These are the things...

Easter Sunday 2011

I decided I would go to the organic markets at Northey Street.  The morning was warm and flush with sunlight as I walked to the bus station and from the bus stop to the markets.

I've always enjoyed myself at the markets, catching up with some friends and several acquaintances as we sit for hours under the trees with our cups of coffee or chai that have been trained to last long.

Meanwhile, kettles and a newly installed coffee machine hiss and gurgle earnestly in the hub of this marketplace as the queue for hot beverages and toast extends and shrinks across the dirt track and cracked concrete.

Every now and again, a name is called out and someone rushes over eagerly to collect their order.  It's all very grass roots-y. 

The dress code here is casual hippie.  Yes, I mean casual-hippie.  Dreadlocks, leather sandals, rubber thongs, fisherman pants, t-shirts making statements such as 'Worms grow here' and 'I could be your father', halter necks, beads and toe rings all seem to land evenly and congenially on this flood-prone plot of land that has been successfully turned into an organic farm.

Under the trees, magic seems to happen as traders trade and purchasers purchase and conversations are struck on matters ranging from sovereign rights, Law of Attraction, spiritual transcendence, relationships, babies and pure coconut oil from Fiji to solar panels and their wattage limitations.

Masseurs of exotic disciplines and esoteric traditions seem to be constantly occupied as are the owners of my favorite stall.

That's the one where you're likely to order a milk or coconut based shake that you'd thus far, never encountered, comprising, as you choose, ingredients as varied as figs, mint and watermelon.

In this rustic setting,, however, and given the privilege of peddle-blending your own shake on a stationary bicycle equipped with a motorized blender, you know you'd be missing out if you didn't extend your palate.

I've asked the owners when they'll be ready to sell me one of those bicycles.

'We're still improving the design'  they tell me, assuring me that it's not at all difficult to put together.

Hmm...I can do some things but this???  I don't think so.   So I've called on hope instead.

When I'd had my fill of the markets, I made my way to the city.  There were two shops I wanted to go to.  JB Hi-Fi, where a sound card reader was waiting for my collection - one I'd ordered for my new netbook (Oh yeah!).  The other, Rivers, where I was hoping to check out a pair of shoes that were on special.  Neither store was open.

But, as often happens in the mall, there was free entertainment.  Today, under a canopy of greying sky, a trio of two lasses and a lad were singing and playing music of a distinctly Celtic flavor.

Ah, someone must have been eavesdropping on my dreams of late where I'm lost in the enchanted idylls of Scotland :).  My smile stayed with me the rest of the day :)

A change in the flavor of the music finally broke the spell I'd willingly gone under, so off I went to the only other store I felt like going to - a kind of warehouse filled with discounted books, painting and other art and craft materials and toys.

How rich and moving it all felt to me, as if my soul's prayer had been answered - to be in the company of those things that it longs to indulge in.  I was sure my tears emerged  from an entangled mesh of joy and relief.

These are the things that we simply cannot afford to put aside and yet we do.  These are the things we need to give most time to and yet we don't.  These are the things that stir up joy within us and yet, we foolishly dismiss them as 'nice but not necessary'.  Fools are we!  Or at least I am.

I spent time fondling, squeezing (for sounds) and silently talking to several soft toys that caught my child's eye. I heard myself thinking that I was experiencing some of the childhood I'd never had, one bereft of cuddly toys.  Actually, one bereft of cuddles and hugs too.  A childhood poor in material but mostly in spirit, the latter plundered by a mentally disturbed parent. 

Still, I smiled thankful that I was experiencing that unknown childhood  now.  Thankful that I could.  Thankful, in fact, for all of my life, all of this day, all that I have become and all that I am becoming.

I am rich indeed!

A Blueprint for Civilization's Starter Kit???

Stuff like this excites me!  Here's Marcin Jakubowski (in the legion of Pranav Mistry)

Does the C-word bring out the best or the worst in you?

