inspiral blog

I’m fascinated, saddened, delighted, appalled, invigorated and amused by what people scrawl or stencil onto the walls around here. Here’s a bunch from around where we live.

I’ll keep an eye out for more. It’s a good record, I think, of where a society’s at, but also a good record of the dissenting voices, voices that need to be heard.

It’s not often a song written by someone you don’t know can describe perfectly a situation you’re going through…in this case not me thankfully, but people we’re close to. So I offer this for them, with our love, support, and a sense of hope.

The Special Two by Missy Higgins

I’ve hardly been outside my room in days,
’cause I don’t feel that I deserve the sunshine’s rays.
The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,
And it’s then I realized that conscience never fades.
When you’re young you have this image of your life:
That you’ll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife.
And you make boundaries you’d never dream to cross,
And if you happen to you wake completely lost.
But I will fight for you,
Be sure that I will fight
Until we’re the special two once again.

And we will only need each other, we’ll bleed together,
Our hands would not be taught to hold another’s,
‘Cause we’re the special two.
And we could only see each other, we’d breathe together,
These arms will not be taught to need another,
‘Cause we’re the special two.

I remember someone old once said to me:
“Lies will lock you up with truth the only key.”
But I was comfortable and warm inside my shell,
And couldn’t see this place would soon become my hell.
So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save their face?
Well I guess the answer is don’t do it in the first place.
I know I’m not deserving of your trust from you right now,
But if by chance you change your mind you know I will not let you down
‘Cause we were the special two, and will be again.

And we will only need each other, we’ll bleed together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another’s,
Cause we’re the special two.
And we could only see each other we’ll breathe together,
These arms will not be taught to need another’s…
Cause we’re the special two

I step outside my mind’s eye’s for a minute.
And I look over me like a doctor looking for disease,
Or something that could ease the pain.
But nothing cures the hurt you, you bring on by yourself,
Just remembering, just remembering how we were…

And we will only need each other, we’ll bleed together,
These hands will not be taught to hold another’s,
We were the special two.
And we could only see each other we’ll bleed together,
These arms will not be taught to need another’s…
Cause we’re the special two.

May the God of grace be near to you.

Ok, so I know that some people read this (I can hear you breathing) but haven’t commented yet…which is fine, because if you’re anything like me, you find it fun to read people’s blogs but you’re darned if you have anything to add. I am curious, however, about who actually reads it. I mean, I started this partially as a way of documenting the ‘inspiral’ experiment, but it’s turned into more than that – a way of documenting the weird and wonderful things I come across, and thoughts I want to be able to remember and have nowhere else to put. I have no shame, so it’s not like I’ll be vetoing any of it because I find out you’re reading it (as you can probably tell).

So, if you read this page regularly, intermittently, or only once ever, I’m going to ask you to say hello by leaving a comment. Tell us your name (first name is fine), and how you came across the site. And whatever else you deem appropriate.

More from Bono on Bono. Quotes in bold type are from Michka Assayas, his interviewer, and those in normal type are from Bono.

My understanding of the Scriptures has been made simple by the person of Christ. Christ teaches that God is love. What does that mean? What it means for me: a study of the life of Christ. Love here describes itself as a child born in straw poverty, the most vulnerable situation of all, without honor. I don’t let my religious world get too complicated. I just kind of go: Well, I think I know what God is. God is love, and as much as I respond [sighs] in allowing myself to be transformed by that love and acting in that love, that’s my religion. Where things get complicated for me, is when I try to live this love. Now, that’s not so easy.

What about the God of the Old Testament? He wasn’t so “peace and love“.

There’s nothing hippie about my picture of Christ. The Gospels paint a picture of a very demanding, sometimes divisive love, but love it is. I accept the Old Testament as more of an action movie: blood, car chases, evacuations, a lot of special effects, sea dividing, mass murder, adultery. The children of God are running amok, wayward. Maybe that’s why they’re so relatable. But the way we would see it, those of us who are trying to figure out our Christian condundrum, is that the God of the Old Testament is like the journey from stern father to friend. When you’re a child, you need some clear direction and some strict rules. But with Christ, we have access in a one-to-one relationship, for, as in the Old Testament, it was more one of worship and awe, a vertical relationship. The New Testament, on the other hand, we look across at a Jesus who looks familiar, horizontal. The combination is what makes the Cross.

