out for the afternoon. Then we called the police and were told that we should go to the police station, get a form, and then drop him off at the local Dog Pound (which, we were assured, was open).
Zoe and I drove to the police station, collected the form and drove down to the shelter only to find it closed. We drove back hopelessly pondering our options (Drop him off at the park/police station/local pub?) By the time we got back and contacted the police it turned out that Sherlock's owners had also contacted them and we were given an address (2 minutes walk from our house) where they could be found...

"What would happen if the Virgin Mary came to Bethlehem today?"

Farmer Seeks Wife
Of all the strange things you find on Swedish television this has to be the funniest concept. It's a classic reality TV formula, with a twist...
Basically a farmer writes in to the producers saying "I'm looking for a lady," they find a few girls who fancy their chances with this flannel-clad batchelor, he dates each of them and decides who he likes best. I've only seen it once, but I enjoyed the fact that, it being in Swedish, I could make up what they were saying to eachother ("so, are you any good with a hand-drawn plough?")

In summary...
Highlights of the past week and a half.

Crowning of the Lucia, Glögg & Pepparkakor
Christmas festivities have well and truly arrived. It seems like everywhere you go people are drinking glögg (like mulled wine only nicer, and commonly served with raisins, almonds and a spoon) and eating pepparkakor (ginger biscuits). Wednesday is Lucia - my favourite (pseudo) Swedish tradition. Last Sunday I had the pleasure of attending the Crowning of the Lucia, which is kind of like a beauty/personality contest, where someone is chosen to be the Lucia for a particular town (in this case Malmö). The Lucia doesn't have to sing, but usually has to wear candles on her head, which has got to be tricky. I say usually because the Malmö Lucia is wearing plexi-glass this year...

Calaisa
Last Sunday evening Christoffer introduced me to this Swedish equivalent of the Corrs or the Dixie Chicks. They have a great story, which goes something like: went to Nashville; played at a party; were asked to play at someone's brothers' party; agreed; turned out that the 'someone's brother' was the head of Universal Records in Nashville; got signed...

They are a great bunch of musicians and clearly very talented. I wouldn't buy their record, but then the same goes for The Corrs or Dixie Chicks. The Nashville Music Industry has certainly left its mark on them, bringing words like 'pre-packaged' to mind. That said it was really nice to hear them live.

Niklas Hegfalk and Band
On Saturday we witnessed Niklas Hegfalk and Band at Vinylbaren (part of KB). Niklas' songs really grew with the full band, at times drifting from straight-up folk to a kind of thrashy post-rock. It was standing room only in this jammed bar with steamy windows. Click here for photos.

Work work work
This has been my first year of running my own business, and it's been a really interesting adventure. Right now it seems like things are beginning to gain momentum. Check out Looks Can Kill for more...

What does it mean?
There have been some great moments recently where I've been with friends and our conversations have become centered around the questions "what does it really mean to follow Jesus?" I think this is one of those questions that is so healthy to keep asking, especially for those of us who have chosen to make it our life's work.

and beyond...

Home for Christmas
Next Monday, the 18th December I fly home for Christmas. This time round I get to celebrate my birthday (which is on the 19th) with my family, which will be really nice. I'm really looking forward to tasting a 'decent' curry. I'll be back in Malmö on the 4th January.

Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen (an essay on the wonders of cultural difference)
A fortnight (or so) ago we had Luke over for a meal and after the usual superficial chit chat about the ingredients of the non-alcoholic cider we were drinking (fläder/elderflower if you're interested), and how cold it is in Sweden, we began an interesting dialogue (or more a quadologue) on the feminist reading of mine and Luke's "manners". Luke is Southafrican and has grown up holding doors for women, standing when they enter a room, giving up his seat on a bus etc. All things that I've also been used to.

In Sweden, or so Ellen would have us believe, women see this as utterly patronising. It is a cultural statement that means the same as "I don't believe you should be allowed to vote, or earn as much as I do." Before I go on, I have to say that I strongly and agressively disagree with the idea that women should be paid less or be denied voting rights. At the same time I don't wholeheartedly buy into equality - i.e. everyone is the same and that besides the obvious physical differences there is no difference between the way that a man and a woman looks at the world (of course people are more complex than just the gender distinction).

Anyway, a few days later I was at a party in Rosengård, and revisited this conversation in an even more multicultural setting. I explained my reason for being more comfortable walking on the road-side of the pavement (because, in the event of there being puddles in the road, you would protect the person you are walking with from getting splashed). This time Heber, who is from Venezuela, chimes in "it's the same in my country, except that if the woman walks on the road-side then it means that she is for sale!"

In truth chivalry is a dying art, even in the UK ("the home of the gentleman"). I learned its value because I listened to old people (in their 80s upwards) when I was younger, and because of a fascination I once had with musicals from the 1950s. I think that there is a huge amount of value in caring for members of the opposite sex, in treating them well (as 'ladies'). It is wonderfully romantic and side-steps our cultural obsession with objectification.

I do not believe the being a feminist means you have to give up on romance.

Faithful reader, apologies that these next two posts have been in the pipeline for a little while...I seem to have a bit of a backlog in my Draft Posts...

