Monday, July 22, 2019

Borrowed Scenery

"Borrowed Scenery" is a concept in landscape gardening and traditional Japanese and Chinese gardens (shakkei) in which the surrounds of your garden far beyond the borders is part of the visual "field" or "impact" of your garden - everything looks more expansive and lusher than it actually is, because you can see the scenery beyond. The trouble with "borrowed scenery" is that people can take it away. When I bought my house two years ago, one of the things that most attracted me to it was the fact that the garden, though small and pokey, was a green oasis thanks to the hedge and trees in the garden behind me. The people who owned the house had filled it with greenery, and that greenery was mine by extension. That house sold a couple of months ago, and yesterday morning as I was getting ready for work I heard the new owners talking to some gardeners about "tidying all this up". I was worried they might cut things back so much that it would let the street lights from the highway cut through. It was dark when I got home last night, so I wasn't fully aware of what had happened. I did notice that I had more light in my house than normal, so I thought they'd cut things back as I had feared. They got rid of the hedge. And two lovely lili pili trees that made it so nice to sit on my porch and look at the greenness. Also, instead of a bank of green things filled with flowers, I now see the side of my neighbours' house - including their sensor lights. Thankfully, I let my own lili pilis get bushy and overgrown, because otherwise the yard would feel completely exposed. As I was standing in my garden this morning, commiserating with the two sunbirds who have been living in the hedge that's now gone, I found myself feeling completely bereft. It wasn't my hedge, but it was part of my garden, and now it's gone and my garden looks so sparse without it. Plus, the birds are now missing a major food source. We both sort of looked at each other as if to say "why would anybody do this?" I know that all things are impermanent. I know the hedge and trees weren't mine to keep. I know that all that I can do now is try to plant something with lots of flowers to give the birds a reason to stick around. I know I should accept it and roll with it... But right now I look at the side of a building when I used to look at a lovely green bush and feel incredibly saddened. Part of me knew this day could come - I just hoped the neighbours would realise the hedge was a benefit to them (not just me) for many reasons. But still, when I got into my car this morning and looked at the side of my neighbours' house, I realised that without that hedge, I probably wouldn't have bought my house.

I don't have great photos of what it looked like "before", but imagine a bank of flowering plants so high you couldn't see the roof of the house behind me, and then you might appreciate why the "after" photo hurts so much:




Tuesday, April 16, 2019

What’s for Dinner?

By Steven Groves from Denver, CO,
United States of America
Sammie, CC BY 2.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/
w/index.php?curid=48825930

I’ve been struggling to find something I want to eat lately. For a few months now, I get to mealtime, think to myself, “I’m hungry, I should probably eat something,” and then spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what I actually want to eat. Most of the time I end up dismissing what I don’t want to eat and picking the least objectionable of what’s left. I can’t say I often enjoy what I end up eating, either.

For a while I went through a phase where all I really felt like eating was a sandwich, but my mother assured me I couldn’t have sandwiches for every meal. I gave it a shot, but then I got sick of the sandwiches. I don’t think that’s what she was getting at, but that’s what happened. I have to admit, though, I still get to a point most evenings where the only thing stopping me from giving up on “real” food and eating a ham sandwich instead is the fact that I don’t currently have any ham.

It gets especially annoying when I’m in a food court or something and I’m surrounded by options I don’t particularly want. Then I also baulk at the amount of money I’ll be paying for the privilege of eating something that I don’t actually want to eat.

It’s not a problem when I’m over someone’s house and they’re feeding me. I don’t have to want it, I just have to say “thank you,” and politely eat it. That actually works for me.

I don’t know that I’ve lost my appetite. I still feel hungry, and I still eat a full meal most of the time. I just can’t think of a single thing I actually want to eat, and largely just end up picking something I should eat instead. When I get especially stumped, I just eat breakfast. I have the same thing for breakfast every morning with minor variations, and if I could figure out what I’d stomach on high rotation for lunch and dinner every day I’d probably try to repeat that formula (maybe a sandwich?).

What would really work for me is some sort of dining hall or refectory, where I pay some sort of subscription for the “meal of the day”. If they could also give me a packed lunch every day, that would be awesome. I keep fantasising about simply turning up to a counter, saying “today’s special, thanks” and that’s it – dinner is sorted.

