Epiphany!

DISCLAIMER: I’ve had a sort of road-to-Damascus/Homer-Simpson epiphany recently and as a result this post seems to mainly be an abstract string of thoughts. Sorry about that. I’ll get back to writing sensible (more sensible) stuff next week.

P.S. I also thought it might be nice to display some art by someone else. So here’s a masterpiece painted by my lovely sister, it was so much fun to see her for the weekend, not to mention hanging out with Beth and Hattie for the evening, although obviously not the same without the oldest Basson sister (Abby we missed you!).

Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending the wedding of Bekah Brain and Ben Allen. It was a great wedding, for all sorts of reasons, but what really stood out was that Bekah and Ben not only loved one another tonnes, but they also loved their friends and family (which I suppose is why they invited them to see their marriage).

In his speech, Steve (Bekah’s dad) said that Bekah had a real love for life and I interpreted that to mean that she loves the people around her, the world we live in and the opportunities and situations that she encounters. And as I sat there, mostly listening but also thinking that the cauliflower cheese I had just eaten hadn’t been seasoned properly, I began to wonder whether I had a love for life. As you can probably the guess, my answer was not a resounding yes.

At a wedding the bride and groom, not to mention their closest friends and family, publicly tell each other how much they love one another. And at a wedding like Ben and Bekah’s where there is so much love to tell about, this can be a very moving experience. It moved me anyway and I got thinking about who I really loved, and it dawned on me that I didn’t rate that love very highly. In my usual boring week love wasn’t something that got me out of bed in the morning.

So what was I living for? What did get me out of bed? Breakfast, mostly. But also the continual hope that the future would be better than the present, with better relationships and better ways to fill my time. I was like the travellers in my story the other week who were always searching for the better place which did not exist.

I’m sure we all take the good stuff that we have right now for granted once in a while. And despite all those Christmas films (the ones where the parent puts work before family then learns the true meaning of Christmas) which preach all those great messages, it usually takes something a lot more personal and closer to home to make us realise that we’ve got something wrong.

It is so easy to start living entirely for ourselves. Well, I’ve found it very easy anyway, and I didn’t even know it was happening. So I’ve had to start asking myself how much I’m doing for me, and how much is for other people, do I need to spend as much time as I do doing what I enjoy, or can I donate some time to someone else?

So, if you don’t already, have a careful examination of your life – and try to do it honestly. Luckily for me, God showed me what was really important before it was too late (although I suspect that it’s never too late), but not until after I’d wasted quite a lot of time. We need to make sure we don’t take anything/anyone valuable for granted, and did you know that you can ask God for a bit of zest for life if you don’t think you have any? Because I’m guessing he gives Bekah her love of life, and there’s plenty more to go round for anyone that wants it.

“I [Jesus] came that you might have life – life in all its fullness.” John 10:10

Apologies again for talking about myself so much. I wouldn't bother if I didn't think that there might be something you can learn from it! I'll be back to ordinary posts soon. Hopefully.

Eyes of a dragon

I haven't written a blog post this week, mostly out of laziness but also because I wanted to share this story I wrote back in March. Its based on a dream I once had.

Eyes of a Dragon

It was a wide, wild country. Great mountains rose either side of it, covered in dark forests and topped with snow, while in between the land rolled into steep little hills and valleys with a thousand bright brooks cutting through the valleys and a thousand secret nooks and crannies tucked away between the hills. Their slopes were covered with lush grasses and flowers or with rough brush or woodland. Roads were winding and overhung with apple trees and dog roses, rivers guarded by black alder and willow. It was a travellers land.

   And I suppose we were travellers of a kind. Although we lacked the cheer and love of travelling that the gypsies possessed, and we ignored them when they passed (to my disappointment) or threw stones at their caravans (to my embarrassment). Our caravans were rough and colourless, our horses sad and misused and our only thought to get on to some better place, always some better place.

