Finding my way

In one of my previous blog posts I described Headlessness. It is something that has changed my life. This is a quiet time at the moment; for me anyway. Gareth is fully engaged in preparing the Hymer for our soon-to-be-happening trip to Italy. For my part I have been on a magical mystery tour of ideas. Judy’s U3A group, Youniverse, has opened lots of new doors and opportunities for learning. I am meeting lots of new and interesting people, all of whom, like me, now have sufficient time (and life experience) to seek answers to those big questions: “What’s it all about?”, “Why am I here?”, “What’s my purpose?”, “Who am I?”

If you watched the Royal Wedding you may have listened to the sermon. It hit me like a bolt of lightening when I watched it on iPlayer. What the minister was saying about Love and its power to heal everything is the message that is coming through loud and clear in all of my readings and associations. Someone/something is trying to get through to me! (If I turn on the radio now and “All we need is love”……. Well! That would seal it!)

No, I didn’t turn on the radio, but it is true that I am on some sort of journey. The journey probably began during the time when Gareth and I lost all four parents, as well as a close aunt of mine, in a very short space of a time. They went down like dominoes. I don’t know whether it’s a privilege to have seen death at close hand, but there’s nothing like seeing that last breath leave and the stillness that follows. Of course, a peaceful death isn’t everyone’s fate and listening to bereaved, heart-breaking accounts of the Grenfell Tower disaster last night raises more huge questions. 

So, where am I on this little soul search of mine? Well, I am certain that there’s more to life than meets the eye, and the directive “Be excellent to each other” (from the film “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”) means exactly what the Royal Wedding minister was saying (worth another listen, I reckon). The imperative appears to be that our egos are an obstacle in being excellent to each other. To be truly selfless is a real challenge, for me anyway. I know that there are selfless souls doing excellent work in the world and without them we would all be in purgatory. I must try to be more like them.

In terms of how things/I have changed as a result of my meanderings, synchronicity is a real feature! I have experienced synchronicity at other times in my life and I am realising that the more aware I am of it the more frequently it occurs. Ok, you scientists, if you’re reading this (and you’ve probably ditched it by now) we can debate it if you like. My father was a Philosopher of Science and nothing in his work precludes the things I am discovering.

Numinosity is also a feature that is occurring more frequently but I’m not going to fall into the trap of giving its source a name; there are so many possibles, and I don’t want to be labelled as belonging to any religion.  

So that’s where I am. Amongst the books I’ve read recently are the”Tao Te Ching”, “The Child Within Us Lives” by William Samuel, “The Swan in the Evening” by Rosamond Lehmann, and I regularly return to Douglas Harding’s book “On Having No Head - Zen and the Rediscovery of the Obvious”. Each is a very differently presented view of the same thing; knowledge of being part of a universal consciousness, and how to live accordingly.

My next blog is likely to be about our very down-to-earth journey in the Hymer, telling you about my navigationally challenged efforts to find our way around and the inevitable fall-outs, dogs, weather, campsite shocks and delights, etc., but I have wondered whether I should use Hymer to promote my evangelical message of Love to the World by painting “Love and Peace” on Gareth’s nice shiny bodywork (the camper’s bodywork I mean) with big daisies and a smile. Somehow I don’t think the captain would be impressed.

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Losing my head

Losing my head

If you’re following my blog, you’ll know that I haven’t written a blog for a while. We are having a ‘lean’ non-travelling month, catching up on life’s maintenance chores and preparing for our forthcoming trip to Italy at the end of the month. Gareth is trying to learn Italian, I am revising my French, the van is getting Gareth’s detailed attention in terms of servicing, and our house purchase looks like going ahead this time (fingers crossed).

Being grounded for a bit has enabled me to pick up with some of the groups I joined through U3A Swansea (that’s University of the Third Age). My interests being always philosophical, these groups are inevitably reading and discussion groups. The group I’ve been a member of longest is Youniverse, influenced in the main by the work of Douglas Harding and a way of being called The Headless Way. So, I’ve been doing soul work and it was going well until yesterday.

