• About

Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: epiphany

St Luke’s, Sapperton

29 Wednesday Jun 2022

Posted by Candia in Architecture, Personal, Photography, Psychology, Supernatural

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

benediction, epiphany, faith, happenstance, labyrinth, peace, prayer, reassurance, revelation, Sapperton, serendipity, St Luke's, stained glass, Ukraine

After I’d walked the churchyard labyrinth and prayed for Ukraine

in its centre, I opened the door of the church and saw this reflection

on the wall.

There was no stained glass window with a representation of a man on

the opposite wall for the sun to shine through. It was not spooky, just

somehow comforting and validating.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Glorified Puddle

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by Candia in art, Autumn, Environment, Nature, Nostalgia, Supernatural

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

epiphany, Frederick Church, Golden Hour, light, transformation, transformation of the ordinary

Photo by Candia Dixon-Stuart

Basically a ditch off a muddy path, 5 minutes from my home.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Transfiguration of the Ordinary

13 Monday Apr 2020

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Bible, Personal, Photography, Religion, Supernatural

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

domestic visions, epiphany, spiritual enlightenment, transfiguration, transformation of the ordinary

stained glass christ at stables

Photo by Candia Dixon-Stuart

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Asthall – till Epiphany

04 Saturday Jan 2020

Posted by Candia in Architecture, History, Nostalgia, Personal, Photography, Religion, Social Comment

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

altar, Asthall, Christmas tree, Cotswolds, epiphany, Oxfordshire, St Nicholas' church

IMG_0023 (3)

tree still up till 6th January, by tradition.

Photo by Candia Dixon- Stuart

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

The Deerhurst Angel

21 Sunday Oct 2018

Posted by Candia in Architecture, Personal, Poetry, Religion, Sculpture, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

angel, apse, Deerhurst angel, epiphany, Gloucestershire, Odda's Chapel, Sculpture

We tried to see it at Odda’s Chapel.

Was that a wing, a halo, or just damp?

Our epiphany was not forthcoming,

for all our straining interpretation.

We went to St Mary’s adjacent church.

A child on the path pointed out a sign:

‘To the Angel’ – it wasn’t evident.

Then we walked across an apse’s ruins;

squinted upwards; craned our necks.

The elusive angel was always there.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Image

Epiphany- after Durer

05 Friday Jan 2018

Tags

Durer, epiphany, Hares, Holy Family

Holy Family

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Posted by Candia | Filed under art, Arts, Bible, Family, Parenting, Relationships, Religion

≈ Leave a comment

Epiphany (O Mega Town of Basingstoke!)

10 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by Candia in Family, Humour, Poetry, Religion, Social Comment, Suttonford, Theatre, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Away in a Manger, Bambi, Basingstoke, Beanie Baby, Christmas Houses by Hartley, Damien HIrst, epiphany, Gloria in Excelsis!, Harris Manning, Last Supper, Loom Bands, Magi, Mary and Joseph, Mcdonalds, Pax Hominibus, Pooh Bear, Rudolph, Tesco, The Anvil, Toys R Us, Yuletide log

Another re-blog, but plus ca change!

The Christmas lights have just appeared in Suttonford, so we will

be pleasantly decorated in time for Santa’s arrival in the town.

Basingstoke will also be ablaze, but in a more gaudy fashion.

Here’s a tribute to its display in a former year.

Festival Place

EPIPHANY

O mega-town of Basingstoke,

how shrill we see you lie!

Above your phosphorescent glow

the silent stars go by.

Yet in your dark streets shineth

the Wondrous Light that draws some from the motorway,

yet fails to signpost Magi through your roundabouts’ array.

(Praise Him in the filament, anyway.)

In Toys R Us they’ll buy a Beanie Baby for the King;

from Mcdonald’s, a children’s meal

with a collectable key ring.

(Those Loom Bands are maybe not His sort of thing.)

Mary and Joseph, Rudolph and Pooh Bear

watch o’er the child beloved and fair.

