Holy Week: A peek into Christ's Diary
It's going to be an awful week. Look at my diary
Sunday: Ride on donkey while
crowds shout at me to fight and defeat the world's biggest army.
Monday: Kick out the cheats from
the temple and get cursed for doing it.
Tuesday: Try to teach but get
interrupted by tiresome know-all fanatics asking me trick
questions.
Wednesday: Same as Tuesday.
Then, at night, sweat blood praying we might find another way
Thursday: Supper with
supporters. Nice, but most don't understand me and one plots to
betray me. Arrested on my midnight walk.
Friday: Whipped, hauled in front
of the Roman governor, crucified.
Saturday: Wrestle with the devil
in hell, or so the myth-makers say.
Sunday: Come back alive. I hope.
They'll be talking about it in two thousand years if I'm right. But
sometimes I think maybe I'm not.
It's going to be an unholy awful week.
About Holy Week
Well Easter has come round again.
And I thought I should put this poem up on the blog again.
What struck me when I was preparing an art exhibition for the church
was how short a time these events took. All in seven days.
Whether you are a believer or not (and to my mind this doesn't really
matter) the world was changed by these seven days.
It is interesting to think what Christ
might have prayed on that Wednesday night. A thought I had was
that maybe the alternative to him going ahead with the crucifixion
was quite simply ending the world just at that moment. "Enough
of this failed experiment Father. Let's cut our loses and start
again."
Anyway since this poem has been on the
blog before, here is another one religious one. About how twisted and imperfect people are.
Pink Hyacinth
Pink Hyacinth I hate you,
Look, you should be blue.
Your colour is a sort of muted pink
Your growth is small and stunted.
Your scent bred out of you.
Pink Hyacinth I hate you.
And yet …. and yet …and yet
Pink Hyacinth I love you.
I love you for two things.
First the good intentions of the men
Who turned you pink.
But most, because, in spite of all,
You still remain a Hyacinth.
Men are the same,
Twisted away from our true beauty
Into shapes and colours that are wrong
for us.
Perhaps God loves men (and me) the way
I love pink hyacinths.
Nick Mellersh Jan 2015
And a last thought while I am looking through old poems. I often have long talks with my counselor (a very impressive woman click here to read more) about ambition in life. While religions urge us to try to be perfect and to be discontent when we fail, counselors seem to urge us just to try and be more or less OK and make the best of it. The religious view seems too hard, the counselor's view too depressing. Both are speaking to one or other side of the truth I suppose. Anyway here are my thoughts on this tangled matter.
All-right
When life is “all-right” well,
that's sort of all-right
Well it's nearly all-right, well it's
almost all-right.
Yes being all right, is sort of
all-right
But it don't seem a target to aim for.
Maybe being all right is really all
wrong
For “all-right's” not the life that
we came for.
But being all wrong, to continue the
song
Is the place where the most of us
wallow,
And above the all-right, well we'll fall from that height,
There's a truth that we all have to
swallow.
Nick Mellersh 2015
Anyway, life goes on as usual. Jeanie is putting up some iPad paintings on her blog. We have found a way to show them being built up stroke by stroke and hope to put up a serious video on painting on the iPad pretty soon. Meanwhile you can see a few pics being created stroke for stroke on her blog.
http://ipadpainting-jeanie.blogspot.co.uk/ and there is my daughter's blog to look at too. Interesting stuff about bronzes, https://mellersh.wordpress.com/and finally try looking at my nephew's latest film. It's a bit of fun.http://www.5greedybankers.com/