   We stopped for a while to work in an orchard, picking apples and pears, and the farmer paid us in vegetables which we packed into crates of straw, and in pork which was salted in barrels for the coming winter. I liked to climb the hill each day and see the trees which filled the valleys take on their rusty blush. Their leaves broke free and skipped along the road. Some days brought quick, cold showers of rain between heady, sunny spells and each night our camp was lit with fires in metal bins. The smells of wood smoke and burnt vegetables lingered in the morning.

   It would be a hard winter. The men said to each other how lucky it was that the good farmer paid us in food and everyone sighed secret relief when they walked past the rows of barrels and crates; we were hungry now and it was harvest, think how much worse it would be in the empty months. I watched them, and hated them, wondering why I’d stayed so long with such drab, thoughtless people who were always looking for the better place which did not exist. I went out wandering at night to be alone.

   Until one day we woke up, and three barrels of pork were missing.

   The men searched for the barrels but couldn’t find them. They questioned everyone but there was no thief amongst us. Something like this couldn’t go unpunished so they went to the farmer and he told them: it was a Fire-breathing Wyrme. If food went missing when it was properly locked up or bright lights were seen in the sky at night, it must be a Wyrme. The men discussed what could be done and said to themselves ‘this is an animal that can’t be reasoned with, the only solution is to hunt it.’

   They set a watch every night to guard the remaining food; I know because I hardly slept anyway and spent my nights watching them. But the Wyrme came again, and always on the nights when the watch was weakest. It struck down the watchers and stole more food. It stole livestock too and occasionally an unfortunate dog. This kept on for some time, the Wyrme stealing slyly on nights when it was darkest, until it looked like the remaining food wouldn’t last us the winter. I began to think that it wasn’t worth my while staying any longer, I began to make plans, I explored the surrounding land at night deciding which way I would go.

   And my exploration did not go unnoticed. A few young men followed me one night and accused me of aiding the Wyrme, ‘you’re going looking for it’ they said, ‘we’ve seen you near the barrels, probably loosening the lids, and distracting the watchmen!’ I asked them why on earth they thought I would do something like that. ‘You’re a trouble-maker’ I was told. When I denied it they beat me and left me on the ground, outside the light of the fires.

   Their words and their hard hobnailed boots were the breath that fanned my anger. It rose like flames but I controlled it, refined it until I would need it.

   The next day brought suspicious glares from the camp. There were whispers and amongst the hisses and murmurs, that word, witch! like a blob of spittle in the dirt. I ignored them and went about my business but I knew I wouldn’t be left alone now, there would confrontation, and soon. I could only wait. More food was taken and an old man struck down by the beast, he wasn’t killed but he could not leave his bed the next day.

   One evening I wanted to be alone, to avoid the stares and whispers so I walked out of the camp and up a hill from the top of which I would be able to see the sunset. The path was steep, and dust and cracked dirt made it slippery. The grass either side was long and dry from summer; I brushed my fingers through it as I walked.

   At the top the ground levelled off into a green field from which I could see the land spreading out around, hilltops rising like waves, valleys like snug folds in a blanket. The sunlight streamed golden from the west and as I looked I saw the high blue mountains rising up, threatening to snuff it like a candle. The birds sang their last songs before the close of the day and the mist was beginning to crawl out of the river.

   But above the bird calls I heard another sound. Voices.

   Coming closer.

   Getting louder.

   I began to walk quickly through the field, towards the mountains and the setting sun. Hopefully they would not see me. They would go their own way on some private errand, or the sun would get in their eyes and hide me. I knew that neither held any truth.

   This was confirmed when I heard a shout behind me, “stop! Wait!”

   But I would not stop or wait. I began to run, hearing their footsteps quicken behind me. I turned quickly to see and, yes, there were three of them sprinting after me and though I was some way ahead they would catch up because they were strong men and determined. Fuelled by the fear of devilry.

