The Door Was Open

Today when I passed by the memorial chapel in the cemetery nearby, the door was open. I’ve never seen the inside before. (I only took a photo through the open door because there were other people there.)

Outside is the memorial place for those who were not buried but only had their ashes spread here. As you can see in the first photo, the flowerbed set aside for this purpose is absolutely packed with candles and decorations. (If you did not already read my previous post about All Saints Day, you’ll find more about our traditions there.)

Weekend Reflections: All Saints Day

¹ Now Moses --- came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ² There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. ³ So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.” ⁴ When the LORD saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush … [Exodus 3]

No, I do not claim the bush in my photo to be a particularly holy one; but with every day now, the few trees and bushes still dressed in sparkling colour, are getting more and more rare – and hence a strange sight in the otherwise brownish-grey landscape. And cause enough to stop and reflect for a while!

 

See more Reflective Photography  at Weekend Reflections

 

Today in Sweden is All Saints Day. In our calendar we have two of those; and on top of that, tomorrow is All Souls Day.

The original All Saints Day was 1 November. At some point however it was moved to fall on the Saturday preceding the first Sunday in November. This sometimes causes a bit of confusion about when to celebrate “Halloween”.

All the British-American Halloween celebrations with spooky decorations, dressing up in costumes and going out on trick-or-treat etc have not really got rooted here. Some of it has crept into our culture as well through TV and so on in later years. But parallel to that, a more solemn (originally Catholic) tradition of lighting candles and putting winter decorations on the graves of the deceased has grown even more, and seems to remain the stronger one here. Even though the candle-lighting tradition also does not go further back in our country than the 1950’s or so.

This year, in discussions in the media, I noted what seems to me a growing tendency to want to keep the two traditions apart and not mix them up. It now seems to be frequently recommended that Halloween celebrations of the ‘American’ kind should be held on 31st October … While All Saints Day and All Souls Day should respectfully be kept free from that kind of stuff.

And there is of course something to be said for that. Because if you’re going out to light candles on a loved one’s grave, you might not be quite in the right spirit to deal with a ghost or skeleton turning up on your doorstep asking for treats or threatening you with tricks.

I’m kind of fascinated to see how in the long run this will develop, because in so many other ways our society is separating itself from religious practice. Christmas is pretty much commercialized and Easter I think among most people is even less connected with “church” than Christmas is.

Maybe All Saints has come to fill a sort of gap - a need of a holiday with a bit more time for serious reflection. The time of year sort of encourages it. With darkness falling and a long winter ahead, we’re not quite in the wildest of celebrations moods.

Mind you, I’m not sure all that many people go to the church services. Most probably only visit the family graves; with their own sort of rituals connected to that.

I blogged about my own feelings and childhood memories of this holiday two years ago in a post entitled The Dreary Misery of Halloween.  As you might deduct from that title alone, this was never a favourite celebration of mine; rather the opposite.

I had to deal with it somehow back then, two years ago, because that was the first autumn after mum died. Writing/blogging about it was kind of therapeutic.

Last year, my dad had moved to a nursing home; and since then he too has passed away from this life.

This year I’m on my own for the All Saints weekend. I can’t visit my parents’ grave because the village churchyard where they are buried is too far from the road where the bus goes.

I don’t really feel an absolute need to either, because at heart I believe that Time and Place only matter to the living, not to the dead. But in spite of that I’m still sort of feeling the weight of Tradition on my shoulders.

So yesterday I did go to light candles on the older family graves in town – on two different cemeteries, both within walking distance from where I live, but in opposite directions. The one farthest away I visited in the morning around 10 am. It is a huge drive-in cemetery. I thought by going early I might avoid the worst traffic chaos… But found that there was already quite a bit of that going on. Someone had parked their car on a narrow lane, causing queues in both directions. Neither queue was able to move. Some people were getting out of their cars and arguing. Definite tension in the air. Being on foot myself I had to step out onto wet lawns and even into mud and bushes to get past the car queues. I seem to recall the situation was exactly the same last year…

In the late afternoon, as twilight was falling, I went to the other cemetery which is very close to where I live. Oops, darkness still fell faster than I was prepared for. Here too, in spite of the cemetery not being so big, lots of cars were driving in. I discovered I did not have any reflex tag on me. (I usually keep at least one in each jacket but I must have taken it out when washing this jacket after last winter, and forgot to put one back.) I got blinded by the headlights of the cars, could hardly see where I was going, and felt very unsure how much the drivers in turn could see of me! And as in the other cemetery, the roads in this one are not planned for double lines of traffic either; and hedges leave no room for pedestrians to step aside.

