It's been such a busy week and I apologise that my blog entries have been a bit sparse!
Yesterday, my dear friend and colleague, Sheila, had her 90th birthday and held an open house in the afternoon. It was lovely to drop round for half an hour. Sadly, I couldn't stay longer because of a meeting. (By the way, I succeeded in staying within budget for her gift by finding a lovely woven goose planter on special offer at a small garden centre and planting it up with ivy and miniature daffodils! He was well received!)
Someone at the meeting had seen the article in The Shuttle and asked me how the challenge was going. When he heard I'd just been on the receiving end of 'free cake' at Sheila's party, he announced, "but you can't have cake on your diet!" "But I'm not on a diet; I'm on a budget!" I replied and two colleagues interjected gleefully, "and it was FREE cake!"
That's the thing about Lent, I suppose; we've got so used to it being an excuse for losing weight or testing our ability to give up chocolate or wine that it's become about Diet for many people. My cousin who shows willpower on a cast iron scale during Lent; testing her resolve on the 'main players' in her diet, ruefully said to me, I hope you don't lose more weight than me on this challenge or I'll be going on holiday with a skinny cousin and be feeling fat. Well no danger of that when there's free cake to be had!
Actually, it's not just cake. Our fab primary school - Wilden All Saints - achieved an outstanding Ofsted and there was a celebratory meal last week. The Head rushed over and said, "Eva must get first turn at the buffet, she must be starving!" The solidarity is heart warming but I'm not wasting away. I am eating more thoughtfully and snacking between meals has been eradicated almost
completely. You don't buy those sorts of things on this sort of budget. Well except when you're feeling a bit low and have a weak moment. Like at the farm shop on Friday. I decided to forego some spinach and an aubergine and buy a large bag of lentil crisps and some chocolate. Then I pigged out on them at home and cheered myself up.
I remember from my time working for Christian Aid, that some people seemed to think that poor people ought to be more virtuous than rich people. As though by having little money, the poor are duty bound to a level of financial responsibility from which the rich are exempt. If it's a matter of using money justly and responsibly, surely the responsibility increases, the more of the stuff you have!
We have become so bound by our financial institutions, that we have forgotten that money is, in reality, nothing : simply a token, symbol, method of exchange. It has no worth in or of itself. Yet it has become a primary driver in our lives. We define a person's value by how much of the stuff they
have and the things they can get with it. We have forgotten what is really important and that, no matter how much money we have, we can't buy the truly valuable things in life. That's why I'm spending Lent on a budget and not a diet.
Eva
Eva McIntyre
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Thursday, 20 March 2014
The limitations and the questions
The store cupboard is looking increasingly bare, so now the budget needs to be replacing some of the basics as well as the perishable items. I'm having to think about what I'm going to cook over the next days before I do another shop and I will need to stick to those recipes if the food is to cover the days. I'm doing two things that appear to be opposites: I'm having to shop more regularly for things like milk and orange juice because I can't afford to buy in bulk - but for everything else, I'm shopping less often, stretching it out until it's all gone. This reminds me of when I was unemployed for a year and learnt the practice of going to the market half an hour before closing time when everything was cheaper and my money would stretch further. But markets are a thing of the past in this area. Supermarket 'reduced' shelves aren't anywhere near the same thing; that's just what they want to get rid off before the date runs out. Not across the board savings.
There's something else that's kept me away from the shops this week, too: two birthdays. For one, a family member, I bought a couple of small gifts over the internet a while ago but the postage and card still came to almost £6. The other gift I have yet to buy. I'm into this challenge now and I don't want to break it so this is a challenge; it's a special 90th birthday so I'm going to need to think creatively to come up with something special within my budget: now £27 for the week and I've run out of vegetables and fruit.
One of the limitations of poverty in a world founded on wealth and possessions is that it creates a false sense that the poor have no gifts to give. That they cannot - and should not - spend some of the little they have to give gifts to others. If you are cast in the role of the one who receives but cannot give, you are diminished, belittled. Anything that makes the poor smaller, makes us all smaller. That awful budget bingo add was a case in point (what were they thinking?? No, I don't really want to know) as it caricatured the 'working class' and thereby put them in their place within the old class system! The poor have the right to give gifts, too, and without those gifts society is poor indeed. Swaggering sated on too much food and drink, weighed down with too many possessions and numbed by substances, habits and coping strategies that ensure we can avoid the question 'what is life really all about it?'