I recently responded to a question in a discussion forum relating to that C-word.  You know, the one that's known to bring out the best in some and the worst in others while leaving the majority clueless, indifferent or vicarious wannabe-s.  I'm talking about Competition.

Yes, it's something that I can't claim to have had a good relationship with.  Matter of fact, I've pretty much excluded it from my vocabulary except when explaining why, of course :).  However, I'm interested to know how you feel about competition. 

Let's face it, governments and businesses claim that the economy would suffer to the point of extinction without it.  And, truth be told, I am probably complicit in the survival of competition.  I mean, I do tend to shop where I believe things are cheapest.  Go on, call me a hypocrite.

But perhaps it's not quite as it seems?  You see, I shop where it's cheapest for these reasons:

1.  That's pretty much what I can afford
2.  That's pretty much what I'm willing to pay
3.  I don't believe that I should pay any more and we wouldn't have to if most businesses weren't out to make a profit (and please read *profit* in terms of consumer demand as well as the supply of resources - people and other- from a position of disadvantage).

So, am I really complicit?  Perhaps. 

I'm deliberately ambivalent here because, as I see it,  my intention is not to help put anyone out of business.  On the contrary, I can see that often, it helps the biggest profit-makers make even more profit since they are the ones who can afford to sell at the lower/more *competitive* prices.

Effectively, I gain wrt my immediate needs and desires but not wrt my broader, more humanitarian aspirations. 

I suppose I could raise a similar (and equally unconvincing) argument with respect to voting in governments who take their countries to war.  I don't want to go to war but it's part of the total election package, which overall, provides me with more benefits than losses .  It's too bad about the war thing. which, of course, I don't support.  Besides, I wouldn't give my vote to any of the other contenders...

Oh, look, I'm veering well off the topic of competition but I just thought I'd mention that war point since I talked about complicity (another C-word, in case you hadn't noticed :)).

Anyways, back to Competition.  Aside from the competition in the so-called *free* market, there are many other instances of competition.  Like I said earlier, even though I may be inadvertently complicit, I don't enjoy a very good relationship with Competition.  Here's why as I explained in my response at the discussion forum to a question about the 'ups and downs of competition':

The only logical reason I would have for entering a competition is to win. This effectively means that I need to do better than everyone else who enters that competition, however *better* is defined. It puts me right off.

I begin to feel anxious and my confidence and interest rapidly decline as I am certain that even though I would be doing my best, there could always be someone else who is *better*. That someone will win and I will not. All my effort and achievement will pale into insignificance in the blinding light of someone else's achievement. It's not a nice feeling at all.

To compete means to try and outdo others. I haven't yet found this a joyous thing.

Why do we have to try and outdo others? I guess for some people it may be an effective way to bring out the *best* in them. So far, it hasn't done this for me.

For me, my best is not a one-dimensional achievement but something that impacts on several aspects of my life in a holistic sort of way. It results in a sense of fulfillment that transcends my personal wellbeing and joy to the wellbeing and joy of others.

You could say that I feel I'm doing my best when what I do has a positive impact on myself as well as on others. In other words, I feel I'm doing my best when I'm contributing with harmony and joy. My experience of competitions to date has rarely been anchored in harmony and joy.

If, however, my motivation for doing something is to see how far I can go regardless of how far others have gone or may go, then I believe that I can (and do) do this without having to compete. I'm always *challenging* (I prefer *inviting* and *inspiring*) myself everyday in little ways. I am also inspired by others, including children. To respond from inspiration is a much kinder and loving way to treat myself and it allows me to enjoy the flow-on effects on others.

If, on the other hand, competition actually means *inspiration* then, hey, I'll be first in line (how's that for a bit of good ol' pushin' and shovin' :)) 

What are your thoughts?  I promise I won't be rewarding winners and punishing losers :)

Should we observe rituals before cutting down a tree?

A customer came into my store yesterday wearing a tee-shirt with a picture of a tree through which there were three horizontal lines marked Past, Present and Future. 