Luckily it hit me that I have a flashlight “app” on my mobile. Never really had reason to use it before, but now it came in handy! Phew!

To be quite honest, yesterday mostly served to remind me why I never much appreciated the tradition in the first place. It still fails to serve its real purpose with me. For quiet contemplation of the passing of time and life and generations, I really do prefer to visit cemeteries in daylight, and not when they’re so crowded that they remind of rush hour traffic in the city…

So I think that’s probably what I should stick to.
(May this post serve to remind me…)

Booking Through–To the Centre of the Earth (And Back)

All other things being equal, would you rather read a book that’s hard/challenging/rewarding or light/enjoyable/easy?

The BTT questions come from Deb at Booking Through Thursday.

“All other things being equal” … In my experience, they never are! My body, my emotions, my thoughts and my interests keep changing; as does the world around me.

Let me put it this way: I like a book to be challenging, enjoyable and rewarding; and neither too hard nor too easy. I like to learn things and be entertained at the same time; thanks!

It might not help the statistics, but that’s how it is.

My latest (re)read:
A Journey to the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne (1864) -
in Swedish translation. Picked it up last time I was at The House (my parents’ old place). If I ever read it before, it was a long time ago - like 40 years or so. I’ve also seen one or two spiced up film versions in more recent years, and ended up wondering how close those really came to Verne’s story. I’d say not very close.

I can certainly see the difficulty of making a film just following the original book, since half of it or more is mostly concerned with the narrator’s anxiety and disbelief in the whole project. I guess there is some narrative skill here though… Just as the narrative ego and his uncle are drawn into the adventure by a surviving piece of evidence that someone before them undertook the journey and managed to get back; so the reader is drawn into it by the (fictional) fact that the narrator must also have been there and survived, or else the book would not have been written. And we want to know how. So in spite of our disbelief, we go on reading. (Or at least I did.)

The travelers discover a giant cave filled with
prehistoric mushrooms.

One of the rewards of (re)reading books like these later in life  is that one’s frames of reference have widened, so that by now I ‘m better able (I think) to also see how the work relates to other authors and books and literary styles; both earlier and later. As I (re)read this book at the age of 56, a whole whirlwind of other authors and stories, as well as the development in scientific ideas in the past 150 years, blows through my mind. And writing that down, it strikes med that that experience too might be compared to some of the discoveries made by the characters in the book…

Which brings me back to where I started:
“All other things” are never equal.

Trick or Treat

About a week and a half before Halloween, I ordered some DVDs from an online shop. Among those I wanted was a collection of three films by New Zealand film director Jane Campion.

When I received my package, it turned out that 3-disc box had been replaced by a totally different film, entitled The Condemned. Which, judging by the cover, I had no wish at all to see…

  -No thank you!-

Ah well – mistakes happen. I contacted the company; and within a couple of days I got a new package. I opened it eagerly, again expecting to find the films that I had ordered. Guess what met my eye? Another copy of The Condemned!

That’s when I began to fear that this might go on for ever…

However, third time round - and Halloween behind us! - the curse seems to have been lifted. Today I received yet another package. To my relief, this one did contain the right DVD-box.

Tomorrow I send back the two copies of The Condemned and pray they’ll not come boomeranging back! ;)

Now remains to be seen when I’ll find the time to watch the films I did order: An Angel At My Table, The Piano and Bright Star.

ABC Wednesday: P for Playing in the Park

 

We had a grey and very wet Sunday here last weekend. In spite of that I decided to go and check out what’s happening in ‘my’ little park  some 10 minutes walk or so from where I live. Feeling a certain obligation towards my readers who showed an interest in a previous post (follow the park-link).

First of all: Nice surprise to find some colour still left!
Yellow leaves, blue flowers, and red rose hips.

No new trees have been planted to replace those which recently disappeared … but the plot thickens:

Seems to me they’re planning a pavilion of some sort here!
It may be presumptuous of me, but I shall dare a guess:

In this park there is also a croquet lawn. But no club house.
Only an ugly blue container which I’ve not really connected with the croquet until this summer, when on one occasion I saw players putting away some such equipment in it.

So… I’m hoping for the croquet society* (as well as for photographers!) that perhaps there is to be some sort of improvement in that area.

*I tried looking up their website… But all I learned from that is that they seem to be only 7 members! Which is probably one reason why I rarely see much action on that lawn.

Good luck to them; and, whilst I’m on the topic: Good luck to my blogging and croquet-playing friend GB (A Hebridean in New Zealand), who is just about to fly off to another croquet season over there. May the sun shine or your lawns, and may there be plenty of pavilions to provide proper protection when you need it!

More P’s at ABC Wednesday!