The Mark, founder of iBlog (the first South African Blogging site), and Fotix (a photoblogging service) has just launched Riter, "the first fairly-traded, ethical blog hosting website. In the world."

Basically,
1. you set up a blog for free.
2. Ads on your blog generate profit.
3. 50% of those profits go straight to charitable organisations.

Click here for a great, and easy way of helping the poor.
Oh, and spread the world...

I've been a bit quiet here because I've been working long days preparing to launch www.htlorg.com. When I've been off-duty the last thing I've wanted to do is look at a screen. After looking at code for so long it's hard to string a sentence together, so I thought I'd spare you...

In my lunch breaks I've been taking walks in Malmö harbour, which overlooks the Oresund Bridge (that takes you from Malmö to Copenhagen). There is something really special about being close to the sea, especially when you are not native to the place where you live. It feels like home is that much closer. For the past two days the bridge has vanished behind a thick cloud of mist, but on Tuesday night, when I was out running, the sky was dappled with all the blues and reds of a proper late-autumn evening. Those evenings it feels like God has truly gone to work preparing a masterpiece for the eyes.

A Manifesto from Seth Godin (click here to read the manifesto in full)
On first reading a lot of things stood out, but here are a few of my favourites...
1. The greatest innovations appear to come from those that are self-reliant. Individuals who go right to the edge and do something worth talking about. Not solo, of course, but as instigators of a team. In two words: don’t settle.
7. Everyone is a marketer, even people and organizations that don’t market...
10. Mass taste is rarely good taste. [sorry U2 fans...]

Thanks and Thanks...

I had heard about the worldwide reputation of Rosengård, one of the most interesting and vibrant parts of Malmö, but was shocked to find this video on youtube (English-only speakers ignore the Swedish introduction)


(thanks to Christoffer)

Watching the video I barely recognise the area that is potrayed as a warzone by the Fox News team. I've spent a fair amount of time in Rosengård during the past year and, while I'm no expert on the area, I find it to be far safer than many parts of the UK. This kind of media misrepresentation does no service to race relations and is apparently designed to build a culture of fear rather than one of truth.

So long as we openly justify the oppression of the alien we can rest in comfortable apathy towards their pain.

Emma and I are hoping to hear this on Sunday night, but at the moment it's looking increasingly unlikely as it seems that everywhere has sold out. So if any of you have tickets to see The Kooks at Kulturbolaget and don't plan to use them please let us know!

Surrender
I'm giving You my heart and all that is within
I lay it all down for the sake of You my King
I'm giving you my dreams, laying down my rights
I'm giving up my pride for the promise of new life

And I surrender
All to You, all to You

I'm singing You this song, waiting at the cross
And all the world holds dear, I count it all as loss
For the sake of knowing Your for the glory of Your name
To know the lasting joy, even sharing in Your pain

The time between the 30th of September and today have got me thinking a lot about my Grandpa. Today would have been his 86th Birthday, and while the immediate emotions of his loss have faded, there's a deeper sense of loss as I get used to a world without him. When I was with him I always had this feeling of being with a kindred spirit, someone who felt so close in heart that the distance of age seemed to melt. There is something very precious about being around someone who, in spite of years of pastoral work, still burns with a tangible sense of passion for his Lord.

Happy Birthday Dad!
Today Neil C Morgan Esq. has reached his 52nd birthday. I can't wait to see what the future has in store for this self-confessed "late starter." Whenever I think of my parents I thank God for all the great things they modelled to us as we grew up - most notably a vibrant, earthy faith that spans the whole gamut of life and is not confined to a set of neatly-timed weekly rituals.

The snow never did stick, and Malmö remains gloriously and unpredictably autumnal.

One of the best parts of the past week has been having regular and continued conversations with people about dreams. The kind that you have while you're awake. The kind that make your heart beat faster and your body feel like pure life is flowing through it. I'm talking dreams that cut to the core of who you are as a person - the thing, or things you were made to be or do.

It's so rare the people ever find a place where they dare to speak out their dreams for others to hear.

Peter and Ellen returned from Scotland on Thursday and have figured out how to speak with a Scottish accent. Peter explained, "you basically replace all the vowel sounds with an E..." Looking at their photos reminded me of home. There's a myth that the weather has to be sunny to enjoy a holiday, but the more mountainous parts of the UK are beautiful when clothed in an ethereal haze of mist.

This weekend has been pretty fun, from Thursday night meeting a rather tired South African named Luke and welcoming him to colder climbs, to Sunday night in Rosengård. Saturday night I went to a birthday party at which I met people from Honduras, Iran, Venezuela, and even some from Sweden. Rosengård is so vibrant in its multiculturalism. A party with people from these nationalities is much less reserved than your average Swedish gathering!

At about 1am on Sunday morning Emma remembered that it was Alla Helgons Dag - the national day of rememberence, although until we got to the graveyard I only knew that "tonight people put candles on graves," and not that the graves are those of deceased loved ones.

First taste of winter
falls so white
feels so cold
fails to stick.