People have been asking me whether I'm hungry. It's funny but it takes me by surprise when they do. I have to think about the question. No I'm not hungry, but I'm not overly sated, either. I register, when I'm asked to think about it, that my attitude to food has changed. I'm eating what I need, not what I fancy. I'm eating when I'm hungry, not when it's the right time. I'm training myself to expect less.
I also notice that on the days when I eat in a balanced and health conscious way, I don't crave anything; chocolate, salt etc so when I do crave these things, I realise it's because of an imbalance in my diet. But more than my attitude to food is changing; a deeper question is rising within me, not yet fully articulated but it is a question that is changing my life.
There's something else that's kept me away from the shops this week, too: two birthdays. For one, a family member, I bought a couple of small gifts over the internet a while ago but the postage and card still came to almost £6. The other gift I have yet to buy. I'm into this challenge now and I don't want to break it so this is a challenge; it's a special 90th birthday so I'm going to need to think creatively to come up with something special within my budget: now £27 for the week and I've run out of vegetables and fruit.
One of the limitations of poverty in a world founded on wealth and possessions is that it creates a false sense that the poor have no gifts to give. That they cannot - and should not - spend some of the little they have to give gifts to others. If you are cast in the role of the one who receives but cannot give, you are diminished, belittled. Anything that makes the poor smaller, makes us all smaller. That awful budget bingo add was a case in point (what were they thinking?? No, I don't really want to know) as it caricatured the 'working class' and thereby put them in their place within the old class system! The poor have the right to give gifts, too, and without those gifts society is poor indeed. Swaggering sated on too much food and drink, weighed down with too many possessions and numbed by substances, habits and coping strategies that ensure we can avoid the question 'what is life really all about it?'
People have been asking me whether I'm hungry. It's funny but it takes me by surprise when they do. I have to think about the question. No I'm not hungry, but I'm not overly sated, either. I register, when I'm asked to think about it, that my attitude to food has changed. I'm eating what I need, not what I fancy. I'm eating when I'm hungry, not when it's the right time. I'm training myself to expect less.
I also notice that on the days when I eat in a balanced and health conscious way, I don't crave anything; chocolate, salt etc so when I do crave these things, I realise it's because of an imbalance in my diet. But more than my attitude to food is changing; a deeper question is rising within me, not yet fully articulated but it is a question that is changing my life.
Saturday, 15 March 2014
For and Against
I knew when I started this Lent Challenge that I would evoke a response in people. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't one of the points in doing it. Already, two starkly different types of response have begun to emerge. Put simply; For and Against.
My MP, Mark Garnier, was asked for his comments by The Shuttle when they carried the story of this Blog and its challenge. I have to hand it to him that he didn't take the disengenuous option of commending my efforts and thereby win himself brownie points with the Churches and other campaigners. Although, being truthful, I wonder whether that actually occurred to him, put on the spot as he was. I sense an irritation in his sweeping aside of my efforts with what appears to be a patronising comment. I suppose it is irritating when the Vicar does something that shines a negative spotlight on your Government's policies and you have to respond to it.
A few others have followed suit; apparently, I belong to the 'chattering classes' -whatever those really are - and I don't have a clue about the reality of those living in poverty. They clearly haven't read my Blog or they'd know that this is irrefutably untrue. But we live in an age where the knee jerk response is uttered immediately without time for reflection or research. The problem with this is that words once spoken are very difficult to take back and eating one's own words is an unpleasant experience. I know this from personal experience; in my twenties I was given to speaking out in a rush of anger before I'd checked my facts and on a couple of occasions had to give a grovelling apology and the experience taught me well!
There is a deep seated human reaction lurking beneath those who feel the need to belittle or denounce what I am doing. It is a response arising from discomfort. This discomfort comes from guilt. Those of us who live privileged lives have to engage in a certain amount of self deception and intentional ignorance in order to avoid the pain and guilt caused by acknowledging the huge imbalance in the share of wealth and resources in our world (and I include myself here). When someone points out the injustice of the situation, the comfort we derive from practising avoidance is unsettled and we come out fighting with justifications, attacks...anything that will help us re-establish the status quo as quickly as possible. The emotion I would ascribe to this reaction is Fear. 100% human, and one of the most frequent drivers of human beings.
What of the other response : For?