   The field seemed to stretch forever, yet the distant plunging slope drew nearer. And still they pursued. I didn’t know if it was a race or a chase, it seemed I was going to lose either way. Closer and closer the end of the field came, there was no fence, no trees, only an end. And beyond it? I didn’t know. But I would not let them catch me. The end raced up; the field halted in a sheer drop, but my momentum kept me going, I couldn’t stop, over the edge I went and for a moment all the land between the hill and the mountains spread out before me, bathed in golden light and arched over by the blue dome of sky. And then I was tumbling, falling.

   I sensed one of my pursuers snatch at my heels, then fall after me, his friends unable to catch him. But I began to change. I spread my arms as if to fly and instead of descending I rose like a phoenix. Up above the edge of the cliff where I could see the two men howling in disbelief, looking up at me.

   The sun cast my great shadow over them and I was revealed.

   My wings like vast leather sails beating the air steadily, my long neck graceful and arching to peer down at them. The autumn sun felt suddenly hot on my scales and the world took on that familiar iridescence, the shimmering rainbow clarity that can only be seen through the eyes of a dragon.

Fin.

Lol how lazy am I, making the last five words the title :D

Comments/questions/ideas/complaints welcome as always. Have a great weekend!

Jesus and Feminism

I used to think that if God was any sort of feminist he would have made Jesus a woman. I mean there are a lot more prominent men in the old Testament than women and I thought that God might have taken the opportunity to even it out a bit.

Not only was this kinda presumptuous (and probably slightly heretical) on my part but the sad fact is that if Jesus had been a woman she would have had very little influence. She could not have been considered a religious teacher, people wouldn’t have followed her ideas or even listened to what she had to say.

But if we think of it another way Jesus being a man puts him in a much better position to be a feminist. It would be relatively unimpressive for a female Jesus to treat other women equally, and it would have been considered disrespectful for her to try to treat men as equals.

But don’t just take my word for it, let’s have a look at some specific examples.

Luke 10:38. The story of Mary and Martha (it might be worth reminding yourself of this one, don’t worry it’s pretty short). This story always used to annoy me because I feel like if Martha had just stopped making everyone’s dinner and doing the washing up the disciples would have been all like “woman! Where’s the food? Do you expect us to cook it ourselves?”

I had, as usual, got completely the wrong end of the stick. I recently read that when Jesus was teaching in the sisters’ house, both women listened and learned from him. But this time Jesus and his disciples turned up unexpectedly so Martha gets going with the cooking and (it’s been suggested) she wanted it to be a really good dinner, because Jesus was really important. But she starts focusing too much on all the stuff she has to do; she puts the meal above the one she is making it for.

So Jesus tells Martha that what Mary is doing is alright, that he doesn’t care if the dinner isn’t restaurant quality, he would much rather she stopped worrying about the domestic jobs and joined her sister.

The part of this story relevant to this post is that Jesus encourages the sisters to do something usually only acceptable if you were a man: learning religious teaching and ideology. Men and women are totally equal in his eyes and his message isn’t only for the privileged.

Then there’s the story of the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4). Men didn’t really speak to women in Jewish society, as far as I can gather it was considered beneath them. They didn’t speak to Samaritans either (Jews and Samaritans had a lot of beef over where the right place to worship God was and stuff like that). So this story is as much about racial acceptance as it is about feminism.

Jesus could have treated this woman as lower than him (as a lot of people in his sandals would have done), or, since we know he’s a nice guy, with pity. But he doesn’t. He treats he as an equal, he asks for a drink and strikes up a conversation. And he knows that she isn’t exactly pious but he doesn’t condemn her or suggest she pray for forgiveness. He isn’t patronising, neither does he exercise his superiority. 

Instead he offers her an opportunity to tell him the truth (when he asks her to go and get her husband, knowing full well that she isn’t married to the man she lives with) and to get closer to God. He offers her this opportunity because he wants her life to be fuller, better, happier.