"According to a recent report, more than two-thirds of recent immigrants to the USA send money home regularly. The worst-paid, poorest people in the country manage to save enough to send some back to the old country. The US Ambassador from El Salvador says that the two million Salvadorians in the U.S. sent enough money home to account for 13 percent of the GDP of his country." - via Seth Godin

Since I changed timezones a week and a half ago it's been like my life has gone up a gear or two. It's a good thing overall, but, as with all change, has taken a while to get used to and make sense of.

I've just moved in with Peter and Ellen, who have just got married (see flickr for evidence). Their wedding was lovely, helped largely by their decision to rent a large house where their family and friends could stay the night before, and night after the event.

The ceremony itself was held in a beautiful 18th century Lutheran chapel, in the middle of the Skåne countryside. It began with an amazing composition on saxophone by Andreas, which set the tone for the musical expressions that followed. I missed most of the formalities because I was taking photos and therefore didn't have translation.

Afterwards we headed to Tomtelund (santa wood) for a wonderful meal interspersed with speeches and my new favourite Swedish tradition - whenever people tap their cutlery against their wine glasses the couple had to kiss! There was also song that the band played, everyone accompanying, as the bride and groom lit their candles, then lit the candles of their neighbours, until everyone was holding a glowing candle which they then passed back to the couple (photos to follow). Later we had dancing (live band and dancing with partners).

All in all a lovely day.

Word of the Day: Skumpa (a slang word for Champaigne)

Another great podcast...
Christian Sexuality in a Sex-crazed World by Steve Nicholson at Evanston Vineyard

A short story begins...
(please read this first)

As Joe stood, the bead of sweat that had been welling on his forehead trickled down, leaving behind it a thin trail. The smoke that hung in the air and the hushed voices of the listeners were almost enough to make him run.

He wasn't the first. There had been Katie, the alcoholic, and Davy, the heroin addict, but this was his turn...
"I'm Joe, and I'm a consumer..."
"Hello Joe," the crowd responded. He didn't know whether to feel relieved, or bolt.
"I've been clean for two weeks, three days, six hours and..." He paused to check his watch, "thirteen minutes."

The crowd began to clap, some to cheer, but he could tell that they weren't convinced.
His addiction had echoes in their own experiences. While he had no physical compulsion, no tangible cold-turkey, his was the trigger, the source of each of their addictions.

Joe, a recovering consumer, was surrounded by consumers, by those who turned to the drink, the hit, or the toke for solace. Each on an endless search for that feeling of happiness, that temporary high, to aleviate the deep throb of their bitter pain.

The precision of the last words off his lips revealed the struggle that the last two-and-a-bit weeks had been. The whole time he had battled with a nagging feeling that it is impossible to recover from this affliction. Can someone really live in the twenty-first century, in the 'developed' west, as a non-consumer? Is there a feasible model for such an existence?

Joe knew how easy it is to replace one vice for another, like the heroin addicts turning to cigarettes, or the alcoholics becoming 'religious.' Deep inside his longing was not for an alternative dependancy, but for freedom, freedom from that hopeless numbness that led him to consume. Freedom from the 'I' that day by day tightened it's grip upon his senses. He could barely remember a time when he was connected, where he didn't feel the need for alcohol to mediate his contact with his fellow man, or when the television, playstation, or broadband wasn't a medium for escapism.

One of my worst afflictions is perfectionism coupled with a fear of failure. This bears particular weight when it comes to what could broadly be termed 'artistic expression.'

I recently wrote a poem entitled "on why I don't write (for public consumption)" which expresses these fears. While I have a great memory when it comes to situations and things other people have said, I am lame at remembering, or completing, artistic endeavours I have started. The result: a 26-track mindisc of songs begun, but never finished; journals and stray sheets of paper strewn throughout my room. Each of these represents a moment of inspiration that I failed to follow through.

Today I found the following, entirely imperfect, start to a short story. I don't remember writing it, and, but for the handwriting and that I discovered it in my bedroom, I might have thought it someone elses'. Nevertheless, it is mine.

While I may be terrified of failure and gripped by utter perfectionism I'm aware that until I begin to take risks and put my work 'out there' I will not improve. I remember grappling with Dylan Thomas' In My Craft or Sullen Art while in school, asking "was poetry just something he was born with, or did he have to work at it?" (the basic first question in the writer's own mind).

I'm not asking you to compare me with Thomas (please don't) but I do want to make space for taking a deep breath and exposing my writings in the hope the I might someday improve. So here goes...

(more to follow...)

Want some chord sheets for worship songs? click here

How exciting, season 3 of Lost begins tonight in the US...

hello, goodbye
You know the saying "come rain and shine..."? In this wonderfully Welsh autumn it basically serves as an ongoing weather report. One moment it's t-shirt weather, the next coats.

Yesterday I visited Reuben at Rocketfuelled HQ for a little design party/gathering/(extended) coffee break. It's great to have friends who are in a similar field of work and with whom you can share the frustrations of working for the best boss.

In the evening I met up with Hannah, and later Dani. I was in school with Hannah and we figured out it had been six years since we last hung out! It was really nice, and really surprising that so much time can pass and you can just kind of pick up where you left off.