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

Steal this idea: The Lighthouse Project

The universe steals a lot of my ideas and gives them to people who are more likely to do something with them. I'm okay with that, but sometimes I feel it needs a nudge with the redistribution. The idea is worth having, but I'm not the person who can execute it. So I invite anyone who can to steal the ideas I offer and make them happen.

This one is for the creation of a charity (or NPC): 

The Lighthouse Project.

The gift of space

The institution I work for is one of several places that have a multi-faith chaplaincy. There is a chaplaincy team that provides spiritual support for anyone who needs it, regardless of which religion they belong to (even if they don't belong to one at all). This in itself is quite nice, but the MFC does something else which is (in my opinion) more tangibly useful: they provide a space.

The Chaplaincy building provides a space for groups to meet that they wouldn't be able to afford otherwise. Small faith groups, that don't really have the numbers to be able to qualify as a "congregation" or an "organisation", but still need a place to meet and share their faith together. I'm talking about things like a Tibetan Buddhist group that sometimes has as many as eight people, but normally only has three. Or a Christian denomination from a refugee community that barely rustles up ten people on a good day.

These groups wouldn't be able to hire a space, but thanks to the MFC, they're able to book a room and get together to practise their faith and do a spot of community building.  The MFC building also has rooms for meditation and a Muslim prayer room.

It's a fantastic service. Unfortunately it has no money and the building is in serious need of some work. I've been there a couple of times myself to use the meditation room, and I felt not so much "restored" as "bummed out" by my time in that space. I keep thinking fondly of a couple of other chapels I've visited in the past few years, which had a light bright feeling to them and a pleasant outlook from the windows. A pleasant space can make a world of difference when you are seeking spiritual balm.

The curse of space

Now, at the same time, I've been part of several conversations in a few different churches over the years talking about the problem of buildings. Once upon a time, everyone went to church on a Sunday. There may have been a few people who didn't, but most people did - so it made perfect financial sense to have church buildings in every community.

These days the attendance numbers are so low that you can have a church building capable of holding over 200 people that only sees about 30 on a Sunday morning. You might also have an evening service (but, increasingly, most churches don't), and you might have a midweek prayer group or bible study in the church itself - but really most non-Sunday-morning activities for the majority of churches happen in the hall (and that's a whole 'nother building!).

It's worse in the country towns, where there weren't that many people to start off with, the population keeps dropping, and now most people don't attend church on a Sunday morning.

So now you get situations where a small country town has (at a conservative estimate) at least three church buildings (Catholic, Anglican, Presbyterian - maybe also Baptist and a couple of others) which are all largely empty for most of the week. Since some of these churches are being run by dioceses that can only afford to send a priest along once a month, they're largely empty for most of the month. 

In the meantime, the congregations and churches who own the buildings are still paying rates and insurance and trying to keep up with maintenance on buildings that they can't really afford any more.

The gift of space

So, here's my idea for a charity:  The Lighthouse Project.

The Lighthouse Project will be in the "business" of providing a space for all religious/faith groups that need one. They will provide and maintain a building with at least one auditorium and a number of smaller meeting rooms (and a few meditation/prayer rooms). They will be responsible for keeping the building nice and maintaining a garden space to give it good vibes.

Instead of driving themselves bankrupt trying to maintain all of their separate "God Boxes" (as a priest I was talking to once referred to them), the mainstream churches (Catholics, Anglicans, Presbyterians, etc) can hire the Lighthouse in the town. You could probably fit at least six services in the building on the weekend for different denominations, and the meeting rooms would be available to take all of those activities that would happen in the church halls. Other community groups would be able to hire out the space during the week, for running conferences and what have you.

With many hands making light work, the cost of running services in the Lighthouse should be much easier to bear than the cost of maintaining a church, a hall and a vicarage/presbytery/manse/whatever.

The money charged to the "big" faith groups would enable the building to be provided to the small groups (the ones that can't afford to rent a space) free of charge.

The Lighthouse can also provide a secretariat service which is (once again) paid for by the larger groups in order to offer a charitable service to the smaller ones. No longer do small faith groups who have approximately five members - all over the age of 60 and largely computer illiterate - have to work out how to maintain their own website. They can just have a page on the Lighthouse's website, run and maintained by the Lighthouse's staff, so all they need to do is provide up-to-date information.*

A multi-faith space

Essentially, the Lighthouse Project is a multi-faith chaplaincy on steroids. I see a future with a Lighthouse in every town - a beautiful building that provides a pleasant space for people of every faith.


*Yes, I know they will almost never do this.