castanets & driftwood

Students can be pretty notorious for not phoning home - so I guess it was predictable I’d be out of touch for a while, while settling on campus here at the University of British Columbia (just west of Vancouver) :

As you may remember, I’m here doing research & writing on practical holiness. So far I’ve largely been immersed in the magisterial works of Dallas Willard, some of which I’ve already mentioned in these posts

I really can’t recommend highly enough “The Divine Conspiracy”, “The Spirit of the Disciplines” & “Renovation of the Heart” - his trilogy which lays out a most compelling and inspiring vision of our deepest life calling

More about that later I promise, when I’ve had time to shape my own thinking a little bit more. Meanwhile here is just a glimpse of my backdrop here each day, happily tucked away in a corner of Regent College library (the extremely well resourced Anglican seminary for Western Canada)

You won’t be surprised that less highbrow fun also manages to feature a good deal … one special treat was a fabulous evening of Flamenco, given by guitarist Paco Pena and his troupe of singers & astonishing dancers

Before the show I went to a talk “Flamenco and the Diasporic Soul” by Arianna Dagnino, a prof from the Dept. of French, Hispanic & Italian Studies. This was her poignant description of Flamenco as Romany’s search for the soul’s true home, responding to their history of global displacement & loss :

“While flamenco reflects the pain, suffering, and uncertainty of nomadic and migrant life, it is also endowed with a strong redemptive and transformative power. Its cathartic nature expresses both the suffering and the triumph of simply being alive …”

The evening thus became a bitter sweet reminder of migrant suffering in Syria & across Europe. Sadly the extraordinary emotional power of flamenco dancing can only be experienced live, but I hope this passionate lament at least gives a bit of the flavour (translation of her lyrics is underneath)

“I was born in Alamo; I have no place, I have no landscape,
much less do I have a homeland

With my fingers I kindle fire; with my heart I serenade you, and
with the strings of my heart I cry out”

Another huge treat has been the lashings of local sport here. The night of the General Election was fantastic entertainment : not only did we have Justin Trudeau’s unexpected ‘Obama-esque’ new dawn for the nation unfolding, but on the other side the Blue Jays of Toronto were roundly trouncing Kansas City in the baseball World Series play-offs. Cue the feast of constant channel hopping that remote controls were truly created for …

Then this last Saturday I got to see UBC Thunderbirds demolish Manitoba Bisons at American football, courtesy of the beefy local pin-ups who adorn the Student Union in the snap up above (plus a tidal-wave of cheer-leading, hype and trans-atlantic razzamatazz)

But the undoubted sporting highlight has been a fantastically thoughtful & generous birthday present from Simeon : tickets to the unforgettable 5-1 thrashing of Montreal Canadiens by the glorious Vancouver Canucks!

The atmosphere for this “local” derby was electric, and hockey (like rugby) proved to be a far more exciting live sport than it comes across on TV

I was flanked by friendly Montreal fans, one of whom had flown in just for the night. He had made the special effort after work, hoping to see his team achieve the best winning run ever recorded in the NHL major league, with what would have made an amazing 10th straight victory to start the season … Hey-ho …

Perhaps inspired by all that thumping testosterone I’m also much enjoying the UBC gym each day - where my regime includes a punishing twice weekly class entitled “butts & guts” (not exactly a highbrow experience)

For nice days there are also great running trails through thick forest on the campus edge, that eventually lead right down to the ocean shore

Hopefully you can just spot downtown Vancouver in the distance - and also notice again the beached lumber, that’s everywhere along Canadian shores

Yesterday at high tide I counted 35 random logs, all at the same time gently floating by where I sat. It recalled famous advice to remove the tree trunk from my own eye, before I dare offer thoughts on holiness to anyone else

… also I sat there singing that “the earth shall be filled with the glory of God, as the waters cover the sea” - complete with boundless power, effortlessly to displace and clear even my own private beach of litter & heavy debris

I close with a short word from the late Prof. Dallas Willard, in whose written company I’m spending my days here, & who now feels like a close friend. Or perhaps wise elder, to explain the mystery of “inukshuk” signs I will meet …

Most of his clips on You Tube are lengthy lectures, but here he briefly answers a simple every day question. How do I go about fitting spiritual disciplines into a busy life? Are there seasons when it’s just not practical?

Willard’s clear & matter of fact response to this young pastor is typical of his writing & teaching. In it I recognise the firm and gentle challenge of Jesus that I so need to hear. Here it is, in case you do too :