8.00 am: A communion.
8.45 am: Into the Inbox to deal with emergency requests. (In the background, Brian Eno’s Another Green World.) I opened Blackboard once more, and ploughed on. I’d developed a dexterity. But it was still too much like bookkeeping for comfort. Where economies and efficiencies of working practice could be discerned, I pursued them with vigour.
Somethings in life recede with time, but don’t diminish in intensity. It’s a testament to the value that we’d assigned to them, their probity, and the affection which we’ve still invested in them. Somethings in life never really come to end; rather, they enter another phase of being. However distant, silent, one-sided, unlikely, unrealistic, or unconfirmed they’ve become (and may remain), they’re no less real and treasured for that. And one phase inevitably gives way to another, like the turning of the moon. But in the depth of the heart, hope and longing remain fixed and constant. There’s no forgetting, no giving up, there. There, prayer connects across the boundary, and God holds together past, present, and future with an indissoluble bond.
11.00 am: Onto the ‘biggy’: the undergraduate exhibition modules. By 12.30 pm, the task was done; I could return to postgraduate monitoring matters and preparations for a return to MA fine art teaching next week. As part of the MA Fine Art application process, I ask inquirers to write a letter to themselves, in order to persuade themselves that the undertaking would be the best course of action … indeed, the only course of action. Most reply intelligently, but fairly formally. Today, I received the first such ‘letter-to-self’ that took the conceit literally: the ‘Dear Me’ approach. It was extraordinarily honest and insightful. No guile. No facade. By an act of generosity, they’d showed to me their heart and soul. I was moved and, moreover, learned something about myself too.
1.00 pm: Lunch:
1.30 pm: I wanted to listen once again to the final mix of the album, and just be in the studio in order to give the equipment an opportunity to act upon me. The track entitled ‘God Breathed’ beckoned: it’d been over-baked; with hindsight/audition, a better mix was possible. There’s a melancholy in letting-go of a project, once it’s complete. Nevertheless, there’s much still to be done on the text and design for the CD. My mind, however, was already onto the next thing. Before me lay several possibilities, all of which could be carried forward, none of which had any flesh on their bones as yet. ‘Think, John! Think!’ (that familiar voice encouraged, with a measure of urgency.) But you can’t force solutions.
4.30 pm: I needed to open the windows of my imagination wider, and let the breeze aerate my habitual ways of thinking and blow away the cobwebs of obvious and predictable ideas. Out came the sun, so off I went for a run to Llanbadarn Church. It’s always salutary to alight upon the tombs of those who’d died at the age that I’m presently:
7.30 pm: An evening of postgraduate matters, thoughtfulness regarding future endeavours, and gratitude for my life so far.