My family believe that I am a natural hippy and our current lifestyle may, to some extent, confirm that I am. I am a peace lover - nothing special about that, of course, and I do innately believe that “Love is All You Need” and in the face of the sins of the world I am working on being more Zen about it all. If you’ve read my previous posts you will know that I’ve been making an effort to live more ethically in terms of such things as plastic and overconsumption. I am trying to live in a belief that the tree hugger part of me will help set an example and in some albeit minuscule way, help to save our planet. And then I read some of Slavoj Zizek’s work and find my green liberalism ridiculed. It’s curious how my ‘faith’ is being challenged every day and in many ways. Take this little conundrum (small and inconsequential, you might think):

Gareth, in preparing the camper for our Italy trip, has been learning about its mechanics, in case it breaks down and so that we can avoid expensive repair bills. There are apparently functions built into the system that set off an alert and stops the vehicle until it has been professionally examined. These functions seem to be part of the emissions restrictions required at manufacture. On-line, drivers consistently say that these functions can easily be over-ridden when the alert comes on, and that most often all that is needed is a hard driving interval to clear any soot that has built up in the system, so avoiding the expensive, and mostly unnecessary diagnostics and servicing. Sounds great, but I’m thinking “what about that soot?” But…..that’s me!

Yesterday evening, after a beautiful May Bank Holiday Monday, sun shining, warm, the beach colourfully peopled and the smells of BBQ’s mingling with a light sea mist, we took a walk out to one of the spots where you can sit and watch the sun go down and take in the sweep of the bay in all of its breathtaking beauty. On the highest point, from where the view is the most expansive, a ‘disposable’ bbq sat, still hot, with a burger on it, still in plastic and turning slowly to rubber and the debris of a not-too-wholesome picnic scattered around and abandoned. My question to the Universe at that point was “ARE YOU TAKING THE P..S?!” We gave up on our walk and spent the rest of our evening rattled and angry with the whole of humanity. Our mood wasn’t improved any either, when someone drove up late to one of the neighbouring caravans and was clearly oblivious to how his noise interrupted our sleep.

These are small things and they say not to sweat the small stuff. War, famine, disaster and destruction are much bigger things to be concerned about, but what hope is there if we can’t be kind to our fellows in the little ways? I really have some work to do if I am to rise above the things that are happening around us, the big and the small.

And now I hear that Donald Trump is being nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize!!!

Have a good day, folks!

Thinking time

I was Headless today. Gathered together in Judy’s house we explored The Headless Way. It is a practice developed by Douglas Harding that enables us to see, not as we have become accustomed to seeing, in a tunnel-visioned, self-conscious way, but from ‘behind’ as it were, from a great No-thingness that accommodates all; everything that is, has been and will be. The opening up of perspective and the sense of connection achieved through the practices is incredibly joyful, reassuring and peace-providing. The ‘movement’ (for want of a better word) isn't a cult, a religion or a mystique, but a most common sense way to see something which, once seen, is so obvious - we are not merely our finite human body, and to all intents and purposes, from an experiential point of view we are headless. We ARE the universe (Judy designates her U3A course - ‘Youniverse’)

Touristy forestry and Facebook

I'm here again. A visit to Sherwood Forest yesterday has me thinking; my mind drifting around stuff like legend, history and change. The little bit of England that can still be called Sherwood Forest is a recreation area. The Forestry Commission have kindly provided huge car parks and nicely laid out pathways that enable you to wander about among the trees on foot or bike. There are facilities, playgrounds and a ‘Go Ape’ installation as well as an area of woodland holiday bungalows for rent. The pine trees stand tall and majestic compared with the young mixed woodland I described in my blog yesterday but the magic we felt at that little woodland was absent in this legendary Nottinghamshire forest. I half expected the Forestry staff to be dressed up as Robin Hood and his Merry Men (and woman), being that the place is so utterly urbanised and touristyfied. Big concerts are on the agenda for summer there, including UB40  (only for 40 year olds???)

