When I grow up...

A little while ago, a friend asked all of his friends what we want to be when we grow up. Not what we "wanted" to be, back when we were kids, but what we "want" to be - as if "growing up" is still ahead of us. He's in his forties. So are most of his friends. I think it was a little bitter-sweet joke acknowledging that most Gen Xers still feel a little lost after all these years. We never did figure out what we were supposed to be. We still feel like kids, waiting to see what happens when we grow up.

But then I realised, I *am* grown up. This is me. Grown up. Sure, I'm only partway through the process. I still have a lot of growing up to do. But this *is* my life. I'm not waiting for it to begin like some Disney Princess. I'm living it, and I'm not wasting it. I'm learning new things every day. I'm spending time with friends and family. I'm making myself useful to the best of my ability. I have a job I wouldn't have planned on when I was a kid, but I love it (most of the time). I am grown up. And I am growing up. It's not something that's going to happen in the future, it's something that has been happening the whole time and is happening as we speak.

I think my generation has been sold this weird idea that one day we'll have it "together", and that day hasn't come yet. We won't. We'll always be a work in progress. And if we stop comparing ourselves to the life we think our parents had at our age (but they probably never had it "together" either), we might realise that we're constantly moving through different versions of being "grown up" - and that's okay.

And we need to stop comparing what we have now with what we wanted/want to be "when we grow up". Because we each have stuff happening in our lives right now that's worth wanting. These are the best years of our lives - and that might sound depressing if you're not where you thought you'd be, but think about the awesome things that you have in your life right now. Not about what you wanted, not about what you thought you'd have, but about what you *do* have that's genuinely good.

When we spend our lives waiting for the perfect wave, rather than riding the one we have right now, we let our life bob away underneath us without paying attention - without enjoying those little waves as they come. I want to say "we need to stop waiting to become something else before we start living our lives", but the point I actually need to make here is that we *are* living our lives. It's just time to engage willingly in the process.

This is not 108

A thought recently popped into my head that blew my mind a little.

Facebook was advertising Mala beads to me, which have 108 beads. Some people say it's because 1 has a certain meaning, 0 has a certain meaning and 8 has a certain meaning.

But I suddenly realised (late to the game, I know, but maths isn't my strength) one hundred and eight and one-zero-eight aren't the same thing.

One is an amount, the other a sequence or a series. You could replace 108 as a number with a word that means one hundred and eight things (I shall call it "a shiffle" - as in, a set of Mala beads consists of a shiffle of beads, and a shiffle of onions is way too many onions). Where as I could replace the sequence 108 with any series of words or symbols (starfish-apricot-tractor).

It gets even further away from numbers when you think of 108 as being (as the yoga magazine I read recently suggested) that it's sort of a sequence of actual symbols. A solid line for ultimate truth, A circle for inherent emptiness, and an infinite loop for timelessness. Or the classic binary sequence of 1 (everything) 0 (nothing) plus infinity (it's an infinity symbol on it's side). So you could have exactly three beads and it would still "mean" 108.

108 and 108 (and, possibly, 108) are two (maybe three) completely different things that just happen to share the same three figures (and the same set of beads).

And now I'm going down a Derridan wormhole if signifier/signified, phenomenonolgy vs structuralism crap, and I really need to get more sleep.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

A leash is a brace and a half

Something I learned today: Brace (two), leash/lease (three), dozen (twelve), score (20), century (100) are known as "secondary numerals". Exclusive numerals (one, two, three, etc) sort of concrete in a language and don't change - the proper English word for "two" is always "two" - but secondary numerals let us play with the language, so instead of two we could have a brace, a couple or a pair. These are also words for sets of a particular number, rather than actual numbers, which is why you refer to them as "a brace" and "a dozen" and why you can count them even though they already refer to numbers - "a leash is a brace and a half", "three score years and ten". Depending on your dialect of English, they have irregular plurals (like deer, sheep and fish), so you have "three dozen", "five score", or "two pair", but several "dozens", "scores" or "pairs". But now I'm wondering if "a pair of braces" is redundant, because "pair" means two and "brace" means two, or if the word "braces" in this context means "something that braces" - as in supports...

The trouble with food

I've basically hit a point where food is too hard and I don't want to do it any more. It brings me very little joy, and far too much trouble.

Pretty much everything available to eat fits in one of three categories:

• Food that will cause me pain, or is otherwise no good for me
• Food that is produced in such a way it causes suffering and misery, or negatively impacts the environment
• Food I really just don't like - as in, I find the taste or texture entirely unpleasant.

That's it - that's what I'm eating these days. Things that hurt my body, things that hurt my soul or things that make me gag.

I sit down for a meal knowing that if I actually enjoy it, I'll pay for it later. Or I'll spend the entire time I'm eating it feeling like I'm committing some sort of betrayal I need to apologise or atone for in some way. Sometimes both. Actually, often both.

If I could find a small group of foods that provided the nourishment a human body needs without hurting anyone, and be palatable for a long period of time, I could just feed myself like some people feed their cats - put the same food in front of myself day after day and feel confident that even though it's not enjoyable, it's at least doing the job.

I have IBS, which means my gut reacts strongly to foods that humans struggle to process. Apparently my intestines are kicking me for eating things that give other people mild discomfort. One of the main ways to control IBS is to find your trigger foods and just eat fewer of them. So slowly but surely I'm eating less and less food that's tasty and nutritious. Eating too many of the wrong kinds of vegetables can see me floored with abdominal pains for most of the next day.

It feels like a zero sum game.

At least, that's what I've been told most recently, that I have IBS. I was also once told I couldn't possibly have IBS because it's not a real thing, and I must have functional dyspepsia. That doctor, I'm reasonably sure, told me that because I had suggested IBS as a possibility after reading about it in a magazine (so of course it must be anything but that - can't have patients diagnosing themselves, now, can we?).

I found out a few years later that "functional" basically means you don't have a reason for it, just symptoms. Which, to my mind, sounds a little bit like throwing your hands up in the air and saying "well, I dunno - it's probably all in your head."

But I read just recently that IBS is a "functional" condition as well. And this article that I read also pointed out that "functional" means the problem is with the way something functions - like a malfunctioning piece of firmware rather than a damaged piece of hardware.

All of which is making me wonder whether I've got the wrong end of the stick, when it comes to trying to avoid pain. Maybe I should just eat the "delicious and nutritious" food that's good fuel for the machine and doesn't make me miserable, and then find a way to simply disguise/squash/shut up my stomach when it complains, rather than trying to avoid upsetting it in the first place.

Of course, I'll probably try this technique and then find out that I've actually got some sort of hideous auto-immune condition that I should have been treating this whole time, instead of covering up my symptoms and hoping they go away.

But I've got to do something. Food has become thoroughly depressing and I'm beginning to dread it.

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:

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.

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.