Life is a bit weird at the moment because it feels like I'm hooking up with people I haven't seen in ages, rediscovering old friendships and even starting some new ones, but in just eleven days will move countries...

Some great podcasts
Here are some of my favourite listens at the moment. It's all great teaching to challenge those who want to follow Jesus.

Tony Campolo - professor emeritus at Eastern University (iTunes)
Rich Nathan - at the Columbus Vineyard, Ohio
Steve Nicholson - at Evanston Vineyard, Chicago (itunes)

Finally! My favourite gospel choir has a website...

Angry
As I alighted from the train yesterday morning I was greeted by a smiling man who handed me the day's Metro. I smiled back, thanked him for it and, still walking along, took a look at the front page. It read:

"Bullet Points:
- £561bn : what the world spent on arms this year
- £32bn : the annual amount given in aid
- £275bn : total debt of developing countries"

I felt like crying. What kind of world would allow this kind of injustice? Had we merely spent half of what we spent on arms on alleviating poverty we would have made a HUGE impact. I then began thinking of the fact that this money comes from taxpayers, and that means us. Our money is feeding injustice. Innocent people are dying while world leaders play an international game of "my willy is bigger than yours."

But what can we do? My first response to this question was, "I have no idea," this problem is so big and I have so little access to the corridors of power that I can't do a thing. But I suppose the real answer is that we can all find ways of giving away some money which can address issues of poverty in the world. And, as the old cliché goes, "every little counts".

There is also the serious work of putting pressure on our western governments to stop:
a) Allocating money in this fashion, and
b) Promoting the sale of arms in developing countries

Does anyone have any ideas of how these things might be achieved?

Update:
A few articles on the subject:
Oxfam - Global military spending set to top Cold War high as conflict causes record hunger
Metro - Arms spending hits all-time high

Yes, I know, it's been too long.
So what do I have to offer for my absence? hmmm, where do I begin?

Looks Can Kill (they can y'know)
First off, I've finished the Looks Can Kill website. It's taken me some time because of the pressure of designing a website for a web design company. I wanted it to look just right and have over the past weeks and months dabbled with everything from a complete redesign to a mild tweaking. What I did know was that I needed my portfolio on there, and that people loved the Geisha.

So I turned her around, meaning that she's now looking towards the work, which visually 'feels' better. I kept the simplicity of the original site, but added classic touches of serif headings and tiny embelishments, not to mention the wallpaper. So, go take a look.

Location, Location, Location
It's official, I'm moving countries. On the 14th October I fly back to Malmö to continue my Swedish adventures. I wonder what God has in store?!

Sneaky Sneaky
Guess where I've been? I snuck over to Malmö for a week to hang out with some friends and explore the possibility of moving back.

Unfortunately my camera refused to work while I was there, so I have no photographic evidence. I also got a head-cold after a couple of days, so had to tone down the partying and avoid the Kallbadhuset (where you sit in a sauna and then walk out and jump into the sea, naked.)

Highlights of the trip include talking music, community, life and faith until the early hours, trying to convince Peter to sing "Love is all around" (by Wet Wet Wet) to Ellen at their wedding, while wearing a white suit, hat and two-tone shoes, and hearing some of Niklas' new songs...

Doesn't life move fast?! It was Zoe's 22nd birthday yesterday, which signals both the passing of time and the closing of summer. We had a nice, though slightly stunted day (thanks to the fitting of new windows in our house), which ended with a meal at an organic restaurant in the countryside.

I'm beginning to realise how crucial it is to close your ears to The Voice which creeps up and whispers into your ear "you're getting older, life is moving on, you're missing opportunities..." It's a voice that speaks no matter what age you might be.

If you're single, and dream someday of being married, it often whispers "you're not married, you'd better get a move on, everyone else is with someone and you're going to miss your chance" (if you're female you might also have the biological clock voice chiming in).

If you are a person with great hopes and dreams and you find yourself in a quiet spot The Voice will whisper "you were just ideological, get over yourself, this is life, nothing more..."

But a little secret I've learned is that The Voice isn't always right. In fact The Voice is just there to quash the tangibility of your dreams. The Voice has had its victims, but you can choose if you will join them.

Life is a journey that unfolds before our eyes. It is a story to which a little more is added each day. It is unpredictable, and often surprising. It is an adventure. The nature of adventure is that we don't know how it will turn out and we don't know what will come to pass along the way. You have not arrived, because you are still traveling, which means there is still hope. Don't become a victim of The Voice.

Congratulations are in order...
Joseph George Lewis-Norman was born today at 16:01 weighing in at 8 pounds, 9 and a half ounces! Well Done Steve and Claire!

Phew...another one down. Things have been busy with work recently, which has kept me from finishing my business website - www.lookscankill.org - needless to say it will come. Want to check out some of my work?

Well today, amid the chaos of the windows of our house being replaced, I finished www.via-vineyard.com - a new website for the Form discipleship course which is in the process of being rebranded as 'Via' for it's Vineyard incarnation.