On the difference between Grace and Karma:

It’s a mind-blowing concept that the God who created the Universe might be looking for company, a real relationship with people, but the thing that keeps me on my knees is the difference between Grace and Karma.

I haven’t heard you talk about that.

I really believe we’ve moved out of the realm of Karma into one of Grace.

Well, that doesn’t make it clearer for me.

You see, at the center of all religions is the idea of Karma. You know, what you put out comes back to you: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, or in physics – in physical laws – every action is met by an equal and opposite one. It’s clear to me that Karma is at the very heart of the universe. I’m absolutely sure of it. And yet, along comes this idea of Grace to upend all of that “As you reap, so will you sow” stuff. Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff.

I’d be interested to hear that.

That’s between me and God. But I’d be in big trouble if Karma was going to finally be my judge. I’d be in deep sh**. It doesn’t excuse my mistakes, but I’m holding out for Grace. I’m holding out that Jesus took my sins on the cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to defend my own religiosity.

The son of God who takes away the sins of the world. I wish I could believe in that.

But I love the idea of the Sacrificial Lamb. I love the idea that God says: Look, you cretins, there are certain results to the way we are, to selfishness, and there’s mortality as part of your very sinful nature, and, let’s face it, you’re not living a very good life, are you? There are consequences to actions. The point of the death of Christ is that Christ took on the sins of the world, so that what we put out did not come back to us, and that our sinful nature does not reap the obvious death. That’s the point. It should keep us humbled…

I found this funny:

So…Walking in the hills, about a hundred miles from the main city of Salvador…It’s a small farm, a co-operative, and I’m just helping out with that financially. Then there’s a local guide. It’s extraordinary, because as I was walking through this sort of thick green rainforesty terrain, some of the rebels pass us on the road. They’re like fifteen-year-old girls, beautiful girls, carrying rifles, and you dare not look at them with anything other than respect. [laughs] Then we pass a wall on which is written: F**K JESUS. So I’m a little taken aback and I go: “Wow! I thought this was the home of liberation theology. What’s going on here?” To which our guide replied: “No, no, that’s not Jesus Christ. It’s Hay-zoos, he lives around here. No-one likes him. He works for the other side.” [laughs]

Much has been made of the fact that, early in their career, U2 almost split up after Bono, The Edge and Larry Mullen Jr. got involved in a radical Christian community. I like this story of Bono’s, because rather than being a negative story, it’s a positive affirmation of what they do stand for.

He [Chris Rowe, leader of the Christian community in Ireland that Bono, Edge and Larry were a part of] revealed to me that, even though he had known we were serious about being musicians, and being in a rock group, that he was only really tolerating it. He didn’t believe that our music was an integral part of who we were as religious people unless we used the music to evangelize. I knew then that he didn’t really get it, and that indeed he was missing out on our blessing…There was a moment where myself and Edge sat around and we thought: “Well, maybe we should knock this group on the head. Maybe it is frivolous, maybe these people are right, maybe this is just bollocks, this being in a band, and maybe it’s just ego, and maybe we should put it all behind us and just get to the real work of trying to change our own lives, and just get out into the world. There’s much to do there.” For a couple of weeks, we were at that place. Then we came to a realization: “Hold on a second. Where are those gifts coming from? This is how we worship God, even though we don’t write religious songs, because we didn’t feel God needed the advertising.” [laughs] In fact, we ended up at a place where we thought: “The music isn’t bollocks. This kind of fundamentalism is what’s bollocks.”

