Daydream Believer....

This week the flaneurial lifestyle has taken me far from my urban roots to the tiny village of St. Tudy, which is to be found hugging the western edge of the heathland of Bodmin Moor. The contrast with recent locales could not be greater. At times it is profoundly quiet here, the only sounds that disturb the calm are the cackling of the rather demonstrative Canada Geese and the honking of the ducks (although, from here, it is hard to decide which is doing the cackling and which the honking...). There is a road which runs about 30 metres from my door. One is alerted to its presence by the noise of a passing car about once every 30 minutes. The constant busy-ness of small motorcycles buzzing up and down the streets of Kanchanaburi seems like a distant dream from here; almost as if one had somehow wandered into some kind of alternative reality.

I am assured by various friends that the weather is really rather good, especially in comparison with what came before. Still, for me at present, being exposed to temperatures hovering around the giddy heights of fifteen degrees has left me quivering and quaking, shivering and shaking. One gets used to the high thirties; coming back to the UK after three months of such warmth I have becomes aware of the sheer constancy of the cold and damp in this sceptred, but rather chilly, isle.

The English spring remains wonderfully refreshing though and, if fortune favours the nomadic traveller, one may even have some degree of sunshine as well. In such circumstances, it can be pleasant indeed. The variety of wild food on offer is also something to be indulged in. I made the mistake of purchasing some incredibly dull iceberg lettuce from a supermarket in Exeter only to find a huge variety of tasty and nutritious salad leaves on offer in the fields and forest surrounding me here in depths of the East Cornish countryside. Sorrel, dock, dandelions and even wild garlic are abundantly available and give any salad a wonderful variety of unique and interesting flavours. Added to this, the knowledge that they are also high in micro-nutrients and other such goodies makes it not only a pleasure but a very healthy option as well.

I am sharing this little foray with an old friend, Chinese in origin, who spent many years struggling to survive in the UK and escaping the less than savoury elements who had organised her escape from China. For convenience, we shall call her Angela. These days, after several years of coping with the fear of being sent back, Angela has become a bona fide UK passport holder. This actually occurred in the past six months during the time I was happily conducting my flaneurial activities in China and Thailand. With but one brief exception in January, we had not met during that period. The difference in her, having had the ever-present threat of expulsion lifted, is remarkable indeed. Where there was tension there is now peace, where there was anxiety there now is a degree of certainty, where there were frowns there are now smiles!

I have known this lass for some years now and have even played some part in the changes she has gone through. Now she finds herself in her early to mid thirties and wanting to settle down with an appropriate 'other'. With us in St. Tudy is another Chinese gentlemen from the fair city of Cardiff. His English is not the best but he seems to be a thoroughly decent chap. So much so in fact that he seems to want to pay every bill every time and one has to restrain his philanthropic activities with a degree of insistence bordering on the violent. My part in this rather strange set up is to act as something of a chaperone. These somewhat quaint arrangements have a degree of awkwardness at times but, in general, have led to a thoroughly pleasant few days spent together deep in the heart of the Cornish countryside.

The changes in my friend are not merely confined to the release of stress either. In the time I have been away she seems to have discovered religion; more specifically, Christianity.

Personally, my own experience with this offshoot of Judaism has not been particularly positive. As a child I was exposed to much proselytising which left its mark. For some years in my adult life I was once more tempted back into the fold but, as is my wont, I could not help but examine the historical basis for many of the claims. These I found severely wanting – in fact, it seemed that there was scarcely any evidence whatsoever barring a brief mention by the Jewish historian Josephus and even this had subsequently been 'doctored' (in)appropriately by those wishing to add a degree of authenticity which the reality sadly lacked.

Having said that, the changes in my friend were clear and really quite positive. The feeling that she now had a medium through which she could make sense of life and her part in it was clearly of great value in and of itself. True as it was that her way of understanding would seem to many to be really quite naïve on many levels but... clearly it was working for her and giving her a sense of certainty that had been lacking in her life for many, many years previously.

