So where's the snow?

Muddling through in Austria; God, life and a small black dog

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A moment of peace

Yesterday morning, I was loitering at home, and actually sat down in the sitting room. Barry White was burbling away on the radio. The sun had just come over the hill behind us and was tipping bright yellow light into the room, making fluttering movements on the floor. The dog was lying in the sun on our bed through the door. Dave was chomping away at his trough of muesli.

This is OK. A wash of peace and contentment, rare at this time washed over me. It was a Goudgian*moment of the spiritual tripping into the daily. I sat and surfed in it for a while until time moved on. Rare and wonderful.


*Elizabeth Goudge is my favourite author and her words can fill me with this sense of a sudden bursting in of the other side, and it can happen around me, or even in a picture.



Alm flowers

I recently picked up a very powerful book about being a Holy Seer, and am reading the book enthralled and almost scared.  We all look at the Supernatural, even secular people look at ghosts and spooks.  I’d love to see more of this dimension and express this in writing, my role model being Elizabeth Goudge where the spirit world peeps around the corners of all her words and imagery.   Some say fasting and prayer are ways into this and I agree, fasting does sharpen all your senses and maybe operates the brain in a new way to see other ways.  Like wise meditation hones your thoughts and thinking in new directions.  All of these in my own pathetic way I’m trying to do more of!  One thing that this book most impressed me was that we don’t have 5 senses, we have 15!  Firstly  for example smell. A flower smells like a flower – this is our physical reaction. But his smell initiates memories or associations, our soulish sense.  Then there is the spiritual smell which I found more difficult to get my head around, in the heavenly realms there are scents and smells, the author talks of smelling flowers when praying.  Fascinating and awe-inspiring!

Then it came to me about the Internet.  It doesn’t actually physically exist – except maybe on a computer somewhere. Yet I have an invisible connection now with people through my blog, who I’ll never meet or speak to in person but we can communicate in messages and pictures.  If we can do this, what would it be like tapping into the real spiritual world around us?  It’s there throughout the Bible and Paul talks about our daily battles with entities and kingdoms, not to mention out support in Angels.  Wow.  And there’s one thing I find great, in heaven there will be horses – see the Old Testament visions!!


My way home by Cynthia Lee Cartier

I pushed the wrong button on and bought this by mistake, so felt I’ll have to read it on principle.  It started out with yet another marriage break up, but something in the style kept me going, and I’m so, so glad I did!

Here’s a couple who get back together again and work through it – how completely refreshing, and its well described with all the pain and doubt.  Then Cammy decides to move to Saint Gabriel, an Island somewhere off the USA. Now I have absolutely no idea where it could be, I can’t find it on the Internet, so it’s another place, someone enlighten me?   I loved the descriptions of the Island, which usually is a thing that easily bores. I think the difference is that its set in reality which makes writing so different compared to when you are creating a place in your mind’s eye.

The way the text was written made us know that Cammy settles here, for example saying Sara is her friend rather than became a friend, see what I mean. The book really does read like a personal account of someone doing a move and settling in a new place – now that’s not easy to achieve.  Cammy’s character, for example her love of lists is so simply displayed, cos there are lists in the story!

The only bit that didn’t quite gel for me was her finding her relations, I don’t think there were enough hooks earlier in the plot, but it did explain her fascination for the Island!

I’ve always loved stories of someone moving to a new place, making a new start, and can’t for the life of me imagine why. I looked back to books such as the Little White Horse, and the Herb of Grace by Elizabeth Goudge,  and The Black Hunting whip by Monica Edwards, and this is also a theme in Howard Spring‘s work, another favourite of mine.  maybe its the excitement of the new and they are all set in real places too.  Anyway, this book had it all for me!

PS.  The author herself says its Mackinac Island, Michigan , so I’m off to explore on the net.  I’m so smitten with the descriptions in the book, I just have to see!

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Elizabeth Goudge and me and November in Lungau…….

Autumn, not captured by camera!