This is one of my favourite stories from the whole book. Seriously, MLK: what a man:

Harry Belafonte…told me this story about Bobby Kennedy, which changed my life indeed, pointed me in the direction I am going now politically. Harry remembered a meeting with Martin Luther King when the civil rights movement had hit a wall in the early sixties: [impersonating croaky voice of Belafonte] “I tell you it was a depressing moment when Bobby Kennedy was made attorney general. It was a very bad day for the civil rights movement.” And I said, “Why was that?” He said: “Oh, you see, you forget. Bobby Kennedy was Irish. Those Irish were real racists; they didn’t like the black man. They were just one step above the black man on the social ladder and they made us feel it. They were all the police, they were the people who broke our balls on a daily basis. Bobby at that time was famously not interested in the civil rights movement. We knew we were in deep trouble. We were crestfallen, in despair, talking to Martin, moaning and groaning about the turn of events, when Dr. King slammed his hand down and ordered us to stop the bitchin’: “Enough of this,” he said. “Is there nobody here who’s got something good to say about Bobby Kennedy?” We said: “Martin, that’s what we’re tellin’ ya! There is no-one. There is nothing good to say about him. The guy’s an Irish Catholic conservative badass, he’s bad news.” To which Martin replied: “Well, then, let’s call this meeting to a close. We will re-adjourn when somebody has found one thing redeeming to say about Bobby Kennedy, because that, my friends, is the door through which our movement will pass.” So he stopped the meeting and made them all go home. He wouldn’t hear any more negativity about Bobby Kennedy. He knew there must be something positive. And if it was there, somebody could find it.

Did they ever find anything redeeming about Bobby Kennedy?

Well, it turned out that Bobby was very close with his bishop. So they befriended the one man who could get through to Bobby’s soul and turned him into their Trojan horse. They sort of ganged up on this bishop, the civil rights religious people, and got the bishop to speak to Bobby. Harry became emotional at the end of this tale: “When Bobby Kennedy lay dead on a Los Angeles pavement, there was no greater friend to the civil rights movement. There was no-one we owed more of our progress to than that man,” which is what I always thought. I mean, Bobby Kennedy is still an inspiration to me. And whether he was exaggerating or not, that was a great lesson for me, because what Dr. King was saying was: Don’t respond to caricature – the Left, the Right, the Progressives, the Reactionary. Don’t take people on rumor. Find the light in them, because that will further your cause.

It is a long-term dream of mine to be involved in a co-housing initiative like this one near Seattle in Washington. A few days ago I was directed to the site for some reason, and came across an explanation of their decision-making process as a community, one that strikes me as particularly good.

The background to this is my experience of church decision making processes, and their inadequacies, or downright failure. You see, the congregationalist model (of which I am a part), emphasizes the ability of every Christian to discern the will of God; not merely the leader/s, but everyone. Decisions, then, are ideally made as a result of a corporate discernment process that leads to a church meeting (or, in earlier times, one that takes place in a church meeting). Each individual is encouraged to pray and discern the will of God for the church, which is then The church as a body therefore ideally makes decisions via a theocratic process – that is, through discernment of the will of God together.

There are two main issues with this model. First, what inevitably happens with this process is that it degenerates into, at best, a democratic one. Whereas our Baptist church forebears placed the emphasis on discerning the spirit or feeling of the meeting, and therefore needed everyone to be in agreement about that feeling, we require only a two-thirds majority (sometimes three-quarters on “big” decisions) in order to have an issue decided. There are many problems with this way of making decisions in a church context; for one, you inevitably leave a (sometimes significantly large) minority out in the cold. They may have had the chance to have their say, but ultimately, for the “greater good”, they now have to shut up and accept the majority decision. This does nothing for the unity of the community, and in fact usually only creates division and factions.

The second, and related problem with this model, is that frequently the “discernment” that is done is heavily…uh…corrupted. That is, people have a particular axe to grind, or way they want the church to go, and their “discernment” is affected enormously by that (usually selfish) desire. Thus you will frequently see the farcical scene of two people of opposing viewpoints claiming to have had a “word from God” that supports their view. Either God was setting them up for a fight to amuse himself, or one or both of them are wrong.

Which brings me to the consensus model. Basically this involves talking through a decision, compromising, and suggesting alternatives until everyone is prepared to accept the result. It can be time consuming and require a good deal of effort, but also results in a sense of belonging and unity that is absent from many other methods. Unless something is extremely contentious, decisions are made together in the context of a meeting, right there and then. On a purely practical level, people are more likely to work through a solution if they know they have to come up with it in order for the meeting to end and for them to have a result.