Not only does she take the opportunity but she runs back into town and tells everyone she meets about Jesus. This is one of the first examples of evangelism and it’s carried out by a woman.

There are plenty of examples of Jesus treating women and men equally but these are the ones I know a bit about. There’s just one more I’d like to mention.

When Jesus was born the people that come to see him give us an idea of who he came to earth for: shepherds and wise men, minimum wage earners and foreigners. The people at the bottom of the heap and the people on the margins. Likewise, the people who saw him come back after he died show that he isn’t an exclusive God. Guess who the first person was to see the Son of God when he came back to life? Well, you can read that for yourself: John 20:10.

Jesus showed us how we ought to live: he treated and loved everyone as equals.

“God shows his great love for us like this: Jesus died for us while we were still sinners (before we even wanted anything to do with him)” Romans 5:8.

This is my second post about feminism and where it fits in with the Bible, my third one will probably be looking at the New Testament and the early church. Also thanks to Angela Spreadbury who inspired me to consider the story of the woman at the well with her fantastic talk the other week.

Any suggestions/comments/questions are welcome as always :)

The Homeward March of Acorn and Thyme

Hello!

I've been back from France for about a week now and I can't think of any more excuses not to write a blog post. I'm in the process of (alright I haven't started it yet) writing my second post on feminism and the Bible ('Jesus is a feminist'), but in the meantime I've got a little poem to whet your appetite.

   Its part of a children's story that I'm writing, although I haven't worked on it in a while... nonetheless it feels like one which I might maybe finish.

The Homeward March of Acorn and Thyme

Home we go, home we go,

Our feet sink deep into the snow.

Home we go, home we go,

And in the sky green curtains glow.

Home we go, home we go,

Through land where only moss can grow.

Home we go, home we go,

Where reindeer wander to and fro.

Home we go, home we go,

Past trees with branches stooping low.

Home we go, home we go,

By gentle ways where flowers show.

Home we go, home we go,

Beside where river waters flow.

Home we go, home we go,

To cups of tea and folk we know.

Feminism and the Fall

Hello, little friends! I'm back in Bristol between holidays and this is my first post about feminism in the Bible. 

Before I start I’d like you to know that I’m totally aware of the amount of baggage feminism carries with it, so there won’t be any bra-burning or man-hating on this blog. Feminism promotes gender equality not domination, and although it focuses on the empowerment of women much of the time there are also areas where men need to be empowered (for example suicide rates among men are 4 times higher than among women). So I hope I can write this in a way that doesn't alienate anyone, if I do please give me a heads up.

Where better to start than at the beginning? Genesis. The creation story. You’ve probably know it but it may be helpful to refresh yourself (Genesis 2:4 – 25 and 3: 1 – 24, you can search it on the internet if you don’t have a Bible handy).

A lot of elements in this story have been interpreted to show mans natural dominance over woman so let’s explore the main ones.

When Adam and Eve are made it seems pretty clear who’s boss: Adam is made first, Eve is a sort of afterthought, a playmate to keep Adam company, and she’s described as a ‘helper’ in verse 18.

But let’s look at it in more detail. First off, Adam translates as ‘human’, not ‘man’ so it’s been suggested that the act of removing his rib to create Eve was more an act of splitting the first human in two to separate it into male and female. (The Hebrew word for rib is more often translated into the word ‘side’ i.e. half of Adam).

And whether or not you agree with the amoeba theory (as I like to call it) God makes it clear that “it is not good for man to be alone.” In creating the first human alone God shows us that we are incomplete on our own, men and women are equal, complementary and integral to one another.

As for the Hebrew word used to describe Eve (translated as ‘helper’) it doesn’t mean helper like an ‘assistant’ or ‘subordinate’. The word azer k’negdo refers to powerful and vital aid and support. It is used throughout the Bible to describe the role of God himself, notably in 1 John 2:1.