Here are some more I've designed recently:
www.keithwarrington.co.uk
malmo.vineyard.se
sofiacarlbert.blogspot.com

So if you like these, and you need a website designing, email me using:
hello at lookscankill dot org

Tomorrow the four of us jump in the car and head to Northampton for my cousin Esther's wedding, which should be a lot of fun. Sadly Reading Festival is sold out so there will be no dropping by to hear Pearl Jam on the way home :-(

Loneliness (part 3)
I read this this morning and it seemed to fit in so well with my short series of posts on Loneliness as a human condition that I thought I would post it...
"There is a deep hole in your being, like an abyss. You will never succeed in filling that hole, because your needs are inexhaustible. You have to work around it so that gradually the abyss closes.
Since the hole is so enormous and your anguish so deep, you will always be tempted to flee from it. There are two extremes to avoid: being completely absorbed in your pain and being distracted by so many things that you stay far away from the wound you want to heal."
- Henri Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love (p3)

Muriel Fields, or Aunty Mu, as she was known, died a little over a week ago. She was a lovely woman, full of warmth and love. She often took care of me, aged 11, when I was going through a series of tests, and later operations, for the great pain I was feeling in my head. I learned a lot about pain from this wonderful lady. I remember hearing about the crippling pain she experienced because of the arthritis in her hands. She told me of her late husband, a great friend dearly missed.

Even at that young age I was fully aware that my pain made me selfish. I longed for sympathy, if not empathy. Whoever had ears to listen would hear about the injustice of my pain. As I looked into those joyful, loving eyes of Aunty Mu I saw someone who knew about battling pain, and yet seemed to have more compassion and love for others than anyone else I knew.

I was just reading this post regarding compatibility for marriage (no idea why!?), and I was surprised by the list they come up with. For me these would all be prerequisites for 'going out with' somebody, not just marriage...

Loneliness (part 2)
Sunday afternoon we were walking in the grounds of Llandaff Cathederal. It was a lovely, sunny afternoon and I stopped to read some of the gravestones. One in particular caught my attention. It was the shared grave of a husband and wife. The husband had died aged 65 and the wife aged 92.

I began reflecting on the power of that connection between man and wife, certain that this woman had lived out her days in mourning at the premature death of her true love. I imagined that this couple had been married in their mid twenties and had had forty happy years together before he died. Those forty years weren't even half her lifetime. On that day they took their vows had she imagined that this would lead to so much heartache?

Loneliness (part 1)
"Though I may think it is peculiar to myself, loneliness is part of the human condition. To remind me of that and for sharing I carry this quote around in my wallet:

According to the Teachers, there is only one thing that all people possess equally. That is loneliness. No two people on the face of this earth are alike in any one thing except for their loneliness. This is the cause of our growing, but it is also the cause of our wars. Love, hate, greed and generosity are all rooted within our loneliness, within our desire to be needed and loved.

If we could dare to face and accept the fact that we are alone, then we would know that every other person is also alone. It does not matter how surrounded the other is by friends and family. She, too, is alone. If we could know with certainty that well-guarded secret, perhaps we could move towards the other with more compassion, be less ready to judge, less quick to do those things which will cause the other to withdraw from us. yet loneliness is the secret we keep from ourselves as well as from others. It is as though some shame were connected with it - if I am not loved, I must somehow be responsible for it."
- Elizabeth O'Connor, Cry Pain, Cry Hope (p54)

This picture (by Emma) basically sums up what my summer looks like at the moment. It makes me feel like the subject of a painting by Dali (though fortunately without the phallic reference points).

Click on the image for an enlargement.

When I was younger I had this urge to move to a colder climate. I think I must have been somewhere between 7 and 12 years old when the place that I most wanted to be was Canada, or at least the Canada that existed in my imagination. It was something about living in a log cabin, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow and breathtaking scenery.

This came back to me last night when reflecting on my winter in Sweden - the coldest I've ever experienced. It was great to be somewhere with real snow, but also a challenge experiencing cold that chilled to the bone. And that was just the South of Sweden!

Hannah rules the World!
I woke up this morning dreaming that I was having an interview for a job at Paul Frank. It was kind of like a cross between Paul Frank, Starbucks and a record store, because they would show you a 'real life scene' and you had to identify what range of t-shirts it referred to and what music suited the scene, all the while drinking whatever coffee you wanted.

The first scene was a dog sat on an easychair, on a pier, under a bright blue sky, with jazz music playing and the hooting sound of ships cruising by in the background. I was told, "the dog's name is Hannah and she's deaf, so she can only just make out the music." I looked at the t-shirt crib sheet and found a series called "Hannah rules the World."

After giving my answer I was asked to select a new track and the dog took us to a new location for me to identify a different scene.

Then I woke up.

Last week I had my last session with my Chiropractor. I went because a friend of a friend was about to qualify and needed some volunteers. A few weeks before I had come off my bike and had been left with neck ache.

Six weeks later and my neck is much better, thanks to a bit of deep tissue massage and a little manipluation.

One of the things that most stood out to me about visiting a chiropractor compared with visiting a doctor (GP) is the way they actually listen and investigate problems by looking at the whole person.

