It's time to go... values

Lately it seems my Facebook feed has been inundated with announcements of my previously vegetarian friends getting back on meat. The status update is typically met with lots of 'likes', lots of congrats, and lots of invitations to head out for a parma*

Putting my vego ideals beside, I've been wondering what is it their friends are really celebrating? 'My friend had a really strong, personal conviction about something they believed in, but now they can't be bothered keeping it up'? Or, 'Thank god, one less person to make me feel guilty about cage eggs'?

I commented on one announcement with a simple, 'I couldn't do that'. Not judging, but in genuine bewilderment. There are so many reasons I choose to live a vegetarian lifestyle, how could I possibly turn my back on them?

But then I remembered. I remembered 18-year-old Lucy, when all her friends slowly but surely, began to leave the Pentecostal church, turning to her youth pastor and declaring, 'I could never do that.' Followed by a desperate attempt to reason - 'I guess they didn't love Jesus as much I do'.

Okay - I'm getting to my point. I did leave the church, and it was a massive decision. I'd identified as a Christian for 23 years, and giving up the title was difficult, but it didn't change who I was. And my friends, who have returned to their pre-vege lifestyle, haven't changed. They're still the same people.

If we're not defined by our values, what are we defined by? We're not defined by how we look, or where we live. We're not defined by how much money we earn, or how many friends we have. We can't even say we're defined by our words, or our actions, because they only ever paint half the picture at best.

I like to think we're defined by our heart - by our capacity to love. I gave up church, but I still love people, I still love the world. I still live to share love with whoever I can. I could give up being a vegetarian and still love animals. I could still be an advocate for animal rights, and I could still be the parent of the happiest, healthiest dog in the park. I would still be me (but I couldn't do that).

Not to encourage you to all go out and throw away your passions, your convictions, your beliefs, but just to remind you - Barack Obama changed his value on gay marriage. Richard Muller changed his beliefs on climate change. I changed my mind about eating a McDonalds double quarter pounder with cheese. Never be afraid to question what you believe in, and check that your 'value' matches your heart.



(*or parmie, depending if you're in Tasmania or Victoria).

For my dad

Originally I'd planned to blog tomorrow. Somewhere near the beach on the Sunshine Coast, reminiscing on a lovely few days with my dad. I wanted to write about the man he is, what he means to me, and probably what good buds we are.

But then life happened, including one cancelled flight to Queensland, one trip to emergency with my pup and one very unsettling discussion on marriage equality with a couple of old acquaintances. So instead, I'm going to write about the man my dad is not.

My dad is not a paralympian, although as a child I sure thought he could put his missing hand to better use. He is, however, a surfer, a musician, and a man who has never been defined by his disability.

My dad is not generous with words, but I've never felt unloved, or un-special. He's not that generous with money either, but I've never been unsupported.

My dad is not tall, but he sure is handsome.

My dad is not my life coach. He's never told me what to do. He's never told me a boyfriend was no good (well, at least not until after we'd broken up). He's never told me what to study, how to vote, how best to succeed. Yet, every decision I make, I know what he'd want me to do - and I know it's for the best (except voting for Tony Abbott. Friends don't let friends vote for Tony Abbott, Dad).

My dad was never on the parent teacher committee, but he took me to soccer on Saturday mornings, and debating on Wednesday night.

My dad was never my minister. He never told me what to believe in, what was important. He listened to my concerns for his eternal life, my concerns for the world, and more recently, my concerns for dairy farmers. He never told me I was right, never told me I was wrong, but he was always my sounding board.

You know what else he wasn't? A man in the sky, who created me to feel a certain way, but forbade me to ever act upon such feelings for fear of eternal damnation. A man whose words, written thousands of years ago, having been interpreted thousands of times, in hundreds of languages, set the precedent for modern law.  And if your Father is like that, you'd have to be wondering why you got such a rotten deal.

I don't like to speak about fundamentalistic Christian faith, because I know not all Christians share the same view. But I know if I ever put words in my father's mouth, or took him out of context, or decided it was my place to enforce his judgement, he'd have something to say to me about it.

So to my old pal who told me today that my decision to stand with the chaff (Matthew 3:12 if you'd like some more context) was between me and God, you bloody bet it is. As it is for every gay couple who choose to marry, and definitely not anything to do with you.

I'm so grateful for a father who let me grow into the person I am. A person who can see the mistakes of their past, because they were allowed to make them. A person who can walk comfortably into the future, secure in the fact they will make more mistakes, but that's okay too.

Anyway, Dad, if I'd gotten on that flight this morning we'd have had a different day for sure. But everything happens for a reason. And at least you've still got your grandpuppy.

Last Monday I attended a book launch where the guest speaker, Ray "my hero" Mooney, told a story I can't forget. He was speaking about a friend of his who had recently passed away, but in the weeks leading up to his death had taken the chance to reflect upon the world. He said to Ray, as the two old friends stood by the Yarra River, "It's a wonderful world we live in when we have to invent a God to explain the things we can't understand".

The launch was for "The People Are Revolting", and I was lucky enough to have a small piece added to the collection of some stunning works on the topic of revolutions. I wrote simply of my personal revolution, my emancipation from the pentecostal church, aged 23. It's a topic Ray and I have talked about before, but it was the words of his late friend that on this night that spoke to me so clearly.

The issue isn't whether or not we believe in God, whether science and evolution disprove an existence, whether bat sonar points to creation. The issue, at it's core, is what a wonderful world we live in.