Finally, the relationship between man and woman is really important: it illustrates the relationship between us and Jesus. We need Jesus’ aid and support, he brings life to us as life was brought to Adam through Eve (Eve means ‘life’). Only Jesus can complete us.

The second part I want to address is when Adam and Eve eat the fruit of knowledge. When I was younger I sort of got the impression that Eve (the temptress) was skulking about by herself when the snake shows up. The snake's all like “God’s a bit of an old fart isn’t he? Go on, eat a bit of this fruit.” And Eve says, “yeah I guess you’re right.” She eats the fruit and, having poisoned her own mind, runs off to find her hubby to trick him into eating some too. “hey Adam, fancy a nice apple?” “Have you licked this?” “Nah, I just had a tiny bite to check it wasn’t mouldy (heh, heh, heh).”

This story is wildly inaccurate. First off Adam and Eve were both there when the snake rocks up. Eve is discussing the tree of good and evil with it whilst Adam listens (could this be the first example of a women in leadership?). Genesis 3:6 says “she also gave some of the fruit to her husband who was with her.”

At no point does Adam pipe up “er, babe, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He eats the fruit when she passes it to him, so both of them sinned equally.

After this, one of their punishments meant that Adam would rule over Eve from that point onwards. And I don’t think this punishment exclusively affects women, the repression of women in many cultures has caused problems which affect both genders: they are no longer equals and no longer complete one another in the same way.

The creation story shows us that men and women are equal yet display contrasting and complementary aspects of Gods character. God made both genders in his own image so that means that all of us embody God, regardless of our gender, ethnicity, impairments, sexuality, dress sense etc etc.

“When God created human beings, he made them in his own likeness. He created them male and female and on that day he blessed them.” Genesis 5: 1-2

The next post will probably look at Jesus' and how he treated men and women equally (catchy title, I know). Also I’d like to thank the people who’ve told me that they enjoy reading this blog. I really appreciate it!

And the painting at the top of this post was done by a nun at our Lady of the Mississippi Abbey in Iowa, my mum found it on the internet somewhere.

How to begin the rest of your life

I can tell that everybody has missed my lengthy rambles. I’ve been on holiday for two weeks, first on a young adults Christian thing (Hill House) and then in Cornwall with some friends from school (affectionately known, in other circles, as my ‘hipster friends’). I’ve learned a lot. About God, about his plans for me, about myself, the people that love me and life in general. And I’d like to share a few things I’ve learned with you. Just in case any of it happens to be useful.

At Hill House a couple of guys really challenged us all. They’d been reading about the early church, the people that got together to try and live like Jesus said they should after Jesus had left and the Holy Spirit had arrived. And ohhhh boy, were they alternative! They ate together and shared food, met every day to praise God in the temple, and they sold land and possessions and gave the money to people who needed it, or put it into a big communal pot for anyone in the church to use.

I’d like to point out that these guys were not nuns or monks. And they weren’t beggars with nothing to lose, or crazy rich. They had day jobs, families to support, reputations to uphold. They were just like us and they completely changed their way of life to match up with what they believed in. They wanted to live in community, placing the needs of others alongside their own needs, and as a result they were ‘liked by all the people’. (How often is the church today described as ‘liked by all the people’?)

I digress. The main point I would like to make is that there is no ‘correct’ way of living, even if the world around us often insists that there is (and this way tends to place importance on annual salary, good grades, mortgage repayments, the launch of the iPhone 7, etc, etc). So we might as well live in a way which prioritises what we think is important, rather than what we’re told is important.

That will look different to all of us I expect: some people live in community houses because they want to share their home, time and meals, my parents buy their meat from the farmers market because they want to support local farmers, other people cycle to work for environmental and health reasons. 

For those of us just starting out in life, now is the ideal time to decide how we want to live, and for those who’ve already started it’s never too late. Don’t compromise your values, live ‘em.

