Chances and choices

“Where you live should not decide Whether you live or whether you die” U2 – Crumbs from your table

Last week the World Health Organisation published a report on life expectancy and some of the factors that influence it. The report was headline news here because of one startling statistic that emerged – male life expectancy in Calton, Glasgow is a mere 54 years; eight miles away in Lenzie it is 82!! A difference of 28 years in 8 miles. Obviously this degree of divergence is appalling and begs many questions. The WHO report states: “The toxic combination of bad policies, economics, and politics is, in large measure, responsible for the fact that a majority of people in the world do not enjoy the good health that is biologically possible… Social injustice is killing people on a grand scale.” The issue of Calton/Lenzie has sparked a predictable and lamentable round of political point-scoring. The reality is that significant investment has been made in places like Calton, but change on the scale that is required is long-term. It’s easy to get all high and mighty about these kind of situations. But the reality is that we live our comfortable lives in blissful ignorance of the situation right on our doorstep. I don’t know what the comparative life expectancy is for communities in and around Perth, but I know that poverty and hopelessness exists alongside middle-class affluence and consumption. So before I criticise those responsible for social policy in Calton, I need to take a long, hard look at myself first. On the day that the WHO report was published, there was another story in the headlines here. The Duke of Sutherland needs to raise some cash, so he’s planning to sell some paintings from his collection. The thing is, he’s been kind enough to lend them to the National Galleries of Scotland, who don’t want to lose them. So the Duke is prepared to sell two Titians for the bargain price of £50 million each. To be honest Titian isn’t my ‘cup of tea’ anyway. But I’m horrified that the Scottish Government is planning to make a significant contribution (about £10 million) towards buying these paintings. How can this be justified? My solution would be to let the Duke sell his paintings at market value (£150 million each!), then he can make a donation of say £50 million towards the development of arts related projects in Calton and other deprived areas of Scotland to provide some hope and stimulation for those whose life expectancy is somewhat less than the typical gallery viewer who would see the Titians anyway. At the very least, the government could divert their, actually, our £10 million to what in my view is a better cause.

Pilot House

Yesterday’s photo was of the Pilot House in Irvine Harbour. The Pilot House stands at the entrance to the harbour, and provided vessels with an indication of the state of the tide – and therefore, the depth of water in the channel in to the harbour. The idea was that a serious of ‘globes’ were raised and lowered automatically according to the state of the tide. I can remember the pilot house working when I was a child, but – sadly – it has been out of action and in a state of disrepair for many years now. The globes are lying around the building, slowly rusting away. I don’t know if the pilot house was unique. However, it is indicative of a once thriving harbour, which is not well used nowadays. It strikes me that our lives could use a pilot house system – indicating when we are operating at capacity, when we are fully charged, when we need an injection of something to get us back on track etc, etc. Unfortunately the indicators for our well-being are not as obvious as globes rising up a mast outside a building. So we need to find other ways of assessing how we’re doing. This is part of ‘developing daily discipline’, which I’ll write about another time – and maybe in another place.

Friday photo: Pilot House

... while sitting on our bums

Aye the Olympics are over for another 4 years. I really enjoyed them - the spectacle, the sport and the success. So I thought it was time for a few reflections.

It's funny how we (in the UK) get carried away with a few medals here and there. OK, so we did exceed expectations, but the way that the media has been extolling their virutes, you could be forgiven for thinking that the athletes had found a cure for all forms of cancer or eradicated global poverty. The word "heroes" is being inappropriately and over-used. They did well and hopefully they will inspire young people (and some oldies) to take up sport.

Which brings me to my next point - look at the sports where we did win gold medals. The Aussies and others had a point about us winning when we were sitting on our bums (cycling - 8 golds; yachting -4; rowing - 2; everything else - 5). I heard another observation about winning at 'posh' sports - rowing and yacthing would fit that bill. As we begin the inexorable build up to 2012 and the games in London, will we be promoting a wide range of sports, offering equal access and opportunity to all? (I have my doubts!)