 Image from Threadibles

The top, green part represents the condition of trees, and by implication, the condition of our planet in the past.  The middle bit represents their current declining circumstance and the bottom bit their fate if business as usual rules.

It prompted a conversation in which he and his wife lamented the chopping down of a native tree in their body-corporate managed residential complex.  This, the man said, with deep emotion, despite pleas not to.  He was feeling particularly discouraged about the fate of our environment but managed to ask me if I had an affinity for trees.

Do I ever!  I shared with him two things that reflect my affinity with trees.  The first was that, as a child, I spent countless hours sitting on my back doorstep absorbed in the presence of the graceful and majestic trees that lined the street by my house.  They were hours of deep solace for me during a time in my life when domestic violence and turmoil were a certain part of the daily diet.

The other thing that I shared which was more recent was a sight that literally stopped me in my tracks.  I was walking up a hill towards the main street when a truck went charging past with its burden of pine logs that had been cut, shaped and *treated*. 

The sight of those logs, taken from trees that had been castrated and left with no dignity filled me with anguish.  I stood still, reeling from the pain that I felt for those trees and their brutal treatment.  It is an image that I have not forgotten and that brought tears to my eyes even as I described it to my customer.

When some people speak of the spirit of trees, I have a sense of what they mean.  After all, all beings arise from the same source, the same power that pervades the entire universe.  I became interested in how these people relate to non-human forms such as trees, rocks, rivers and all the other aspects of nature that most of us ignore or simply take for granted. 

I've read about druidism and am fascinated by the relationships between humans and other life forms in various cultures.  I especially love finding out about the rituals that are practiced. 

I have long abandoned the crude distinctions that I was taught in school and university about *living* and *non-living* things as well as *intelligent* and, by implication, *unintelligent* life forms.

But my recent conversation at work prompted me to look up the rituals for tree-cutting and here's one that I found relating to the Lumads in the Philippines:

Lumads also observe rituals before cutting down trees especially if these are believed to be inhabited by powerful spirits. An example is the balete tree the cutting of which is prohibited as a rule. If the tree grows in a farm lot and it becomes necessary to cut it down, the farmer gives offerings to the spirit-dweller and interprets his response. If the offerings remain untouched it means the spirit has agreed to transfer to another tree and the tree may be felled. But if the offerings are scattered, it means the spirit has turned down the request to cut down his dwelling place.

 This is the full article, A Glimpse of Indegenous Resource Management.

Do you have an affinity with trees?
Do you believe that the same life force pervades all of life?
Do you think that a ritual for tree-cutting should be encouraged?

I''d love to know :)

There's nothing I wish to add to this

Published on ShanghaiDaily.com (http://www.shanghaidaily.com/)  
 http://www.shanghaidaily.com/article/?id=467066&type=Opinion    
EDITOR'S note:                                                  

THIS letter, written by Vietnamese immigrant Ha Minh Thanh   working in
Fukushima as a policeman to a friend in Vietnam, was 
 posted on New America Media on March 19. It is a testimonial to   the
strength of the Japanese spirit, and an interesting slice of
 life near the epicenter of Japan 's crisis at the Fukushima   nuclear
power plant. It was translated by NAM editor Andrew Lam,
 author of "East Eats West: Writing in Two Hemispheres." Shanghai
Daily condensed it.                                             
                                                                 
 Brother,                                              ;           
                                                                 
 How are you and your family? These last few days, everything was   in
chaos. When I close my eyes, I see dead bodies. When I open my  eyes, I
also see dead bodies.                          
                                             
 Each one of us must work 20 hours a day, yet I wish there were 48
hours in the day, so that we could continue helping and rescuing
folks.                                                         
                                                        
 We are without water and electricity, and food rations are near   zero.
We barely manage to move refugees before there are new    
 orders to move them elsewhere.                                  
                                                               
