The Art of Being Human

Gay Farmers and Bad News

05 10 11'

Written by Ben Waymark

Fairly recently, a Methodist minister bought the domain gayfarmer.co.uk and used it to setup a website to help with his ministry to gay farmers. The minister was charged with developing ministries for rural people, and soon realised that there were a number of farmers across the UK who struggle with their homosexuality, and it would be nice if someone could do something to help them. Now, it is nothing huge, it is not going to change the world, but its interesting and its nice to see someone identifying a problem and trying to solve it. But this got me thinking: how come when the Westborough Bapists in America waive their hate-filled placard it seems to make international news, but when a British Methodist minister does something nice it doesn’t?

I’d love to chalk it all up to media-anti-Christian bias and play the ‘woe-is-me’ card, but I really don’t think it is. The sad truth is that bad news is more generally more interesting that good news. Sure, when Prince William got married there was plenty of press coverage, but his wedding will never eclipse Dianna’s death as far media lore goes. Indeed, unless you do something exceptionally nice, a la Mother Theresa, people rarely notice, and if they do it still isn’t very interesting. Mother Theresea’s life of niceness seemed to pale in comparisons with Princess Dianna’s life of luxury when both died around the same time.

And not only do we like bad news, we like it even more when there is someone to blame. The Westborough Baptists are perfect because we point our fingers at them and say: “Ah-ha! It’s them! They are the ones to blame!”. When a minister does something to help gay farmers, there just no blame involved. It’s just a guy helping other guys. When Willy and Kate get married, there is no fault involved. We love fault. It makes us feel better, and that makes it more interesting.

This is not something we can blame the media for either. Sure, the media loves bad news and finger pointing as much as everyone else, but isn’t the best gossip usually a mix of bad news and finger pointing “oh, did you hear about so and so. I told her that’d happen.”

I don’t think there is a lot we can do to stop people from liking bad news, or finding someone to point their finger at. But I do think we can remember that people like to find fault and they like bad news, so when it seems like everything – and everyone – is shit, it helps to remember that we love bad news and fault finding, and as such we often look for it while failing to see all the good stuff that is always happening around us. There is nothing wrong with liking bad news, just remember that there is a lot of good news out there too.

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Bad News, General, Opinions, Religion and Philosoophy

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Shop Locally?

11 20 10'

Written by Ben Waymark

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View from a Shopping Cart

SHOPPING is a big part of my life. I don’t want it to be, but it is. Grocery shopping, getting feed for the animals, trying to keep the kids in shoes, and keeping up with the endless litany of gifts is enough on its own to keep me busy opening my wallet. As shopping is more a chore than a leisure activity, I struggle sometimes with the notion of ‘shop locally’.

In rural North Devon there is a lot of support for ‘Shop Locally’ campaigns. There is something very charming about being able to drive into my local town, go to one of the three Green Grocers, either of the two butchers or two bakeries. It certainly will be shame to see that all go, so in principle I have always supported the idea of shopping locally.

A Bed of Roses

Unfortunately, underneath the Shop Locally bed of roses there is a lot of dirt. While town is convenient for it’s 10 minute drive, having to guestimate how long I need to park there for and find the correct change isn’t. It is a shame that if I meet a friend or neighbour, there is rarely time to stop and talk, as the parking meter is always ticking down and the Meter Maid is fanatical with her vigilant. It is also a shame that of the three green grocers, only one seems to have a selection of truly local produce, and that is usually relegated to a few apples in the autumn and the occasional sack of potatoes. Between the three green grocers, the choice of spuds is remarkably sparse: multi-purpose or jacket. What is the point of having of three green grocers if I can’t find a wide variety of specialized potatoes for mashing, roasting, boiling, chipping? Who wants to buy a potato that is just labeled ‘multi-purpose’ (which useless means not good enough for anything!)? And why can’t I any get nice Mangos? And what does the town have against Chorizo or prawns? Or turkey? Am I really the only one who likes to eat turkey outside of Christmas?