I liked some of the alternative medal tables that were produced by the BBC News magazine. This leads me to wonder how much money was spent per medal achieved by some of the 'successful' countries - and what are the issues of justice relating to that. Maybe our politicians could focus on some of these issues - rather than arguing about whether or not we should have a GB football team in the 2012 games.

But I don't want to be a complete party-pooper. My last reflection is on the fastest man on earth - also, in my opinion the coolest man on earth - Usain Bolt. How awesome was he? Three golds, three world records! Maybe I'll switch my allegiance to Jamaica - they do quite well in both the traditional and alternative medal tables!

Friday photo: Cosmic!

(not one of mine!! Story and details here)

The best student??

A long time ago in a far away place… well, over 20 years ago in St Andrews… I heard a reference recently to the Tao Te Ching, which reminded me of an episode from my student days. To give a bit of background, I was struggling with a particular subject – called Divinity, but really it was the grounding for the theological and philosophical element of my course. I was able to cope with most of the concepts and work without too much trouble, but I had a horrible relationship with one of my lecturers. At the time it felt like she had a vendetta against me; now I wonder if she just hated all men (or maybe, most people). Anyway, this arch-feminist, man-hating, post-Christian, theocentric lunatic gave me a series of marks that all but condemned me to re-sitting the course the following year. To pass I needed to get an astronomical mark in the last assignment of that academic year. Fortunately the last topic was a comparative religion exercise – and my nemesis wasn’t teaching the course. It was taught by a lovely man called Dr Hall (I honestly thought that before the course). The prospect of studying the Tao Te Ching did not fill me with glee. But Doc Hall was a good teacher who generated some enthusiasm from me (many of my colleagues opted not to attend his classes, but they weren’t needing marks like I was!) Anyway, Doc Hall introduced us to the Tao and really communicated the spirit of it to us. He was married to a Chinese woman, which probably accounted for some of his interest in it. When the time came for us to do the final assignment, he told us that our task was simply to capture the essence of the Tao – how we did that was entirely up to us. Given my desperate plight, I adopted the philosophical approach of the Tao:

“Do what consists of taking no action, and order will prevail.”

I was seriously tempted to write that quotation on a piece of paper and hand it in, but I chickened out of that course of action. Instead I sat in a big armchair at a bay window one sunny afternoon and wrote a poem (now lost). It consisted of 137 words. Given that I had virtually no chance of getting the mark that I needed, I adopted a cavalier attitude, and handed the poem in as it was. No editing, no refining, no padding it out to make it look like I’d made any significant effort. To my astonishment I got the top mark in the class, and managed to scrape a pass in the course. Doc Hall loved the poem and he had showed it to his wife who said that it perfectly captured the spirit of Tao. I have no real idea why I’m writing all of this now… but I’ve looked out my copy of the Tao and will treat myself to a couple of hours reading it – the next time we get a sunny afternoon when I’m not at work!

“When the best student hears about the way He practices it assiduously.”

Friday photo: Discomfort

Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow

Discomfort

As I get older I'm finding it a bit easier to pause before reacting to things (but only a bit!).

Something's been bugging me for a few days now, and I'm letting it just stick around in the background. I know that I would like to do something about it - but I'm not sure what or when.

Anyway, I came across a prayer (attributed to St Francis of Assisi) at the weekend, and the first few lines seem to capture my present state of mind. So I thought I'd share it, while I cogitate and contemplate how to deal with my current discomfort.

May God bless you with discomfort At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships So that you may live deep within your heart. May God bless you with anger At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace. May God bless you with tears To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain into joy. And may God bless you with enough foolishness To believe that you can make a difference in the world, So that you can do what others claim cannot be done. To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

The greatest show on Earth?