I have been really moved by this response because it comes from a sense of humility and generosity. Let me give you an example: I had a lunch time meeting this week in a local pub with two members of our Diocesan Staff; it had been planned for some weeks. Because of my Lent Challenge, they quietly picked up the bill. Rationally, they know I'm not in a financial pickle; I had explained how I could make it possible to pay for my lunch but they still responded with this discreet and simple act of generosity.
There is this other deep seated reaction that sees a fellow human being in need and reaches out and is prepared to sacrifice ones own interest for the sake of another. It is as instinctual as the defence mechanism described above but it emanates from a sense of ones own acceptance and value, not from guilt and shame.
We see this reaction around us all the time, too. Raising funds for charity, sharing with neighbours in need, campaigning for the good of the planet and so on. The emotion I would ascribe to this reaction is Love. 100% human and one of the most frequent drivers of human beings.
And Jesus said 'Perfect love casts out fear'.
Eva
My MP, Mark Garnier, was asked for his comments by The Shuttle when they carried the story of this Blog and its challenge. I have to hand it to him that he didn't take the disengenuous option of commending my efforts and thereby win himself brownie points with the Churches and other campaigners. Although, being truthful, I wonder whether that actually occurred to him, put on the spot as he was. I sense an irritation in his sweeping aside of my efforts with what appears to be a patronising comment. I suppose it is irritating when the Vicar does something that shines a negative spotlight on your Government's policies and you have to respond to it.
A few others have followed suit; apparently, I belong to the 'chattering classes' -whatever those really are - and I don't have a clue about the reality of those living in poverty. They clearly haven't read my Blog or they'd know that this is irrefutably untrue. But we live in an age where the knee jerk response is uttered immediately without time for reflection or research. The problem with this is that words once spoken are very difficult to take back and eating one's own words is an unpleasant experience. I know this from personal experience; in my twenties I was given to speaking out in a rush of anger before I'd checked my facts and on a couple of occasions had to give a grovelling apology and the experience taught me well!
There is a deep seated human reaction lurking beneath those who feel the need to belittle or denounce what I am doing. It is a response arising from discomfort. This discomfort comes from guilt. Those of us who live privileged lives have to engage in a certain amount of self deception and intentional ignorance in order to avoid the pain and guilt caused by acknowledging the huge imbalance in the share of wealth and resources in our world (and I include myself here). When someone points out the injustice of the situation, the comfort we derive from practising avoidance is unsettled and we come out fighting with justifications, attacks...anything that will help us re-establish the status quo as quickly as possible. The emotion I would ascribe to this reaction is Fear. 100% human, and one of the most frequent drivers of human beings.
What of the other response : For?
I have been really moved by this response because it comes from a sense of humility and generosity. Let me give you an example: I had a lunch time meeting this week in a local pub with two members of our Diocesan Staff; it had been planned for some weeks. Because of my Lent Challenge, they quietly picked up the bill. Rationally, they know I'm not in a financial pickle; I had explained how I could make it possible to pay for my lunch but they still responded with this discreet and simple act of generosity.
There is this other deep seated reaction that sees a fellow human being in need and reaches out and is prepared to sacrifice ones own interest for the sake of another. It is as instinctual as the defence mechanism described above but it emanates from a sense of ones own acceptance and value, not from guilt and shame.
We see this reaction around us all the time, too. Raising funds for charity, sharing with neighbours in need, campaigning for the good of the planet and so on. The emotion I would ascribe to this reaction is Love. 100% human and one of the most frequent drivers of human beings.
And Jesus said 'Perfect love casts out fear'.
Eva
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
Being Human
On Saturday, I did my first shop on this budget. A trip to Hopley's Farm Shop got me 3 bags of fruit and veg for £7.76 & a fair deal of fun and laughter with Malin, who joked about ruining my reputation on Facebook by pretending I'd been buying all sorts of stuff. The serious side was the goodwill and support for what I'm doing, even though I'll be spending less money in her shop. Next stop was the Co-op for some stock items which were, of course, more expensive by virtue of being processed, so 1 bag was £16.61; £9 left for the rest of the week, then. I had done a hurried count of the pet food at home and been relieved to discover I had exactly enough left from my bulk buy earlier in the year to last me until the end of Easter. Now I stood in front of the pet food shelves looking for something to put in the food bank as a forfeit for this fact.