Then there are the ‘Shop Locally’ hours and attitude: “Hey, lets go to that lovely bookshop that is nearby. You know, the one with miserable old git who doesn’t like children in his shop, closes between noon and 2 on the five days a week he is open, except of course for Wednesday when he takes the whole afternoon off. Ya, that is the one, the guy doesn’t take credit cards or checks, and tries his hardest to make you feel like an idiot if you try and interrupt his navel gazing to ask a question.” And does he sell local books? Well, yes, there are two or three ‘local’ books he sells, but then so does the butchers and the briq-a-baq shop. The rest all are Penguin and suchlike. Am I really shopping locally? Or am I just buying globally from a local guy?

I like my local shops, I really do, and the butchers in town is particular good. Indeed, it is every

ummm..... fresh .....

thing a good local butchers should be: price competes with supermarkets, meat quality is excellent, they can tell you where all their meat comes from, staff is friendly, they open on Saturday and if don’t have any cash they will let you pay by credit card. Maybe if more local shops were local like them, the guesstimating and finding change for parking would not be so irritating.

I use my local shops sometimes, but sometimes it is easier to drive an extra 10 minutes to the local Big Chain Supermarket where I can nice mangos and papayas, where (ironically perhaps) I can get Devon milk, and where I also can find that rare salami, special herb or spice, and the ‘Curiosity Cola’ that goes so much better with Sailor Jerry’s rum (which I also can’t get in town) than normal Coca-cola. The prices are a cheaper too! Wots more, if I decided I want to stay for a bite to eat I don’t need to go out and feed the meter, so while I like to shop locally, I also like the price, the convenience, and selection of shopping in Big Chain Supermarkets. And at the end of the day whether my Penguin Classics comes from Tesco or the grumpy bookseller, whether my Spanish factory farmed lettuce is sold through The Co-Op or the local green grocer, does it really make a difference?

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General, housework, Opinions, shopping

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Laundry

11 17 10'

Written by Ben Waymark

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Laundry may not be the most eruditious of topics, but to not address this topic would be remiss. Laundry is a chore. When you live in a household with a two children, two teenagers, and a spouse busy working, then laundry is a chore that is a way of life.

There are a few useful things to know about laundry:

The first principle of doing laundry is to avoid backlog.
Every member of a household should have a different colour for their socks, and their socks should always be the same.
No member of a household should have more than a 7 to 10 supply of socks and underwear. If you have more than a 7 to 10 supply of smalls it only encourages people to wait too long to wash their clothes, thus creating a backlog.
Every member of the household should be assigned one laundry basket, unless they share a room, then they can share a basket.
Clothes should only be in one of three places: On a body, in a laundry basket, or in drawer. This rule should be enforced vigorously and without compromised, especially in the bathroom.
Laundry should only ever be washed one laundry basket at a time. Once you start mixing clothes, you create backlog.
Once a basket of laundry has been washed, it should be hung up to dry. Once dry it should be put away immediately.
While laundry is being washed and dried, dirty clothes should be left in the spot the laundry basket is usually sat
While sorting laundry, you have a good opportunity get rid of old clothes, or clothes you don’t like
The person who does the laundry gets executive decision making in regards to what is old and needs to be disposed of. If you don’t like it, do your own damn laundry.

I don’t know if there is much more to say on the subject, but I hope these tips help.

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Raising Kids to be Grown-Ups

11 13 10'

Written by Ben Waymark

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all grown-up!

As I watch my kids grow up, my biggest wish for them is that they become grownups. I am not stating the obvious, as being a grown-up isn’t something we can take for granted. Being a grown-up mean that one has matured until they are able to stand unaided, figuratively speaking, and take responsibility for what they do. Being a grown-up means that when everything goes wrong, when you get that sinking feeling you get when you realise that you have fucked something up and fucked it up badly that you can trust your God or your luck or whatever you want to call it because the biggest fuck ups pass over time and things that get worse always get better.

