Truth, Beauty, and Miles Davis

I'm listening to a recording of the Miles Davis Quintet playing 'When I Fall in Love'. It has the most hauntingly beautiful intro (a simple eight cord progression). I keep repeating it to try and wrap my mind around its gorgeousness. This song is hopeful, and optimistic, as it describes a person who is ready and prepared to do 'this thing called love'. And yet, the crushing beauty, that even just the concept of true love holds, has already defeated this person.

When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love...

When I give my heart it will be completely
Or I'll never give my heart...

I feel that way. Not necessarily about love, but about life, and being totally destroyed by the beauty I have experienced. Though that sounds morbid, its a gorgeous concept, being completely ruined for the ordinary by knowledge of true beauty, and well, of 'truth'. I've had this year, where I've been able to learn about myself, God, beauty, and life, and all while on my own. I've learned that I can trust God. He has given me so many opportunities and experiences. I can be totally fulfilled with just him and me, and the beauty I love and witness is something place within my comprehension by him to love and celebrate.

So I listen to this song (whose beauty makes me tingle) and wonder, how could I ever live a life that doesn't abide fully to the truth I know? How could I ever be satisfied with false relationships, or cheap replications of experience? The proverbial pot boiler rather than Picasso? Does any of this make sense? Maybe not, especially since I'm not even sure what I'm driving at. But somehow, listening to Davis and Coltrane playing this song by Victor Young, this train of thought makes sense. Its sonorous beauty, like a siren, lures me to forever soak in the deep waters of such conceptions of living a life of truth.

Saturday Morning Market

How I love Saturday Mornings in St. A's. This morning I woke up before my alarm and decided that while I had an hour to spare before breakfast was served I would go out for a stroll. I have a regular walk I take, which goes along the coast and through the town. No one was up yet, and it was my favorite kind of morning, overcast and blistery (very Gothic drama). On my way back through town I stumbled upon a 'Continental market'. Normally, on Saturday mornings St. A's has a farmer's market where you can buy everything from minced pies to grilled fish. The 'Continental' Market is all foreign vendors. I was the only customer up for the opening minutes of the fair. I walked past stalls filled with cheese, almond horns, freshly made crepes, dyed flowers, as the vendors gossips among themselves in French and German. I didn't buy anything, I just walked past and enjoyed. Something I'm trying to learn is how to enjoy beauty without necessarily indulging. Looking at the fluffy rows of bread without having to eat it, or enjoying a bouquet without needing it in my possession. Although nothing is wrong with eating scrumptious food or filling a home with flowers as these are wonderful things, but I'm trying to learn how to savor without necessarily possessing to thus enjoy life all the more!

This morning was supposed to be my study morning, but Saturdays are filled with distractions. I did spend a hour or two reviewing in a funky little coffee spot called Taste, but then felt the urge to walk about town a little more. I absolutely love exploring town, even when I know it inside and out. I went to the library to pick up some more Frenchie music to inspire my for my trip (Django Reinhardt), and then saw a sign for an antique fair at town hall!!

(To the left are antique hand painted tiles. Some day I will decorate my kitchen in those things. Preferably Dutch, blue and white...they are the best!)


Now, you may or may not know me all that well, but it probably wouldn't be hard to imagine me as the antique fanatic that I am.
I don't know that much about antiques but there are certain things I always love to look at. I've been collecting mismatch silverware ( I love the image of setting a table with all different designs and patterns), so I studied all the different designs and pieces; simple sugar tongs, delicate butter knives, collectible tea spoons. Since I've been here I've also been keeping my eye out for toast racks.
Such a funny morning but what a joy! I love exploring this amazing town, and the pleasure is doubled when I have the opportunity to treasure hunt!

Bonjour Paris!

