A coat of age

Pre-lycra cycling days

As I was walking the other day a young lady cycled by, and a much older man turned to watch her pass. She was young, attractive, and sped by in tight lycra. A passer-by muttered something about a ‘dirty old man’, but  if a young man had turned and looked, would he have been called a 'dirty young man' for such frank admiration of the cyclist? I imagine not. 

This little scene made me think. How does that old man  see himself? Perhaps he was looking out of the eyes of a young man, who in his younger day may have offered the lady cyclist a broad smile and received a smile in return. His aged observation meant no offence or insult, he was just admiring from his internal perspective, not external appearance.

I have a very different picture in my head of myself, to how I look to others. Inside, I feel like I am still 23, but somehow that young woman got zipped into this heavy, wrinkled suit called ‘age’. They slow me down, those years now layered on to my younger, inner self. 

So upon a skeleton that has remained largely unchanged (apart from some deterioration from arthritis), there is extra weight and my skin now wears a map of wrinkles, whilst the landscape of my body is disguised with a proliferation of moles and variations in pigmentation. 

Younger cyclists pass me easily as I slowly, but steadily, pedal from city to car. I am cloaked in anonymity, in the beige of middle age that both cloisters and protects.  But I have 23 year old eyes, and they look at the world through that prism of perspective.  I can admire a good physique, I can enjoy good conversation, and appreciate the gift of youth and not feel the burden of obligation from such engagement.  I find it interesting, the 'inside' and the 'outside' that each of us carries, our coat of age.

So next time you talk to an older person, don’t judge them by the years they wear, but look at the eyes, and see if you can catch the years they feel.

Photo courtesy of http://www.sheilahanlon.com/ 

Standing on the corner

More celebrities – musical and acting – seem to have passed away in these first few weeks of 2016 than it seems for the whole of last year – but that’s not true.   In 2015 we lost Lemmy, Jackie Collins, Omar Sharif and Patrick McNee. Those particular names mean something to me, but there were many more of course who passed away last year too.

This year we started with David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Dan Haggerty (Grizzly Adams) and today, Glen Frey – the guitarist from The Eagles.  

But thousands have died, thousands of those we have loved. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers.  Every day is a tragedy, yet every day is a blessing too, as new life comes into being. Who knows, that new baby that is all over your social media feed could be a celebrity of tomorrow!

But is that what matters? I contemplate with despair the ‘ambition’ of many youngsters who want to be famous by hook or by crook – with no consideration for a) what it means (the tough stuff as well as the glory) or b) what they mean (their life intent, as it were).  

That does not mean we should not respect those who work hard, achieve their goals, and contribute positively to society – whether it’s singer, actor, nurse or street sweeper. I think what bugs me is the ‘instant gratification’ mode that modern society breeds – we want quick answers, quick fixes, quick fame.

In Arizona

But going back to the death of celebrities, and the very ‘busy’ start to 2016. I enjoyed Bowie’s music, though I wasn’t a particular fan. He chose to keep his illness and his death very private. That is something to respect. Same with Alan Rickman, Dan Haggerty - and Glen Frey:  I have stood on the corner in Winslow, Arizona.  I own an Eagles album and have sung some of their songs.

And so I spend just a few moments today remembering that hot street corner, and listening to the Eagles on the radio, and feeling a little sadness for Glen Frey’s family and friends (the announcement on The Eagle’s home page is very touching). But I know that Frey, Bowie, Rickman – those who worked hard at their craft and who presented something timeless – won’t be forgotten for many a long year; they leave a recorded legacy.

And we don’t forget our families – those we love and those we have lost. But their contribution was different, not to be shared by the world, but in what they did or gave to each of us as individuals.

Today I am grateful for those I love, those I have loved, those I have lost, and those I have loved and lost.  Thank you.

(C) Photo of me taken by my friend Nadine.

My daughter

Melody is a musician, like her parents (and brother, who is a drummer).  Here's one of her songs ... played recently in Cambridge.  If you like her music, then just google Melody Causton

Being in Malaysia

Carol checking a camera trap on the trail

Early October I arrived in Kuala Lumpur for work. The first day I spent in TRAFFIC’s regional office in nearby Petaling Jaya. It was a great chance to meet colleagues and get a better understanding of how Regional Offices and Headquarters work together.

The following three days were spent at a fundraising conference with TRAFFIC’s partner organisation, WWF. There were nearly 100 delegates from the region sharing experiences – success stories and challenges. The work done by WWF and TRAFFIC in Asia Pacific is tremendously important. Around 50% of the world’s species live in the Asia Pacific countries, and it is home to some of the most fantastic (and threatened) rainforests.  It was put very clearly at the conference why conservation action is so important in this region:

There is no sustainable planet earth without a sustainable Asia Pacific.

We learned about the Sumatran rhino relocation effort, now desperate before the last few of these animals are lost forever as their home range has been converted from forest to palm plantation. We heard about the campaign to save the Snow Leopard, the programme to double the number of the world’s Tigers (whose numbers are going up in some regions, but not in Malaysia), and about many other projects unique to the region.  

Walking through the rainforest

After the conference several delegates (including me) went on a field trip up to Fraser’s Hill. We explored the forests first hand, struggling with difficult paths, mosquitos and leeches. We learned from the local conservation manager, Carol, about the endemic species found there such as a lovely white orchid, and of other important fauna and flora. Fraser’s Hill is a wonderful area, and also under threat from poaching.  There are many plant and animal species that are endemic (found nowhere else), and unscrupulous collectors are keen to add rare specimens to their collections.

Fraser’s Hill is known for its birdlife, but Asian songbirds are ‘in crisis’. Songbird competitions are highly competitive (and lucrative) in Southeast Asia, and captive breeding cannot keep up with demand. Birds are trapped from the wild – endangering vulnerable species and, of course, condemning these fabulous creatures to a (sometimes quite short) life in captivity.

Fraser's Hill - the tall plants on the right are tree ferns

But it wasn’t all bad news. During our trip we enjoyed the opportunity to share our common love of nature and I managed to see two lovely rare Langurs, as well as some beautiful birds.  The field trip included WWF staff from many countries including Mongolia, New Zealand, Japan, Pakistan, and our hosts WWF Malaysia. We listened and learned, from our guide Carol, and from each other.  All of us united in our aim to ensure that we have a future as a species by not destroying the natural resources that we rely upon, and that we enjoy simply for their beauty or uniqueness.  Those people I spent a short, but important time with, are now my friends as well as colleagues.   I would love to return to Fraser’s Hill if I ever get the chance – if for no other reason than to spend some quality time bird watching!

Boots

Comfortable, practical.

Boots...

My boots, my friends.
Worn to holes, new heel, new soles.
Repaired by an expert
Whose aged hands
Have seen more shoes
And more boots
Than I can ever imagine.

My boots, my friends.
My feet are happy again.


Yes, I wrote a poem to my cowboy boots!

They deserve it.