Being a grown-up means learning to accept the range of your emotions, be it love, hate, joy, anger, contentment or grief and accepting that they are all apart of you, whether you want them or not. Being a grown-up means knowing that no one can stand alone all the time and sometimes you need give someone a hand; you yourself cannot always stand alone and sometimes you need a hand too! Being a grown-up means that you can fall out of love and lose friends but that doesn’t mean you can stop yourself from falling back into love or gaining new friends. Being a grown-up means that you can laugh, argue, play, and work in equal measure. You accept that people may not like you, and that you may not like them.

Someone close to me, who has spent most of his adult life caring for wife with MS, said recently:

For 30 years I have lived with one who has valiantly got up each morning and watched her body deteriorate, but as you know, has remained happy and vibrant. She is well cared for, yes, by me, but also by the government in providing her all she needs to have as full and happy a life as possible under the circumstances.

That is a very good example of someone being grown-up. Not because she is ‘happy and vibrant’ but because she recognises that she is having as full and happy a life as possible under the circumstances. That is all any of us can do. Regardless of whether you were born into the fancy house on the hill with the swimming pool, the shanty-town in South Africa or suburban hinterland we all have reasons not to get up every morning, but as grown-ups we have to get up anyway.

Making mistakes is as important to grown-up life as it is to childrens’ life. As a parent I try to teach my children that it is better to do something and fuck up, than do nothing and not. This isn’t so much an important lesson for them as children as it is for them as adults: a grown-up must make mistake.

Grumpy Teenager

Not making mistakes, means not trying, and not trying means not being a grown-up. ‘Not trying’ is a adolescent state. Anyone who has experienced adolescences can probably appreciate the ‘deer-caught-in-the-headlights’ fear that accompanies particularly the later stages of teenagerhood when we try to decide ‘what we are going to do with our lives’. It is no wonder that this stage is often accompanied by the “dunno, dunno cares” and the “can’t be bothereds”. Indeed, who can blame a teenager for their fear to go forward! It is only when we swallow this fear, when we say to ourselves “I can do this” and walk boldly forward into life, with nothing but what is in our pockets and a trust in our God, that we become adults.

A friend of mine had an mother who was fond of saying “It’s a great life if you don’t weaken”*. This is moto of a grown-up. Without standing tall and facing life, without the courage to lead life as a grown-up, we shrink away from everything, enveloped by our fear. If we don’t get over our fear of loss, we never get to love. If we don’t get over our fear of failure, we never succeed. If we don’t get over our fear of success, we never learn to take responsibility for our actions!

Sadly, many people never do grow up. Parents are often tempted to teach their children to fear life rather than embrace it, to avoid mistakes rather than make them, and to shirk responsibility rather than take it. And I can’t say that I blame them, it is a scary big old world out there and taking it on, eyes wide open, will petrify the best of us. But life is great, especially when you don’t weaken and I hope that my children will one day grow-up to embrace life, to face all the shit head on, and learn what a wonderful experience living life really is!

*with apologies to said mother who most certainly would not be fond of all my choices of vocabulary.

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Chasing Rabits (or the bitch that wouldn’t learn)

05 29 10'

Written by Ben Waymark

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I’ve had conversations with a Jack Russel Terrier recently. The bitch long decided that there was a rabbit down a certain hole and keeps digging and digging. Every time she digs down deep enough, the hole starts to collapse and someone has to pull her out. You can chastise her for digging, you can smack her across the nose with a rolled up newspaper, you can try and keep her occupied with other things to do, but the bitch just keeps digging. Her digging is pissing off the rest of the pack, partially because she keeps making a mess everywhere, and partially because it means that the pack cannot go off to play and hunt. Instead they all have to stop what they are doing and sit around watching her dig, watching for her to get stuck, so we can all pull her out.

