Saturday, March 31, 2018

a broken alleluia ............






On Palm SundayI found that a brand new hosanna is easier to sing
Than a broken alleluia
But an epiphany on a day of rest
May go dark for the rest of the week
On Fig MondaySomething came over me like a red mist,
I blew my top, Lost my rag,
Everyone went quiet, Looked down at their sandals,
Tomorrow I’d have to wear that t-shirt again,
‘I’m sorry for what I said when I was hungry’
On Great TuesdayI was staying with thirteen nuns in a convent,
Some of whom were among the original disciples.
Living in silence, they’d become lost for words,
‘Your presence and prayer here,’ they promised,
‘Will enhance the world’s store of stillness and reverence.’
I had my doubts.
On Spy WednesdayPopping my head above the parapet of the everyday
I caught myself in the lens of some strange binoculars
It was me I was focussed on, and also it wasn’t,
I saw myself inside this other world, Here was
Everyone, on the corner of Fourth and Walnut
Walking around shining like the sun, They were mine,
I was theirs… but it was all too bright
I ducked down again, went back into hiding
In case someone spotted me, seeing us all.
On Maundy ThursdayJohann Cruyff died and Wales played Northern Ireland
I was with Dad back at the Vetch Field, Swansea, 1970,
Seeing George Best, total footballer, in that green shirt.
Like Cruyff, he could make you believe in God.
In the evening I played five-a-side
But forgot to do the Cruyff Turn
On Good FridayI hadn’t anticipated the death, nor that I’d be the killer
Not that there was nails or blood as we hung up,
Just another of those small, everyday expirations,
When hate seems stronger than love, When
Something whispers, ‘It is finished’
And the darkness feels stronger than light.
The Poem was completely abandoned
And death was stronger than life
On Empty SaturdayWe met old friends, the ghost of their love
No longer given up, Foreheads glancing,
Lips brushing, Look at them
Gazing at each other, like death was not an end,
And holy weeks have an eighth day.
Later this angel, we hadn’t expected,
Conjuring patience while wheeling around
An ageing Uncle, ‘Well,’ he smiled,
‘We’ve got no bloody choice, have we?’
I thought maybe no day is as empty as it pretends
That something is happening behind that stone
Even if you never imagine a day,
When someone has rolled it away
On Easter SundayI tried to be like the fox, like Wendell Berry says,
I practised resurrection. I realised I needed
To practice more, at least 10,000 hours
And probably I’d still need a hand. Up. And out.
(This poem was first abandoned on Good Friday 2017)




Poem by martin Wroe a great and πŸ…±πŸ…΄πŸ…°πŸ†„πŸ†ƒπŸ…ΈπŸ…΅πŸ†„πŸ…» friend.

The Coming by RS Thomas









The Coming RS Thomas (1913-2000) 


And God held in his hand 

A small globe. Look he said. 

The son looked. Far off, 

As through water, he saw 

A scorched land of fierce 

Colour. The light burned 

There; crusted buildings 

Cast their shadows: a bright 

Serpent, a river 

Uncoiled itself, radiant 

With slime. 

On a bare 

Hill a bare tree saddened 

The sky. Many People 

Held out their thin arms 

To it, as though waiting 

For a vanished April 

To return to its crossed 

Boughs. The son watched 

Them. Let me go there, he said.





πŸ…±πŸ…΄πŸ…°πŸ†„πŸ†ƒπŸ…ΈπŸ…΅πŸ†„πŸ…» πŸ…·πŸ†„πŸ…ΌπŸ…°πŸ…½
#YouAreBeautiful
www.pipwilson.com
www.blobtree.com
TWITTER @RealPipWilson

I am aware that ......................

Easter Poem



 



RS Thomas (1913-2000) 

Thursday, March 29, 2018

FOOD ALCOHOL DRUGS

TEENAGE CHANGEMAKERS

Lots I write never gets typed never appears ............











~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Lots I write
never gets typed
never appears
never even read
by me

The process of writing/emotions/thoughts/reflections/
is powerful in itself  
It takes me outside myself
It takes me inside myself ......................  

I can never tell you
I can never tell anyone
Some of the things I do
My mission activities
My mission conversations
It would not be right
It would be wrong
It would change the human that I am.
I would not be trusted
and I believe I am.

**



BHP

The women & the 12










******
Around Easter the crucifixion looked like 
a big win for the Romans. 
The following Monday, 
Caesar and Herod were still in power. 
The chief priests were still the chief priests. 
(And meanwhile, in a tucked-away corner, 
women & the 12 were transformed.)