The Bartimaeus community cite three main reasons for using the consensus model of decision-making:

Consensus supports the greater good
Consensus decision-making means that each individual decides to commit themselves to the good of the community as a whole. The basis of living in a community like this is the commitment to mutual relationship, and consensus flows out of this commitment as a primary loyalty.

Consensus inspires more creativity and better solutions than majority voting
This is perhaps one of the most useful reasons for consensus decision-making. As was said above, democratic or majority decision-making processes rely on simply gaining enough people to have the idea approved, not only at the expense of others, but also at the expense of thinking of new and more creative ways of working the situation to come to an agreement. There is little or no need for discussion or compromise, or for thinking creatively of solutions that would please everyone.

With consensus, however, there is a need for people to experiment, brainstorm and rework ideas until they are acceptable for everyone. It takes more effort and more creativity, but that can be as advantageous as it is difficult.

Consensus helps cement community agreements with the strongest available glue
In consensus decision making, everyone has to be prepared to commit themselves to the outcome. When decisions are made based on commitment to ongoing, healthy relationships, there is a shared sense of investment in the outcome, and individuals are committed to it. Enforcement of those decisions happens in the peer relationships.

A lot of people use the saying “you can’t please all the people all the time” to simply walk all over others and push their own ideas through. Consensus decision-making strikes me as a deeply unselfish, others-centred approach that ensures that everyone is not only accepting of the decision, but that they also own it.

For these reasons and many more, I think it would be ideal if as inspiral we would commit ourselves to making group decisions by consensus.

“Managing a bruised creation exacts costly servanthood from those whose skills and training normally go to the highest bidder in the marketplace, or are exported to countries of affluence.”

– Melba Padilla Maggay, Transforming Society

Anthony’s choir performed as part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival tonight, so here’s my review of the show:

The show started by giving new meaning to “surround sound” with the choir surrounding the audience. It was such an awesome sound they generated, and to be surrounded by it was just amazing. They began with an African tribal song that just resonated.

The theme was around water (hence the name ‘Sonic Bath’) and its role in our lives, from general human life around the world to our specific Australian culture of fun in the sun. The show included songs from Africa, South America, a few Negro spirituals (which I just LOVED – so much soul!), and some contemporary stuff, including at least one written by the choir leader. Her name is Polly Christie, and she did a few solos in the show, which brought out what a magnificent voice she has. Seriously, her voice is awesome, and to hear her sing just by herself or with the piano, or just doing little fills in the choir bits was incredible.

Anthony was, of course, sensational too. There were a few storytelling sections, including one where he played the role of P.E. teacher (complete with parachute material tracksuit) to a group of Year 8 boys on camp. Hilarious. Later there were a bunch of anecdotes around childhood memories of summer experiences of water, including one from Anthony. But you’ll have to ask him to tell it, because I couldn’t tell it as well as he did.

There was also a very funny spoof of the song Rain on my Parade that targeted water restrictions. It was changed to “Rain on my Charade” (the Daihatsu kind) and was very clever.

I really enjoyed the whole thing immensely, and found myself easily able to enter into it as an experience, rather than just a performance. But perhaps the most significant thing for me was that the experience brought out a couple of really important personal issues.

One, I miss live music enormously. I used to go out every week and listen to live music somewhere, and I haven’t done that for years, let alone regularly. There’s something in the immediacy of live music that is so incredibly and deeply engaging and beautiful, and can’t be replicated in recordings. Even the bootlegs I’ve so craved have fallen flat, and now I know why: live recordings are just not the same as being there. Seems like an obvious point, but tonight really struck it home to me.