The Jack Russel knows that she shouldn’t be digging, she knows that she is going to dig herself too deep, the tunnel will collapse. If there even is a rabbit that she has the scent of, it will just burrow away. “Rabbits are funny things”, I keep telling her, “the more you chase them, the more they run. If you want to a catch a rabbit, just sit and wait for them to come to you.” But does the bitch listen? Hell no. The bitch says ‘ya ya ya I know’ and agrees with you all the way, then soon as you go into the woods to shit there she is digging away and yapping “I think I’ve got it! I think I’ve got it!” Then the tunnel collapse, then the rest of the pack comes running up and drags her out, and asks her why she has done it again.

“I can’t help it!” She cries, “I am a terrier. I can’t stop myself.”

“Do you know how I stopped myself from eating slippers?”

“You said you just stopped putting them in your mouth….”

“Exactly! Its not complicated like trying to open a door or catch a cat. If you want to stop doing something, don’t do it anymore.”

“But it is who I am, I am a terrier, how can I stop chasing rabbits?”

“No one is telling you not to be a terrier, just stop digging the fucking hole. Chase a rabbit if you like –who doesn’t like to chase them– just stop once they jump down that hole.”

“But if I was truly part of the pack, you’d accept that as a terrier I have to chase rabbits down the hole.”

“If you weren’t part of the pack, you’d know it because my teeth would be in your jugular. You can’t sorta be part of the pack, and you can’t chose the pack you are part of, and you don’t get to define membership of the pack. The pack choses you. The pack makes the rules. The pack gets upset when the rules are broken. These rules are for the pack, but they are also for you. We may lose a bit of hunting time when you dig your holes, but it is you that keeps ending up in that hole. I am not saying that every pack member is always looking out for you, but I am saying that collectively the pack looks out for itself. Our interest is your interest.”

“But its who I am. I dig holes.”

“No, who you are is a bitch, like any other bitch, and like any other bitch you like to chase rabbits (who doesn’t!). Like any other bitch you can’t always stop yourself and get yourself stuck down a hole. Like any pack we’ll pull you out of that hole on occasions, but sometimes we’ll let you sit there for a while a whimper because it is irritating to have to keep pulling you out. Hopefully you’ll learn to stop digging the holes before one collapses and you can’t get out. Digging holes isn’t a state and it isn’t who you are, its a thing you do. Don’t think that people hate you because you dig holes. Is the fucking holes and you digging them that they hate. Its not about acceptance, its about not digging holes. You are not the holes you dig.”

“Its not that easy. If you had lived my life, if you knew what it is like to be me. ….”

“The problem with digging holes all the time is that you find yourself alone and in the darkness all so often that you think you are the only one, that no one has ever suffered like you have suffered, that no one feels like you feel. Spend more time out on the hunt with us in the sunlight and you’ll see that we all suffer, we all inflict suffering on our prey, and no one has the easy life you imagine they have. Life is often shit, and nature a savage imbalance of competing forces. Don’t imagine it otherwise. Take the good bits and relish in them, whince when bad shit happens then shrug it off for the good. Life isn’t that easy, but it isn’t that hard either. If everyone else can do it, you can to, you just need to find your own way. A wise painter once told me ‘Things are only hard in the beginning’. This is true. At first you’ll want to dig that hole, but don’t. Distract yourself, get something to eat, meditate, if your thoughts wonder to the hole, don’t fight it, endulge it for a while then think of something else. When you find your paws are getting dirty, just stop and get back into your basket.”

“I will try, I will try.”

“No, you will. You will stop digging the hole. Now I am going to try and catch some fish today, wanna come?”C

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The problem with science

02 03 10'

Written by Ben Waymark

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In the last year or two I have come across two scientists who approach their discipline with the same evangelical zeal as the most enthusiastic Christian convert: Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion and Ben Goldacre, author of Bad Science (both of which should be on everyones reading list). Each have their ‘enemy’ they have set their sites on. For Dawkins it is anyone who believes in any sort of supernatural beings (or imaginary friends as he calls them) and for Goldacre it is alternative medicine. Each set out their reasons for their chosen target. For Dawkins there is an army of anti-evolutionists who are posed to take the scientific community by force. For Goldacre it is the alternative medicine business that is trying to squeeze every last penny out of the unwell and the scared threatening to overthrow tried and tested medicine with charlatonism.