All is calm.  Sleeping in heavenly rest.

Most take taxis to avoid the breath test.

Mixed iconography screams houses into shrines:

iced Yuletide logs in lurid neon signs.

What shall I give Him, poor as I am?-

I’ll nick a Tesco trolley and use it as a pram.

Blest be that apple near the wheelie bin-

someone’s Last Supper on the lawn close to us:

the turkey carcase an oblation for sin?

A Damien Hirst Pax Hominibus?

 

God rest ye merry, Basingstoke,

you’ve always got The Anvil,

but it’s closed on Xmas Day

when the kids can be a handful.

While housewives wash sports socks by night,

men get their flexes convoluted

and for the love of flashing Bambis

prepare to be electrocuted.

Away in a Manger, no crib for a bed,

the little Lord Jesus flashes green and then red.

The stars in the night sky have nothing on this-

Basingstoke’s Gloria in Excelsis.

 

  • The Anvil is Basingtoke’s Theatre.
  • Hartley, Harris , Manning: authors of above book.

 

 

 

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Transfiguration

10 Saturday Aug 2013

Posted by Candia in Humour, Philosophy, Politics, Psychology, Religion, Suttonford, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Balaam, Birinus, Bradford on Avon, compassion, Damascene, David Cameron, epiphany, Feast of the Transfiguration, Financial Times, Fleury Abbey, lax, Loiret, Paul Gilbert, Snodbury, St Paul, Sully sur Loire, The Carpenters, The Longs Arms, The Shrink and The Sage, Weekend Magazine

UNC Lacrosse.jpg

Diana Fotheringay-Syylk, prematurely retired ‘Lax‘ Mistress from St Vitus’ School

For The Academically-Gifted Girl, had been trying to read The Weekend

Magazine from The Financial Times while she was being transported around the

Loiret by her local coach firm from Bradford-on-Avon.  She was staying in a 2*

hotel near Sully-sur-Loire, along with other members of her town’s Twinning

Association.

She had been allowed to bring along a ‘friend‘ and her daughter, since two

people had dropped out at the last minute and there had been seats left

vacant.

Behind Diana was her erstwhile lover, Augustus Snodbury, who was still in

educational harness, so to speak, at St Birinus Middle School.  Their daughter

Drusilla had closed her eyes, but this did not shut out the low, burring sound

which emanated from her father’s rather hairy nostrils.

And what exactly is a Lax Mistress? I hear you question, Dear Reader.

It was a trainer for a particularly vicious outdoor team game played by

innocent-looking maidens, armed with strong lobster nets on poles.

Innocent-looking, in general, but the goalies were of a different, scary

order.

Diana was trying to concentrate on her favourite The Shrink and the

Sage article.

This guide to modern dilemmas by a psychotherapist and philosopher

duo fascinated her.  Diana was looking forward to being a member of the

congregation at The Feast of the Transfiguration in Fleury Abbey and the

rhetorical question which headed the columns struck her with a force as

convincing as the Damascene beam of light which had struck St Paul and

floored him.

It read: Are we compassionate enough?

Diana had been seeking a spiritually significant experience by venturing

on this trip.  Nothing less than an epiphany would satisfy her.  She had

opened her mind and heart to receive any messages that might be

forthcoming.  But could the divine voice speak through The Financial

Times?  She then remembered Balaam’s ass and thought that all things

might be possible.

FT's 125th Anniversary Issue.jpg

A psychologist called Paul Gilbert was being quoted as having stressed that

one must be kind to oneself, as well as to others.  He warned against two

evolution-shaped drives-firstly, the detection and subsequent escape from

danger and, secondly, the drive to acquire things we want, such as food

and sexual partners.

The article recommended a David Cameron-like state of sensing that we are

all..on this journey together.

Here Snod’s snoring seemed to rise in volume and objection.  Already she

was in danger of lapsing into compassion fatigue.

When we are irritated by others, Gilbert said, we should remember that

they are mere humans, like ourselves, who cannot help getting things

wrong sometimes.

