France: revisited

We went to our friend's to re-live our great holiday last year at their lovely new country pad. Such relaxing fun. Played football, 40-40, rounders, ate lovely croissants, BBQ, cheese and baguettes, watched Gavin and Stacey, learned "horse with no name" on the guitar and went on lovely walks... Amazing time. Thank you Tranters for looking after us!

Ask Andrew W.K

I read this and was inspired in a way I have not felt for a long time... to see beyond my ever so increasing judgement, my beliefs and growing unwillingness to persevere with challenging people and circumstances.

It wasn't always like this and I thought it worth reminding myself of what I swore to myself all those years ago.

Also worth sharing- simply because it's worth it and in a present day where we need more of this empathy and willingness to love our enemies.

Enjoy
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Ask Andrew W.K.: My Dad Is a Right-Wing Asshole
By Andrew W.K. Wed., Aug. 6 2014 at 1:31 PM 574 Comments

[Editor's note: Every Wednesday New York City's own Andrew W.K. takes your life questions, and sets you safely down the right path to a solution, a purpose or -- no surprise here -- a party. Need his help? Just ask: AskAWK@villagevoice.com]

Hi Andrew, 

I'm writing because I just can't deal with my father anymore. He's a 65-year-old super right-wing conservative who has basically turned into a total asshole intent on ruining our relationship and our planet with his politics. I'm more or less a liberal democrat with very progressive values and I know that people like my dad are going to destroy us all. I don't have any good times with him anymore. All we do is argue. When I try to spend time with him without talking politics or discussing any current events, there's still an underlying tension that makes it really uncomfortable. Don't get me wrong, I love him no matter what, but how do I explain to him that his politics are turning him into a monster, destroying the environment, and pushing away the people who care about him?

Thanks for your help, 
Son of A Right-Winger 

Dear Son of A Right-Winger, 

Go back and read the opening sentences of your letter. Read them again. Then read the rest of your letter. Then read it again. Try to find a single instance where you referred to your dad as a human being, a person, or a man. There isn't one. You've reduced your father -- the person who created you -- to a set of beliefs and political views and how it relates to you. And you don't consider your dad a person of his own standing -- he's just "your dad." You've also reduced yourself to a set of opposing views, and reduced your relationship with him to a fight between the two. The humanity has been reduced to nothingness and all that's left in its place is an argument that can never really be won. And even if one side did win, it probably wouldn't satisfy the deeper desire to be in a state of inflamed passionate conflict.

The world isn't being destroyed by democrats or republicans, red or blue, liberal or conservative, religious or atheist -- the world is being destroyed by one side believing the other side is destroying the world. The world is being hurt and damaged by one group of people believing they're truly better people than the others who think differently. The world officially ends when we let our beliefs conquer love. We must not let this happen.

When we lump people into groups, quickly label them, and assume we know everything about them and their life based on a perceived world view, how they look, where they come from, etc., we are not behaving as full human beings. When we truly believe that some people are monsters, that they fundamentally are less human than we are, and that they deserve to have less than we do, we ourselves become the monsters. When we allow our emotions to be hypnotized by the excitement of petty bickering about seemingly important topics, we drift further and further away from the fragile and crucial human bond holding everything together. When we anticipate with ferocious glee the next chance we have to prove someone "wrong" and ourselves "right," all the while disregarding the vast complexity of almost every subject -- not to mention the universe as a whole -- we are reducing the beauty and magic of life to a "side" or a "type," or worst of all, an "answer." This is the power of politics at it's most sinister.

At its best, politics is able to organize extremely complex world views into manageable and communicable systems so they can be grappled with and studied abstractly. But even the most noble efforts to organize the world are essentially futile. The best we can usually achieve is a crude and messy map of life from one particular vantage point, featuring a few grids, bullet points, and sketches of its various aspects and landmarks. Anything as infinitely complex as life, reality, and the human experience can never be summed up or organized in a definitive system, especially one based on "left or right," "A or B," "us or them." This is the fatal flaw of binary thinking in general. However, this flaw isn't just ignored, it's also embraced, amplified, and deliberately used as a weapon on the very people who think it's benefiting their way of thinking.

Human beings crave order and simplicity. We cling to the hope that some day, if we really refine our world view and beliefs, we can actually find the fully correct way to think -- the absolute truth and final side to stand on. People and systems craving power take advantage of this desire and pit us against each other using a "this or that" mentality. The point is to create unrest, disagreement, resentment, and anger -- a population constantly at war with itself, each side deeply believing that the other is not just wrong, but also a sincere threat to their very way of life and survival. This creates constant anxiety and distraction -- the perfect conditions for oppression. The goal of this sort of politics is to keep people held down and mesmerized by a persistent parade of seemingly life-or-death debates, each one worth all of our emotional energy and primal passion.