*****

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

MAGIC these kids .............

THE LAST BK



The Last BK

He looked like he’d lost a pound and found a penny.
He wanted the normal box meal
But said he’d go large on the Pepsi.
He took a handful of straws.
When I next looked up (it was a busy night)
He was surrounded by a gang of mates.
Funny thing was, they all seemed to be drinking from his cup
And sharing his burger.
I was going to tell the manager.
After all, if they come in here,
They can’t eat someone else’s food, can they?
We’ll go out of business.
Just then, one of the gang got up and walked out.
He looked real guilty.
Then the girl arrived.
The one who was living rough, on the streets.
You can spot ‘em –and smell ‘em - a mile off.
She went up to him and gave him a brand new iPod.
He was choked.
His mates accused her of nicking it
But she said it was kosher, she’d earned it.
I overheard her say, with a smile:
‘You can listen to it when they stick you in the cells.’
Then he said to all of them:
‘This is it.  The last BK.
We won’t meet again like this
Until my Dad takes us all out for a feast.
Stick together – it’s going to be a long night.’
He spilled some ketchup on his hands
But the girl wiped it clean for him.
They looked at each other
Like they were sharing a secret.
Then the cops arrived
And he was bundled out into a big black van.
One of his mates pulled out a knife but he shouted at them:
‘Put it away. It’s not what we’re about.’
The manager spoke to the cops out front.
Apparently, his mate had grassed him up.
He was about to blow up the American embassy, or something. 
Terrorist suspect. (Later though, I heard he was stitched up.)
While I was clearing his table
I found his iPod in the corner, behind a chair.
The first song was ‘You’ve got the love’ by Florence and the Machine:
“Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you
Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord, I just don't care"
But you've got the love I need to see me through
Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then it seems that life is just too much
But you've got the love I need to see me through
When food is gone, you are my daily meal
When friends are gone, I know my Saviour's love is real
Your love is real.”
I never saw him again.
Written by my great friend Peter Barrett

STILL - 84 MEN on the top of the ITV London building












 




Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Seeking the wholeness that I believe is created for us




I don't want to return to where I was before Easter.
I always want to be yearning
yearning to become ...........
Seeking the wholeness that I believe is created for us
but we never reach
because it is all about the journey
the becoming
the yearning
the seeking SHALOM .................

I look forward to colliding with you
as we journey along the way.
NOW 
that is an exciting thought.
Colliding with you !!!!
 
I love the thought =
FEELINGS


***

If you :: Act tough but feel vulnerable










If you ::


Act tough but feel vulnerable I want to meet up with you

Feel vulnerable & don’t pretend otherwise I would love to spend time with you

Actively ignore your feelings I would love to spend time with you

If you are violent with one or more persons I would love to spend time with you

If you are angry with someone or me I would love to spend time with you

If you are involved in criminal acts I want to meet up with you

If you feel wounded, rejected, hurt, bitter, I would love to spend time with you

If you are guilty I would love to spend time with you

If you don’t want to talk with anyone I would love to spend time with you

If you are numbing your feelings with drugs or drink I would love to spend time with you

If you have been in prison or you still feel a prisoner inside your body I would love to spend time with you

If you are not willing or able to talk with anyone I would love to spend time with you

If you are at your wits-end I would love to spend time with you

If you feel you are depressed sometimes & won’t share it with anyone - I would love to spend time with you

If you would never use the word ‘depressed' about yourself, I would love to spend time with you

Whoever you are in your inner life - or whatever the behaviour you practice I would love to spend time with you

If you  can’t trust anyone - can’t confide in anyone I would love to spend time with you

I would love to spend time with you …
… it is important for all of us that we have at least one person who we can trust & take time to talk with.

You Are Beautiful



Pip Wilson

Monday, March 26, 2018

Friday coming .................

JOBS JOBS JOBS LATEST VACANCIES Nation-Wide




Latest vacancies


A small VIP in my life.

VIP's in my life

Part of the #BlobTree #Communication #Tool “Blob Education”

Friday, March 23, 2018

Greenbelt Festival & the Rolling Magazine Crew relax expressionless .............




Greenbelt Festival & the Rolling Magazine Crew 
relax expressionless after a full-on 
crazy wild music- riddled show in the RM Big Top - 
with another show to come .................
followed by the 'Very Stinking Late Show' ending with the curfew at 1am ...... and we loved it ..............






