An overheard conversation

Dicentra

A few years back I overheard a European royal talking to an English duke’s daughter. The latter was a keen advocate of prison reform, whilst the former supported conservation.  The nub of the conversation was “It doesn’t matter how many prisoners are rehabilitated, if we have an uninhabitable planet, it won’t matter anyway.”

Since then, I have worked in higher education and medical research. I believe in both strongly – the benefits of good education and the desperate battle against dementia, and I continue to advocate for these and other causes. (I do believe that prison should be about rehabilitation, not just punishment, but that’s perhaps a whole other blog post.)  

Working on wildlife trade is an interesting area – it’s a different perspective on conservation. By understanding consumer demand, trade channels and market trends, it’s possible to identify growing or emerging problems and what threat they pose to wildlife.  And then (with a wide range of partners) to do something about it. 

As well as the well-known species under threat from trade like rhino, elephants and Tigers, there are many other living organisms threatened by unsustainable and illegal trade practices.  Losing animals, trees, fish and plants at the current rate is rapidly depleting the resources that humanity relies on; we need to steward our consumption now if we want them to be there for future generations.

Pasque flower, also a medicinal herb

I’ve learned a lot more about plants in my current role. Plants: essential to all life on the terrestrial planet, and yet they receive little fundraising attention (perhaps because they are not ‘cuddly’?)  Wild plants are a major source of medicine (the breast cancer drug was developed from a yew tree), food, and income for the harvesters who collect them. Given their tremendous benefit to humanity, plants deserve as much attention as our favourite ‘charismatic megafauna’.  And it’s not just medicinal plants under threat from trade – orchids, for example, are extremely popular with horticulturalists and also used for food in some cultures (try searching ‘salep’).  Both markets have a thriving legal, and illegal trade. 

Why did I write this piece today? Because looking at the funding landscape, conservation and wildlife are way down on the ‘I care about’ scale from the big money players. In the UK, for example, around only 4% of trust funders have wildlife conservation as a charitable objective. Yes, I am a conservation fundraiser, so I have a vested interest in this subject. But as the princess said, if we don’t look after our planet, our wildlife and climate, then there’s really not a lot of point worrying about anything else because human life will be unsustainable.  In other words, we all have a vested interest in conservation. 

Resources:

State of the world's plants

Sustainable wild plant harvesting

Try the wild plant quiz on www.whygowild.com

WWF UK

TRAFFIC 

Wildlife Trusts (UK) 
Botanic Gardens, Kew
Wiki on Medicinal Plants

Want to do something about it? www.traffic.org/donate

Photos: (C) Carolyn Sheppard. "Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest have used bleeding heart for generations as a remedy for toothache and other types of pain. In years past, bleeding heart was widely employed for treating syphilis"
The dye from the pasque flowers was used to colour fabrics, and a preparation made from the dried plant was used to make Pulsatilla, a medicinal.

Pushing harder

I have a new bike – it folds up so it can be stowed in my car. I drive to the car park, then cycle in to the city. Being a folding bike, it has smaller wheels than most. You have to push harder with smaller wheels.

A folded bike

Our city has lots of cycle paths, and those paths are sometimes separate paved lanes, and sometimes red paved areas on the road itself.  Though most of my journeys are driven, the six miles a day I do by bike provide a very different perspective of ‘road experience’. The pot holes and road repairs transform from an uncomfortable bump in a car to a potential flat tyre, bent wheel or even a crash to the ground.  So I have to swerve round the bigger holes, and be  cautious about wandering into the traffic lane.  

I am reminded of when my children were young and the kids were in pushchairs.  Every bumpy pavement, uneven surface and especially the cars parked on pavements, made navigating my way around our town’s streets an obstacle course.  It’s much the same now I’m back on two wheels.

Parked cars represent a new threat – the suddenly opened passenger door, or being in the driver’s blind spot when they pull out.  Drivers swear at cyclists, cyclists swear at pedestrians, pedestrians swear at cyclists and drivers …

It seems that whatever our mode of transport, that’s our world, and everyone else is the problem – we are pushing against the tide instead of riding with it.  It’s hard cycling, just like life – it’s harder up hills, there are obstacles you have to negotiate, you are always someone else’s bête noire, and sometimes there are accidents. 

And you do have to push harder with small wheels. 

Photo credits: 

Folding bike  http://www.ternbicycles.com

Pot hole: http://www.aviewfromthecyclepath.com/2011/03/potholes-on-britains-roads-some-things.html

A letter to Phil

Dear Phil

This seems such a strange way to write to you, but maybe it works for you too.  I dreamed about you last night, but it was a difficult dream, and I was thinking about reporting you missing. Oh my, I'd be a bit late for that, wouldn't I?

I know I haven't seen you since before Alex was born, and he'll be 25 this year. My son is a man, my daughter is a woman. They are still your nephew and niece, of course, even though you've never met. So I am pondering perspective again - a theme that is running through my thoughts so much this week. What perspective might you have on these two young people, who you have never met yet are close to you by blood?

I guess it doesn't matter, because blood is not thicker than water, it's just different. It does mean that forgiveness has more context though, I believe. I want to understand forgiveness, because there are things which anger me. I read once that being angry was like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. I'm working on it, and the anger isn't directed at you, but that's another story (and probably a whole book, not a blog post or two). And we should first forgive those we love, or have loved, perhaps.

What's happening now in my life is not what I imagined at all ten or even six years ago. It's five years since the marriage broke up, several jobs along, and a couple of bands too! The things that change are important, but not as important as the things that don't change. You will always be my brother, I will always be your sister.

Our friend Terry passed away last year (yes, good old Kenwood), and we only just found out.  I wonder if I would find out if you died? Maybe that's why I dreamed about you in the context I did last night. It's strange how the mind take all the things in your consciousness and mixes them all up in dreams (well it does for me).  The most odd bit of the dream was the dowager dressed all in black, with toes for fingers. I woke this morning drained, as if I had been drugged. And I wanted to write to you.

I'll try and write more often this year.

Love,
Cx

Perspective and reflective

Nessie at home: from www.lochness.com/home.aspx

I realised this week that I’ve been blogging for ten years. My, it doesn’t seem that long until I look back at some of my earlier posts and realise how naieve they are. It’s about perspective, isn’t it? At the time, it seemed relevant. Today, I have a different view and if I had the time I might have gone and edited many of those posts.  But I don’t have the time, and they stand as they are.

Of course, as I observed in my last blog, our perspective changes with age. But some things in our mind are timeless, even though in reality they most certainly are not. 

About fifteen years ago our family visited Scotland and called in on a good friend who worked at the Loch Ness Monster Exhibition in Drumnadrochit. He had been so close to us in the past – a fellow London musician who had supported our bands as sound engineer, and in later years also played with us in a few ad hoc, fun musical conglomerations.

Fifteen years ago he was probably around 65 but in my mind he was always that younger man, about 45 (which was still much older than us when we first met him). Fifteen years on from 65 would have made him an old man of 80 today. Sadly I learned that he had passed away last December, and we had no chance to mourn or pay our respects.  I can see him now though, he’s still got curly blond hair, a ginger beard and wears a big hat.  He rolls his own in a very secretive, close to his body sort of way. He loves his heavy rock, and is an excellent parordy writer. I know I saw him grey and thinning at our last meeting, but that later image is not as strong as that of the friend who we spent so many musical hours with in our younger years.

Once again it is the strongest images that remain.  Terry my dear friend, you are remembered and loved and still playing AC DC as loud as you can.