But the truth is, the world has always been and always will be on the brink of destruction. And what keeps it from actually imploding is our love for life and our deep-seeded desire not to die. Our love for our own life is inextricably connected to our love of all life and the miracle of this phenomenon we call "the world." We must give all of ourselves credit every day for keeping things going. It's an incredible achievement to exist at all.

So we must protect and respect each other, no matter how hard it feels. No matter how wrong someone else may seem to us, they are still human. No matter how bad someone may appear, they are truly no worse than us. Our beliefs and behavior don't make us fundamentally better than others, no matter how satisfying it is to believe otherwise. We must be tireless in our efforts to see things from the point of view we most disagree with. We must make endless efforts to try and understand the people we least relate to. And we must at all times force ourselves to love the people we dislike the most. Not because it's nice or because they deserve it, but because our own sanity and survival depends on it. And if we do find ourselves pushed into a corner where we must kill others in order to survive, we must fully accept that we are killing people just as fully human as ourselves, and not some evil abstract creatures.

Love your dad because he's your father, because he made you, because he thinks for himself, and most of all because he is a person. Have the strength to doubt and question what you believe as easily as you're so quick to doubt his beliefs. Live with a truly open mind -- the kind of open mind that even questions the idea of an open mind. Don't feel the need to always pick a side. And if you do pick a side, pick the side of love. It remains our only real hope for survival and has more power to save us than any other belief we could ever cling to.

Your friend, 
Andrew W.K.

Child talk

Just some of the conversations I'm privy to: "Listen Caleb I can burp the alphabet..."

My work is done.

My friend Courtney speaks about being a relief worker at a refugee camp in Lebanon

Summer holidays: visiting papa at work

A stroll by the lake

In mummy's onesie

Thursday night footy

I was given my first run out on Thursday night footy at Wildernesse school I think around 1992. 

I remember playing with all the oldies and always admired how skilful they were. They used comment on my style of play being like a ballerina! I loved it, loved the variation of generations and loved the game.

Yesterday was great as my friend's son age 12 got his first run out.

A student again

Just woke up 20 mins ago.

I woke up in Bath University's student accommodation. We ran a sim here for over 100 IB students from around the world. I was able to stay on. 

Reminded me of my days livings in halls of residence. As I reflected I started to missmy neighbours (Wayne, Rich, Chris, Martin, Christian, Tom and strange guy at the end), the girls upstairs, my friends, the tournaments and other stuff.

Nice being here but now but not the same without a community.

Sisters

Eid Murbarak

I'm somewhat heart broken at what I am seeing in today's news.

The continued bombing in Gaza is horrific. I feel anger, sadness and helpessness like I've not know in a long time. Reading and following Channel 4's Jon Snow's honest report he simply shares that we must come together and show solidarity.

I really don't know what I can do. 

I yearnto do something. Something that will make me feel like I'm changing anything... or anyone. What does solidarity with those who are being bombed look like. How can I be solid with people over there. 

Jon Snow concludes his article calling for 'coming together'. 

This is easier said than done. In fact it's downright impossible to come together. In just my world alone I am surrounded by people who do not come together who "don't talk to each other", who parade behind "principle"or "moral high ground"or simply whatever. It is easier to ignore than forgive. Easier to hold on to whatever "hurt" is left available.

To, myself, shamefully, I, too, exhibit such tendencies. It was modelled to me as I grew up. And it just keeps on going... and going.

I had the privilege of being in the company of a Nobel Peace Laureate once whilst in Davos. She said it's what we do in times of stability get amplified in times of war or trial. Being Liberian she shared some of these darker moments. Her plea for peace was to each of us to strive for what we wish to see being amplified in times of trial like compassion, love, selflessness right now. Why... because these will be amplified.

I still don't know what to do.

So today whilst I do not observe Ramadan nor Eid. I do recognise that I can no longer avoid such celebrations and festivals in today's global village... and today I wish to celerate with my brothers and sisters around the world and sit with them saying "Eid Murbarak!"

I share what my good friend working as a UNICEF child trauma specalist shared with me today. It also highligts a project we worked on together in Davos earlier this year:

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Eid Mubarak! to all beloved friends celebrating today from Aleppo to Gaza, from Dhaka to Dakar, from Ramallah to London, from Mogadishu to Boston - I am thinking of you today.