I have great sympathy for both scientists. Religion has long stood in the way of the progression of thought, from Medieval and Renaissance attempts to suppress classical literature incompatible with contemporary theology, through to persecution of Galileo to modern creationists trying to dictate scientific curriculum and suppress knowledge of evolution. Alternative medicine too has a lot to answer for. Snake oils, miracle cures, super-foods and breakthrough diets have made callous people their fortunes with little or no thought to other people’s well being. At best people have wasted their money on sugar pills, at worst they have done themselves serious damage by taking dangerous substance that haven’t been properly tested. Religion and alternative medicines have a lot to answer for.

But then science isn’t without blame either. Whether it is thalidomide given to mothers in the 1960s, ecological distasters, or eugenics, science has made its share of blunders over the past and continues to do so. Both Dawkins and Goldacre make bold statements about the veracity of the scientific method. Quite rightfully they demonstrate how this method uses peer review, hypothesis and experimentation to ensure that any statement, any theory, can be examined, verified or refuted. But even with this method, science still makes mistakes, and science has still left us with a lot of unanswered questions. Like many I am sure that over time science will continue to answer most of these questions; I would be surprised if there comes a point when there are no more answers to find. Neither science nor the scientific method can account for the limitation of the human mind. Even geniuses like Einstein or Newton still only ever managed to achieve glimpses into all that is out there. And while the big bang theory demonstrate how the universe formed, and evolution may demonstrate how we formed, neither help to explain how it is we got here in the first place or what happens once the big bang has expanded as far as it can expand.

What both Dawkins, in regards to evolution, and Goldacre, in regards to alternative medicine fail to account for is how we live with the scientific method in our daily lives. Fine analytical minds may content themselves with evolution as an explanation to our existence or may simply be able to accept that there is nothing more the doctors can do, but not everyone has an analytical mind and sometimes the best decision aren’t based on scientific fact or reasoned thinking. Often instinct, lucky guesses, and intuition have better outcomes that the collected wisdom of academics. Indeed, most corporate leaders and visionaries do so without any academic training at all. While the bureaucracies of most companies are run by MBAs and the well qualified, the brains at the top are usually the uneducated.

This is the problem with science. Its meticulous attention to details means it is a great system for building bridges, but this meticulous attention leads to a myopism that makes it most unsuited for many of the most important decision we have to make and renders it unsuited to explain some of the greatest tragedies and most elating joys that befall us. It also for this reason that when a loved one dies from a disease that cannot be cured or totally random accident, when we see people starving and dying just because no one can find a way of feeding them, there is no comfort to be found in the cold myopic facts of science, but it is to song and art and stories and Gods and ritual that we turn to. While Dawkins may have great scientific reasons for refusing to accept the existence of God he fails also to accept that there is any good reason why anyone else should. Indeed, anyone who does not agree with Dawkins view that God does not exist is dismissed by Dawkins as deluded for believing in an imaginary friend. While Dawkins has demonstrated quite successfully that there is no scientific proof that God does exist, he cannot prove that God does not. Indeed, how can anyone prove that God does not exist or that God does not love us without first defining precisely what God is, then defining what love is. Even the best theological or philosophical minds cannot do that! Goldacre will at least allow for the scientific evidence of the placebo affect to explain the perceived success of some alternative medicines, but what he fails to address is what medical science can do to address the problems people have with their care (often having as much do with bedside manner as the cures themselves). It will take more than just new and more effective cures to restore many people’s faith in modern medicine. Medicine needs to learn that you have to treat more than the disease itself, and that is something the scientific method cannot account for. Until the Dawkins and Goldacres of the world appreciate the importance and the place of the non-scientific, they will find themselves polarized and isolated in a very logical, but very lonely, world. While the scientific method is great for its veracity, it often falls short on usability.

