delighted to have hooked up with several familiar but not seen often enough faces.
much laughter. tent cosy. all is well.
Lynn wields the spoon for first dinner. Moroccan cous cous.
Chris, the elder brother by choice; me; Pád, my love, aka my gay
boyfriend, and Jon, my favourite orthodox anarchist.
we didn't intend it to be quite the band photo it became.
Pád says to call us, Ten Pence None the Poorer.
full text and photos from Pyrotheology to follow at some point on the ikon wiki.
gathering went really well, one of our strongest ever. which is lovely, given it's very likely our last.
my desire to both offer something and participate and be transformed by the experience was more than realised. one point actually brought me to tears.
just don't ask about the health and safety fiasco we went through. but all the scavenging for the set could not have been smoother. i love it when a plan comes together.
those present by their absence can follow the weekend via the gb09 flikr photostream.
for now, this is my own piece, albeit out of context, from last night. Pádraig played leonard cohen's who by fire underneath my words, and sang the highlighted text, which i echoed in spoken word. first time Pád and i have done something together for ikon@gb, so we relished the opportunity.
when i approached him with the idea, he said he had been learning the piece over the summer.
gotta love synchronicity.
this is my confession... these are my crimes...
i grew up beneath pulpits. reformed pulpits carved, draped, emblazoned with the image of the burning bush.
burning, yet not consumed. burning, yet living.
but the church was not on fire. not burning. not living. ashen grey. cold. dying.
who by doctrine? who by apology? by schism? by silence? who by exclusion?
and i was dying. firestarters not welcome. not heard. i sat playing with matches in the back pew.
and then i did what anyone would do, what conformity always wanted ... i gave up. i walked.
who by discontent? who by apathy? who by despair? who by frustration, and anger and not being able to take the banal mediocre reasonableness of it all...?
i went looking for a house on fire that i could call home...
17 pilgrimages have i made to this space... first as disciple, now as radical... as anarchist...i stand here on the margins. without pew. without priest. or pastor.
and for all i have gained from you... for all the answers you have helped me find, now i bring you questions... interrogation... i want to see you burn...
who by irony? who by hierachy? who by the party line? who by the left? who by the right?
who am i to set fire to your words, to your pews, your tents, to your conditions, your public testaments and your private dogmas... to your scared cows, your Gods...?
it is for you to strike the match if you dare...
i hear you fear. as i once feared. when the wood, the hay, the stubble is burnt away... will there be nothing left?
i no longer fear. i am guilty. for i set fires gladly...
because heresy is nothing
just as doctrine is nothing
as the church is nothing
as greenbelt is nothing
as ikon is nothing.
what is true cannot be destroyed.
what is pure will rise from the ashes
i need none of this.
and i am free.
right, off to hear Pád perform some poetry, surrounded by good friends. bliss.
and here he is in action. search out the Theology of the Human - Pádraig O Tuama
on the greenbelt talks download page. there's nothing like experiencing your friends doing what they love and being reminded of how beautifully they embody themselves when they're doing it.