The trials of Lent, aka Bootcamp for Christians

I don’t always give up anything for Lent, as I'm generally quite rubbish at noticing when it starts (I forget to eat the pancakes, too). But so far, over the years I have managed to go the distance in a couple of different ways, starting with the sacrifice of tea. Not being able to take part in the ritual of the cuppa was surprisingly hard – as Mrs Doyle would say "You’ll feel left out!"

I recall only vaguely the Lent when I gave up chocolate – I figure I've mostly blanked it out. Strangely, I do remember that when the blessed day came, I WASN’T desperately shovelling chocolate into my mouth the moment I was "allowed" to. Many people claim that "a little bit of good quality chocolate is satisfying". I don’t know if they've been brainwashed by Green and Blacks, or are trying hard to convince themselves, but... a small piece of ANY  kind of chocolate does not leave me satisfied. "A little goes a  long way" may apply to ultra-rich, truffle fudge mocha cake with an inch of icing, but a square of chocolate? No. I want my mouth to be FULL of chocolate. I need MOUTH FEEL. It's the same delicious sensation that you get when biting into one of those ridiculously over-frosted cupcakes. The icing reaches the roof of your mouth and squidges as you bite down. Gah. I just made myself drool a little bit.

I also hit a mental brick wall when people say they don't like creme eggs, or "can only eat one, because they're so sickly". Well, gooey and cloying they may be, but teamed with a cup of tea to balance the super-sweetness, I can comfortably eat two on the trot, before decorum forces me to stop. However, if we ever start substituting drinking games with chocolate games, I am certain that I would be left standing while all around me were collapsing with sugar shock. A meagre talent, but there you go.

During last year's Lent I abstained from Facebook; this created a gap in my daily routine but it wasn’t agony. I was lucky in that I escaped being photographed during this period – I imagine it must be quite traumatic if you’re notified that you’ve been tagged and you’re unable to see the picture that's being flagrantly displayed in your absence. 

I'd say giving up something for Lent is a pretty good way of finding out if you want to make it a lifestyle change; you're got that safety net in the back of your mind that it's only for 6 weeks, yet it's long enough for any physical addiction to have gone, so you can think more objectively about whether you want to continue.

But this year has been my biggest challenge yet, as I have become vegetarian. I was a bit daunted at the idea and thought “Ooh, I couldn’t do that”, which of course made it into a challenge which I then had to take up. My fear was that I would have trouble balancing meals, and would either feel constantly hungry or constantly bloated from a carb overload.  But I have been ASTONISHED at how easy it's been. The hardest part is the lack of choice – when you pop out at lunchtime, instead of having twenty options, you have two.

Interestingly, I had a strange bitter/ sour taste in my mouth from about day 6 to day 15, which I am guessing was some sort of detox. (I generally cringe when I hear people talking about “detoxes” as I think it’s a fairly meaningless term which is bandied about to insult our livers and kidneys.)  But in this case... does this mean that a) meat is "toxic" and b) it was still only leaving my body weeks after I last ate it? Yuck.

I actually feel lighter and more energetic on the whole; I'm suddenly realising what people are talking about when they say that historically, humans have never eaten meat regularly: ie in "cave times" it would be a treat once in a while to catch an animal for food, and for much of the time we’d be surviving on the easier-to-catch diet of nuts and fruit.

Fire revolutionised the human lifestyle because it meant we could cook meat – thus making it easier to digest – and freeing up our time so that we could use our meat-fuelled brains to get on with doing art on our cave walls and drawing up blueprints for the wheel etc.

Despite this, there are those who claim that humans were never meant to eat meat. Physically, we have far more in common with herbivores than carnivores – check out the fascinating list at http://michaelbluejay.com/veg/natural.html

We have a plant eater’s intestinal tract, which is several times the length of our bodies – while meat eaters have short ones to allow that festering flesh to pass through quickly. (Ah, my detox question answered. Lovely.)