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Life and Death

12 28 09'

Written by Ben Waymark

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foxtrap with bird inside for bait I was quite shocked when visitors walked out of the Boxing Day dinner because I asked my neighbour to come around with his rifle and shoot the fox that happened into the trap we set after some of chickens and a duck went missing. I was shocked because this side of the family, while not country folk, aren’t as ignorant as most urban folk are either. They come down to Devon three or four times a year to stay on their family’s hobby farm and aren’t entirely unaccustomed to the cycle of life. But then you forget even how many hobby farmers and other country folk live in that same wonderful bubble that many of their urbane friends live in where you never have to look your meat in the eyes. Indeed, it is a sign of the opulence or our age that most people get through a good portion of their lives without ever experiencing death of any sort until it suddenly hits them like the proverbial steam train. When this steam train hits, it hard because it unexpected.

Humans are animals. Unique in our ability to think ourselves separately from our corporeal existence, we are still driven by the same desires and primary motivators as any other beast. Like all animals we exist on this planet and compete for its resources. There is nothing we can eat, no where we can tread, and nowhere we can sleep without taking those resources from another living thing. When we build a city, we build it over rivers and streams and fields and forests. When we eat a vegetable it is grown in a field that has to be kept free of rabbits and moles and voles and insects. When we store food, we have to ensure that rats and mice and cock roaches do not contaminate them.

We can debate the rights or wrongs of our existance, our consumerism, and our love of meat but even a vegan living on a permaculture can only do so by taking that land from other people and other animals. While we are debating the rights and wrongs of killing animals, we still have to keep rats and mice from our kitchens and foxes from our livestock. We still have to kill flies, midges, and poorly situated hives. If we want we can keep our heads in the sand and let our local councils kill the urban pests, and farmers kill the rural ones, condemning them both from the smugness of our couch. Alternatively, we can go the route of the Pollyanna and trap a mouse in your kitchen, drive out to the “countryside” and release it there where, alone and in a totally foreign environment it will become an easy target to birds of prey or will just starve to death.

But The Art of Being Human is too avoid moral cowardice and embrace all aspects of life, even death. It is for this reason that I haven’t shied away from raising birds for meat and it is for this reason that I don’t shy away from controlling my pests myself (although I must admit to shying away from buy a rifle simply because of the costs and paperwork involved). I am not saying that everyone should go out and shoot a fox or raise their own chickens, but not confronting the reality of our existence is to avoid the very nature of our existence.

Pest control and killing for meat is a dispassionate affair. There is nothing personal or vengeful about it, it is simply taking part in the circle of life. I like to think that taking part in the circle life in this way will also help to prepare me for the death of friends and loved that stalks all of us. Death is as much as part of living and life is, and as long as we hide behind moral cowardice we deny ourself one of the most vital aspects of life.

The Early Purges

I was six when I first saw kittens drown.
Dan Taggart pitched them, ‘the scraggy wee shits’,
Into a bucket; a frail metal sound,

Soft paws scraping like mad. But their tiny din
Was soon soused. They were slung on the snout
Of the pump and the water pumped in.

‘Sure, isn’t it better for them now?’ Dan said.
Like wet gloves they bobbed and shone till he sluiced
Them out on the dunghill, glossy and dead.

Suddenly frightened, for days I sadly hung
Round the yard, watching the three sogged remains
Turn mealy and crisp as old summer dung

Until I forgot them. But the fear came back
When Dan trapped big rats, snared rabbits, shot crows
Or, with a sickening tug, pulled old hens’ necks.

Still, living displaces false sentiments
And now, when shrill pups are prodded to drown
I just shrug, ‘Bloody pups’. It makes sense:

‘Prevention of cruelty’ talk cuts ice in town
Where they consider death unnatural
But on well-run farms pests have to be kept down.