My issues with a God created world began when I lost a dear friend. There was no man made reason for his death, it wasn't the result of free will, or choices. He died, aged 22, from leukemia. I had two choices, either God could have cured my friend from his illness, but He chose not to, or He couldn't - and what else couldn't God do that He said he could? Either way, I knew the former wasn't a God I wanted to serve anymore. So I began looking for the latter God - the one who created the world and everything in it - but couldn't control what happens to it after that point.

But I found so many problems in a created world, the idea that it was purposed and left to fail, broke my resolve. I gave up looking for answers - and started enjoying the world for what it is - flaws and all. And I can't encourage you enough to do the same.

A created world suggests every thing is available for our benefit - the trees, animals - all given as a gift from God for us. A wonderful world is something to be cherished, appreciated, nurtured. "We must bear in mind that we belong to nature, we are born in nature and have to work with nature in order to live life to the full with plenty of health and vitality"(Source unknown/I forgot - it's still good tho, right?).

I don't know what I believe in, but I know that whatever we think we know, however high up on the food chain we think we are, Mother Nature can still kick our asses. So maybe we should pay for our carbon.

When you're busy making plans

Last week I had the rug swept from under me. The plans that I'd been so happily making over the last few months were stolen in a moment.

It happens all the time, of course. 99% of our lives are outside of our control. We share this world with people, with mother nature, and we get very little that we can control.

They're the things I like to focus on, obviously. I can control my values, my behaviours. I choose what to eat, how to look after my body (albeit determined to some extent by the outside factors; finance, time...). I choose what type of person I want to be, what kind of employee, friend, partner, mother I want to be seen as.

That's great and all; but it's not enough to build a life for yourself - and so you let other people in. You plan holidays, you share houses, you form relationships that offer you the things you can't do by yourself. You trust. You hope. You cross your fingers and pray for the best.

And when the worst happens? You breathe. You scream. You curse. You shake it off. And you make new plans. Because that's what we do - and what we do best.

I didn't ever imagine being a single 26 year old girl with a puppy and a lease and a car I can't afford on my own. But I'm here. And I'm making plans again.

I'm making new plans; the kind of fun, spontaneous plans only a single girl can make. Plans for travel, for adventure. And if some dashing, ruggard and athletic man comes and pulls the rug from under those plans - well then I'll just have to make new ones again.

I rarely look back to my church days fondly, but there is one scripture I remember and think of often. It's in the book of Jeremiah (chapter 29, for anyone that would like to look it up). God told Jeremiah to build homes, and plan to stay. To plant trees and eat the fruit they produce. To marry and have children. The great thing about this story, is that Babylon, where Jeremiah was living at the time, was later destroyed. And assuming God would have known this in advance (that's the theory remember) he still told Jeremiah to knuckle down and make plans.

I think of this often - a gal that's moved as many times as I have still has to find a way to feel at home. So I always plan to stay. Even when I know I likely won't. I plant things in the garden, I make the effort to 'finish' decorating the house. I make sure that wherever I am, is home. Whoever I am with, is family.

The other thing I'm thinking about at the moment, is the plans that got lost before you made these last lot of plans. What did you have to sacrifice in order to make room for your new plans? What can you put back on your list of 'things to do'?

John Lennon says 'Life is what happens when your busy making plans.' But I disagree. I think life is what happens when your plans turn to shit, and you look around, see where you are, and realise there's still plenty of places you can go.

And that's my thought for this week.

For the record

Tonight I finally snapped. I lost my temper at the radio.

You know what? I don't care if your opinion is different from mine, but have the decency to be honest about your motives, and the simple common courtesy to allow others the freedom to make their own.

The way I see it, there are three answers people give in relation to whether gay marriage should be legalised.

1 - Sure, why the hell not?
2 - I don't care what they do, but do they have to call it marriage?
3 - No. Marriage is between a man and a woman.

Number 1 is answered by 90% of Gen Y, and a growing number of Aussies. Even the liberals oppose a "Nanny state" declaring that if it doesn't hurt anyone else you should have the right to make your own choices (irony?).

For anyone in category 2, this is why: because it's about equality. Having the right to make the same choices as straight couples. If you can make the choice for yourself whether or not to marry, why shouldn't gay people be entitled to the same basic freedom?

Now this is when my blood starts to boil. When people say a 'traditional' marriage is between a man and a woman and should remain so. Why? Because like it or not, Australia was founded on Christian principals and our government doesn't have the balls to declare enough is enough.

If you believe that homosexuality is a sin, and in legalising marriage we are sinning, say so, and say it proudly. Don't hide your beliefs behind 'traditional values' and 'family ideals'. Have the guts to stand for what you believe in.

Tonight a Christian male called up the radio to discuss his views. He said that he'd been thinking a lot about marriage and what it meant because he was getting married in two weeks. He believed marriage was both a union between Christ and the church and a union between a man and a woman and placing God's covering over their relationship.

The journalist asked the man if he felt if gay marriage was legalised it would remove God's covering from his marriage.

'Of course not.'

So what's the problem?

I know a few gay couples, and none who would request the covering of God over their mariage anyway, so that's okay, the Christians can keep that.

James and I have made the decision to remain un-married until gay marriage is legalised. Why should we have rights denied to our friends? How can we be expected to raise our children with values of equality and acceptance when we continue to behave like homophobic rednecks?

It's time to grow up, Australia. And you don't like gay marriage, great. Don't get gay married.