spring

It is nearly 7.15 pm, and darkness has not quite fallen.  The blackbird is trilling.  The deer are grazing on the lawn, and I think I’ve just seen a bat swoop by.  All of which is made more precious by the knowledge that by tomorrow, this will be happening at 8.15 pm.

UK readers:  don’t forget to spring forward. (America, as always, is ahead of us already.)

colour prayer

colour prayerDuring Lent, a small group from Dunoon has been exploring different methods of prayer. Many of our sesions have involved led meditatations: everthing from tools for developing our attention to meditations on scripture and imaginative prayer. None of it has translated well into blogging. But tonight’s session might. We were considering ways of using colour in prayer.

The basic idea is this: colour often carries emotional content. Sometimes, when we would be hard-pressed to name how we are feeling, we find we can colour it quite easily. By paying attention to what we are feeling, and being honest with ourselves and with God, we can learn to be ‘real’ in God’s presence.

Colour prayer takes lots of forms. It can be as simple as scribbling on the corner of a page — trusting that God is present, trying to be open to what we are feeling. We might use only one colour, or we might form something quite elaborate. The shape that emerges might be important, or the ‘truth’ of the picture may rest solely in the balence of colour. We often won’t know what we are doing, or what it might mean till long after we’re done.

The picture at the top is a colour sqare. It is a way of reviewing the day or working through a specific issue or relationship. You begin by assinging colours to a range of emotions: hope, fear, anxiety, anger, love, trust… You also assign a God colour. Then you look back at your day (or the situation that’s on your mind) and begin colouring. How have you felt today? Fill the square in however it seems best.

Often people find that the process surprises them. There is more anger than they had realised, or more hope, or more joy… As the drawing is nearing its natural end, look for your God colour. It is there already? If not, where might it go? Or is it hidden today? Don’t assume there is a right answer — just be aware your perceptions.

When you finish colouring, take a minute to pray verbally or simply sit in God’s presece, then draw the prayer time to a close.

Sometimes the ‘meaning’ of a colour sqaure or free-draw will be obvious to you. Other times, it may not. It may be that it is only when you look back at several drawings together that patterns begin to make sense.

I find that praying with colour is particarly helpful when emotions are running high. It’s a way of getting them out, seeing what they look like, dealing with them. You can also pray through scripture or theology this way. What would the last supper look like? Or forgiveness? Or resurrection?

Enough. Molly has just arrived to say that happiness looks like brown bits on a white plate, followed by an endless expanse of ivory duvet (and crossness is the sudden surge of red after the swipe of pearly claw).

liturgical play

I’ve just spent the morning with the organist of Holy Trinity, trying to work through Holy Week and Easter. It’s such a delight to have someone to plan with — and someone who will share my excitement at the thought of dark churches filled with plainsong and gospel readings proclaimed with Alleluias. (Just wait– we’ll get the psalms back yet…)

Liturgy should be exciting. And never more so than in tense unfolding of Holy Week. The challenge is in breaking through the assumption that one can skip blithely from Palm Sunday to Easter morning and never miss a thing.