Spring break is soon approaching, but rather than hitting the gym and buying a ten pass at the tanning salon I’m dusting off the Edith Piaf album and cracking open my Larousse because I my friends, am going to Paris! In less than a week I am hopping on a puddle jumper, armed with an empty stomach*, and my chic pink pashmina, to meet Jewls and Inga in the ‘la ville d’amour’.
It’s very hard to believe that I’ve never actually been to Paris. Not because I’ve travelled so much, but because I feel like I’ve already been there. This year I have been perplexed with the strange phenomenon of visiting a city which one has already experienced through images, literature, movies, etc. Fortuitously, I just read an article for Art History called ‘The Eiffel Tower’ by this guy Bart. Bart explores this precise concept. On top of the Eiffel Tower the traveller in one glance can see all the monuments they associated with Paris before they ever can to visit the city. Through this panoramic visage the tourist begins through the union of sight and memory to possess the city. Tres cool, Je pense!**
I think what makes me most enthused about this trip is that for the first time I will be in a European city with my two best friends. Most of the travelling in my life has been a solitary affair, really all of it. I’ve been so independent my whole life! During high school I explored Italy virtually by myself. I loved being on my own and I wouldn’t trade those experiences for the world. But Paris! Oh Paris! It is a city to explore with those who know you inside and out, who love and appreciate the same things as you. People who understand why certain observations will touch you and why.


Only Inga and Jewls will know why I need to run through the Paris subway with black sunglasses, white scarf and trench coach, whistling Henry Mancini. They will be just as excited to find the Cordon Bleu and see if someone will teach us to crack an ‘oeuf’. They won't mind if I break into song and dance on the banks of the Seine (ok basically they will indulge me in all my recreations of scenes from Audrey Hepburn movies). We will sit in cafés, gorge ourselves on croissants, wine, cheese (I’m sure I will have to suffer through some major second hand smoke), cry together at the sound of accordion music, and stare at all the gorgeous Parisians!

Wish me luck friends...I plan on never being the same after Paris!




* 'I'm going on a diet so I can gain it all back in Paris'-Inga Headland
** 'Very cool, I think'-Audrey Headland

Semester Two Modules

Semester Two Modules:

Oh, the module. How does one define it? One couldn’t possibly equate a module with what the American student calls class. Class is a duty, an occupation. Class meets regularly. Class is tedious and is endured only when one is properly armed with starbucks and sodoku. A module is different. It goes by ‘guidelines’ rather than a ‘code’. Lecture is the occasional trail marker in the journey that is UK study. Forget 16 plus hours a week, for a module you need not see your professor more than two hours in seven days. And rather than a course pack and text book, the pupil will receive no more burden than a friendly ‘suggested reading list’ which they are free to browse at their leisure over the course of the semester.
But freedom of individual study was not all that was in store for yours truly. Just get a load of my module list. This semester I’m taking Twentieth Century Crime Fiction, and for Art History British and American Visitors to Italy (and yes, you counted correctly, that is only two courses). I don’t know how it is legal to give people credit to study things that they would do for pleasure, but there you have it! For my Crime Fiction course, I’ve already read Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, Dashiell Hammet and Raymond Chandler. Discussions and debates in this module are like fighting over which is the better ocean, the atlantic or the pacific (seemingly ridiculous and completely enjoyable). Currently, my research is on masculinity portrayed by Lord Peter Wimsey versus Philip Marlowe (see what I mean)?! The art history seems to have been created particularly for Audrey Diane. I’m studying how 18th century travellers received Italy. Basically, I’m reading amazing literature by Forester and James, looking a gorgeous art, and reliving my summer in Milan. Much of our focus is the philosophy of the traveller, which I feel well equipped to study. Needless to say I’m being cured of my senior-itus.
I’m still really loving my time here. St. Andrews is a dream as always. However, my thoughts have been increasingly turning to the dark obis of my blank future. Right now I have… let me see…oh yes..no idea what I’m going to do once I graduate. I feel that it’s not something to worry about, but if you think of it please pray for my wisdom in the matter.

Love to all as always!

L'Abri

So my good friends I have just returned from my post exams 'holiday' on the 'continent'. This break for many students is a time to return home, relax, and see family. For those of us who have an ocean (the better ocean) between us and the ones we love it is the time to travel.

The break has been a slight source of anxiety as I really had no where to go or stay, but through many 'God' instances I decided that I would go to L'Abri. I place I have known about and wanted to visit of for as long as I can remember.

For those of you who have never heard of L'Abri it can best be described as a christian learning center for people of various ages and faiths (including non-existent faiths). It was started by Francis and Edith Schaffer in the 1950's, as a place where people with questions on the Christian God can seek answers (in a number of gorgeous Chalet's in the Swiss Alps!).

As I said, I've known about this place for years. Edith Schaffer wrote many books about Christian parenting and families that greatly influenced my mother back in the day...so I always had admired the work of the Schaffers. More than that, L'abri itself was a huge influence for Focus (fellowship of Christians in universities and schools) which was a great influence in my adolescent years.


