Feathers


Today I’ve been in the caravan all day nursing the last vestiges of a cold. Watching telly mainly. And now thinking about Lent. And this time of Lingering. 

What’s come to mind is something that happened in Hull nearly 10 years ago….

Place des Anges rains feathers on city
A free aerial acrobatic event showered the centre of Hull with feathers. Place des Anges, in Queens Gardens involved performers dressed as flying angels. Acrobats glided on wires high above the city's buildings and released 1.5 tonnes of feathers on spectators. A total of 10,000 free tickets had been distributed for the event.
BBC News, 3rd July 2016



It was a brilliant night and I whooped throughout it. What stayed with me most though was the sight of all the feathers in the city centre the next day. Like carpets of snow. Some even travelled as far as North Bransholme. And over the next few weeks, they just kept turning up, all over the city.


So I’ve been thinking about that. And all those feathers. Felt like Hull was being love-bombed but not in a weird way. In a good good way. Wondering how to love this city. Be like those feathers.


Which has reminded me of a writing workshop a few years back. Where we were asked to pick an object and consider the question:  How does the object represent support to me and for others? 

So I picked a feather and pondered….

“Feather. As light as a feather. Weightless, carried by the breeze. One among others. When one feather falls, it falls alone but many feathers together can fly.

A feather has beauty and fragility. A means of covering and of transport. A tool to write with. Something to tickle with; myself, each other, into life and laughter.

“I’m just a feather on the breath of God.” Hildegard of Bingen.

Wahoooooo. Light as a feather. A gathering of feathers. A winged community.

We lift each other up and we hold each other when we’re down. Cover each other with our feathers. A gentle, nurturing shield. A safe nesty place. Where love gives us courage to take risks and fly.”

There's much in that that feels apt for now. For this Lenten Lingering. This light, gentle, covering of a time. Where we can lift and inspire each other as we go out and about and love this place. Through our friendships, creativity, tiredness, joys, griefs, glories, laments and lingerings. Wherever we're at, it's all good. And all welcome. 

Glad to be here again.

Fiona P