One of the points made is that we don’t drool at the sight of a prey animal, the way that a true carnivore, eg a tiger, would. I would question this, as I have occasionally spied a fat little pigeon pecking on the lawn and contemplated just how plump and juicy it would look in a roasting tin. When watching Lambing Live (Kate Humble must be raking it in – she’s never off the telly!) with its array of incredibly adorable lambs, I said “Oh, I could just EAT them!” which was perhaps a little tactless. Also, I have a strange confession to make; my mouth waters if I spent several minutes looking at pictures of cute animals. Weird and slightly psychotic, I know. I have no idea if this has any origins in evolution, I’m pretty sure we have never, as a species, licked kittens. But I kind of want to.

 

Easter bunnies: Don't tell me these little pink noses 

don't make you salivate. I know I can't be the only one.

No matter how much you like your steaks and burgers, I think for most people, there is a part of the brain which "knows" that eating animals is wrong. Looking at the Bible, Jesus may have been a part-time fisherman, but in the original Genesis story, animals were just around for our companionship. It was only after "the fall" that everything went wrong and our symbiotic relationship turned a little one-sided. But according to Isaiah 11:7, there will come another time when the original plan will be restored, and "The cow and the bear will graze, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox."

In the meantime, I guess I justify my meat eating by singing "It's the circle of life....." and the fact that it’s only by purchasing ethically sourced meat that I can make any impact on the market. If everyone but the totally heartless opts out, battery eggs and Danish pork will be flying off the shelves and nobody will be monitoring standards at all. Not buying "happy meat" is like not voting – you may be making your point, but somebody still gets elected.

In a similar way, some of the nicest, most thoughtful and socially conscious people I know have made the decision not to have kids, because the world is over-populated enough. I can't help feeling this might be short-sighted; if the only people reproducing are those who really don't give the tiniest shit about society, it could create an underclass of chavs who become grandparents at the age of 26 and continue to ruin lives by weaving in and out of temporarily set up families. Oh, wait. That’s already happened.

Good lord, I’m right wing and feisty today. Must be all those pulses.

Crackpot theories 101

Of course, only a fool would cut their hair while the

 moon was in Aries. It's so dry and barren, y'know?

Following on from last month’s post, I  now find myself aligned with a distinguished group of people – tree huggers, if you will – who may be said to be so open-minded that their brains need to be strapped in to keep them from falling out.

You know you’ve taken the crazy train one stop too far into Kooksville when you cut your hair according to the moon (not to mention when you find yourself saying “Well, don’t MANIFEST it!” when a friend is being pessimistic).

But last night was the “Supermoon” – the biggest perigree moon in about 20 years. I don’t know about you, but I was somewhat surprised to see that it was pretty average looking – from the newspaper’s reports, I think I'd been expecting to look outside and see it looming at my window like  the eye of a T-rex.

Turns out the moon is a powerful force, and it affects more than just our oceans. I think almost every practitioner of “magick” would attest that certain charms work best while the moon is waxing (growing) and some when it’s waning (shrinking). Fans of “biodynamic” gardening use the entire system of zodiac signs – through which the moon passes every month – to give their crops an advantage. Turns out that when the moon is in a water sign, it’s a good time to plant leafy crops, but naturally, earth signs are better for root vegetables.

This may sound a little bit... how can I put it... MENTAL, but hey, it’s no sillier than the idea of the moon pulling the tides back and forth, and we all believe that. Truth is stranger than fiction, that’s fo sho. And the Old Farmer's Almanac has acknowledged the moon's influence for yonks.

When you think about it, it's logical that Lady Luna should have a compelling influence on crops, what with the gravitational pull affecting the water levels in soil. And the fact that humans (and animals) are largely made up of water could explain why so many pet owners and police officers can attest that the full moon brings out the beast in the best of us.

But hair? Rational thought would suggest that your roots can’t be affected by what’s happening to the ends, so how could a cut affect how fast your hair grows? https://morroccomethod.com/lunar-hair-chart goes some way to explain it, suggesting that you can “shock” your hair into growing. Sounds screwy, but who knows?

I am terrible at getting my hair cut – forget 6 weeks, I've been known to leave it for 6 months. But hoping that the moon would magically transform my hair, I booked myself in for a trim to coincide with the Supermoon grand appearance (and so close to the Spring Equinox, too! Bonus).

