Doorway Writing Group April 2017

Writing group April 2017

Our April session had a nice little spring in its step.

The writing group crossword continues to be a popular feature: a number of people had been asking about it last week and a total of five guests (K, N, J, L and R) took it away to work on it.

At the writing table itself, we had our usual fun discussions on random topics including various thought-provoking questions:

Can we, we wondered, reclaim the spontaneous creativity that we often have as children, even when it sometimes feels as if the education system – and life itself – does its best to squeeze it out of us? Yes, we decided – we definitely can. Just pick up a pen or pencil or felt tip or paintbrush….

Is it okay for writers to recycle their material in the way that musicians do? We decided it was pretty inevitable for writers to revisit similar ideas, though usually worded differently each time.

How much time do we have – or do we make – for reading? Well, K has been inspired after his recent Dickens achievement and is now tackling Ulysses by James Joyce. Impressive! He’s promised us a summary, of sorts, when he finishes it.

And as for writing itself, two of our wonderful guests wrote contributions for the blog. Read on for some reflections by H and two poems by J. We hope you enjoy them!

 

Home Time – a poem by J

The rattle and squeal

As chairs are piled on desks

Home-time prayers are murmured

Like the swishing of trees

In a summer breeze

At school.

Frank and intimate messages exchanged in the cloakroom

Bags gathered like sheep

And the marching tide of schoolchildren appear

In the street.

Listening to music in each other’s houses

Hanging around the public places

But home is where the hub of the heart is

Where dreams are rediscovered

And life emerges

In the simplicity of a moment

A key turns or a window opens

At home time

 

Questions on Existence – reflections by H

Who knows what and who exists? Philosophers, religions, children, scientists, practical people all argue. What exists if we do not think about it at all?

God always exists and knows what exists, but we don’t know what to make of that. Only God exists whether we believe in Him or not. We can’t change his qualities. People exist and God sees them through rose-tinted glasses, therefore we can’t even see people the way they exist in reality.

Children invent what exists for them in a playful way and in fantasy. Also what exists for them is not what parents know but parents want to force them to change their ideas about what should exist.

Scientists make theories about what exists and why, that other people either admire, totally disagree with, or think it’s manipulative or even demonic.

Satan knows what exists but only from his limited viewpoint as He wants to believe his plans are able to ruin us and win over God’s plans.

Philosophers have theories about what exists that nobody can prove or disprove. Some people choose to believe one or the other, whichever they prefer.

Religions have followers that believe what they are told and see signs that confirm it because of their chosen interpretations.

I wish I knew what exists from God’s perspective. It would stop me from wasting my life and not understanding what matters in life and what to live for. I would be much freer from emotional problems and the utter inability to make decisions. I would know what to help other people achieve and how they could improve. I would stop worrying and keep rejoicing forever. But who can cope with the amount of knowledge and wisdom God has? If God gave us his insights and decisions we would burn up or choose to kill ourselves as we have no strength and goodness for the responsibility or mental capacity for it all.

How marvellous it is that in heaven we will forever be rejoicing about finding out more and more about the qualities of God and nothing else will matter any more and we won’t have to wonder what exists as God will show us all we need. All that exists in this life will end and has no significance, so nothing actually needs to exist now, only myself and God will matter forever.

 

Fly Tipping – a poem by J

Flies dangling their legs in our soup

Will be promptly ejected

On the front of a rolled up newspaper

Courtesy of the waiter

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