So, not knowing exactly what I was getting into I signed myself and my friends Sheena up for the week.

When we first arrived it was night. We were tired from travelling, disoriented and in need of some good food. It was pitch black out so we couldn't tell what anything looked like. All we knew was that there was no snow, and we needed some major TLC. But we entered Chalet Bellevue (pictured left) only to be left standing in the hallway. Feeling awkward and surrounded by a commotion of students. I wanted out.


The place seemed like such a hippy fest, and everyone was too cool for school. Sheena and I received a quick tour, with many awkward introductions and conversation gaps. I was so tired that I couldn't even fake my usual cheeriness. Sooo we each downed about four pieces of garlic bread and headed to bed.

For whatever reason, the next day I woke up with a changed attitude. I was there for a week and I would suffer through it if I had to. I knew God had brought me there, and that was all I needed to know. From that point on everything changed for me. The whole week through I was blown away by the broken and loving spirits of the other students. Although I was so intimidated at the beginning all my first impressions were wrong, and humorously many of the people I had specifically written off as 'too cool' proved the sweetest and humblest of the bunch.

L'Abri has a rigid schedule of work and study. Everyday we would spend the morning working (often in a 'workers' home) and then have lunch together. Lunch would consist of a guided discussion. Then the afternoon was set apart as a time of study in the library; A gorgeous chalet, filled with books on theology and christian living, as well as lectures on tape.

Most of my study time was spent reading the books that had so inspired my mother. I loved reading Edith's works and comparing then with the work of my mother. The books talk of family as a work of art. Something that is beautiful, but must be laboured over. That's a quick synop, but just know I was left completely inspired by how my desire to have a beautiful life is completely part of God's plan and intent for me.



Pictured to the right is my sweet and dear friend Sheena. She was my fabulous partner in crime. She is a gorgeous Scottish Lassi, a lover of God, and a really true kindred spirit.


Well, about the view. The second day we were there it was completely foggy. Everyone kept laughing at the ridiculousness that we had no idea the enormity of the mountains that were right before us, but hidden from view. It wasn't until the third day that I saw the mountains for myself. I had woken up really early to have some time of prayer. It was still pitch black. But I could see that it had snowed about a foot. About 15 minutes into my prayer time I saw a faint light across the sky and I saw the outline of the Alps.

I can't possibly describe to you how incredible this scene was, and the photo doesn't begin to capture what it looks like in person. I was paralyzed by the awesome beauty of the mountains. I have never seen anything so powerful.

It was an incredible week. Set apart from God. Marked by simplicity and separation from the world (we had virtually no contact to the outside). I learned so much. I really was blessed and touched by God's individual love for me.

I left feeling like I was leaving a second home filled with family, and friends but with a promise of hope for the future

Joie de vive

What a joy to finally be free from the tyrannical grip of exams. I’ve been back in Scotland for about a week and a half, though it only feels like a day or too. For as soon as I got off the plane and was again trotting on British soil I had to begin to study for my final exams. For some unknown, and most likely sadistic, reason St. Andrews has exams after the Christmas holiday. I guess they expect students to be able to handle large quantities of John Headland lamb and figgy pudding, without it affecting their brain capacity to recall the minutia of lessons taught a month ago. All right, enough sardonic-ness. Anyways exams are done and over and I can finally begin to enjoy the beautiful St. Andrews around me!

This morning when I woke up it was snowing. So after my morning nose bag, and a quick word or two with the big guy, I charged into the white abyss. I was properly armed (with wellies and umbrella) for my task, which was little more than window-shopping and bookshelf perusal. Though I must say on my own behalf, this act can be somewhat of an art. I went to a few of my favourite spots: the interior design shop, the import food store, the fromage shop.

I popped into the bookstore to see if I could find a good biography for my ‘holiday’, but got delayed in the cookbook section. I love looking through cookbooks. It is such a joy to read about good food. One of my favourite chefs is Nigella Lawson. I started reading through the intro to one of her books, and gaining an understanding of her ‘cooking philosophy’. I learned she’s not a trained chef, but that she was once a food critic, and a food writer for Vogue, Gourmet, The New York Time, the London Times, and the list goes on. How inspiring! I woman who writes about what she loves, and gets paid for it! As I continued walking through the cobblestone streets I got giddy thinking of all the possible futures my life could bring. Whether it be writing for a travel magazine, or perfecting the family art of speech writing, I can always celebrate my Joie de vive!