What do you know?

Just over a week ago, I was at a funeral. The deceased was in her early 50’s and died too young, her widower and her young but adult daughters were the epitome of grace and dignity and did her proud. It was a very emotional day, and as is the way, often with these things, I learnt that I didn’t know her very well at all. I knew her as a good, welcoming, friendly, open neighbour and I hope a friend. We had some shared experience, children of a similar age, and her work and my husband’s often overlapped. The sort of friend who you know you could ask a favour of and she would help if she could. She invited me and my younger children over to hold their puppies when they were big enough, because she knew that would be quite brilliant for them. It turns out that she was quite religious, if we’d met more often socially, maybe I would have known that, but I didn’t.

At the same time Donald Trump had been in office for a matter of days, and no-body quite knew what was going on or was going to happen, but there was a lot of concern, in the media, and in my own head, that the vitriolic, aggressive and rascist rhetoric he espoused during his election campaign, was coming home to roost. Fear and dissemblance seemed to be the order of the moment.

Skip to the wake. I chatted to her immediate family for a short while and then because I was otherwise on my own, I found myself a quiet corner to stand and drink my tea and observe quietly. The room was packed. After a short time, I was joined by another lady with the same intention I think. Dressed in long black or purple velvet, with long dyed black hair with bleached bits underneath (does that have a name?) – her appearance suggested in a completely prejudicial kind of way, that she might be a kindred spirit*. We chatted. Starting with the obligatory opening gambit that strangers employ at weddings and funerals – “how do you know the family?” – Her story was that she knew the deceased’s father from her youth and from her time in his church. (Ah not so like me as I thought then) He was a pastor and obviously had a massive impact on her life. She talked to me about her faith as a born again Christian, which in itself was interesting. She was full of love and peace. Then she asked me if I had a faith, and I told her I was pagan.

She seemed genuinely interested, and although she did say that I should look for Jesus**, she didn’t tell me that I was wrong. She asked me specifically about what I believed happens after we die. I explained, that for me it’s all about life and death, decomposition and release. If we live a good life, our love and spirit lives on in the people we’ve loved and our energy returns to the land. Dust to dust I suppose. She smiled at me and said “Yes, isn’t that amazing” and then something about being 1 bucket of water and several buckets of dust, it sounded like a repeated refrain from her world. I told her that I believed also in the power of women, to birth, to teach and to renew. She smiled again and said “Jesus loves women”.

She did go off on one a bit, about me avoiding Hell (she couldn’t say the word) and not taking a chance on eternity, but as I don’t believe in Hell, that meant very little to me. She was open and honest, and she’s the first stranger I’ve spoken to at length about anything for a very long time.

As I drove home, I recalled the quote from Jo Cox’s maiden House of Commons speech, which became so popular in the weeks of her brutal murder.

“…we are far more united and have far more in common with each other than things that divide us.” Jo Cox, June 2015

It was true then, it’s true now, it was true about the Born Again Christian and the Pagan who met briefly at a wake, and it will be true in the future.

Do not engage with the fearmongers and the name callers, do what you can to break through the dissemblance, learn, speak and live your truth, be kind, be generous, be compassionate. These are the things that will win the day and change the world.

 

*what does a pagan look like anyway? – this is what one pagan looks like…

**please don’t ask me to look for Jesus, I respect your faith, and I don’t reject the concept out of hand, but He is not on my path.

 

 

Things that make me go “OOOOO”

With the European elections just done and dusted,  I have been thinking about the things I believe in. What makes me, me? Why do I do the things I do, or don’t do the things I don’t? So it all came splurging out into what I am quite grandly calling:   MY MANIFESTO FOR LIFE Which is in no particular order:

1. Food should be grown and/or reared organically and compassionately and purchased locally.
2. Breastfeeding should be supported more in the developed world as natural and achievable – many tax pounds can be saved by increasing successful breastfeeding.
   • Supplemental – mothers who make different choices should not be fighting amongst themselves, and marketing agencies should stop fuelling those particular fires.
3. Biology over medicine  (most of the time) and definitely over Big Business
4. The NHS is worth saving
5. More people need to know about Gut health
6. Cultural diversity has and always will be good for this country
7. Being European is a good and also a cool thing
8. We can all buy/consume less stuff (everything, clothes, food, technology, white goods, cars, fuel and energy)
   • Supplemental – things should be made to last and/or be able to be repaired.
9. Capitalism and the drive for continuous economic growth is not sustainable at any level.
10. Cosmetics and household products should not be tested on animals ever
11. Everyone should have the right to a dignified old age and when it comes to it, death of their choosing.
12. Women and girls are not objects to be viewed and criticised.
13. I am enough, I am a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife, a childminder, a writer, a doula[1], a graduate ….. etc etc I am enough
14. We should invest heavily NOW in renewable energy sources, instead of raping our precious planet for the last scraps of fossil fuel. It’s still going to run out. And what damage will we have done in the meantime?
15. My physical appearance does not define me.

That’s it. For now, there’s no knowing what my memory will do when I post this. What’s yours?   [1] I’m not actually a doula yet – but I will be!