But she didn’t snore, did she?  She would check with Drusilla later on,

since they were sharing a room.  Come to think of it, she remembered Dru

buying some ear plugs in Boots, before they set off.

Gilbert mentioned something called compassion under the duvet, which

fortunately was only a practice of reminding ourselves to be kind to others

before we climbed out of bed in the morning.

Suddenly, the scales fell from Diana’s eyes and she realised that she could

now forgive Gus for his appalling ineptitude, if not for his snoring.

He had been clumsy at their attempted reunion at The Longs Arms, but maybe

it had been down to nerves and possibly they could travel hopefully together

and arrive at the same destination one day- so long as it did not involve any

sharing of duvets, other than of the moral variety.

The Sage explained the etymology of the abstract noun, compassion.  It came

from com and pati, meaning to suffer together.

Having both taught for a number of years, they could empathise with each

others’ pain.  She determined to avail herself of any lessons that she might

be offered during the service, but she could sense that her transformation

had only just begun.  Pity that it sounded like a song from The Carpenters.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Crib Chibbed

04 Tuesday Dec 2012

Posted by Candia in Humour, Poetry, Religion, Social Comment

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Celtic, City of Culture, Drumchapel, epiphany, Frankincense, George Square Glasgow, Glasgow Coat Arms, Herod, Jack Glass, nativity crib, QC sherry, Rangers, Tiny Tears

This poem in Glaswegian dialect was inspired by the blasphemous theft of the baby Jesus out of the crib in George Square in 1995.  I mean, how low can you get?

(Wonder if this one is for Scots’ eyes only?)

12-Piece Olive Wood Nativity Set

Fell aff the back ae a camel ye say?

It’s no’ exactly Tiny Tears, is it?

Ideal stocking filler fur Christmas Day?

But it disnae wet its nappy, does it?

Tiny Tears 04.jpg

Ra polis’ll be roon at the Barras

tae see who it was that oot-Heroded

Herod, and made a’ the fowk as faur as

Drumchapel fair scunnered by whit some scum did.

 

No’ a town greatly given tae mangers,

nostalgia, pathos, Christianity;

more interested in Celtic, Rangers….

(their religion); used tae profanity.

But takin’ Christ fae innocent weans!

Whit-in-the-name kinda humanity

wi’d take away oor right tae be merry;

skedaddle wi’ it up their jooks, calmly?

Probably scruffs on the Q.C. Sherry;

sacrilege done tae the Holy Family!

Nae crib furra bed; nae Jesus either!

Glesca’s coat o’ arms wi’ Mungo’s motto

isnae respected nooadays neither.

They took the babe fur lead….oot the grotto;

wurnae bringin’ Gold, Myrhh, Frankincense.

Mind you, it could hae been Pastor Jack Glass-

he didnae like Catholic idolatry.

But naebdy’d spray-painted ‘The Pope Ya Bass’

on George Square’s shrine tae Mariolatary.

So jist suppose they didnae know where He’s laid-

mebbe the Almighty, wi’ indignation,

emptied the crib ‘cos they didnae deserve

epiphanies on Clydeside. A nation

apostate?  Mayhap He’s no goin’ tae serve

ony mair, but is coming back tae judge

The City of Culture….once so-called,

because they widnae gi’ up their ways, budge

an inch…frae posh Giffnock, tae Cumbernauld.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Epiphany (O Mega-town of Basingstoke)

20 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by Candia in Humour, Poetry, Suttonford

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Basingstoke, Basingstoke roundabouts, Beanie Baby, Damien HIrst, epiphany, Mcdonalds, Safeway, Teletubbies, Toys R Us

The Christmas lights have not yet appeared in Suttonford, but soon we will be pleasantly decorated in time for Santa’s arrival in the town.  Basingstoke will also be ablaze, but in a more gaudy fashion.  Here’s a tribute to a display in a former year.

Festival Place

EPIPHANY

O mega-town of Basingstoke,

how shrill we see you lie!