It pulled at my heart strings: how must it feel to be in a position of not being able to feed your animal family members and know they won't understand why things have changed, and that you can't explain it to them? I shudder as my imagination leads me down the avenue of having to give up an animal family member through poverty... Loss and the betrayal of unconditional love. I pick up a multipack of pet food for the food bank and am thankful it's not a choice I have to make. And I appreciate the precious gift of the animals in my life that little but more.
How must parents feel when they have to tell their children that their favourite breakfast cereal is now too expensive or that the snacks they have always had to take to school have to stop? I've already found myself having those conversations with people that start with something along the lines of, "You should see what X who's on benefits puts in her shopping trolley!" and I ask why we think we have the right to make judgments about how the poor spend their little money but not about how the rich spend their vast amounts? Or indeed, how the rich became rich.
The media is interested in what I'm doing, that's refreshing. I'm happy to contribute, to be photographed and interviewed but I also notice myself turning off the news on my tv and radio more since I began this Lent challenge; I am making choices about what I want to be drawn into thinking about, what I want fed into my brain. Not only do I not want to be coerced into accepting the media agenda, I am conscious of how little difference it makes if I am not actively listening and watching: to my life or anyone else's. Perhaps too many of their stories are there for effect and not content.
Perhaps at this stage, I need to say that I'm a vegetarian. If I weren't I'd probably need to become one on this budget because the price of meat and fish would be prohibitive. I'm endeavouring to keep my principles in tact, too: fair trade, no animal testing and environmental responsibility sometimes cost a bit more, though, and I'm eyeing the washing up liquid bottle and thinking about the cost of replacing it when it runs out.
To be human and live with dignity is defined by the Geneva Convention not only as being about the right to shelter, food, warmth and safety: it's about more than education and healthcare, too. There's that precious inclusion of aspiration. If we have nothing to aspire to we wither inside. Crushed dreams turn bitter, dashed hopes become despair. In my time working for Christian Aid, I witnessed the amazing determination of people fighting to make a difference; some of the poorest people in our world. I saw the dignity and hope of the poor and I learnt that it is not charity that provides the opportunity for aspiration; only justice can do this.
Eva
It pulled at my heart strings: how must it feel to be in a position of not being able to feed your animal family members and know they won't understand why things have changed, and that you can't explain it to them? I shudder as my imagination leads me down the avenue of having to give up an animal family member through poverty... Loss and the betrayal of unconditional love. I pick up a multipack of pet food for the food bank and am thankful it's not a choice I have to make. And I appreciate the precious gift of the animals in my life that little but more.
How must parents feel when they have to tell their children that their favourite breakfast cereal is now too expensive or that the snacks they have always had to take to school have to stop? I've already found myself having those conversations with people that start with something along the lines of, "You should see what X who's on benefits puts in her shopping trolley!" and I ask why we think we have the right to make judgments about how the poor spend their little money but not about how the rich spend their vast amounts? Or indeed, how the rich became rich.
The media is interested in what I'm doing, that's refreshing. I'm happy to contribute, to be photographed and interviewed but I also notice myself turning off the news on my tv and radio more since I began this Lent challenge; I am making choices about what I want to be drawn into thinking about, what I want fed into my brain. Not only do I not want to be coerced into accepting the media agenda, I am conscious of how little difference it makes if I am not actively listening and watching: to my life or anyone else's. Perhaps too many of their stories are there for effect and not content.
Perhaps at this stage, I need to say that I'm a vegetarian. If I weren't I'd probably need to become one on this budget because the price of meat and fish would be prohibitive. I'm endeavouring to keep my principles in tact, too: fair trade, no animal testing and environmental responsibility sometimes cost a bit more, though, and I'm eyeing the washing up liquid bottle and thinking about the cost of replacing it when it runs out.
To be human and live with dignity is defined by the Geneva Convention not only as being about the right to shelter, food, warmth and safety: it's about more than education and healthcare, too. There's that precious inclusion of aspiration. If we have nothing to aspire to we wither inside. Crushed dreams turn bitter, dashed hopes become despair. In my time working for Christian Aid, I witnessed the amazing determination of people fighting to make a difference; some of the poorest people in our world. I saw the dignity and hope of the poor and I learnt that it is not charity that provides the opportunity for aspiration; only justice can do this.
Eva
Monday, 10 March 2014
The difference between poverty and simplicity.
