grateful

I have a small confession to make.

Over the last few days I have taken to indulging in long showers. Not very long showers, just longer than the regulation four minutes. I stand there with hands on the taps, the water so soothing and hot and delicious, chasing dirt, sadness and pain away as it pelts gently against my weary self. I just. can't. turn the taps off.

Of course I do eventually. One can't stay in the shower forever... but those stolen moments are like a watery sanctuary, a sweet slice of heaven in my day.

I confess this because, by force of habit, I feel a little guilty about long showers. Australia has just been through a long drought. Where I live the water supply was healthy and we did not experience any water restrictions. For others, a shower of any length became a distant dream as their water tanks and resevoirs ran dry. I took short showers in a show of solidarity - a sort of 'all for one and one for all' sympathy dip.

So now half of Australia is flooding, the dams are full, the giant Murray River flows once more and we can all have showers for as long as we like. Well, for now anyway.

But what about other parts of the world? Many people don't even have water. If they do, they don't have clean water. They certainly don't have a tap piping it into their homes and channeling it down over their golden heads. Quite possibly they are too busy eaking out an existence to have ever thought of standing under running water for the joy of it - a quick splash and they are off to earn their next few cents.

Suddenly my shower, the one I take as a given (even when I duck in and out of the water), seems rather luxurious.

I'm not going to stop showering because other people can't - this is my reality. However I can take steps to ensure other people have access to clean water and don't live in abject poverty. And when I do indulge myself, I now breathe a prayer of thankfulness. For water, infrastructure that brings it to me, a safe house and the luxury of time to stop and enjoy.

Thank you

obamarama

After all the anticipation and excitement about the US election, I ended up on an isolated camp site with three classes of beastly careless school children just when the whole thing was being decided (credit where credit is due - one did tell me he hoped Obama would win. I was impressed he even knew who Obama was). Such an anticlimax. One enormous, gigantic thankyou to my friend Robyn, who texted me with one word: 'woohoo :-)'. Her message said it all.

I know some of you in the USA aren't sure about Obama. I know I don't have to live with whatever economic policy he decides to implement - although in this global village maybe I will live with it despite our differing citizenship. I know a new person at the helm brings with it uncertainty. I know my mum thinks he is a dark horse who has not revealed everything he stands for. I know that some of his liberal policies do not conform to the moral values others hold dear. I know that at every election certain crazy Christians attempt to determine if the new president mightn't just be the antichrist. I know all that, but I still feel an incredible sense of relief that Barrack Obama is now the president elect.

I am reading a book by Barbara Kingsolver called 'Small Wonder'. In this collection of essays written after the 9/11 terrorist attacks she explores what in American society might have provoked such attacks. I am only three essays in, but her willingness to acknowledge the faulty value system of the USA (and most of the western world really) is confronting, refreshing, and challenging. She questions the benefit of fighting violence with violence, wonders if capital gain at the cost of people in other countries might not have fuelled the anger and bitterness that resulted in the attacks, and urges people to return to a deeper connection with the earth that sustains them. I cannot help but think the world would be a better place if we all lived by the alternative values she argues for so beautifully.

For me, Obama embodies some of these values Barbara Kingsolver espouses. He advocates for diplomacy over war, justice and respect for people of all persuasions, distributing wealth more equitably. These ideals resonate strongly with me. I am tired of the old way of doing things. Right down to Australia we have been protectionist, looking out for our own interests, rejecting compassion, worshipping profit, searching after continual economic growth while others less fortunate than ourselves have suffered the effects of our excesses.

I doubt Obama is a messiah able to solve all the ills of the world, but if he can respond to injustices and pain with compassion and peace then maybe he can change more things than we imagine. And perhaps that approach will cost us in terms of our own personal comfort. But that might not be so bad. We've had it pretty good for a long, long time. It's other people's turn now.

this is one of the reasons for the eye rolling...

Australia won 14 gold medals at the Olympic Games.

Yay.

This is how much it cost in government funding for every medal: $16.7 million.

Yay?!

I hate to rain on the parade, but isn't that figure a bit outrageous in a world filled with poverty and injustice?

And to those people who claim our poor showing in the Olympics means the government should fund our sports people even more (surely they are forgetting our small population - in terms of medals per capita we've done pretty well. Or maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better... national pride and all that.) I have this to say:

Millennium Development Goals

The money we spent on the Olympics had the potential to supply millions of people with mosquito nets to prevent them from contracting malaria. Or fund the establishment of health clinics. Or reduce maternal and infant mortality.

Go figure.

guilty

A supermarket stacked full of food which tumbles from the shelves and into my trolley.

A catered afternoon tea with an abundance of sandwiches we can never hope to eat.

A pub meal so big I wearily push the still full plate away.

A worldwide food crisis in which people are starving because there isn't enough food and what there is they cannot afford.


I think we have stuffed up.

living in the lap of luxury

Thinking back to school days I have no doubt my teachers intended me to learn all sorts of weighty knowledge, and it's likely that I did imbibe some of what they sought to impart. Perhaps I even learned huge swathes of facts and figures - I sure studied hard enough!

Thinking back though, it's mostly irrelevant things I recall... creating volcanoes in the sandpit, concocting rotten egg gas, resting a needle on the meniscus of a glass of water, the extra trill tacked onto the end of a piece of music, crying with Bob Hawke over Tiananmen Square, the quirky personality of a lecturer donned in thongs rain, hail or shine. Arguably the most useful thing I remember is the definition of osmosis: the movement of particles from a region of high concentration to a region of low concentration through a semi-permeable membrane.

