Looking for Quakers in all the wrong places

I think I've previously written about Quakers (or the Religious Society of Friends) in at least one of my blogs.

Some time ago I read a memoir written by a Quaker that was all about the life lessons he'd learnt growing up in that faith community.

I liked what I read, so I borrowed books about Quakerism from my library.  These books were all old, and contained writings from various Quaker preachers, adherents and philosophers over the past few hundred years - up to about the 1920s.

I didn't read anywhere near enough to become an expert on the subject, but I read enough to realise that I liked this version of Christianity.

I grew up in a Pentecostal denomination that I found too intense, confining and (let's face it) delusional.  I came to Anglicanism because I (perhaps ironically) found it was a simpler, cleaner version of Christianity than the one I grew up with.

Yeah, I know, it's supposed to work the other way:  Flee the crusty old Church with it's crusty old liturgy and find freedom in the Pentecostal movement.

There's no pretensions in the Anglican Church.  They know they weren't founded by some prophet who knew the One Right Way to fulfil the will of God.  They're just jobbing Christians, getting on with it.  There's something beautiful about that.

It's what I needed them to be in order to give my own Christian faith a shot in the arm.

But the Quakers offered something else.  Something I found highly attractive - enforced simplicity.

Take away all of the guff that surrounds Christianity and focus on the very basics.  Be still and listen.  Look for the best in each other, try to do what's right.  Simplicity.  Equality.  Charity.  Integrity.  Peace.

This was a version of Christianity I really wanted to connect with.  It seemed like a great way to really get to the heart of what Christianity is all about:  Following the example of Christ and learning from his teachings as you try to build a closer relationship with God.

The first Quaker service I ever attended was a great experience.  I really enjoyed it.  After the service itself there was a "bull session" of sorts where we mulled over one of the Advices and Queries that specifically asked what role Christ played in our lives.

The second Quaker service made it clear that Christ doesn't play a big role in the lives of many Quakers in Australia.  It seems today's Quakers are so fond of diversity that believing in Christ is optional.  In fact, there seemed to be a sense that Christianity makes people uncomfortable, so it's downplayed as much as possible.  That first service I attended was something of an anomaly.

Look up the websites of the major Quaker organisations in Australia, New Zealand and the UK and see how long it takes you to find a reference to Christianity.  The fact that the RSoF is a Christian denomination is hardly shouted from the rooftops.

The "elder" of the Meeting I attended even said she often feels a bit funny attending inter-denominational Church gatherings, because Quakers aren't really part of the Church any more.

Christ-centered Quakers are, apparently, a particular interest group within the movement.  In fact, in other parts of the world they seem to be a new movement in themselves.

Which makes me wonder where someone like me goes?

I'm looking for the dirt basic Quaker faith that Rufus Jones wrote about in the 1920s.  I'm not interested in something that has shifted away from it's own foundations.  I'm also not interested in something that's trying to revive a revivalist movement.  Even if I was, I can only work within a limited geographical area.

I just want to find the Quakers of old.

Potentially brilliant idea: People lockers

Okay, this one is either going to earn someone a million dollars (probably not me), or just be one of the silliest things I've ever thought of in my life.  Or, someone else is already doing it and I'm just late to the party:

Lockers for people.

You know how you can go to various public places and "rent" a locker for your bags, so they can be safely stored while you go off and do sundry things unencumbered by your goods and chattels?

What it if was possible to rent a locker the size of a narrow single bed, so you could lock yourself away for a nap?

I'm not talking about a pod hotel, or any of that sort of thing.  This won't have any "amenities".  Just a bed - more or less in a cupboard - and about as much head-clearance as you'd get on the bottom bunk of a set of bunk beds.

Singapore's Pod Hotel

Kind of like the really budget level rooms you can find in the Pod Hotel in Singapore, but not actually a hotel.  And way downmarket.  You'd find these things attached to gyms and train stations, or on university campuses.  Or in the same sorts of places you'd find laundromats.

I see it as being something so basic that it wouldn't even involve sheets.  The mattress would be covered in some sort of vinyl that could be easily wiped clean by an attendant.  You can bring your own sleeping bag/liner and travel pillow if you want niceties, or rent something from the attendant.