I think it's important to be clear about this difference between poverty and simplicity. Monks and Nuns of different faiths around the world take vows that are called 'poverty' but I prefer the Franciscan notion of 'simplicity' because it helps me to distinguish between the enforced poverty that millions of people experience, and the chosen life of simplicity that some undertake.
What I am doing this Lent is clearly a choice. I am not in that dark place of watching things being taken away from me and of feeling powerless to stop the steady and inevitable deprivation. I am able to make this distinction because some time ago (1991 to be precise) I was unemployed for a year. One minute I had a high-flying, exciting job that brought status, pay and security - the next I was in a state of shock, on the dole and afraid of losing everything that made me feel secure. I eeked out my meagre dole payments to get me through the weeks. At the beginning, I had a buffer; a payment from my employers that I carefully managed so that it kept my car on the road, covered the shortfall on utility bills and paid something towards my mortgage arrears. When that buffer fund had gone I found myself in a state of fear at the prospect of losing the roof over my head and staring into an abyss. I suppose it's my personal experience, however modest, that makes me feel so passionate about the state we find ourselves in as a nation, a continent and a world. It's not statistics when we talk about poverty; it's people.
There's something else that I've found myself re-living this last couple of days, though. A sense that being on the edge brings a certain sort of freedom. When I was unemployed, I found I was invisible. Most of the things happening in society around me were irrelevant because I wasn't part of society; I was part of a sub-class of people called 'The Unemployed'. The road to a sense of disenfranchisement was swift and it fairly quickly evoked a slight sense of anarchy in me. Slight because it wasn't much more than realising there were no rules apart from getting to the dole office to sign on on the right day and to scour the papers for potential employment. What time I went to bed or got up in the morning was of little consequence, as was when I ate. What I did with my day was completely insignificant because I was, apparently, contributing nothing to society.
I quickly found people in similar situations and discovered I had a band of comrades, for want of a better word. There was solidarity among The Unemployed, The Underclass. One day, while I queued to sign on in Todmorden Job Centre, I saw an act of generous humanity that moved me so much, it has stayed in my memory all these years. A man in his fifties at the head of the queue was signing on for the first time. There was no privacy for the poor, so he had to conduct his conversation in the hearing of us all. He was clearly in shock, having lost the job he'd held all his life. Something specialist in manufacturing to do with piston heads that I didn't understand. The woman behind the counter was telling him that he had to write down the jobs he would be able to take; the man repeated the nature of his work - it was clear that he didn't know any other trade - the woman didn't help, just said he had to write in the box. As he walked away from the counter, a man stepped out of the queue and spoke to him; 'Mate, what you have to do is write something like; 'I'll take any job I'm offered' cos if you don't write something in that box, you won't get your dole money. That's what she's not telling you.' It was a long time ago but I can still see the look of relief on that man's face at that simple act of solidarity, the help he needed to get through this day, the face of a man devastated by his inability to provide for his family.
So no, I'm not having things taken away this time and I'm not living in fear. While clergy aren't on huge salaries, I have the privilege of security and a roof over my head. I am, like the Franciscans, making a choice towards simplicity and that is surprisingly liberating. Somehow, when I choose to take something from a cupboard and put it into the food bank, I am making a journey towards freedom; freedom from being owned by what is in my cupboards. Freedom from identifying myself with what I have. And it's a short step to discovering another sense of freedom; the freedom of being judged by the standards of society and any sense of obligation to live up to those standards.
Today, when the usual flood of emails poured in from companies desperate for my money, there was a difference in the way I felt as I deleted them without opening them first. 'This is nothing to do with me' ran through my head. I don't have to live by these rules. Who I am is not governed by what I have and living my life has nothing to do with society's perception of success and failure. Poverty and simplicity may both lead to a state of invisibility, a reality of disenfranchisement; but society beware because it also leads to a very clear perception of emancipation.
Eva
What I am doing this Lent is clearly a choice. I am not in that dark place of watching things being taken away from me and of feeling powerless to stop the steady and inevitable deprivation. I am able to make this distinction because some time ago (1991 to be precise) I was unemployed for a year. One minute I had a high-flying, exciting job that brought status, pay and security - the next I was in a state of shock, on the dole and afraid of losing everything that made me feel secure. I eeked out my meagre dole payments to get me through the weeks. At the beginning, I had a buffer; a payment from my employers that I carefully managed so that it kept my car on the road, covered the shortfall on utility bills and paid something towards my mortgage arrears. When that buffer fund had gone I found myself in a state of fear at the prospect of losing the roof over my head and staring into an abyss. I suppose it's my personal experience, however modest, that makes me feel so passionate about the state we find ourselves in as a nation, a continent and a world. It's not statistics when we talk about poverty; it's people.