All those years spent studying and I can only hope my knowledge base is fat with a general air of knowing. Because the facts and figures slipped away long ago!

In the intervening years since school not that much has changed - I still seem programmed to remember the incidental, inconsequential things and forget the relevant bytes of information. Working in my favour is the way all those incidental, inconsequential things weave themselves together into something truly useful that guides my life. (I'm still figuring out the useful contribution of needles on menisci and rotten egg gas...) Snatches of truth, principles, generalities... all converge to produce an idea that gains significance in the nitty gritty of everyday life.

Lately a host of truths, principles and generalities have been snapping together like magnets in my mind. World poverty, ethical eating, environmental conscience, sustainable living... these and many other ideas swim around in my head, seeking each other out, forming values and beliefs, influencing my behaviour.

A thought from my recent residential school is a case in point. We were discussing the counselling needs of people who have experienced trauma and loss when the lecturer pointed out that the very fact we have time and space to discuss such events with a counsellor is testimony to the privilege and luxury we enjoy. Many of the world's population do not have access to this privilege - their trauma and losses are incomprehensibly greater than our own, yet they are so caught up in the task of survival that they have no resources left for processing their experiences.

I can't shake that thought, the thought of the luxury and privilege I enjoy. For one, I can afford to study! (Leave alone having the chance to learn to read) Then there is my choice to work part time, not because I have children or an injury, but simply because of the quality of life it affords me. As I sit and study, or read, or cook for pleasure I am plagued by visions of those who must work tirelessly through every day to simply survive: gathering wood; milking goats; grinding wheat. And what about our new car? The one with the six stack CD player? Most people of the world can only dream of such a grand possession.

Yes, I live in the lap of luxury.

It all came home a little more strongly this afternoon. Today Frank and I heard about a young orphan boy in Kenya who lives in a single room with his grandparents and plays with cars he makes from wire. I wept.

What a world. That I can be so, so rich while this boy is so, so poor. That I have food, and shelter, and transport, and education while he has so little. That we in the West perpetuate his poverty with our systems of exploitation and greed. This is a travesty.

May I be responsible with my wealth, using it to ease the pain of those who experience little in the way of luxury, promoting the principles of justice and compassion and resisting the urge to think only of myself.

a tale of the two target magazines

Two Target magazines plopped into my letterbox yesterday.

(Actually they didn't plop into the letterbox at all. We have a small, decrepit metal box perched atop a post and, so, squashed in half, each item scraped through the narrow orifice before getting stuck, and there it stayed until I came home and I levered it gently free)

So two Target magazines arrived in my letterbox, nestled together in stark contrast to one another until I came and sorted the mail.

"Great," I thought, "a Target catalogue. I love a good Target catalogue!"

Sorting further I found the Target magazine.

"Hmmm," I mumbled,"this magazine is quality info. I look forward to reading this over a good cup of coffee."

(Actually I don't drink coffee. Two hours after the inspiring liquid slides past my tastebuds I am overcome by tremors and faintness. Every once in a while I cannot resist the deliciousness of the taste, but mostly the aftereffects are not worth the small pleasure! But I still love the visual image of savouring a cup of the good stuff)

..."Hmmm," I mumbled, "this magazine is quality info. I look forward to reading this with a glass of water," and off I toddled inside.

It was only later that I realised the significance of two Target magazines arriving at the same time, one shamelessly promoting superfluous products such as toys, DVDs, and computer games, the other promoting the work of community development amongst the world's poor.

To me they represent two very different ideologies - in fact the values each promotes stand in diametric opposition to one another.

Flick through the pages and observe what I mean:

The Target catalogue parades the 'Dancing Princesses Genevieve Doll', storybook pillows, a Shrek pinball machine, and a Garfield Nintendo game. Then there's the Barbie shoes, Spiderman boots and Ninja Turtle backpack, all set off beautifully by the Bratz licensed lamp. Page after page is filled with potentially useful but ultimately nonessential items.

Turn to the Target Magazine and the content is nothing short of inspiring. There is detailed the story of five-year-olds who squeeze into a sixteen year old girl's bedroom in Bangladesh. They come for literacy and numeracy lessons, health education, and songs. While they are learning, most teenagers are at work in the local factory producing clothes... perhaps the very clothes that the Target catalogue advertises.

Could it be any more clear, the contrast between my rich, comfortable world and the world of the majority of Earth's population?

I detest the consumerism of the West. We are so caught up in materialism we've forgotten that we already have everything we could possibly need. Instead we pour over catalogues, which (to my shame) I asked to receive, looking for the extra possession that will bring us happiness.

Not that I want to go and live in the developing world! I'm thankful for the creature comforts I have - I just long for the day when I stop pining for more and more and more! I want to be content with what I have so that I can share my wealth with those who do not have.

Thankyou TEAR and your Target Magazine for reminding me of the billions who live with less than I have. Thankyou postie for plonking two magazines in my letterbox at exactly the same time, prompting me to ponder my wealth compared to the poverty of others in this world.

May I become less enchanted with consumerism, having the courage to stand for justice and freedom for all, resisting the temptation to purchase items I don't really need, sharing out of my richness with those who have nothing.