Looking for my Dad's blog? It can now be found here.

Well well well, it has been a few days since I blogged. Yesterday I was in Llanelli, a little place near Swansea, visiting my Grandma, who has Alzheimers and my Aunt and Uncle who care for her. It was nice to be in a different context for a little while and to have no choice but to stop, breath and slow down my busy mind.

There are some important questions that have arisen recently that you might be able to help me out with...

1. How does one loosen up someone elses' buttons, should one be asked and/or feel the inclination? As you have probably guessed I'm referring to the Pussy Cat Dolls' latest collaboration with Snoop Dogg. I think it's called "Buttons" and it's getting a lot of airplay on Radio 1 at the moment with it's chorus "I'm tellin' you to loosen up my buttons babe...". I assume that they're perhaps addressing a man who carries sewing box wherever he goes.

on to the second...

2. Why is Dave studying Radiography when he is such a talented cartoonist? Click here to see his work.

There is an interesting and confusing sub-theme to my journey which hasn't yet unveiled itself fully. I think I began following Christ sometime in 1998-1999. I was utterly stoked at this love I had discovered - it blew me away, span me round and left me feeling like I could explode if I didn't express it in some way to everyone I met.

A group of my friends decided to go to Soul Survivor (I'm guessing Summer 1998) and I joined them. Jackie Pullinger was there with a whole bunch of young people (former heroin addicts) from Hong Kong. I listened to their stories about how their lives had been impacted through encountering Jesus and I was invigorated. I think there were 8 seminars with Jackie in the course of the week and I went to them all, drank them up like a refreshing glass of water. The only thing that stopped me from signing up and booking myself onto the next flight to Hong Kong was that I was still in school.

So instead I went home and learned everything I could about the poor. I discovered that The Guardian was the most likely British newspaper to cover anything related to the world's poor as though it was of any importance, so I read that. I realised that I could make a small (tiny) difference by boycotting non-fairtrade chocolate and coffee and encouraging others to do the same.

The more I read the Bible, the more I realised that God really does care about justice and the poor. Isaiah 58 became one of my motivating passages as my heart burned to find out what I was to do.

I finished A-levels and decided that I would study Law and Politics, because this seemed like the most likely avenue for somehow addressing injustice. At law school I realised that the majority of my colleagues were in it for the money (something I just couldn't relate to), and that our primary focus was the high-profile administration of our UK context (e.g. "what is the meaning of the word intent in that small sub section of statute?"

To cut a long story short(er), the furthest I've got along this path to date has been helping out occasionally on a soup run before I left Cardiff, being willing to say yes when asked to get involved in work of this genre, and nothing else. Somewhere along the way my passion and belief that this was one of the motivating goals of my existence has found it's way to the back burner.

"I do hope to see the Church grow musically and artistically. The only danger is when people are doing things that are contrived. I heard one record where they are doing one song country, and the next doing (in their own words) a "nine-inch nails" style worship song. The danger is that they are trying to be something they are not. But it is a tendency that many artists fall into. It is important to do what is in you, and not say, "Oh, I want to write a punk song," or "Let's do a new wave song!" or "I really like the Spice Girls, so let's do a Spice Girls-style worship CD." The problem in our day and age is that the Christian musicians and artists have become followers. Our goal needs to be to worship Jesus in the art forms or musical styles that flow naturally out of us. Then, hopefully we could be innovators and leaders and not followers."
- Michael J Pritzl

I've just finished Reaching Out by Henri Nouwen. I loved Beyond The Mirror, the final essay in the book. In it he reflects on a near death experience that he had after being hit by the wing mirror of a lorry. During the experience he felt the presence of Jesus more powerfully than ever before and a sense of love that blew away all the cobwebs of insecurity and anxiety that marked his (and all) human experience. In the light of this love he became aware of the meaning of being "of the world," as opposed to being "from above."

Being "of the world" means that I look to the world for affirmation, security, identity. Precisely because I need the world to provide these I cannot freely love. I'm bound by my need for others to recognise me.

Being "from above" means that I do not look to the world for my security. I find my affirmation, security and identity in God and his unconditional love. Because off this I can really love because I don't need others to tell me who I am.

"...the whole ministry of Jesus was a ministry 'from above', a ministry born out of relationship with the Father in Heaven. All the questions Jesus raised, all the answers he gave, all the confrontations he evoked and consolations he offered, all were rooted in his knowledge of the Father's unconditional love. his ministry was not oppressive, since it came from his deep experience of being unconditionally loved and and was in no way motivated by a personal need for affirmation and acceptance. He was completely free precisely because he did not belong to the world, but exclusively to the Father."

Nouwen is also surprised at his friends' reactions to the news that he had survived surgery:
"Unanimously, they congratulated me on my restoration to health and expressed their gratitude that I was doing so well again. Although I was deeply greatful for their attention and affection, the encounter with God in my hours near death made me wonder whether being 'better again' was indeed the best thing for me...Would it not have been preferable to have been completely set free from this ambiguous world and taken home in full communion with God?"