Elizabeth Goudge was my favourite writer as a child and I’ve long wished to write with the imagery she used.  Her use of colour is spellbinding, and I’ve longed to create such pictures with words.  But in this world today, who would read such folksy stuff?   She was a deeply religious woman, mystic, and spiritual.  In my search to mimic her, I spent much time analysing her work and came to some conclusions.  Firstly, as Enid Blyton did, her children’s books often had descriptions of great feasts, but when I looked, there was no joy in the taste of the food, just lists of names and consumption. Here was someone who could see the aesthetics of food, but really only ate to live, no great enjoyment of taste and smell.  This was a person who had their  body fully under control, who in the religious thinkings of her time, meditated deeply. This leads to a heightened awareness of colour and the world around, of and the spiritual dimension that is always around us, but few perceive.  She also mentions the Prayer of Silence and the deeper relationship with God

Now I’ve never really got the idea of fasting, but I’m gradually getting the hang of the idea of keeping your body, the strongest sense under control in order to release the others.  So, ok I thought, let’s do some.  However, I’ve been anorexic (don’t laugh those who know me!), and starving can become a pleasure, so I thought maybe this will could turn into an obsession.  So at first I felt maybe, I’ll just cut back on what I eat.  This just resulted in the pleasure of controlling my hunger, and hunger again became a pleasurable sensation.  This way of finding how to write like Elizabeth, aint gonna work for me.

Then I took some time to read her books again, in particular The Scent of Water.  Here was a most vivid description of what we would now label as bi-polar disorder or manic depression.  Could someone write so if they hadn’t experienced depression of this dimension?? So maybe her gift was through this.  There was a documentary by Stephen Fry on the syndrome recently and how he wouldn’t give up the lows at the costs of the highs.  Maybe Elizabeth wrote though this too.  Heck, I didn’t want this so I could write!

Then maybe I’ve had it all along.  Driving down to St Lambrecht yesterday, I was just feasting my eyes on the countryside around me, as I have been doing recently and thought maybe I do have it after all.  The colours in the dying trees under the dull, low clouds were so strong that they seemed to be glowing.  The damp in the air has maybe heightened the colour, so the black stains on the trunks contrast so much more with the  silver of the lichens.  When we first came here, I used to like this time as it reminded me of England, now I just love it for here.  Maybe another link severed. The grass in some of the fields is an impossible emerald-green (manure?) which contrasts so with the brown stems of all the plants.  The larches are golden brown now, and even some of the late willows are an incandescent gold.  Around the old farm buildings, the orchards are grey with lichen and the bare branches seem individually shown, no longer hidden by the leaves. Am I painting this scene with words?  Photography maybe wouldn’t/couldn’t catch the intensity of this dim, damp light without tweaking, but I’m going out later to have a go.  It’ll probably just look like dull autumn scenes.  But maybe the words and pictures together?  Seeing these heightened colours, and the sense of the dying year, yet with God’s hand within it all is with almost a sense of pain where it is so acute.    The voice in me saying. linger, don’t go.  Stay colourful longer.  I don’t want the  monochrome of winter snow yet.  Last winter felt so negative to me, maybe it was the lack of money, the frustration of working every weekend all winter although the snow riding was wonderful.  So I don’t what the snow to come, I’ll have to work hard to find a similar joy in it, but I will find the spirit of the snow as I’ve found that of autumn this year.

We had a dusting of snow yesterday, and the tops look cute.  The contrast between it and the larches is intense. Up on the hill the farms and trees are a strong black and white, but through this is showing the grass ad the ochre leaves . a sort of halfway house.    Yet I still don’t want the bright blue skies, this light is lovelier.

Last night was a turning point for me.  listening to Andrew Wommack last nigh about disciple ship and the longing of people to do something for God  – hey that’s me. He really spoke to me.  He then showed a video of GodandDog by Wendy Franciso ( ) and I could have cried,  I want to do that, one simple act, from a stimulus from God and just see it  snowball.  Today I woke feeling well, first time for a while after a tummy upset, and the colours while driving  Dave into work this morning had me wanting to write, more than I’ve done for years.  I’m writing this as a response.  Maybe it doesn’t need starving or illness, just a gifting of God, the Holy spirit‘s gifts flowing freely from my spirit into my soul.  This is what I’ve felt inspired to write.  Could it help you??

PS The camera just didn’t get it