In fact, I’ve had a tendency to be in a bit of a musical rut lately as well. Since letting Nick Hornby’s ideas sink in, I’ve been trying to be comfortable with the fact that I like what I like, and to be content with that. But what happened instead was that I became so comfortable with what I like, I stopped looking for other stuff I might like but haven’t heard yet (or have heard, but have forgotten about). I felt that this morning when I went to my parents’ house and they put on an old kids’ tape for Chelsea, and I found it genuinely groovy and enjoyable. Franciscus Henry was one groovy guy, and had this ability to bridge the gap between kids and adults music. Even Hi-5 sounds irritating and shallow beside it (yes, I know that it is irritating and shallow, but it’s as close as I can get to tolerable children’s music). Tonight finally brought me out of that rut completely, exposing me to some new old music. Old because it’s stuff I’ve heard before, but new because it sounded fresh again too. So I’m grateful for the experience if only as a rebuke to my recent listening habits.

But secondly, early on in the performance tonight there was a point made about music and culture that had never occurred to me before, but which strikes me as incredibly true. The point was that the music that comes out of a culture is indicative of what’s important to them – that is, they sing about, or make music about, what gives them life. Hence many indigenous cultures have a strong musical connection to land, to basic things like food and water and beauty. What a profoud thought! It struck me on two levels – one, the personal. Is this true of the music I listen to? I’d have to say yes (most of the time), and I found that exposure a little confronting. It’s actually quite telling to think that perhaps what is most important to us is revealed in our cd collection; more than that, that our very souls lay exposed and vulnerable there. I would want to say that it works both ways as well – that not only does what’s important to us shape our music, but our music shapes what’s important to us, so that needs to be factored in to the mix. But that will certainly be in the forefront of my mind as I listen to and buy music in future.

Which brings me to the second level that really struck me; so much of contemporary Western music is about the exact same things – dancing, sex, love. It’s always bugged me that these themes recur so frequently, but I could never put my finger on why (other than their obvious repetition and general shallowness) – and this, I realised tonight, is largely why. If our music comes out of what’s important to us, then how far gone is our society that all of our music revolves around such pathetic, minute details of life? It’s a very telling gauge of where we’re at as a society.

So tonight’s been a significant night for a lot of reasons. I think I need to invest in some more expression of my priorities (ie, I need to go out and buy some cds. )

In trying to express what it is we are doing with inspiral (insofar as we have any sort of grasp on it), I have always been wary of being regarded as one of the so-called ‘emerging churches’ or the ‘emerging church movement’. Probably that originated in my penchant for contrariness, but the more I think about it, the more I think there is good reason to be at least wary, if not to downright distance oneself from the general thought expressed in this movement (if it exists, as I will explore, and if it does, depending on the form it takes).

I offer this as an example of emerging church thought.

For one, I really don’t know what the term ‘emerging church’ means. Is it descriptive of a movement? A particular type of group? Does it refer to something which shares characteristics with other types of groups, in which case, what are the characteristics and what makes the term ‘emerging church’ an apt umbrella term? The article I referred to seems to attempt such a list of characteristics, a list I have no issues with per se, but which leaves the question of what an emerging church might be completely behind. Emerging church, it would seem to me, is in the eye of the beholder, and as such is not a useful term for communicating between people. In philosophical terminology, it seems to me it simply “does not refer”.

Secondly, the problem I’ve always had with those who are establishing new churches, is that largely they are created as a reaction against something rather than a decisive move for something. That is, many of the groups and people involved in what they term ‘emerging churches’ define themselves against certain things more than they define themselves for anything. Thus you get people in these groups saying of their meetings/services, “we don’t sing, we don’t have sermons” more as a response to the fact that they were forced to do these things in their previous expressions of church and feel liberated by their absence. (I don’t think that liberation from tradition is necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but as a methology for positively defining a group and its aspirations, it’s not helpful.) And this leads to the other aspect that’s often unhelpful; the members of these groups are frequently ex-church people, people who are hacked off with the expression of church that they have experienced. You can see this kind of reactive tendency in the very name given to the movement – ‘emerging church’. Emerging from what? Certainly not from unchurched society – rather, emerging from established or institutional church. In other words, it’s a movement that even in name is defining itself over and against something – traditional church.

I’m not saying the emerging church movement is all bad; there is much to affirm in it, whatever ‘it’ might be. My point is that I’m not sure that there is an ‘it’ at all, and if there is, if ‘emerging church’ is a helpful term to describe what’s going on, at least in a positive sense.