Months after surviving this ordeal he was confronted by friends who pointed out that:
"When you were ill, you were centred, and the many people who visited you felt a real peace coming from you, but since you are healed and have taken on your many tasks again, much of your old restlessness and anxiety has reappeared."

He finally reflects that it is necessary to continually expose ourselves to this love (or as much as we can of this love while we're here) in order that we don't lose sight of it.

Take a look at Boring Malmö, that wonderful city where I once lived (and hopefully will again). (Tack till The Bruhn Family)

Being an extrovert has its drawbacks. I get my energy from being around people. At the moment life is pretty isolated, which means not a lot of people, which means not a lot of energy. While starting this company I'm working alone, day in, day out.

Something has to change...

Saying goodbye to friends is so painful to do. I remember reading A Purpose Driven Life, in which Rick Warren alludes to the fact that this is because we are "made to last forever." He says:

"This life is not all there is.
Life on earth is just the dress rehersal before the real production. You will spend far more time on the other side of death-in eternity- than you will here. Earth is the staging area, the preschool, the tryout for your life in eternity...
The Bible says, "God has...planted eternity in the human heart" [Ecclesiastes 3:11]...
When you fully comprehend that there is more to life than just here and now, and you realize that life is just preparation for eternity, you will begin to live differently. You will start living in light of eternity, and that will color how you handle every relationship, task and circumstance."

Perhaps the reason saying goodbye is so hard is that relationships are supposed to last. We were made to give of ourselves to others and for our friendships to be marked by an ongoing commitment. It is this kind of commitment which allows us to transcend superficiality precisely because conflicts do not mean the risk of losing the other.

Swimming at a lifeguard-less beach on a hot and sunny day was just what I needed yesterday. The sea was warm and the sand clean. The place was Rhossili, which is apparently too far out for most peoples' Saturday afternoon recreation.

On Monday we took Oscar to the Vet because he had been coughing badly and we thought he may have kennel cough. The Vet examined him and found a large growth in his abdomen. The next day he had an x-ray to discover if it had spread to his chest. It hadn't, so they did a biopsy to find out if the mass could be removed. It can't, and the vet has given him just a few months to live.

On the same note, in his book 31 Songs, Nick Hornby argues that the songs that are truly the greatest of your life do not bring back one particular memory. Because if a song has really become part of you then you have listened to it so often that it is not tied to one specific event.

This seems to make sense, but then the very first song from Recovering the Satellites that I heard was Angels of the Silences, and I remember, when it began playing, a 14 year old Chris and a 14 year old Helen jumping around the bedroom of her house in Penarth.

There are some albums that just grab you and won't let go. I'm talking the albums that you can listen to over and over without getting bored, the ones that you know every lyric, intro, instrumental break and guitar solo. No matter how many other cds you own you will never treasure them as much as these.

It's one of these that I'm listening to as I write. There are few cds that resonate with me in the way Recovering the Satellites by Counting Crows does. It somehow captures everything I could possibly want to say while remaining wholly "other." At the same time I both fully relate to the lyrics and yet completely fail to grasp them.

I was reflecting earlier on the number of people that have passed through my life since I first heard this CD. At the time I didn't quite appreciate that I'd be sat listening to this when they were long gone. Music is funny like that, a great song can somehow say exactly what you want to say better than you could ever say it. A great song, or in this case a great collection of songs (in my opinion so great that they belong side-by-side), can be a great comrade in the midst of lifes ups and downs, tos and fros.

Goodnight Elisabeth, whoever you may be...

Chris at Roskilde
I knew Chris was going to Roskilde, but I didn't expect that he'd make it into Swedish paper Dagens Nyheter (Daily News). Apparently his fish-catching antics caught the attention of a passing journalist! If you speak Swedish, find it here. (click on image to enlarge) Also click here for a slideshow - the voice saying "no more falafel for me" is Chris.

When, as a child, you are asked, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" You pick an occupation out of the air and tell the person who asks with little or no hesitation. Your assumption is that you can be anything you want to be. At the age of say 4 or 5 knowing this is nothing but fun, "I can and will be anything I want to be."

It's not until you get a little older that this is becomes pretty scary. If you once knew yourself and what you were made for, you have certainly lost that knowledge in the midst of the storms of life. You condescend to your old self, "I was naive, I didn't take into account the full picture of what being _______ would actually involve, I didn't really know myself..." You realise that perhaps you can do anything, but you no longer have that all encompassing parental provider to assert confidence upon you. You've discovered their fallibility, their finiteness, and you can no longer look to them as the source of all confidence.

While anything is possible, we only have a limited time. We are not blessed with the infinities of time to discover ourselves in a myriad of situations. It is into this poverty that the young and idealistic often lose the energy that propels them into an existence that affects those around them. They plug in to the system, at first to 'make-ends-meet,' but before long they are trapped by the fears of being uncomfortable, of not having 'enough.' That which once helped them live has become their only definition of life.

I don't believe for a minute that we have to settle into this slump, find our lives defined by our 'favourite programs,' or what phone we have, but I am now far closer to seeing how this happens.

Engagement
Congratulations to Ian and Viv, who have apparently got themselves engaged while holidaying in Mull.