I wasn’t going to watch it… and I didn’t want to enjoy it. But I did… and I did. The opening ceremony from the Beijing Olympics was truly amazing. Against the background of human rights abuse, with the inevitable excessive cost and consumption, and the element of hypocrisy in talking about these as the ‘green’ Olympics, how could I bring myself to watch it? Well, I’m weak. I know that I’ll get hooked on the sports action – I always do. So I was determined to resist the opening ceremony. But I was ironing and the cricket had reached the lunch break, so I just switched channels briefly. I hoped I would hate it – that it would be jingoistic and militaristic in its approach. But it wasn’t. Credit where credit’s due. The ceremony (before the boring parade of athletes) was a celebration of all that is best in Chinese culture. The achievements of learning and wisdom were highlighted. The scale of the production was awesome. The technical perfection was breath-taking. It was epic. And the Chinese know how to do a fine firework display (or five!). There were too many highlights to list here. If you haven’t seen it, try to find full coverage and sit back and enjoy! (BBC iPlayer is a good option, if you can access it).

Friday photo: verdant

I CAN stand the rain

I don’t get it!!! I make an appointment with God – similar time every morning (a wee bit later when I’m on holiday), and sometimes he doesn’t show up. Take this morning for instance. I was there raring to go – nothing. Then the rain started to fall, heavy rain, very heavy rain. After a while I realised that God had stood me up, so I went for a shower and breakfast. I was listening to the news as I munched on my muesli and the travel report came on. Not good! Not good at all! Major roads closed because of flooding. This was really inconvenient. The Restless family had planned to go out for the day. Dolly D was getting up early to make sure that she was ready on time. But with roads closed and major traffic delays we had to abort the mission. So instead we went about various tasks and activities around the house. I was doing a bit of organising in the study and I picked up a book (as you do). I flicked it open randomly at this page: My real dwelling Has no pillars And no roof either So rain cannot soak it And wind cannot blow it down! It’s by a Japanese poet called Ikkyu (in an anthology called Soul Food). Somehow it seemed to be appropriate for the day. Later in the day I was dealing with e-mail, when the monthly newsletter arrived from Tearfund. The first story was headlined “Pray for rain”… it kind of stopped me in my tracks. It was about the drought being experienced in East Africa (you can read about it here). Maybe, I’d made a mistake about the time of my appointment with God. I think I learned a valuable lesson or two today. And it gives me an excuse to include (again) to Ann Peebles' wonderful version of “I Can’t Stand the Rain”.

Playing on a dreich Wednesday

I've got a few days off work at the moment. The weather precluded any thoughts of gardening today, so I spent a bit of time playing this morning. I came across a definition of play recently:

"guilt-free purposeless-ness"

Well I'm pretty good at the guilt-free part, but I usually like to have some sense of purpose. This morning I was trying to learn a bit more about the software that I use to organise and edit my photos. I reckon that I knew how to use about 0.0038% of the functionality of the product. After this morning that has leapt to an impressive 0.0038127%. Awesome - or what??

Anyway, I managed to learn how to create panoramas by stitching/ blending photos together - the clever stuff is done automatically by the software. The attempt below is a view over Loch Leven (the one in Kinross-shire) from the top of Vane Hill. It was a useful reminder of a nice walk with the Fish Wife on Monday of this week - and the fact that it doesn't always rain here!

coming together

It intrigues me how some ideas take a wee while to come together - and sometimes they arrive in unexpected ways.

A while back I stumbled across the idea of Praying in Color and re-kindled my interest in calligraphy.

Through reading Sybil MacBeth's book, I re-discovered the practice of lectio divina.

Speaking to a friend about calligraphy, I was introduced to Timothy Botts 'Doorposts' (note to self - must remember to return that book!) - a way of combining lectio divina and calligraphy.

More recently That Hideous Man introduced me to Wordle (see example above), which I've been playing with as an alternative to my own calligraphic efforts.

Then tonight I discovered the Jing Project which let's you capture Wordle images in a crisp, clear format.

All in all, a variety of ways to inspire and help my personal spiritual life, and through Nurture Group (at least), hopefully give others something to ponder on.

Pretty cool!

Friday Photo: ha-Arbroath haarbour

Scotland in summer!