This isn't for a proper overnight stay, either.  This is for that siesta-type sleep.  You'd hire the locker for half an hour or an hour, lock yourself in the cupboard for a short kip, then use the nearby public "washroom" to freshen up before going back to work or tackling the afternoon's classes.

I've often felt that buildings need nap rooms.

Sometimes you just really need to crash for twenty minutes or so in order to keep functioning somewhat coherently during the day, but there's nowhere really to do that.

In Southern Europe, everyone goes home for two hours at lunchtime in order to get that mid-day snooze into the system, but those of us who were colonised by Britain only get about an hour or so for lunch - and with commute times and what have you, that isn't enough time to get home, let alone eat lunch and catch a nap.

But, if these little nap pods existed, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to just have a sleeping bag at your desk and hire a locker for your nap break.

The Box

So, yesterday I fell in love with a plywood box.

You know how sometimes you walk into a shop, pick something up, and never want to put it down again?  But then you have to leave the shop eventually so you end up buying it - even if it's ridiculously overpriced?

Yeah.

I had that moment yesterday with a plywood box.

I walked into Arties Music shop to see if they had any travel ukuleles, and walked out with an overpriced wooden box.

They didn't have any travel ukes, by the way.

Not that it matters, I can't afford one after buying the box.

It is a lovely box, though.  So nice to hold.  And it's so much fun to play with.  It's a bit hard trying to explain to normal people that you're a bit tired because you were up late playing with a wooden box, but that's life.

Derby!

So, I went to watch a roller derby match on the weekend.

I loved it.

Not in the "I have to join a roller derby team right this minute!" kind of way, but in the "hey, this sport is a bucket of fun to watch and I should watch it more often!" kind of way.

Now, it is entirely possible that I can discover a new sport without completely obsessing about it for the next few months but, you know, my record isn't good.

Fair warning, and all.

Two plans

My problem is that I have two plans (possibly three).  They cannot occur at the same time in the same universe.  I can't decide between the two of them, and spend most of my days favouring one or the other, but never fully settling on either of them.


Plan Number 1:  Buy an investment property on the Sunshine Coast

I would particularly like a townhouse or something, but with my budget I'll settle for a unit.  The idea is to rent it out while I'm not living/working in the area, and use the rent to help pay off the mortgage while I use the fact that it's an investment property to get any repairs and maintenance as a tax write-off.

Eventually, I'd be looking to get a job in the area and move down into the place I already have while I think about whether or not I want to trade up for a real house or something.

Good plan, eh?


Plan Number 2:  Buy a house in Brownsville and fix it up

With my budget, I'd have to buy a fixer-upper, but still - you can get a whole house in the 'Ville for less than it would cost to buy a unit on the Sunshine Coast.

I'd make it presentable, then rent out the rooms to international students (they're usually only here for 6 months to a year, so if we don't get along all that well I don't have to wait long before they leave).  The rent from the students would to towards paying off the mortgage and I'll probably end up paying that off much more quickly than I would a more expensive unit down south.

Good plan, eh?


The trouble with Plan Number 1

It's, like, totally far away.  I wouldn't be able to keep as good an eye on the place as I would if I actually lived there, and I'd have to ask my family in the region if they could take care of it for me, which is a bit burdensome for them.

Plus, I wouldn't be able to live it it for some time.  It would technically be my "first home", so I'd never qualify for any of the "first home buyers" grants or things in the future, but you don't qualify for them anyway if you don't live in the place - they don't count for investment properties.

I'd be forever putting myself out of contention for any "first home" related stuff, and I wouldn't even get the joy of living in my first home.

So, not the best plan.


The trouble with Plan Number 2

While it would be really nice to stop living with my family for a while (I never intended to stay so long when I came back from Tasmania), it does seem a bit silly to have the three of us each living on our own.

At the moment, I'm the "back up" for my mother and uncle.  If either of them need someone to take care of things while they're away or otherwise occupied, I'm there to do it.  If I get my own place, that will just make multiple houses to worry about during holidays and such.

Plus, I'd be pouring money into a fixer-upper that I could be saving up towards a bigger deposit on a better property later.

And I want to move down south eventually, anyway.  Staying in the 'Ville isn't my long-term plan, and I want to shift everyone down to the South-East Corner so they can be closer to the rest of their brothers and sisters.