Seamus Heaney
(from: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-early-purges/)

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Switzerland bans minaret

12 01 09'

Written by Ben Waymark

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minarettes I have mixed feelings about the Swiss ban on minarets, much as I do about the French plans to ban some of the Islamic-style dress for women. I should first lay my own prejudice, or perhaps just preconceptions, down. First and foremost, I hold a belief that cultures are dynamic and ever changing and that any attempt to stagnate this change is futile at best and dangerous at worst. This prejudice leads me to conclude that the ban on minarets is a silly attempt by people who have decided that they don’t like the “foreign” influences this architectural style style represents. This narrow minded way of thinking is an attempt to stagnate culture.

But there are two things that soften my view on this. Firstly, it was a decision that was decided by referendum. There is something I respect about the Swiss democracy that allows it to hold votes on laws that would be constitutionally impossible or banned by sort of EU-style trade agreement in most other western democracy. Much like I applaud the French who, though I may disagree with their position that a government should impose a dress code on its citizens, at least have an open enough society that people can say what they think. There is something insidious about the British chattering classes that made it almost impossible to discuss issues or race, or religion or discrimination publicly unless you have an update degree is sociology and keep abreast of the latest terms that do not cause offence. As a result plenty of prejudices fester beneath the surface in this country, never to be discussed. I’d hazard a guess that if the UK held a referendum, there would be a similar result (at least if everyone voted), but the chattering classes will never allow that to happen.

The second softener of this view is a question I have in my mind regarding how a culture is formed and changed. I’ve excepted that cultures fluctuate, they change with time and the personalities involved, but to suggest that this change is entirely organic and cannot be plotted or influenced in anyway is to deny the powerful affect that people like the Spice Girls, for example, have exuded simply because someone cleverly planned them that way.

There is a lot I like about Islam, but its current distinction between private and public life of men and women is not an influence I’d like to welcome into our society. Indeed, the multi-cultural approach of the UK seems a bit a flawed because it does not address how cultural clashes are to be resolved, and it breeds a false sense of hope in people if they sincerely believe that British society will accept the idea that only men can share in public life and that a woman’s life and family life is completely private. They will also be disappointed if they believe that “causing offence” is going to be removed from humour of the land that gave us Punch and Judy, and The Viz.

Multiculturalism will work in so far as British society will continue to be happy to adopt good ideas from foreign cultures, whether that be the Hindi invention of shampoo and pijamas (both derivatives from Hindi words) or the concept of karma, or tea, or chutney, or sugar or Jamaican patties or pasta or tomatoes, but these will only be accepted if they become part of British society much like a curry or a plate of spaghetti has become a staple of the British diet.

Minarets could well become part of British society, indeed, so too could Islam, but only if they both integrate themselves into British society and laws to stop either would be a shame, but laws that both protect our rights to be free citizens regardless of our gender are needed and perhaps at this junction in their history, a law banning Minarets is the only way to way protect those rights. I can’t imagine such a law would work in the UK, but then the British culture is steeped in the many cultures it has assimilated over years of Celtic rule, Anglo-Saxon invasion, Norman conquest, protestant refugees, escaping Jews, and the citizens of former colonies who have found there way here.

But maybe that is something the Swiss have done for the beneffit of Europe and the Muslim: by passing the law they have made it clear that while they are willing to accept people praticing their own religions, if they want to start to push religion on the society they are in they will meet with resistance.

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God and Religion

11 26 09'

Written by Ben Waymark

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IT is not often that I talk about religion. Like most people, it is a subject I tend to avoid for a number of reasons: foremost of which, it is quite a personal thing for me and talking about it makes me blush. It also tends to upset people. Non religious people tend to get upset because it annoys them that I “believe in something that doesn’t exist”. Zealots tend to get upset because it is God and religion I believe in, not dogma.