There's something else that I've found myself re-living this last couple of days, though. A sense that being on the edge brings a certain sort of freedom. When I was unemployed, I found I was invisible. Most of the things happening in society around me were irrelevant because I wasn't part of society; I was part of a sub-class of people called 'The Unemployed'. The road to a sense of disenfranchisement was swift and it fairly quickly evoked a slight sense of anarchy in me. Slight because it wasn't much more than realising there were no rules apart from getting to the dole office to sign on on the right day and to scour the papers for potential employment. What time I went to bed or got up in the morning was of little consequence, as was when I ate. What I did with my day was completely insignificant because I was, apparently, contributing nothing to society.
I quickly found people in similar situations and discovered I had a band of comrades, for want of a better word. There was solidarity among The Unemployed, The Underclass. One day, while I queued to sign on in Todmorden Job Centre, I saw an act of generous humanity that moved me so much, it has stayed in my memory all these years. A man in his fifties at the head of the queue was signing on for the first time. There was no privacy for the poor, so he had to conduct his conversation in the hearing of us all. He was clearly in shock, having lost the job he'd held all his life. Something specialist in manufacturing to do with piston heads that I didn't understand. The woman behind the counter was telling him that he had to write down the jobs he would be able to take; the man repeated the nature of his work - it was clear that he didn't know any other trade - the woman didn't help, just said he had to write in the box. As he walked away from the counter, a man stepped out of the queue and spoke to him; 'Mate, what you have to do is write something like; 'I'll take any job I'm offered' cos if you don't write something in that box, you won't get your dole money. That's what she's not telling you.' It was a long time ago but I can still see the look of relief on that man's face at that simple act of solidarity, the help he needed to get through this day, the face of a man devastated by his inability to provide for his family.
So no, I'm not having things taken away this time and I'm not living in fear. While clergy aren't on huge salaries, I have the privilege of security and a roof over my head. I am, like the Franciscans, making a choice towards simplicity and that is surprisingly liberating. Somehow, when I choose to take something from a cupboard and put it into the food bank, I am making a journey towards freedom; freedom from being owned by what is in my cupboards. Freedom from identifying myself with what I have. And it's a short step to discovering another sense of freedom; the freedom of being judged by the standards of society and any sense of obligation to live up to those standards.
Today, when the usual flood of emails poured in from companies desperate for my money, there was a difference in the way I felt as I deleted them without opening them first. 'This is nothing to do with me' ran through my head. I don't have to live by these rules. Who I am is not governed by what I have and living my life has nothing to do with society's perception of success and failure. Poverty and simplicity may both lead to a state of invisibility, a reality of disenfranchisement; but society beware because it also leads to a very clear perception of emancipation.
Eva
Saturday, 8 March 2014
The story so far : Lent on a food bank budget
Saturday week 1 of Lent. So far I've been living from my store cupboard but I need to go shopping soon and will have to take a calculator with me as maths is not my strong point.
Ash Wednesday was cheese on toast for lunch - and the Bishop was here and keeping a frugal Ash Wednesday; it went against my Celtic instinct for hospitality to serve him a modest plate of two small slices of cheese topped toast!
Dinner was chick pea stew that sufficed for Thursday lunch and then with a small jacket potato for Friday Lunch as well. Thursday supper was poached egg on toast and yesterday evening I made carrot and lentil soup which should serve me for two or three more meals. I've made a batch of American style pancakes and am storing them in the fridge for breakfasts. I'll put up some recipes for anyone interested later.
I already notice that focusing on food in this way is making me focus on the importance of my body; my being physically in the world and how precious this gift is. I am paying more attention to a healthy diet because I have less to build it from - or so I perceive! I am finding myself more mindful : more present in the moment. I realise that I am returning to the animal pre-occupation with the basics and essentials of life : food, shelter, warmth, and less with the luxuries and fripperies of modern, human life.