So, not the best plan.


So, what's Plan Number 3?

To wait a bit, save up some more money for a deposit and see what everything looks like a year from now.


The trouble with Plan Number 3

"Waiting" has a strange habit of turning into "stagnating".  It's really easy to slide into "no plan at all".

Stupid big-wheeled bicycle

The more I ride my Brompton around, the more I'm convinced that all "normal" bicycles are just plain silly.

I rode one of my "normal" bikes to work today for the first time in ages as I felt the need to get some practice in on a 26-inch wheeled bike ahead of my cycling tour in New Zealand later in a few weeks time.

As always happens when I ride a "normal" bike after months of noodling around town on a Brompton, I spent the whole trip going through thoughts like this:

"Mannnn, these wheels are so huge, and they roll so slowly!"
"Why is this bike so heavy?"
"What the heck is this top-tube even for?  All it's doing is getting in the dang way..."

No, seriously, why do we have top-tubes on bikes?  And why are they so dang high?  Is there some benefit (outside of racing) over a step-through bike?

And why, is it more common to have lower top-tubes on women's bikes than men's?  Don't men have a greater reason to want to avoid coming into sudden contact with a metal pole positioned at groin level (should a sudden stop cause them to move forward)?

Honestly, the smart thing to do would be to make step-through models the norm for all bikes that don't need the extra stability for racing purposes.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh, yeah.  "Normal" bikes are weird.

The Worst House in the Street

I was looking at a house the other day that was in a location I’d never really paid much attention to before. 

Driving up the main street of the area has never filled me with much confidence, but once you get into the back streets the neighbourhood actually looks kind of nice.  And it’s about 1km from the River (nice) and about 1km from a botanical garden (nice) and close to shops (nice) and close to take-away food outlets (nice) and walking distance from the club I sometimes go to for dinner (nice) which has a lawn bowls club attached to it (noice)…

So, in other words, I really like the place.  I particularly liked the fact that it honestly looks like it would be easier for me to run to work from there than drive.  There’s a rather conveniently located footbridge which makes getting to work on foot about a 4km trip, while driving would be closer to 10km.

The house looks kind of nice, from the agency photos, and the outside doesn’t look bad, in passing.

And it’s in my price range, and it’s had new paintwork and carpets done “recently” (whatever that means, in real estate parlance), so I probably wouldn’t have to fix it up at all.

There’s only one problem:  The house right next door.

I think it’s a good sign when the house you are looking at is the worst house on the street.  Once it’s yours, you can do something about it.  You can make it the best house on the street.

However, if the house next-door or across the road is the worst house on the street, there’s nothing you can do about that – it’s practically part of your house, and you’re stuck with it.

I don’t know who lives there.  I’ve not seen them, and the yard doesn’t show any signs of couches or car parts on the lawn (it also doesn’t show any signs of watering, but that’s beside the point), and maybe they’re perfectly nice neighbours…

But they are the kind of people who don’t believe in nice curtains.  Standing in front of the house I noticed a tatty rag in one window, broken blinds at two others and part of a cardboard box acting as a sun-block for a fourth.

So the house needs a paint job and the yard needs a good water.  These things in themselves and on their own are not indicative of poor quality people.  A lack of decent window dressings, on the other hand, makes me instinctively distrust them.

Nice people have nice curtains.  They may not be expensive ones, they may not be backed or anything fancy – but they are intact and they look like they are meant to be in the window.

Do you know who has cardboard boxes and rags in their windows?  Unpleasant people.  That’s who.  The kind of people who don’t care if their kids our out doing unpleasant things like graffitiing the neighbourhood and doing burn-outs in cars of dubious road-worthiness.  The kinds of people who play unpleasant music at unpleasant volumes.  The kinds of people who have unpleasant conversations in unpleasant tones of voice that cannot be tuned out.

It’s the worst house on the street, and my inner snob is sure it must play home to the worst neighbours in the area.

The house on the other side looks nice at first glance, but it has besser blocks scattered around its garden at random intervals.  They aren’t even set upright so they look like they’re meant to be decorative.  What’s with that?

I don’t know if I’m going to go to the open house on the weekend.