Whilst chatting with Angela one evening thoughts of a previous occasion drifted into my mind. Several years ago, whilst on a sojourn in the land of Israel, I had visited the fascinating city of Jerusalem. If you, dear reader, ever have the chance to spend some time in that troubled land, I would urge you to do so and, in particular, if you have the chance to visit Jerusalem itself you should, by all means, do so. It is truly a fantastic city where one is not only exposed to a metropolis with a long and deep history but also to an eclectic mix of eccentric characters, many representing the main mono-theistic religions, but also a surprisingly large number with no religious outlook at all. Jerusalem seems to be a magnet for the weird and the wonderful, the unconventional and the downright quirky.

As ever in Israel, and particularly in Jerusalem, these were times of turmoil. Ultra orthodox Jews in the Mea She'arim district had recently stoned a young western tourist when she had inadvertently wandered into their area wearing shorts. Tensions between the Israelis and the Palestinians were also evident, in the previous weeks there had been two incidents involving bombs on buses in which many people had lost their lives. Tensions between secular and religious Jews were also much in evidence, mainly due to resentment on the part of those who had to go and fight for the state of Israel whilst the most strident orthodox Jews, who seemed very keen to urge on the military from the sidelines, were much less inclined to actually take any part in any fighting. Conveniently, their religious rules meant that they were banned from bearing arms. Oddly, this pacifism did not seem to extend to their verbal pronouncements. Understandably, this situation often somewhat annoyed those who were obliged to actually do the fighting.

At the start of my sojourn I had found myself staying for the first few days in an Orthodox Jewish hostel in the proximity of the King David Hotel, where I managed to rather clumsily fall foul of the strict kosher dietary rules. Although the problem was dealt with politely, I felt that a move to another hostel might prove sagacious. So it was that I found myself, a few days later, residing in a Christian hostel in the proximity of Jaffa gate, just inside the old city walls.

For several days my evenings were spent surrounded by a group of the most earnest Christians who had travelled to Jerusalem from all corners of the world, each and every one of them convinced of the rightness and righteousness of their world view. I would listen to sincere debates as to the nature of the trinity, how the theory of evolution was a ridiculous assumption as the bible proved the world to be only a few thousand years old and how to bring the majesty of Christ into your day to day existence. Many of the assumptions in these debates seemed, to me at least, to be deeply flawed, often lacking any basis in reality at all but... one could not help but notice how the beliefs themselves, the fact of having a clear set of beliefs, was a cornerstone of these people's reality. It gave them a sense of purpose, a sense of understanding, almost a mission in life. Without it, their lives would likely have felt the poorer.

I found myself torn between the desire to inject a little realism into the discussion and the thought that, if I did, it may cause someone to begin to doubt their world view. This I was reluctant to do, after all, who was I to presume to know the answers? In some ways, I quite admired their certainties, their lack of doubt, the seeming clarity of their view. At the same time I knew it was not for me. Unlike for many Christians, faith for me is not enough. I have a preference for a more gnostic view of existence.

Back in our cabin in Cornwall, as I listened to Angela waxing lyrically about how God had a role for me and that's why he had cared for me through the difficulties and challenges of the last decade, these memories came flooding back. Although I strongly disagreed with so many of the assumptions that were being made, again the thought surfaced: what would it profit me to express such doubts? I could see the changes in Angela and how these were working to her benefit. To be honest, I would even have to admit to a slight sense of envy on my part. An envy of the certainties that such a world view gives, an envy of the sense of having the answers, even as I was equally  well aware of how deeply flawed these answers are.

Each and every one of us makes sense of our world in our own ways. Some choose religion, be they Christian, Muslim or Hindu. Some choose politics, whether they be of the right or the left. Some choose pre-packaged philosophies such as Humanism or Stoicism. Some of us even try to make sense of it in our own ways, gleaning sagacity from our own experiences and what we learn of the experiences of others. In my view, this last path is fundamentally more difficult than the others as there is no one, universally agreed, source of wisdom, no place one can always go to look up the answers. We have no Bible, no Koran, we cannot automatically reference the writings of a Karl Marx or those of a Marcus Aurelius. We quite literally have more questions than answers. What we do have though is an open mind and the humility to know that our answers might be simply that, our answers, and therefore not applicable to everyone. 
As I finish this blog for another week these musings are once more interrupted by the somewhat cacophonous bird life as it busily go about its business. For them such conjectures are meaningless. Religion, politics and metaphysics are all of profound insignificance to such fauna. Sometimes, I quite envy them too...