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against the creation of recreation areas that are accessible to all. The little Cotswold woodland is a private garden, accessible only by invitation. It's magical connection with the Rollright stones, the ancient hill path and surroundings is lovingly guarded by a wealthy couple and their artistic helpers. If they were to provide car parking, toilets, bins, wheelchair accessible pathways, signage, a cafe and a playground the magic would be destroyed, to my mind anyway. And why is that? 

Last night we listened to some of the US Congress questioning of Mark Zukerberg’s Facebook operation and its failure to protect personal data. Facebook is undeniably an amazing phenomenon along with the rest of social media in this Information Age. Its whole development seems like magic to me. And its magic isn't actually so different from that Neolithic magic I felt at Neolithic Echoes. The ancients gathered together just as we do now on Facebook and created big stony edifices for the purpose. Today we commune with people in cyberspace and our stony edifices are the huge computer data banks in different places around the world. The big questions posed by the Facebook phenomenon, apparently, are whether, how and what to regulate. Clearly there have been some dubious goings on, but one thing is for sure - the imposition of regulation that will make it safe for law abiding users will kill its magic. The ancient, scary, dangerous Sherwood Forest that was home to peasants, wanderers, outcasts, minstrels and vagabonds as well as free thinkers and social reformers has been cut down to a tameable size and made safe. Facebook looks like going the same way.

What a conundrum. I like being safe but I don't want the magic of Wild to disappear. I'm no pioneer like those who braved the oceans trusting that they wouldn't fall off the edge of the world, or our astronauts, or our inventors who have pushed the boundaries of the world for the rest of us to move forward in. But, I don't want to live in a world so regulated and safe that no wild places or spaces remain, physical, intellectual or spiritual.

So that was my little thought for today. I'll now get on with my safe little life and make some tea. 

Cotswolds, Neolithic and magic

We're in the Cotswolds, on our second motorhome adventure. Dreary weather at home, a set of new van wheels waiting for us to collect from Chesterfield and the opportunity of visiting the Stokies (Stoke-on-Trent family) takes us off again. Typically, the weather forecast is ‘uncertain’ about where in the country we might find sunshine and now that we're in Middle England the sun has apparently come out at home! 

Cotswolds - chocolate box villages (where did that reference come from), fine country clothing, sedate hill walking and expensive quality tourist shopping is my assessment of it so far. Yesterday we came across a shop selling nothing but brushes; all kinds of brushes. There were clothes brushes, floor brushes, hair brushes, nail brushes, shaving brushes, vegetable brushes, fruit brushes and mushroom brushes. There were strange shaped brushes for dusting the rare books in your library (yeah!), brushes for waiters to take the crumbs of your damask tablecloth and beautifully soft little babies’ hairbrushes; everything made from natural wood and different types of bristle. I think it was The Oxford Brush company in Burford. I spent ages in there but came away with nothing. As usual, I couldn't make up my mind what to spend any meagre budget on.

In Chipping Campden we came across a shop specialising in cutlery and table ornaments! A visit to the Sunday craft fair though revealed the usual Womens Guild type of thing - knitted baby clothes, aprons and oven cloths, jams, chutneys, homemade jewellery and a bit of glasswork. Some things are the same everywhere.

I wrote that yesterday. This morning we woke up in Derbyshire. Rain meant that Cotswold meandering wasn't as attractive so we got some miles under the tyres instead. Before we left, though, we stopped by the Rollright Stones near Chipping Norton. It's a Neolithic site and there is magic there. We came across an adjacent woodland where wood cutters were busy and interesting structures were being assembled using the cuttings and the brash. A country lady, whose name turned out to be Claire, invited us in to the private wood and told us what was happening. Bought some twenty years ago to preserve its importance as an ancient and sacred site, she and her husband had planted hundreds of trees of different species and the project now includes lovely stick and brash structures as part of the woodland management, ecological support and aesthetic appeal. We chatted with the woodcutter artist and left there feeling we had tapped into the ancient and continuing magic of that lovely place. The project is called Neolithic Echoes and there is a website for it.