BHP

When I say you are BEAUTIFUL ................. ANOTHER WORD COULD BE

ONE .................. is it getting better .......... U2 VIDEO






"One"
Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you now 
You got someone to blame
You say...

One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you baby if you 
Don't care for it

Did I disappoint you
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's...

Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to 
Carry each other
Carry each other
One...

Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head

Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
Well we 
Hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt

One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to 
Carry each other
Carry each other

One...life

One

NEW BOOK from BlobTree.com Routledge Publication 'The Big Book of Blobs' 2ND Edition


This second edition includes new Blob pictures in areas such as bereavement, self-harming, faith and A&E. 
Each Blob picture comes with suggested questions that can be used to guide the discussion; ranging from straightforward questions (Which Blob is happy?) to more personal questions designed to explore opinions and feelings (Which Blob do you not understand? 
Which Blob would you like to be?). 
Offering handy photocopiable resources, T
he Big Book of Blobs provides a unique way to initiate conversations on a range of topics with individuals or groups of any age.







BHP


Courtney Marie Andrews - Kindness to Strangers - Video (5 STARS in the Guardian)

Thursday, March 22, 2018

One of the many Blob Tree Communication Tools - A playground for any age.





CLICK HERE FOR FURTHER DETAILS


"The Blob Playground and Bullying pages have proved particularly helpful. 
But intrinsic to all Blobs is their lack of specific identity.
They are sexless, ageless and without racial characteristics. 
Even the youngest children can come to own the images, 
finding in them Blobs that reflect their past and present circumstances 
and how they would like to be in the future.”
Sarah Davidson 
Slough Borough Council's Educational Psychology Service
 
BHP

She said 'I don't want feelings any more’.







So many young people who dip their needy toes into a YMCA  Hostel are at the bottom of the social pile. 
They arrive at a YMCA, 
often with all their lives 
in a plastic carrier bag ………….

They are welcomed at their point of need. 
A cup of tea is the first item on the agenda. 

They are NOT to be oppressed. 
They are NOT to be preached at - 
those empty bellies are there to be filled. 
Their ears to receive valuing comments, 
Affirmation blessings, authentic love. 
The environment needs to be right to facilitate 
the acorn reaching it’s potential
everyone an Oak Tree …………. an acorn BECOMING.

A part of that journey is the experience of 'belonging’, 
A sense of 'security', the experience of 'self esteem’, 
cognitive and aesthetic needs. 
All these, according to Maslow and his famous hierarchical model, 
culminate in self actualisation.  
That is what we aim for, 
the height of spiritual/ wholistic/fully human person state.  

So the YMCA aims for the highest, 
and as all us leaders know too well, 
it is the great journey and destination we ourselves desire to achieve. 

Martin Luther King did NOT say "I have a budget.” 

Martin Luther King did say 
"I have a dream.”
I have a vision! 
I have a mission! 
We in the YMCA are about that same mission. 

Let me tell you about Mary Lou. 

Mary Lou said, 
'I don't want feelings any more’. 

She was a resident in our Homeless Hostel community. 
We used to talk regularly over a meal. 
Having a large dining room for evening meals and breakfast was something special - 
it is the one place which brings people together in the some sort of Community. 
'Bed-sit’ Hostels, self catering, don't have the same chance 
to cultivate a whole range of contact 
and support from eye contact/hello grins, 
to real Level 5 communication.

Mary Lou was riddled with feelings and beautiful with them.  
An open book. 
She was great at being in contact with her own feelings, 
which is great compared with the many who bury them deep 
and so turning into ulcers or worse! 
She was hopeless at managing those feelings. 
That's the big issue with feelings - having them, 
owning them and managing them without us being controlled by them.

Mary Lou knew she had problems, owned them. 
She never told me intimate details of her complex relationships - 
but did share the feelings. 
Sometimes she stepped out of the hostel lift 
with a face like a can of worms.

Tormented, yet not wanting to talk sometimes, 
but, often in the crowded noisy hostel dining room, 
we shared feelings together and the possibility of her building repertoire of skills 
to 'own them' and 'manage them’. 
We all need tools in our ‘Life Toolbox’. 
She left the hostel and I've never seen her since. 
I just trust that the climate of trust in our community released her, 
facilitated her in her salvation, which is an ongoing liberation experience.

Mary Lou - I'm not going to launch into a poem. 
BUT 
I will say 
'A caterpillar looks nothing like a butterfly, but one develops from the other'.

Mary Lou - you left your feelings finger prints on my soul.




BHP




*