 I am currently in Fukushima , about 25 kilometers away from the nuclear
power plant. I have so much to tell you that if I could 
 write it all down, it would surely turn into a novel about human
relationships and behaviors during times of crisis.             
                                                                
 People here remain calm - their sense of dignity and proper behavior
are very good - so things aren't as bad as they could  
 be. But given another week, I can't guarantee that things won't   get
to a point where we can no longer provide proper protection 
 and order.                                                      
                                                                
 They are humans after all, and when hunger and thirst override
dignity, well, they will do whatever they have to do. The       
 government is trying to provide supplies by air, bringing in food  and
medicine, but it's like dropping a little salt into the     
 ocean.                                                          
                                                                
 Brother, there was a really moving incident. It involves a little
Japanese boy who taught an adult like me a lesson on how to     
 behave like a human being.                                      
                                                               
 Last night, I was sent to a little grammar school to help a charity
organization distribute food to the refugees. It was a  long line that
snaked this way and that and I saw a little boy  around 9 years old. He
was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of   shorts.

                                                           
 It was getting very cold and the boy was at the very end of the   line.
I was worried that by the time his turn came there wouldn't
 be any food left. So I spoke to him. He said he was at school when the
earthquake happened. His father worked nearby and was  
 driving to the school. The boy was on the third floor balcony   when he
saw the tsunami sweep his father's car away.            
                                                                 
 I asked him about his mother. He said his house is right by the  beach
and that his mother and little sister probably didn't make
 it. He turned his head and wiped his tears when I asked about his
relatives.                                                      
                                                                 
 The boy was shivering so I took off my police jacket and put it on him.
That's when my bag of food ration fell out. I picked it 
 up and gave it to him. "When it comes to your turn, they might   run
out of food. So here's my portion. I already ate. Why don't 
 you eat it?"                                                    
                                                                 
 The boy took my food and bowed. I thought he would eat it right away,
but he didn't. He took the bag of food, went up to where  
 the line ended and put it where all the food was waiting to be
distributed.                                                    
                                                                 
 I was shocked. I asked him why he didn't eat it and instead added it to
the food pile. He answered: "Because I see a lot more     
 people hungrier than I am. If I put it there, then they will
distribute the food equally."                                   
                                                                 
 When I heard that I turned away so that people wouldn't see me cry.

                                                                 
 A society that can produce a 9-year-old who understands the concept of
sacrifice for the greater good must be a great       
 society, a great people.                             
                                                                 
 Well, a few lines to send you and your family my warm wishes. The hours
of my shift have begun again.                             
                                                                 
 Ha Minh Thanh    

If I wasn't afraid of....what would I be doing right now?

Have you ever felt afraid? 

Of course, duh, you say (or think as you read this).  What a silly question!

Of course you’ve felt fear. You and I both know that.  But, fear is a masterful disguise artist, one who appears in so many different forms that often, he goes unrecognized.  By you.   And me, of course.

To be sure, you and I have, at some point or other, probably been afraid of

• not having enough money
• suffering some terrible illness
• being betrayed or taken for granted
• feeling lonely
• losing someone we love
• public speaking
• failing at something e.g. an exam or job application/interview
• being attacked or molested or abused

I’m sure the list could go on.  But, what about the things that seem so insignificant and arise so surreptitiously in the course of our daily lives that we don’t even recognize them as experiences of fear?

Like the fear of getting my lovely watch wet if I chose to walk in the rain, which incidentally, I did yesterday?  Walk home in the rain, that is, having first taken the precaution of tucking my watch into my backpack :)

Or the fear of what might happen if I didn’t get in touch with my daughter on the weekend?  

Or the fear of making custard that was lumpy?

Or the fear of wasting my life away?

You see, the difference between these fears and the ones in my list is that the former are more fleeting.  They arise as thoughts and feelings that are often quickly overridden by other more immediate demands on my attention or more immediate action (which may simply mask or suppress the fear rather than deal with it). 