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I am not much of a theologian, and I have taken pains to keep it this way. Its not that I believe that ignorance is bliss, it is simply that I believe the stories of Jesus’ life are important as stories because they are stories that reflect something that we cannot understand because we are too limited. To try and turn these stories into some sort of legal code, to examine them line by line as would a solicitor is not only to miss the point of the stories entirely, it also tends to lead people to the hate-filled dogmas that have given religion such a bad name.

The core stories of Christianity, those in the gospels of the New Testament (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John), are pretty straight forward. Jesus talks to a normal cross section of people, ranging for oppressing military types, vagabonds, workmen, scholars and he says this: don’t worry so much, you are not in control. You think you are in control, so you worry endlessly about all sorts of things, but you are bit a like a dog worried that he cannot control his owners. So relax, keep on doing whatever you’ve been doing, but just make sure you keep that flame of love alive in your heart. Love God and love your neighbours and everything else will follow. If you keep that spark of love alive, you will do no wrong. If you let that spark die, you will do no right.

It took me ages to figure out what ‘all the fuss’ was about with Christianity, and it never surprises me that so many people think it is a shit religion. If I were given menu of religions to choose, I am not sure which I’d go for, but Christianity would be pretty far down the list. Islam has the distinction of being entirely revealed religion, as the angels whispered to Muhammed the entirety of the text of the Koran which makes it theologically quite tidy. Buddhism has the most intellectual rigour to it. Shikism has a strong element of honour to it which I quite like. The neo-Pagan religions are great fun and involve the most about of drinking and sex, which puts them high up on my list. Atheism makes the most sense.

But to certain types of people, and I include myself in this, Christianity offers infinite compassion. Doesn’t matter if you are the one scooping the pellets down a Nazi gas chamber or the nicest guy in the world, Christianity offers the reassurance we are not the masters, and we are not in control. We have choices, we are autonomous, but we have an erroneous tendency to confusing ourself with God and to lose perspective. This reassurance is what Christianity, and that ever so fail-able institution the Christian Church, offer us.

It doesn’t seem like much, but Jesus’ offer: ‘Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’ really did it for me. Suddenly it all made sense. Christianity has nothing to do with not having sex, or not swearing, or being nice to people. Indeed, while morality is often portrayed as being the core ‘thing’ of Christianity, any sort of rightness or wrongness is just a secondary affect, something that happens once you realise that you there is nothing to feel guilty about, that anything wrong you might have done has already been forgiven and all you’ve got to in your life is keep the love alive and let things happen as they will.

Christianity, or any religion, is not for everyone. Some people just naturally manage to keep the spark of love alive and don’t need much to encourage it. But to others, and quite possibly to all of us who are “called” to a religion, we need that little bit of extra encouragement. Without it, we’d just become hardened in our heart, cynical, and lost in a sea of self-gratification and quick fixes. And for us, the art of being human is the art of fighting the cynicism and keep the flames of love burning. And for us, thank God there is Christianity. There. I’ve said it.

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Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

11 20 09'

Written by Ben Waymark

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Kate Moss recently said, in an interview that “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” (http://ipsy.me/b) which the Dail Mail, its Daily Mail way, made a big hoopla about stating “The 35-year-old model was accused of encouraging young girls to starve themselves after using an anorexics’ slogan”.

Not being a young girl myself, nor having ever really suffered from any sort food deprivation ilness, I can that I really like her moto. For someone like me, weighing in at 18 stone (about 250 lbs) who likes the occasional greasy fried chicken, a late buttery pop-corn, and perhaps more than this fare share of potatoe crisps (or potatoe chips and some are want to say) and beer, I think its damn good moto. And its true. Its not that nice lugging around 18 stone whever you go and people judge you if you are fat bastard too! I can’t say that size zero has ever been a goal of mine, but losing a bit of weight wouldn’t hurt and while anorexia certain is a pressing issues, we are really facing much more of an issue with the rolly-pollies at the moment and if anything the slogan “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” should be put onto every bottle of coke, every box of fried chicken, on top of every big mac bun.

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