It's still raining. Waking up this morning I half expected to find ourselves afloat, in a Hymer ark rather than a camper van. It's heartening to know that Richard, Libby and the children have had a week of sunshine in Portugal and Owen, Jess and the children are enjoying sunshine at our caravan. It's the last week of the boys’ Easter holiday so a bit of sunshine for them is a gift that should get them away from TV and iPad games!

One of the books I am currently reading is “Being Mortal - Illness, Medicine and What Matters in the End” by Atul Gawande. I'd not heard of it until it was mentioned in a discussion of end of life care on a radio programme. Maybe my interest has something to do with my advancing years but it is nevertheless a very good account of the issues we face nowadays with an ageing population. I don't really want to contemplate how I might end this life I've been given, but this book seems to suggest I should give it a bit more thought. I could get morbid here and tell you all my thoughts about how I might spare my loved ones the trauma of dealing with my dying time but it's Tuesday (good enough reason not to get too morbid 😉). But, there’s nothing like retirement and having time on your hands to make you think about what life is all about, what we're supposed to do with it and what we'll leave behind. 

Talking about purpose (was I?) - the plastics thing. I was soldiering on with the challenge while we were at home in the caravan but now we're on the road again it is MUCH more difficult. I haven't given up completely though, I promise.

Saying of the week - “Pessimism is a waste of time!” Lol!

Stuff and Nonsense

It's been a funny couple of weeks. Grandchildren-minding was replaced with cat-and-goldfish (separately!)-minding while Owen, Jess and the children took off on a skiing holiday, Gareth got some sort of fluey cold and chest infection and we’re back to the drawing board with buying a house. I've been keeping myself busy with the zero-plastics thing, home economics and a fair bit of dog walking. Here’s my new update on the plastics thing:

Well, I've found a couple of things on-line that are helpful and I posted the links on FB. Others who are going zero-plastic suggest taking your own wrapping and containers when shopping. Some have found refill stations for naturally derived cleaning stuffs like Ecover, and are buying ethically produced cosmetics packaged in paper, cardboard or jars. I'm interested to try the soap-bar shampoo that these pioneers are using, but it does sound a bit weird. They also advocate using bamboo toothbrushes and have even found cotton buds that aren't plastic. Inevitably these things are pretty expensive compared with the bog-standard stuff you buy in the high street so it's fortunate that I’m not a big user of cosmetics. There are signs of some small local initiatives setting up to sell food without plastic and a refill station would be great! This week I prepped and froze a load of veggies and I'm still putting my little food processor to work on making hummus but I don't relish the thought of making all of my own cleaning products and toiletries like some tree-huggers do (I just had to check that predictive text didn't screw that word up for me!). While I am up for the challenge of living more lightly on this planet, I still want a life while I'm here, and I don't want that life to be permanently in the kitchen!

Changing the subject, aren't programmes like Masterchef and Bake Off a phenomenon? We aren't big TV watchers but now we're in the caravan we do seem to catch these during stupor time. The number of times we've eaten a worse-than-mediocre meal while watching Master Chef, I wouldn't like to count. I haven't learnt a single thing from these programmes and they only serve to highlight the fact that while I have chosen to be plasticly challenged I am culinarily challenged by dint of total lack of talent! I'd like to blame the ineptitude on my limited kitchen facilities, but that would be a sorry excuse for the lack lustre fare I've been dishing up lately. I ruined a beautiful and expensive goat cheese that I'd bought from an independent deli, wrapped, as I'd requested in paper instead of plastic film. I used it in a frittata and destroyed its flavour completely! I don't think I'm in danger of anyone putting me forward for Masterchef, unless it's as a joking contestant.