And then there's the unconscious mind throwing up memories and wisdom as it can when we are paying attention to the present moment. Why does the food bank evoke such angst and concern in me?
I see very clearly a scene from my childhood: my mother knelt on the partially carpeted living room floor with her 'debt jar' in front of her and the money it usually contains laid out in piles in front of her. Her face a study in anguish, beads of sweat on her furrowed forehead. My sister and I knew we were to be silent; not to disturb her with a single sound as she did magic, stretching our meagre budget to meet the demands of the week. "I'll borrow the gas money to pay the electric and I'll put it back next week." There was no extra money coming in next week, so the sleight of hand shuffle would move the money the other way, come the following Monday.
This experience has stayed with me all my life. Although I'm aware of its legacy, I have not been able to entirely expunge it from my mind, and the fear of not having enough money to survive can raise its head at an instant with the right trigger. The animal instinct that causes us to fight for survival is not so very far beneath the surface and with it the awareness of the fragility of life. Money has become synonymous with the basic needs of life and when it's in short supply, in floods the fear of not being able to provide for ourselves and those who rely upon us.
As I think about those relying on the food banks today, I am aware of all those children today who are growing up in that same climate of fear that there will not be enough; that everything may be lost at any moment, and I see another generation growing up with a false sense of their own ability to provide for themselves and to be 'enough' and of equal value as those who are financially wealthy.
Ash Wednesday was cheese on toast for lunch - and the Bishop was here and keeping a frugal Ash Wednesday; it went against my Celtic instinct for hospitality to serve him a modest plate of two small slices of cheese topped toast!
Dinner was chick pea stew that sufficed for Thursday lunch and then with a small jacket potato for Friday Lunch as well. Thursday supper was poached egg on toast and yesterday evening I made carrot and lentil soup which should serve me for two or three more meals. I've made a batch of American style pancakes and am storing them in the fridge for breakfasts. I'll put up some recipes for anyone interested later.
I already notice that focusing on food in this way is making me focus on the importance of my body; my being physically in the world and how precious this gift is. I am paying more attention to a healthy diet because I have less to build it from - or so I perceive! I am finding myself more mindful : more present in the moment. I realise that I am returning to the animal pre-occupation with the basics and essentials of life : food, shelter, warmth, and less with the luxuries and fripperies of modern, human life.
And then there's the unconscious mind throwing up memories and wisdom as it can when we are paying attention to the present moment. Why does the food bank evoke such angst and concern in me?
I see very clearly a scene from my childhood: my mother knelt on the partially carpeted living room floor with her 'debt jar' in front of her and the money it usually contains laid out in piles in front of her. Her face a study in anguish, beads of sweat on her furrowed forehead. My sister and I knew we were to be silent; not to disturb her with a single sound as she did magic, stretching our meagre budget to meet the demands of the week. "I'll borrow the gas money to pay the electric and I'll put it back next week." There was no extra money coming in next week, so the sleight of hand shuffle would move the money the other way, come the following Monday.
This experience has stayed with me all my life. Although I'm aware of its legacy, I have not been able to entirely expunge it from my mind, and the fear of not having enough money to survive can raise its head at an instant with the right trigger. The animal instinct that causes us to fight for survival is not so very far beneath the surface and with it the awareness of the fragility of life. Money has become synonymous with the basic needs of life and when it's in short supply, in floods the fear of not being able to provide for ourselves and those who rely upon us.
As I think about those relying on the food banks today, I am aware of all those children today who are growing up in that same climate of fear that there will not be enough; that everything may be lost at any moment, and I see another generation growing up with a false sense of their own ability to provide for themselves and to be 'enough' and of equal value as those who are financially wealthy.
Friday, 7 March 2014
End Hunger Fast - my Lent Challenge
Like most other Churches, St Michael's Stourport and All Saints' Wilden are food bank collection points. Every week members of the congregations contribute as much as they can to try to help feed people who are living on the edge and unable to afford to eat properly and heat their homes. It feels like a drop in the ocean. It also feels like a huge injustice that, in such a rich country, people are going without food on a scale that has not been seen for decades. Meanwhile, some are taking home fat salaries and bonuses and eating fine food and enjoying expensive wines and whiskies. It's an imbalance that exists on a global scale, with the rich living off the backs of the poor - both within nations and across national boundaries. What has shocked and scandalised the great British public is that it's happening right on our doorstep; to people we know.