Above your phosphorescent glow

the silent stars go by.

Yet in your dark streets shineth

the Wondrous Light that draws some from the motorway,

yet fails to signpost Magi through your roundabouts’ array.

(Praise Him in the filament, anyway.)

In Toys R Us they’ll buy a Beanie Baby for the King;

from Mcdonald’s, a children’s meal

with a collectable key ring.

(Teletubbies are maybe not His sort of thing.)

Mary and Joseph, Rudolph and Pooh Bear

Watch o’er the child beloved and fair.

All is calm.  Sleeping in heavenly rest.

Most take taxis to avoid the breath test.

Mixed iconography screams houses into shrines:

iced Yuletide logs in lurid neon signs.

What shall I give Him, poor as I am?-

I’ll nick a Safeway trolley and use it as a pram.

Blest be that apple near the wheelie bin-

someone’s Last Supper on the lawn close to us:

the turkey carcase an oblation for sin?

A Damien Hirst Pax Hominibus?

 

God rest ye merry, Basingstoke,

you’ve always got The Anvil,

but it’s closed on Xmas Day

when the kids can be a handful.

While housewives wash male socks by night,

men get their flexes convoluted

and for the love of flashing Bambis

prepare to be electrocuted.

Away in a Manger, no crib for a bed,

the little Lord Jesus flashes green and then red.

The stars in the night sky have nothing on this-

Basingstoke’s Gloria in Excelsis.

 

  • The Anvil is Basingtoke’s Theatre.
  • Hartley, Harris , Manning: authors of above book.

 

 

 

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...
← Older posts

My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Recent Posts

  • Wedding in Sydney, NSW
  • Vertical Slice from my Previous Painting
  • Poole Pottery Breakfast Set
  • Avian Interest Can Creep in…
  • Frosty Day

Archives

  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012

Categories

  • Animals
  • Architecture
  • art
  • Arts
  • Autumn
  • Bible
  • Celebrities
  • Community
  • Crime
  • Education
  • Environment
  • Family
  • Fashion
  • Film
  • gardens
  • History
  • Home
  • Horticulture
  • Hot Wings
  • Humour
  • Industries
  • James Bond films
  • Jane Austen
  • Language
  • Literature
  • Media
  • Music
  • mythology
  • Nature
  • News
  • Nostalgia
  • Olympic Games
  • Parenting
  • Personal
  • Philosophy
  • Photography
  • Poetry
  • Politics
  • Psychology
  • Relationships
  • Religion
  • Romance
  • Satire
  • Sculpture
  • short story
  • short story
  • Social Comment
  • Sociology
  • Sport
  • Spring
  • St Swithun's Day
  • Summer
  • Summer 2012
  • Supernatural
  • Suttonford
  • television
  • Tennis
  • Theatre
  • Travel
  • urban farm
  • White Horse
  • winter
  • Writing

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

acrylic acrylic painting acrylics Alex Salmond Andy Murray Ashmolean Australia Autumn barge black and white photography Blenheim Border Terrier Boris Johnson Bourbon biscuit boussokusekika Bradford on Avon Brassica British Library Buscot Park charcoal Charente choka clerihew Coleshill collage Cotswolds David Cameron dawn epiphany Fairford FT funghi Genji George Osborne Gloucestershire Golden Hour gold leaf Hampshire herbaceous borders Hokusai husband hydrangeas Jane Austen Kelmscott Kirstie Allsopp Lechlade Murasaki Shikibu mushrooms National Trust NSW Olympics Oxford Oxfordshire Pele Tower Pillow Book Prisma reflections Roger Federer Sculpture Shakespeare sheep Spring Spring flowers still life Suttonford Tale of Genji Thames Thames path Theresa May Victoria watercolour William Morris willows Wiltshire Winchester Cathedral

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,569 other subscribers

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • Candia Comes Clean
    • Join 1,569 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Candia Comes Clean
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    %d bloggers like this: