A visual interlude

My recent postings have all been very (adopt dreary tone) serious and (continue in the same tone) depressing. So, in an effort to intersperse this journey with a few sun-soaked stop-overs, I've decided to make today's post a little more visual and hopefully, a lot more inspiring. These photos were taken on various trips that I made last year and I hope that they brighten up your winter afternoon as much as they do mine.

For those who might be planning a holiday, or just looking for a good book about pulling rabbits from hats, here's where I took each image:

In the top spot is a photo that always makes me smile, it was taken in Sydney Aquarium - I've been twice and if it was not for the distance between me and it and the crowds that throng to this fish-filled kaleidoscope of colour, I'd be there right now.

I captured the next mountain-scape from the balcony of one of the worst hotel rooms that I've ever had the displeasure to stay in. It was an awful room but it very almost made up for that by offering this fantastic view of the Himalayas, as seen from Darjeeling, India. (Did I mention that both myself and my boyfriend had food poisoning while we were trapped in this dark and damp room - at least we had this view to wake up to - thank you Brian for waking me up to see it).

Next in line is a frog in the wishing well in Pokhara, Nepal.

The following two are also taken in Pokhara, Nepal, both by the lakeside.

Then it's the turn of lovely, lazy Laos (oh and yes, those are my feet), where one goes to chill out or to float down the river in an inner tube, as these novice monks have been doing.

The next is of 'confused faces' at the tourist market in Luang Prabang, Laos - they look more like happy faces to me.

This is followed by a picture that I sneaked while perusing a second hand book shop in Wellington, New Zealand. Nowhere else have I seen a section within a book shop dedicated to magic and circuses and it always makes me grin to imagine suited-up ring masters and limber acrobats running their fingers over the spines of the books and murmuring to themselves as they choose between the titles.

From there we go on an African adventure - spying on elephants from the window of a very tiny light aircraft over the Okavango Delta and then poling through the reeds of the Delta.

The elephants below strutted their stuff on the banks of the Chobe River, also in Botswana.

This posting doesn't really fit within the 'search for meaning of life' genre, but it's a dark day here and I've just found out that my fridge is broken and needs to be replaced (at great expense) so I'm feeling in need of a boost. It seems to me that someone out there may also be in need of a little lift. Thus, this reminder of exotic places and warmer weather is dedicated to anyone who is made blue by grey skies and/or shoddy kitchen appliances.

Holocaust Memorial Day

Today is the 65th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau killing camp. It is also holocaust memorial day, which marks the loss of life due to genocide in World War II, Cambodia, Bosnia, Rwanda and Darfur.

It is shocking that despite public knowledge of the atrocities that occurred in Nazi Germany, Pol Pot's Cambodia and in Bosnia and Rwanda, we have cause to mark the loss of life in one part of the world where such troubles, such tragedies, are ongoing: Darfur.

Will we ever learn? Unfortunately I think not. It is such very tragedies that breed the menace required to bring about fresh pain.

In an attempt to shed a little positive light upon what could be a day of dark memories, Holocaust Memorial Trust has made its theme for 2010: The Legacy of Hope. This theme aims to bring to the fore the positive contributions to society of survivors. It is a theme that gives us cause to wonder how strong a person must be to have any sort of sense of normality after having lived through what could only be hell.

Today I am going to try to remember that we have a choice.

Of course, it's much easier to choose to be 'good' when you've had positive experiences of life. I know that I have what could only be described as a charmed life and yet I make mistakes all the time. How difficult it must be for those who have witnessed intense cruelty, pain and suffering and who are asked to make the choice to be kind to others, to be fair and honest and sometimes to be selfless. But many people who have suffered greatly do just that.

I am in awe of people who have been personally acquainted with genocide and who put one foot in front of the next and continue, even when there is no longer anything more to run from. I just wish that the survivors who attempt to piece back together their shattered lives could forget the most terrifying moments and those who may perpetrate future crimes would not forget that they can choose and that they can stop the hurt.

I firmly believe that every person has the capacity for great goodness and great harm and that the experiences and people we come into contact with during our lifetime will swing the balance towards one or the other.

It would be a near-perfect world if everybody had a fighting chance from the start, but sadly many set off from damaged beginnings. It takes someone very special to break the cycle and they are the true legacy of hope.

The 'Secret' Vatican Archives

In my efforts to explore the world of religion I decided to send my browser first to Rome and to the website of the Vatican. Imagine my delight when on the home page I discovered a link to the Vatican Secret Archives. Of course, I was immediately alerted to the fact that these archives probably aren't all that secret, given that I could read all about them by clicking on a link on the Vatican home page. This was obvious, but yet for a sliver of a moment I was genuinely disappointed to discover that this was not a misplaced link that would lead me on a Dan Browne-esque adventure of deception and treachery.

Then, I assumed that these archives may have been secret until very recently and that perhaps soon I would be wrapped up in a world of long-robed ghosts, medieval murders and all manner of usurping (a word that screams costume drama). Sadly (for someone who was hoping to gain entry to rarely seen files demonstrating the links between masonry and papal rule) it would appear that the word 'secret' is used in this case not to denote something hidden or known of only by a few individuals, but rather to mean private or close to a prince, in this case the Pope.

The words 'secretum' and 'secretus' were used to denote something private, confidential or personal. The Secret Archives are privately controlled by the Pope, but about 1500 scholars are given access to the archives, its reading rooms and computer labs, every year, according to the Vatican website.

I am sure that amongst the 85 linear kilometres of bookshelves that this immense collection of papal archives encompasses there are many 'secrets' of which I am unaware, but unless one is a scholar of catholic history, I presume that they would be difficult to locate. In an archive this size I would imagine that it is difficult to find anything, even if you do know what you are looking for and where to start looking for it.

The history of the collections the archives contain is interesting in itself. The archive contains documents that go back to the 10th century but the number of documents that were placed in the archive increased significantly from the 15th century onwards.

The collection was on the move for several centuries, finding its first home at Castel S. Angelo, then moving to three rooms next to the (equally enticingly named) Secret Library, then in 1810, by order of Naploean, the archives of the Holy See were taken to Paris. Just six years later the precious papers were on the road again and found their way back to Rome, but in 1870, any archives that were located outside the walls of the Vatican were confiscated and became part of the State Archives of Rome. Such swings and roundabouts!

I am sure that the constituent parts of the Archive are themselves fascinating to those in the know, but unless someone comes up with a very abridged version, or some wonderfully comic cliff notes I do not expect, in this lifetime, to ever attempt to study any part of them.

Don't get me wrong, history offers many a great yarn and I am a fan of everything from tales from renaissance Florence to reports of Soviet era skulduggery, however this blog is about finding meaning and I am amused that the history of the religion within which I was raised is housed in kilometre, after kilometre, after further kilometres of bookshelves - what eager bureaucrats our religious leaders have been! I might find amusement in reading the popular rendition of events that surrounded the great schism or the Council of Trent, but these are stories from history rather than food for the soul.

Perhaps today's blog, instead of inspiring any new faith has made clear another reason why I am suspicious of religions - there is just too much paperwork surrounding what, in my opinion should simply be said as: be nice to each other, respect life in whatever form it takes and try not to fuck up.

Habits of a lifetime

Yesterday, I traveled across Ireland to the wild and, at least over the weekend, mist-covered western coast of the island, to celebrate the life of my friend's mother, who passed away during the week. It was a moving day that was remarkable for the elegance with which her family conducted themselves throughout the day and for the heartfelt remarks made by anyone who knew my friend's mother.

On the journey home, myself and my traveling companions discussed funeral ceremonies and specifically, the fact that it must be much easier to give a eulogy for someone who is universally liked (or almost universally, surely no-one is liked by absolutely everyone that they come in contact with?) than someone who is loved but not liked by many. My friend's mother was clearly very well liked and very much loved, as are the rest of her family.

In the circumstances that someone is well-liked it is not difficult to say 'a few kind words' that will connect to many of those who have come to say goodbye. However, in the case that a person may not have been the most popular, it is still necessary to take the opportunity to celebrate who that person was and their best features. It is not only the person who has gone who we disrespect if we do not, but also our own relationship with them and our experience of their dying.

Our relationships with one another are often extremely complicated and the emotions that we feel about a person are not always clear cut. I can't help but think that the ceremonies that we create around the passing of another person help us to find our way through what are often labyrinthine emotional circumstances.

It is sometimes difficult to know how to feel when we are angry but also sad, perhaps sorry that we did not make peace with someone before they were gone, but still unforgiving. By taking part in the ceremonies that we practice after someone is gone we find a way to say goodbye and to show respect, even if we cannot still, forgive or forget their actions or ours.

Even in the best of situations, where a person is beloved and dies old and happy, it can be comforting to go through the motions of celebrating their life and marking their death. Religion has created ceremonies that punctuate our lives and that form rites of passage that can help us to navigate our way across the oceans of noise that surround us as we travel this journey.

As I said, I am not a religious person but I can see the value in the Catholic ceremonies, in the practice of habits around the most joyful and the most tragic moments. I am of the belief that there are stages of grief and if in the first few days after we loose someone we are forced to put on a brave face, greet friends and concerned strangers and listen to the same prayers said for someone we love that we have previously heard said for those we were not so very close to, maybe this helps us not only to come to terms with the reality of what has happened but also to accept that we must continue on, surrounded by people who care about us but for whom we must sometimes smile when we don't feel up to it, until we want to smile again.

And again, yesterday, I was reminded of the community aspect of religion. There is great support in the coming together of a group of people, each of whom says: 'this is OUR way to say goodbye and thank you for this person we love'. This is not to exclude anyone else who does not share out traditions, but to find collective expression at a time when many people feel similar feelings (of varying severity) about one person and the loss of them.

In conclusion, religion is 'not my thing', but I am glad that I can fall back upon the habits that were ingrained in childhood and the ceremonies that help in times when otherwise we might not know what to do or how to move forward.

My friend's mother was laid to rest in an idyllic location, looking over water and in the shadow of mist-covered Irish hills. Yesterday it was mystical in the cold, damp weather and I imagined it in summer time, blue and green and fresh and peaceful. I am sure that anyone would be happy there, but particularly someone who feels that this is where they belong.

A first word (no wincing) on religion and meaning

I've come to the realisation that it is time to take a peak into what religion can tell me about the meaning of life. This thought leaves a strange, sour and cynical taste in my mouth.

I am not a person without faith, I have faith in bucket loads however, I'm not exactly sure what it is that I have faith in. Certainly, I do not have faith in the Catholic church, and Catholicism being the religion within which I was raised, this has led to a natural suspicion of all organised religions.

Religion is, in my mind, not far removed from politics, but at least politics is open about the influence of political motivation upon those who operate within the scope of its influence (wait, in a democracy shouldn't that apply to all of us?). Most of my problems with the Catholic church (aside from the abuse of children that occurred at the hands of members of this organisation) stem from its operation as an organisation that resembles both a business and a pressure group.

However, I am a great believer in a good yarn and I think of religion as being the story within which we frame our faith. I'm interested in marketing and media, as well as writing off the top of my head and am always fascinated by the creation of narratives to communicate ideas. People love a story that they can sink their teeth into and religions, of whatever flavour you partake of, provide just that - a tale complete with characters, plot, beginnings, middles and ends.

Best of all, religions provide us with a role in the very centre of the fray - they explain our position within this narrative and how we interact with the central characters. Who wouldn't love a story that they star in? However, this is one bed-time story that comes with a rule book. Oh I am all for freedom, free thinking and free markets, but let's face it, we do like a bit of structure. Like newborn babies, most of us crave a little routine, a few guidelines to tell us how to live our lives in accordance with best practice. Religions provide this playbook and in most cases, they also provide for the human contact and community that most (non-nut-type-forest-hermits: see yesterdays post) of us crave. And they give us hope - the true secret of life?

As I said, I have faith and I do believe that it is entirely possible that Jesus walked the earth and even that he may have been a messenger from God, I also believe that aspects of other religious tales may have some basis in truth. It doesn't seem to matter who we believe in or where we believe we are going when we leave this planet, what matters is to have a story, to find a way to interpret what we see, touch and feel around us and, more importantly, where we fit into it all.

I've studied quite a lot about the early modern period, when people read the world as a complex sign system and did not believe that anything was as it was, but rather that it was a representation or symbol of something else that was deeper and closer to God. I don't believe that this is an accurate understanding of our world and I'm all for seeing a table as a table, a bird as a bird, a milkshake as a dense and sugar-filled drink, but if I lived in a world where food was limited, sanitation pretty much non-existant and where, if I gave birth or cut my leg badly I would probably die, I might also find solace in believing that THIS was not IT.

In my opinion, religion is a means of understanding our own place in time and space and for investing meaning and hope into a life that can sometimes seem so difficult that we don't know how to go on without believing that there is something more and better beyond, and a life that can sometimes be so spectacularly beautiful that we cannot fully enjoy it without finding someone and some way to say thank you.

As I take a first peak at some of the religions of the world I will attempt to keep this in mind and to try to be respectful, because I will be dealing in other peoples' language of life and of hope.

Even Mowgli made friends

My inclination is to try to accept the possibility that any form of existence can be worthwhile. However, this morning (don't ask me why) my mind turned to Rudyard Kipling's Mowgli, the boy who was separated from his parents when they were attacked by a tiger and who was then raised by wolves.

It's all very well to suggest that anybody can forge a meaningful life in any circumstances and, as I have previously written, I'd like to believe that a life can be meaningful even if one does not have the faculty to be aware of its purpose, BUT I for one would loose my mind after just a few weeks without human contact and I don't think that this is an unusual symptom of isolation.

According to secular humanists, we are social creatures who find meaning in personal relations. I agree with this. When I hear that someone is actually attempting to discover the nature of existence by sitting alone in the middle of a forest, I generally consider them to be crazy. The major reason why I think that anyone who does choose to live in isolation is a bit of a nut is because I assume that prolonged loneliness will send even the most sane individual around the bend.

You could tell me until you were blue in the face that to find the meaning of life I must venture into the forest/desert/middle of the sea and remain still and silent until the true nature of my inner self is revealed to me. I'll never believe you. For a start, it sounds to me like this true nature that I would discover might be a hallucination and given that previous hallucinations I have had have taken the form of antelopes and cartoon characters, I'm not sure that I would be any the wiser if I listened to what this 'true self' told me.

Secondly, and more importantly, we are animals who need community, conversation and physical contact. Although Maslow's theories regarding the hierarchy of human needs suggest that those who achieve self-actualisation require less contact with others, in my opinion this detachment seems cold.

And herein lies one of the challenges that I imagine must be faced by great geniuses - if a person chooses to find meaning in one sliver of the realm of experience and to become truly dedicated to this very specialised search for meaning, other aspect of life must often be chopped off at the root and discarded, in order that the flow of energies be directed entirely into whatever the person has made the pet-project of his or her existence. Those who choose to focus their energies in this way are often responsible for the great leaps forward that society can thank for movements in art, masterful music and cures for common diseases.

However, the sacrifice that these people make is immense and in some way I wonder whether those who cannot achieve balance between their work and the softer aspects of human life, sacrifice too much, given that they only get one chance to dance, so to speak.

I'm conscious that it sounds as if I am belittling the contribution of people with focused minds, which I don't want to do. What I do want to draw attention to is this: I believe that the measure of a life may be made in a variety of ways. Some people make one spectacular contribution that positively influences the lives of many. Others quietly go about their quiet lives, supporting the people around them through lifetimes. Some people create meaning from their own actions but other people stand at the intersection of many positive networks of friends and family and support an entire tree and branch system of good feeling. There is no way to attribute a greater value to one, over the other.

Plus, while not all of us enjoy loud mouthed debate or sharing gossip over coffee, every one of us must benefit enormously from tiny interactions with others, which we might not even recall afterwards. Even Mowgli made friends with the animals that Kipling portrayed as having human characteristics. Solemn contemplation is all very good in small doses but there's nothing like a good laugh with great friends, or even strangers. Interactions give meaning that is shared and even if they distract me from considering my true, free, essence of self, I'm pretty sure that I'll be better for them.

And with that I am going to turn off the computer and go out.

Finding meaning in ketchup and air travel

A good friend's mother is unwell and save for a miracle, it is unlikely that she will get any better. I don't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem to be very helpful and I can't imagine that I have any great insights to pass on that will make the situation any more bearable for my friend.

It may be difficult to ascertain why we are here but it is harder to explain the meaning of death than that of life, save that death is the finish line of this crazy race. In a manner, it makes sense to think of the one who breaks through the finishing ribbon as the winner because it is the people who are left behind, still running, who loose the most.

In ordinary circumstances, even when we flag with exhaustion, there is an exhilaration to be found in sprinting onwards, the wind in our hair, legs pumping, heart beating, passing through an ever-changing landscape. But when someone we love turns that final bend and opens up for the finish line there can seem little joy in continuing on with our own race.

So far, this search for meaning has inspired many (quite random) musings, but one message that is prominent amongst the thoughts that it has drawn up is this: be grateful for the life you have and enjoy it.

To be grateful is easier said than done because we fast forget to be thankful for what we accept as the norm. Today I'm going to write a few words about the things that I am grateful for. Of course, I am grateful to have a wonderful family and friends, I'm grateful for my education, that I have a roof over my head and for the great fortune that I had to be born somewhere that has a reasonable standard of sanitation and where I do not (yet, anyway) have to walk 6 km every day to fetch a pail of water. These things are always somewhere in my mind, but today I'd like to say thank you for fifteen other things that I take for granted, in the hope that this will go some way to expressing my gratitude to the universe, God, whatever or whoever it is that I should be thanking for this great gift of life. And so...

1. I am grateful for ketchup, which has made many a bland meal taste better
2. I am thankful that I have the use of all my limbs, without which I would not be able to do the hokey cokey, amongst other things.
3. I am thankful for sellotape, because my step-granny used to stick my and my cousin's birthday presents with sticky plasters and we thought this was weird.
4. I am thankful that I enjoy writing, my own version of Freud's talking cure.
5. I am grateful for green tea, which wakes me up without making me feel like a drug-crazed insomniac, as coffee does.
6. I am grateful to Apple for making computing pleasant.
7. I am grateful for apples, which often successfully fill a gap between lunch and dinner.
8. I am grateful for strawberries because they taste of sunshine and happiness.
9. I am thankful for doorbells, because knocking hurts my knuckles.
10. I am thankful for The Simpsons, which has probably taught me as much about life and relationships as did my formal education.
11. I am grateful for shoes.
12. I am thankful that someone invented the mattress and that I don't have to sleep on a hard board.
13. I am grateful for toasters, which make bread taste so much more delicious (and warm on a cold day).
14. I am grateful that my boyfriend doesn't snore as often or as loudly as he used to.
15. I am thankful for air travel, which is bad for the environment but often leads to experiences that are good for the soul.

It's a start.