We couldn’t help occasionally talking about employment (or unemployment!) in Cornwall. And someone said to me that if you aren’t doing something related to what you’re interested in then you’re just working for the sake of working, or living for the sake of living. He, like many of us, learned this the hard way: by spending a year in a job which he doesn’t really care about.

And alright, we aren’t going to get our dream jobs for a while yet, I expect many of us will never get our dream job (if we even have one that is). But if we’re just working for the money, to buy a flat, car, x-box (do people still play x-box?) is that really a good enough use of our time? How many people do you think lie on their death bed and regret not earning more disposable income in their life?

We all gotta eat. We can’t be so picky that we bypass every opportunity that comes our way, but many of us are very privileged in this country in that there are support networks available whilst we’re looking for work, and a range of jobs on offer. So, if I’m going to spend my days answering phone calls I could at least do it for a renewable energy company rather than for Texaco.

So there you go. Some stuff I’ve learned. I don’t know if it was helpful to you but it’s certainly shaped my perspective in regards to what I’m going to do next.

In other news: I don't know if you remember the fairytale I wrote a little while back (the Ash, the Oak and Yew) but here's the cover illustration for it. Butterfly wing cloaks are all the rage right now.

In my next few posts I’m hoping to tackle feminism (and misogyny) in the Bible. So if there’s any bits that people find difficult or confusing or just plain annoying please get in touch and I’ll look into them. Have a good week and I’ll see you on the other side of Soul Survivor Week B!

The Story of Farmer Harry

I've been on holiday for two weeks as you may know so, since I haven't had a chance to write a serious post yet, I thought I'd get back on the blogging-horse as soon as possible and post this fairytale that I wrote last October, along with a few illustrations I drew for it. I'm not an expert on farming so some parts are probably a bit questionable, but I hope you can forgive those bits and enjoy the story. And appreciate the moral of course.

The Story of Farmer Harry

Once there was a young man called Harry. He was from a poor farming family so as soon as he could he set out to seek his fortune. He travelled the country for a number of years, never getting any richer, until one night he got so drunk that he fell into a deep sleep. While he slept another man came and stole the little he had left. So Harry had no choice but to return to the village where he was born and try to make a living from farming.

   Harry’s father was old and had divided up his land between his sons while Harry was away so upon his return the son found that he had been left the worst field full of poor, sandy soil that hardly yielded any crops. But the young man was determined, because he couldn’t ask Emily to marry him without an income, so he ploughed the field and sewed it with wheat.

   When the time for reaping came the wheat grew short and sparse with small, scrawny ears and the soil beneath was even poorer and sandier than before. Still, Harry wasn’t one to give up easily so he went to visit the West Wind, because he’d noticed that when the soil got dry the wind would blow it away.

   The West Wind lived at the top of the highest hill with the steepest sides. When the young man got there the Wind was howling and billowing around the hilltop. Harry shouted: “West Wind! How can I stop you and your brothers blowing the soil of my field away?”

   Suddenly, all was still and quiet and the man heard the Wind murmur in his ear, “What will you do if I tell you the secret?”

   “Anything!” said the young man, “I’ll do anything.”

   “If I tell you the secret you must promise me to use it wisely and treat it like the wind would. Otherwise everything you grow will be taken from you.”

   Harry didn’t understand what the wind meant about using the secret wisely but he agreed hurriedly and the West Wind told him what he had to do.

   Next, Harry went to the forest to find the Queen of the bees because he’d also noticed that insects had been eating his crops. The wild bees lived in a bright clearing which was full of late summer flowers and the humming of a thousand insects.

   He called out: “Queen Bee! How can I stop your cousins from eating my crops?”

   All the bees went very quiet and the man heard the Queen of the Bees whisper in his ear, “what will you do if I tell you the secret?”

   “I’ll do anything!” he said.

   “If I tell you the secret you must promise me to use it wisely and treat it like the bees would. Otherwise everything you grow will be taken from you.”