There are so many questions and discussions to be had; politics, economics, ethics, spirituality...and like many others, I've been joining in those debates.
For Lent, though, I wanted to do something more visceral; something from my gut - literally! I'm attempting an act of solidarity; com-passion = suffering with. So I'm going to attempt to feed myself on the equivalent of a food bank budget, which has been estimated by End Hunger Fast to be £14.30 per three days. I've turned that into a weekly figure of £33.37 and it's from this figure that I will attempt to buy my groceries for the next 40 days. Of course, I don't know that everyone gets 2 parcels a week but I do know that I couldn't live on £14.30 a week, so my budget assumes enough for 7 days.
Friends have wished me luck, told me I need a miracle to achieve this, cautioned me not to waste away and saluted my bravery. The thing is, I don't yet know whether I can achieve my goal but I do know that I have a safety net; I am not stuck in this position with no end in sight like the people who visit our food banks in the Wyre Forest. If I find I can't manage, I can cheat. So there has to be a system that makes me pay, should I end up having to cheat.
So the rules:
*I have allowed myself a few store cupboard ingredients; the type of things that are left after everything else has run out and which do not make up a balanced meal on their own;
Flour, oil, sugar, salt, yeast, stock cubes, spices and herbs (the dates on these will need checking before I go ahead and use them anyway). When these run out, they will have to be replenished from my weekly budget.
*Anything else that remains in my existing store cupboard and fridge is subject to a forfeit:
Every day that I use something that falls outside the list above, I will put an item in the food bank.
*When a pre-existing engagement means I am eating away from home, I will put an item in the food bank.
*If I am given food or supplies, I will put the equivalent in the food bank.
Other rules may be added as I discover the pitfalls over the next 40 days.
I'll be writing my blog and sharing my experiences, thoughts and some recipes throughout Lent, so do come back and visit this page and add your comments & recipes. Wish me luck, if you're someone who prays, say one for me. But more importantly, pray for those who have to rely on the food banks, Trussell Trust & their volunteers. Please think about signing the End Hunger Fast pledge, http://endhungerfast.co.uk/ and if you haven't donated to a food bank in a while, please spare what you can.
Thank you
Eva
There are so many questions and discussions to be had; politics, economics, ethics, spirituality...and like many others, I've been joining in those debates.
For Lent, though, I wanted to do something more visceral; something from my gut - literally! I'm attempting an act of solidarity; com-passion = suffering with. So I'm going to attempt to feed myself on the equivalent of a food bank budget, which has been estimated by End Hunger Fast to be £14.30 per three days. I've turned that into a weekly figure of £33.37 and it's from this figure that I will attempt to buy my groceries for the next 40 days. Of course, I don't know that everyone gets 2 parcels a week but I do know that I couldn't live on £14.30 a week, so my budget assumes enough for 7 days.
Friends have wished me luck, told me I need a miracle to achieve this, cautioned me not to waste away and saluted my bravery. The thing is, I don't yet know whether I can achieve my goal but I do know that I have a safety net; I am not stuck in this position with no end in sight like the people who visit our food banks in the Wyre Forest. If I find I can't manage, I can cheat. So there has to be a system that makes me pay, should I end up having to cheat.
So the rules:
*I have allowed myself a few store cupboard ingredients; the type of things that are left after everything else has run out and which do not make up a balanced meal on their own;
Flour, oil, sugar, salt, yeast, stock cubes, spices and herbs (the dates on these will need checking before I go ahead and use them anyway). When these run out, they will have to be replenished from my weekly budget.
*Anything else that remains in my existing store cupboard and fridge is subject to a forfeit:
Every day that I use something that falls outside the list above, I will put an item in the food bank.
*When a pre-existing engagement means I am eating away from home, I will put an item in the food bank.
*If I am given food or supplies, I will put the equivalent in the food bank.
Other rules may be added as I discover the pitfalls over the next 40 days.
I'll be writing my blog and sharing my experiences, thoughts and some recipes throughout Lent, so do come back and visit this page and add your comments & recipes. Wish me luck, if you're someone who prays, say one for me. But more importantly, pray for those who have to rely on the food banks, Trussell Trust & their volunteers. Please think about signing the End Hunger Fast pledge, http://endhungerfast.co.uk/ and if you haven't donated to a food bank in a while, please spare what you can.
Thank you
Eva
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