Stream of consciousness stuff makes me now think about cake. In my youth, my working mother would have me and my sisters help with the weekend Bake-In. For us it was more of a Bake-and-Off-Out exercise as we resentfully assisted in the production of pies, tarts, scones and fruit cake to last through the week. Romantic liaisons and meeting friends had to wait until mother’s larder was satisfactorily stocked. The produce was always sweet. Our parents each had a sweet tooth. Maybe it was something to do with the absence of sugar through the war years and the rationing that was still in existence when I was a baby, but there was always pudding after a meal and always cake for a snack. Dad loved his golden syrup - no wonder he became diabetic. None of that weekend baking would be worthy of featuring on Bake Off as my mother wasn't much of a cook and her sous chefs were in too much of a hurry to finish their shift to be very creative either; except, of course, when we wanted to impress a boyfriend. In most cases, though, our creativity wasn't matched by skill and new boyfriends had to politely chomp though some inedible offerings. Showing my age there, aren't I? How many young women now seek to impress a possible future husband by cooking for him (I deliberately kept that as a heterosexual reference because back then I knew nothing of same sex romances).

It's Tuesday today though I keep thinking it's Sunday and I'm not sure why I mention that. Maybe it's to do with my stream of consciousness taking me back to those weekends of my young years and picking up now on the way that time drifts. It's so quiet here at the caravan park. The dogs are curled up showing no sign of wanting to chase rabbits for the moment and all I can hear is the shooshing of the sea. The world’s problems feel far away and Time seems almost irrelevant; stopped for a bit. There is such freedom in being retired from the world of work. However there is danger too. Without purpose, and without some sort of structure to the week, time can catch you out. We have to continue making efforts to leave the world a better place than we found it. The hours are ours to use meaningfully.

Plasticly challenged

Here's an update on how my zero-plastic challenge is going. I'll admit - it's hard, and expensive! So…. for one thing I make my own hummus. It isn't a five minute job, but Gareth can demolish a pot of it in five minutes whereas the plastic-potted shop-bought variety seems to last a week. I take it as a compliment, I suppose, that he likes my hummus 😜, but the time given to preparation and clearing up is inversely related to the time taken to eat it. Ho, hum; soldier on.

My first shopping trip involved foraging in Swansea market. It is reputedly the biggest and best in Wales. It's a vibrant, busy indoor market with a really good variety of shops and stands. I looked around for food stands that didn't have food wrapped in plastic. Bakeries are using paper bags, though some of their goods are pre-wrapped in cellophane or plastic. Cheeses and butter all seem to be wrapped in plastic film, and at the fishmongers, while fish is first wrapped in greaseproof paper, it is then handed over in plastic bags. At the greengrocers, though, I could buy my fruit and veg loose. I explained that I was on a challenge not to buy plastic and the stall holder was very interested and helpful. She even removed the cavalo nero from its plastic bag and put it into my shopping bag loose with the rest of my purchases. Admittedly there was still a plastic bag involved, but at least she was trying! Raspberries came in a cardboard punnet, so I bought some of those (Gareth inevitably pointed out later that there may well be some air miles linked to those raspberries!)

Dragging my booty behind me in my new shopping trolley, (I had previously found an albeit plastic wheeled purple one in Lidl that I think is probably really intended as a travel bag rather than a shopping trolley, and it didn't behave very well as it meandered behind me through the shopping precinct), I next hit Tesco. I bought tins and paper packets and managed to tick off a few more of the essentials on my shopping list. Cumin, however, as were all of the store-cupboard herbs, wasn't available other than in a plastic pot or a jar with a plastic lid. Feeling that I had so far met the challenge but really needing that cumin I next headed for Exotica. Now before you run away with any thoughts about what sort of store that might be, it's a small supermarket specialising in ‘multi-ethnic’ produce. It's a wondrous experience browsing the shelves and trying to imagine what some of the foods are. And yes, they had lots of cumin and big bags of herbs and spices …… all plastic bagged. But, I needed that cumin and I caved in. My punishment for failing so soon was for the starter motor on my car to give up the ghost when I stalled, in the rainiest rain, outside a local school, on a road crossing as kids were coming out and being picked up by cars and buses. No one was sympathetic. I was tooted at, sworn at and gesticulated at until eventually someone kindly pushed my car to one side and I could call the breakdown people. Ignominiously I was later loaded up (the car, that is) onto a low loader and delivered to the now familiar lay-by opposite Owen and Jess’s.