Being a commitment-phobe and cheap to boot, I’ve never established a long relationship with any hairdresser for long, preferring to look out for special offers or using college students. (Although I haven't used the latter since a slightly traumatic experience; the (BO-challenged) young man had clearly spent most of his time working on model heads which didn’t answer back or say “ow”. Cue four hours of of head yanking and vigorous, painful combing. He kept saying “Ooh, sorry,” every time I winced – I was tempted to snarl “Don’t be sorry, just stop f-ing doing it!” but I didn’t, because I am far too polite.)

Remember those ads with a voice-over which started “We all know blow-drying and styling is bad for our hair, but we still do it....” ? Well, actually, I don’t. In fact, the only time a hairdryer ever comes near my head is when it’s being wielded by a hairdresser. The rest of the time, I use a towel and then air-dry. I think I last used a curling tong about 2 years ago, and I don’t straighten. So, I find it more than a little ironic when stylists recommend (extortionately priced) “caring” shampoos to me while the air is actually filled with the aroma of my burning hair as they scrape it around with a hairbrush and hairdryer to leave it poker straight. It's best not to take them too seriously; I once had one who told me my hair was “really split” the first time I went to see her, before saying a few months later “your hair is so much better since you’re been seeing me”. Ladies and gentlemen, I had done NOTHING differently. Mind games, I tell you!

As for the moon; you have to get your hair cut some time, right? So why not do a scientific experiment, rather than dismiss it because it doesn't "sound" true?

I'll believe anything if it's true.

Stranger things have happened.

My favourite news story last week was that of George Hudspeth, whose sight had totally deteriorated through Macular Disease over the last ten years. After talking to a photograph of his dead wife (as was his daily wont) his sight suddenly came back. The 76 year old was able to see his baby granddaughter for the first time, saying (and this might be my favourite bit) "She has a right chubby little face." 

Now, being healed by talking to a photograph of your dead wife doesn’t particularly fit into my faith (I would describe myself as a Jesus-worshipping, nature-loving, candle-lighting, vaguely panentheistic reader of CS Lewis and M Scott Peck) but I can be open minded. For me, the real kicker came in the quote provided by the Macular Disease Society, “Mr Hudspeth must have been misdiagnosed because recovery is impossible.”

Now, you would think that someone with a scientific bent and inquiring mind would say, “Well, gosh, we THOUGHT this disease was incurable, but this highly unusual event may force us to rethink that theory. Thanks for the heads up!” But the powers that be cannot accept anything that deviates from the accepted wisdom. So, gangster style, they inform us “This never happened. Got it?”

My dad tells me “there is no such thing as an expert,” and I’m inclined to agree. It’s a fairly meaningless term which tells you a person has put some effort into studying a subject – not that they know everything there is to know about it. Unfortunately, being fallible humans means that we inevitably bring our own personal prejudices to the table.

It’s said that science is excellent… at answering the questions it chooses to answer. But being scientific SHOULD mean being open-minded; as opposed to coming up with a theory and then bending all the evidence to suit it (and denying any evidence to the contrary).

(Just to be devil’s advocate  / crazy conspiracy theorist for a moment; “experts” also tell us that there can be no aliens living on other planets because nowhere other than earth can sustain life. Apparently, they are basing this on the idea that any other life would thrive in similar conditions to ours, which seems to me a rather gigantic assumption. Maybe Martians love heat. How the hell would we know?)

(Not that I NECESSARILY believe in aliens. Just sayin’.)

The funny thing is, when stories recounting “miraculous” events appear in the media, a lot of knee-jerk reactions are cynical. It’s as if trusting that THERE ARE NO MIRACLES is the absolute cornerstone of some people’s belief systems.

I once read that healings (the kind you get in churches where people fall over a lot)

which have been properly documented (thus eliminating many of the usual objections) have been explained by a sudden, natural spontaneous healing which was going to happen anyway. Forgive me, atheists, but you’d need an awful lot of faith to believe that. (You could at least call it a placebo effect.)

(Incidentally, why do people talk so disparagingly of placebos? Surely they are less a failure of medicine, more a testament to the awesome power of the human mind…?)