It’s not that the ones in my list never leave my conscious attention.  They do. But they are so strong and persistent that I’m assured they’ll return sooner or later.  And, morbid as this may sound, it is almost reassuring! 

I know I’ll get a chance to tackle them or to at least acknowledge that they are *real* and potentially dangerous.  In other words, they’re not hidden from me and, to that extent, I feel I have some control.  Not over them, necessarily but in relation to them, whatever that means.

But the more subtle, fleeting, inconspicuous fears that stream through my mind, like the fear I had of getting my writing out of the way before my friend, J, turned up this afternoon – afraid that he might see it on my computer screen.  Not something I would have wanted as it was rather personal stuff.

Being aware of this fear and realizing, not for the first time, that there are so many of these types of unrecognized fears that are forever flushing through my mind and spirit made we wonder how much erosion they actually cause.

The big, recognizable fears are potentially erosive, I don’t doubt.  But at least I am aware of them and can take steps to deal with them.  But these little, silent fear experiences that I am only momentarily aware of do cause damage.  Rather like odorless fly sprays or roach bombs.

Over time, they cause me to attempt less, be wary of more, feel less free and settle for a whole lot less in life.  I know this to be true when I reflect over my life and consider the things I’ve avoided doing, the friends I’ve avoided making, the opportunities I’ve passed on and the things I’ve chosen to be skeptical about.

Collectively, they have prevented me from living fully and freely.  Damn!

So today, upon the most recent recognition of a fear, I asked myself:

If I didn’t have this fear, what would I be doing right now?  And how would I be feeling?  

I can tell you I felt exhilarated by my answers :)

How about you?  Are there any subtle, masterfully disguised, surreptitious fear bombs that you have been (momentarily) aware of?  Do you think they have eroded the quality of your life?  What have you done about them?  Do you think that just because they are fleeting, they have little effect?

I’d love to know, as always :)

Is the reporting of human disaster on TV looking more and more like entertainment to you?

I’ve noticed something and wonder if you have too.  Increasingly, disasters, whether *natural* or *man-made* are  broadcast on television rather like entertainment.

The repeated images, the attention-grabbing headlines and promotional taglines, the entertainment style delivery by newsreaders and program announcers of news bulletins charged with superlatives and provocative metaphors, the ticker-tape, so-called up-to-the-minute, yet repetitive, bite-sized, twitter-type news updates at the bottom of your screen…

You’d be forgiven if you thought it was information you simply could not afford to miss.  And by golly, they don’t let you.  Well, as long as you have your television on.

Let’s be fair here, you can turn the darn thing off.  And I do.  But when I do turn it on once a day to see the news (not an entirely unreasonable thing to do, wouldn't you agree?),  I am offended by the treatment of seriously catastrophic news as if it were entertainment.  I mean, one rarely has time for dramatic pauses and marketing worthy headlines and scripts when one sees tragedy or is sincerely and respectfully reporting it.  

The tragedy itself draws our attention and our somber regard and empathy for those involved.  There seems neither need nor place for the kind of melodramatic broadcasts that one expects and gets in the promotion of entertainmen.  In fact, I think it’s downright disrespectful and objectionable.  

Worse still, with all this kind of *reporting* and *broadcasts*, I find myself actually morbidly looking forward to the next worse catastrophe that is feared to unfold.  

‘How many more people will have died?  19 is too small a toll for a disaster of this proportion.’

‘Can we see images of people affected by the nuclear plant explosion?  I wonder what they will look like?’

‘Oh, wow, look at the height of that tidal wave!  Oh, look at those boats crashing into each other!  Oh, gosh, look at all those cars floating in the water and the trucks just tumbling over like tonka trucks’.

Are these some of my thoughts and reactions?  

Yes, they are.  But some of them (like the ‘tonka truck’ analogy) have been found fit to be broadcast.

How different is watching disaster reportage on television to watching an action movie or thriller?  Or people playing violent video games? 

Are you similarly affected by this as I am?  What are your thoughts?