I had the radio on while I was making some food earlier and one verse stood out in amongst the songs that were being played:

When our time is up,
When our lives are done,
When we say we've had our fun,
Will we make our mark this time?
Will we always say we tried?

(Rooftops by Lost Prophets)

It's nice to be in the middle of a heatwave, but a shame I'm inside catching up on work. I might have to venture out into my outdoor office later (with a sun umbrella and brightness on full I can manage to work from the garden).

We visited a friend's church this morning and there was a presentation about a pregnancy crisis centre. I was horrified to learn that in the UK it is legal to terminate the life of a severely handicapped baby up until full term (that is any time in the 9 months of pregnancy). "Severely handicapped" is apparently determined by the doctor, but some babies have been aborted because they had cleft palettes.

(It is usually only legal to abort a foetus within the first 24 weeks, although there is talk of shortening this).

I have Emma and Dave here at the moment, which is great. Yesterday we were sat on the beach in Penarth eating fairly traded chocolate and ring doughnuts and watching some crazy guy swim with his dog. The sun was hot and as we looked ahead we noticed that it was hard to tell where the sea ended and the sky began.

Over the weekend I tweaked my myspace a little. Take a look at it here. I hear it's all about self promotion, so this theme should fit in nicely.

Andreas called me on Tuesday afternoon to tell me that James is dead. I just can't believe it. I haven't know him very long, but it felt like we had grown close since I arrived in Malmö. Since I first met him he's been a great encouragement, always pointing out the positives that I was too close to see, or offering to help when there were communication issues, or just showing up when no one else was around. I spent most of a quiet Easter with James and it was such a blessing to be with someone with whom I could share the ups and downs of life and the hopes of the future.

And now he has gone. And I feel poor at the loss of such a dear friend. I feel helpless. I feel nauseated. But I trust that he is in the hands of one who loves him without condition.

Mini Tipping
I went to sleep pretty early on Saturday night but woke around midnight to the sound of my Mum calling "Jonathan, come and see the car." My first thought was that I was having a strange dream, but I got up and went outside.

I found most of my neighbours congregated around Dave's mini (which I'm 'looking after' for him while he's in Sweden), which was on its side. It turns out that, in the absence of sheep, the children of Llandaff North have taken to mini-tipping.

The police came and then the fire brigade (the fuel was leaking out), and the mini was returned to his usual orientation with barely a scratch to show for it...

Hello. How are you? (he says cunningly referring his last blog post...)

The cutest song of my week so far has to be The Sharing Song by Jack Johnson, from the Curious George soundtrack. As his albums go, it definately marks a move to more complex musical arrangement, but is no less chilled out. It's also fun hearing him do kids songs.

We found some more waterfalls in wonderful Brecon the other day. When we arrived at the information centre and I asked the lady about the 7 waterfall walk, she told us it would take 5 hours but refused to comment on the feasibility of this for people unaccustomed to long walks. We got our shoes on and then went back. This time Zoe spoke to her and she gave us the insider tips. We went for the two and a half hour walk, which turned to five and a half with lots of stops and getting lost. The best part was walking behind a waterfall and dipping my head in.

Netiquette
While blogging I often imagine a set of unspoken rules. One of these is the rule that if you don't blog for a fortnight, or even a month, it would be rude to start blogging again as though you never stopped. If I leave a long gap, I often feel obliged to explain myself, or at least to offer some kind of introduction, which as a daily blogger I would never feel necessary.

I think in some way this is a transplantation of the etiquette of real life onto the world wide web. For example you see someone you haven't caught up with for two weeks, or even a month, and the first thing you ask is "how are you?" If you raced into a "well I was at the supermarket the other day and..." kind of monologue you're somehow infringing on them. You're assuming familiarity where familiarity hasn't been earned, or at least where your familiarity 'credit' hasn't been 'topped up.'

Or perhaps it's just me...

I wish that the Internet Explorer Tab or even IE View Lite for Firefox worked on the Mac Operating System. It would make designing websites much easier.

Ouch (pt 2)
This morning I drove Zoe and my mum to the train station. They were on their way to Bath. I stopped at the traffic lights and there was one car in front of us. The lights were red. One moment later the lights were still red and the car began reversing towards us. She paused briefly and then continued reversing into our car. Calling it a 'car crash' would certainly be overstating it, but it wasn't fun.

Ouch
The switchbacks is one of my favourite trails, but this morning wasn't my morning. There's this section where you change directions by 180 degrees on a turning which is fairly steep, wide and full of loose, jagged rocks. As you fall you see everything in slow motion, first thought, "bummer, I messed it up," then, "this is going to hurt for the next two weeks."

Well it's the end of another week and a pretty ok one at that. I've seen friends, enjoyed designing and have just got back from a tax workshop that was for less painful than I imagined (partly due to it finishing after 2 hours instead of the 3 and a half that were billed). Why no blogging? Well right now things that I could blog about are either not blog material, or boring.

For example, who wants to know about my recent training regime, or what the weather is like? (It's nice by the way...) Anyways I'm sure there are some thoughts brewing...just give me time.

Sorry, no epiphanies.