   Again, Harry didn’t quite understand but he agreed eagerly and the Queen of the Bees told him what he had to do.

   Finally, the young man went to see the Wise Woman because he’d noticed that his field was on a slope over which the rain ran quickly making the soil dryer and sandier than ever. She lived in a tiny dark cottage on the edge of the village and people went to her in secret when they had a problem that they couldn’t find a solution to. They didn’t do so casually; it was said that she had the power to predict the future and even weave magic spells.

   He knocked on the door and went inside, the Wise Woman was hunched up in a chair and wrapped tightly in blankets. Harry asked: “Wise Woman, how can I stop the rain running over the tops of my field instead of soaking into the soil?”

   The old woman closer her eyes and said in a creaky voice, “what will you do if I give you the secret?”

   “I’ll do anything,” replied the young man.

   “If I tell you the secret you must promise to use it wisely and treat it like an old person would. Otherwise everything you grow will be taken from you.”

   Again, Harry didn’t completely understand but he agreed earnestly and the Wise Woman told him what he had to do.

The next spring when he ploughed his field he followed the West Winds advice and planted beans and clover between the rows of wheat so that the wind couldn’t get at the soil. Then, as the Queen of the Bees told him, he planted chamomile and marigolds around the edge of the field to keep the insects away. Finally he followed the Wise Womans instructions and dug a deep ditch along the top of the field and put sand and stones in the bottom of it so that when it rained heavily the ditch caught the water and allowed it to flow through the soil instead of over the top.

   By harvest time Harry had so much wheat that he had to build a larger barn to store it in! People from the village wondered at the young man’s good fortune. His brothers had all suffered hard years, losing portions of their crops to insects and bad weather, and they asked Harry what he had done to grow so much wheat. But he remembered what the Wind, the bees and the Wise Woman had told him about using the secrets wisely and refused to tell anyone.

   That autumn a strong wind came blowing down from the hills and when Harry went to his barn he found that the wind had forced the door open and blown a large part of his crops away! He was disappointed but locked the doors firmly, telling himself that there was well over half left.

   Not long afterwards a great swarm of insects was seen flying over the fields. All the farmers rushed to check their harvests but the only person to find any food missing was Harry who had lost half of his remaining crop to the ravenous insects.

   A few days later black storm clouds came marching inland from the sea and the heavy rain that they brought lasted a whole week. When the downpour finally stopped Harry found that it had washed the last of his crop away.

   Downcast and ashamed he went to Emily to tell her that they couldn’t marry. And he explained to her everything that had happened, beginning with asking the West Winds advice to losing everything he had worked for all year.

   At first she was sad too but then she began to think and she finally asked, “what exactly did the Wind say to do with the secret?”

   “To use it wisely and treat it like the wind would,” replied Harry.

   “Then you should have spread the secret!” she cried, “because the wind spreads everything it can pick up. What did the Queen of the Bees tell you to do?”

   “To use it wisely and treat it like the bees would.”

   “Then you should have told your brothers about it when they asked!” she said, “because bees work together and share everything among themselves. And what about the Wise Woman? What did she say?”

   “To use the secret wisely and treat it like an old person would,” replied Harry.

   “Then you should have passed it on,” laughed Emily, “because the elderly pass on their knowledge to the next generation.”

   “Of course!” said Harry, “but what can I do now? I don’t have any money or food to last the winter.”

   “You still have the secrets,” she replied, “tell them to your brothers in exchange for food for this winter, then next year everyone will have good harvests. We can marry in the autumn.”

   So that’s exactly what Harry did, and his father gave the couple his most sincere blessing.

Moral: community is better than competition. Things are better when we work together than when we try to beat one another and act selfishly.

This story is dedicated to Richard Spalding and Alan (really sorry can't remember his surname!), two of my lecturers who are genuinely questioning a lot of the practices in agriculture and development which we take for granted, and who taught me to question them too.