One great success that I can report is the discovery (via Owen and Jess) of a supplier of glass-bottled milk! Now that really is terrific! For years I retained my milkman in order to support his local business and avoid supermarket plastic bottled milk, and was dismayed when he started delivering milk in plastic. He was apparently unable to get glass-  bottled milk anymore. But now we are again getting our milk in returnable bottles. Result!

We have also found (Owen and Jess are on the ball with this one, too) a local farm shop that is becoming increasingly popular and is developing its business to include a butchery and specialising in local produce. They sell wax-wrapped cheeses, bottled milk and fruit juice and along with the fruit, veg and other stuff they have some lovely home baked goods on offer. Unfortunately there is a lot of plastic wrapping but when we talked to the lady running the shop about the plastics thing, she was very interested and may now be persuaded to look for alternatives.

I am much encouraged by the interest and support I am finding from the retailers I talk to about my challenge. They do tend to be the independent retailers though. Holland and Barrett, you’d think, should be helping to lead the way in plastic avoidance and recycling. Maybe their Ethics is somewhere in the South of England (ref earlier blog). Shopping at H and B for cod liver oil capsules (ok, that's an avoidance challenge for another time - give me a chance!) I couldn't buy them other than in a plastic pot. I will have to find a re-use opportunity for yet another plastic item. However, they do sell nuts and dried fruit loose, in a pick and mix arrangement where you scoop into a paper bag. I enthusiastically filled my bag, eschewing our favourite plastic bagged nuts at Lidl and nearly fainted when the price was evident to me. Gareth had something to say about that, as you can imagine.

Meat. Now therein lies a dilemma. We don't eat a lot of meat. We don't eat beef or pork at all, but chicken and poultry is a bit of a staple for us and we do occasionally eat lamb (venison very occasionally). Buy meat from a butcher and it can be expensive. Also you have to take their word for where it comes from. Buy it from a supermarket, though, and you can to some extent check its provenance. It’s cheaper but……. it comes in a plastic tray. Apparently, plastic that holds its shape can be recycled; but is it actually being recycled? China used to take it from us, I understand, but now they don't and we don't seem to be much geared up in this country to recycle it ourselves. I have re-used these trays (well…..I re-used one of them anyway) by cutting off one end and upholstering it to make it into a little dolls’ house sofa. The dolls’ house is a project-in-waiting and YES, I did thoroughly disinfect the plastic tray first, I promise! Maybe there’s a little cottage industry in that. I could make mini sofas for dolls houses and sell them on Etsy! Hmmmmm. I have also, on and off, been turning the plastic bags we do have into plarn. If you haven't heard of plarn it’s a yarn you make from strips of plastic bags and you can weave it, crochet with it and make all sorts of things…… like plastic shopping bags! I'm thinking of giving everyone a plarned shopping bag for Christmas 😆

Gareth’s sticking point in this shopping challenge is his cottage cheese. There’s no way that I can get it other than in a plastic pot, with a foil AND plastic lid, so I've had to give in on that one. Wine, thank goodness, can be bought with screw tops but some wines are plastic corked and you don't know that until you take the foil off. Fortunately I haven't yet had to restock on cosmetics and toiletries. I think that's going to be the biggest challenge of all. I've got my work cut out to meet this challenge, but if, bit by bit, the message is strengthened that we need to reduce, re-use and recycle, I can feel I've done my bit. Now, I need to convince myself (and Gareth) that this is economically sustainable.