As this Eid dawns upon what feels like a broken world, perhaps you, like I, find it difficult to be festive today. My spiritual brother articulated it well, "What's the point in celebrating, we might think, when blood is relentlessly being spilled in Gaza, Syria, Iraq, and elsewhere on the globe?"

But let me reveal to you that even now, something is happening - something beautiful is growing in the alleys of our world - persistently, and brightly. Muslims in Mosul and Baghdad have and are risking their lives to protect their Christian brothers against a genocide in Iraq; Palestinian Muslims are finding refuge and comfort with their Christian sisters and brothers in Churches in Gaza; progressive and ultra-orthodox Jews, former soldiers, and very public figures in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv and London and New York are vocally, publicly resisting the Occupation and calling for a #FreePalestine even if it comes at the cost of being disparaged by their kin (yes, Jon Stewart, you are my hero). Some day we will look back and see that some of the most exquisite and deeply meaningful expressions of empathy - through words, art, music, poetry and dance - of our time will be inspired, like Kayhan Kalhor's Symphony for Palestine, like the exquisite Syrian embroidery by refugee women at NuDay Syria and Basmeh and Zeitooneh, even in such times of grief.

Let me also tell you that even here, in the curious space of my inboxes, I have been surprised and so moved to receive a daily influx of private messages and outpouring of solidarity and heartbreak and kindness and love from unexpected sources -- as far as New Zealand and as otherwise removed as Hong Kong. And, for the first time, much curiosity and thirst to learn more about different peoples whom we increasingly understand are our own. Just this week, we took a school of Syrian children for a day of storytelling and food and fun at the Luna Park, almost 200 refugee children who have at least their next year of education secured because of the efforts of a Hong Kong NGO to motivate WEF Participants in Switzerland earlier this year, whose message moved two extraordinary women, one Lebanese and one American, to help fund this school. And because of them, these children will have hope for a future. All these things are real (and not just the product of my pathological optimism!), the product of empathy, and worthy of nurturing and of hope.

Today is a celebration of revelation and community. Have courage, my friends! It is especially in moments of much destruction that our human empathy matters and has the power to transform lives. This Eid, I am sending you smiles, gratitude for your friendship and prayers that God bless you with comfort and peace and loving fellowship today and in the days to come.

More footy in the garden

Reuben's Kung Fu dancing

End of the season

Well done Caleb. Made it to the end of the season.

A proud parent moment!

   

Behind every man...

Inspirational Videos

Every where I look there seems to be a video, a feed, a photo that is posted to inspire me and others.

It used to be that occasional moment during a film, reading a comic, a book, an article... those occasions seem to be more frequent.

Inspiring stories seem to be everywhere.

Here's a few that caught my eye.

Family

The order of things dictates that families are the mechanism as to how we are able to sustain ourselves. 

I could not have survived without one. Mine, now, look to me for their survival.

Our relatives give us the safety and strength to survive and thrive throughout our lives.

It's a blessing, a burden. Yet a rich way to enjoy everything. Everything we are blessed to do, to experience. 

I had the joy of being at a family wedding and got to hang out briefly with my mum. So thrilled to have had this time where she's not rushing around fussing over things but enjoying the company of us all. A rare, yet enjoyable treat.

Foi

My friend shared how he has had several miscarriages.

He shared that each was painful. As he and his wife prayed afterwards. He said to me that his belief, their belief, is one day, they would meet their child again. That they would get to give their child a cuddle.

Travelling to a family party yesterday I was speaking to my mum about life in Uganda. She shared how she and my father used to play together.

My father, "papa" to me and "dada" to my boys, is a wonderful dad and grandfather. Yet there is so much behind his years that I only get to learn about in rare pockets of special time. Those opportunities only seems to get scarcer. Recently, the family came together to recollect their exodus from Jinja to Sevenoaks. I learnt a whole heap that I simply never knew.

I asked about when my Dadi, grandmother, had her second baby. My auntie.

My mum shared that when in labour, the girl was caught by the umbilical cord. As she was passing through the cord wrapped around her neck. Whilst trying to enter into the world her life was being strangled out of her. She didn't survive.

Mum went on to say she remembers vividly how my papa had prepared many gifts and presents for the arrival of his sister. She remembers how he wept bitterly.

In gujarati the father's sister is called a "foi".

I hope one day we shall meet.

A camper that's also a kiosk

What a cool idea.

Take a super cool, lowered, camper van. And turn it into a quirky sea food kiosk vendor at Waterloo.

Why didn't I think of that ;-)

Milkshake in Bean

First time to Bean and it was a sugar armoury.

Enjoyed a smoothie with the fam.