It makes me wonder; in the unlikely event that you could show Richard Dawkins irrefutable proof that God exists, would he say “Well slap my grandma, I had it wrong all this time. I am surprised, but I clearly can’t ignore this new information.” Or would he shut his eyes, stick his fingers in his ears and say “La la la I can’t hear yoooooouuu”?

I think we all know the answer to that one.

I believe in magic....

Every time you say that Santa doesn't exist, a puppy dies. Fact.

As I may have mentioned, at this time of year I love to waste hours watching dreadful cheesy Christmas movies. Seriously – quality is not an issue. I’ll watch them all.

Somehow it seems easier in December to suspend disbelief and get all sappy over the magic of flying reindeer and little bells you can only hear if you really and truly believe (Yep, Polar Express is one of my faves).

And it doesn’t take a Christmas pixie to spot the theme that emerges in these “Santa-in-peril-because-nobody-believes-except-one-small-child” tales. This benevolent, all-knowing father figure may hand out some gifts if we behave ourselves (he knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!) but in order to receive, we have to believe. A “Santa as God-lite” analogy, if you will. And if there’s one thing movies teach us (apart from the fact that New York is THE place to spend Christmas, not least because you can ice skate in central park with Cary Grant) it’s that faith is the cornerstone of the Santa religion. Kris Kringle is the real thing only because he is BELIEVED to be the real thing.

For some people, the idea of God is just as nonsensical as Père Noel; a fairy tale you outgrow. It’s easy to become disillusioned as you grow up – prayers and letters to Santa go unanswered, cracks appear in the stories, and magic is an illusion that only a fool would believe in.

Well, call me a fool, but I do believe in magic. It’s all around us. Take photographs, for instance. You can explain it to me in whatever scientific way you like, but the fact remains that the MAGIC BOX manages to suck in an image of whatever it is pointed at and record it forever. Likewise telephones – tell me about airwaves til the cows come home; the fact is, I can communicate with someone in another country via a tiny MAGIC TOOL. And don’t even get me started on CDs and the miracle that is music trapped in a tiny disc. It might just blow my mind.

 As Jostein Gaarder points out in his novel The Solitaire Mystery, “Nobody would believe this world if they hadn’t spent years getting used to it.”

The very fact that your mind controls your body is pretty stupendous when you think about it – not to mention the fact that your body can HEAL ITSELF of minor injuries. You cut your finger, a couple of days later there isn’t so much as a mark. You’re a freaking terminator!

I remember being astonished when I first realised that trees can heal themselves in a similar way – and it turns out they also talk to each other. Well, sort of – they can communicate via pheromones, managing to warn when a predatory insect is around so they can prepare themselves to make their leaves taste nasty. How clever is that! 

And those proponents of the Law of Attraction claim that every word we speak has a magical effect on our vibrations; anyone who’s ever read a self-help book will know the dangers of saying “I’m so sick and tired of x” until it becomes true, but who knew you could magically create your own reality by the power of your mind? (If you’re skeptical – well, just keep doing what you’re doing, if it’s working out for you...)

The Bard put it best; “There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

As for Jesus, well, I think it was C.S. Lewis (and do correct me if I’m wrong, because I now can’t find the quote) who said “Don’t knock the immaculate conception, because the normal method is strange enough.”

May I quote Jostein Gaarder one more time?

 “I have been in outer space many times,” bragged the cosmonaut, “but I have never seen any angels.” The brain surgeon stared in amazement, but then he said “and I have operated on many intelligent brains, but I have never seen a single thought.”

So, I think we can conclude that the world is a pretty wacky place. And we human beings, in our infinite wisdom, have decided what is possible and what is not. As this is based merely on what we have so far seen to be possible, it seems we may not have the exhaustive list worked out just yet.

Of course, nobody REALLY believes in old Saint Nick. (Not even the adults in the movies who apparently don’t notice the strange gifts appearing in their houses every year.) I do fervently wish he was real, though. I’ve always wanted to have an interviewer ask me what my dream job would be, so I could answer honestly “Being an elf in Santa’s workshop,” and I would sound far less bonkers if it was actually an option. 

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, y’all. xx