I hesitate even to express this stuff because I can see that much of the criticism of alternative church movement comes from within it – a bunch of cynics sitting around being cynical about being cynical. I’ve been to enough ‘emerging church’ conferences to be sick of it already. Partially this is a result of most of the so-called ‘experts’ in the movement being young, middle class Christians who are reacting against the form of church they grew up in and can therefore afford the luxury of cynicism. That leads to a lack of sincerity or seriousness that mitigates against positive affirmation of what a life in Christ might look like.

There’s no doubt I too participate in that luxury of cynicism. It could therefore be said that in my young, middle class Christianity where I’m reacting against the form of church I grew up in, I’m now so cynical I’m reacting against the movement that I’ve joined in reacting against traditional church. This is where I am wary of my tendency towards contrariness, but I am confident I have thought through this sufficiently that it is not an unreasoned reaction, nor is it simply reactionary. In seeking for a positive affirmation of what inspiral is, I have come to the following (I would say VERY positive) conclusion:

We are simply content to be. We have no need to define, describe, group together, box in. Personally, I am happy for us to simply be a positive affirmation of expressing authentic life in Christ for university students in Melbourne, Australia in September 2005. And that is all. We may have people who think similarly; we may not. Those who think similarly (whether in principle or practice) may be part of so-called traditional church, or they may be part of so-called emerging church, or they may be part of so-called general society. We are engaged with all of them, and challenged by all of them, but defined by none of them. So be it. I would want to say that we do not exist without reference to the past, present or future; quite the opposite, these things have brought us to this point. But those things and their opposites do not define us. Only authentic discipleship defines us. Or so I pray.

where to begin?

we all met on the friday night, at 7:30pm at our place: Meryl, Croz, Michelle, Alex, Emily and Anthony. everyone was remarkably punctual, including anthony, who, it was then revealed, had not packed yet and whose house we would need to stop off at on the way so he could do so. until I met anthony, I’d never seen anyone whose idea of packing for such a weekend consisted of throwing everything they own into their doona and running to the car with the bundle. I must say, it was quite an impressive feat, and had us back on the road in no time.

the whole concept of three cars travelling in convoy in friday night traffic seems incredibly straightforward, but surprisingly, it’s not. thus it was that, following a car they took to be croz’s midnight blue camry, the girls made a dash for the offramp to sunbury. since the car they were following didn’t show any signs of slowing down, neither did they; until, that is, we managed to reach them on the mobile amidst much confusion as to why they’d taken the detour in the first place. presumably they would’ve stopped once the bloke pulled into his driveway, but we’re not sure.

eventually though we made it to daylesford, met tara, and proceeded to her place. it’s a little round rustic building in the middle of a forest of ghost gums, a truly magnificent setting and perfect for our getaway. friday night consisted of setting ourselves up and chatting about our plans for the weekend. deafening hail and an impressive lightning show hampered efforts to sleep, but we all got there eventually.

In the morning (late in the morning) we all got our breakfast and played some games. Then we spent some time talking about encounters with God through our own experience and through the first quote I posted in bono on bono pt. 1.

After lunch, we settled in to hear Alex’s life story. I was particularly impressed by his account of the role his family has had in shaping him, and watching the way he and Em interact. They demonstrate their genuine affection for each other in many endearing ways. It’s a privilege to get to know these two, and I especially appreciated getting to know Alex better.

After that, the girls took off to the chocolate factory leaving the boys at the house to fend for themselves. Not ones to sit around and gossip (let alone pour our hearts out), we grabbed the footy and headed to the paddock over the road. It wasn’t too long before the farmer strolled over (not at all impressed) and told us to clear off, as we hadn’t asked permission and we were scaring his sheep (which was hard to believe when were a couple of hundred metres away from them). Not the picture of country hospitality I was expecting.

Not to be deterred, Anthony and I came back later (after Anthony had quite rightly asked what an appropriate response might be) bearing cookies for the ill-tempered farmer in a goodwill/peace gesture. No dice, though, as he had disappeared and we couldn’t see a farmhouse anywhere. We tried.

Then Lee proceeded to show his servanthood (or was that anal retentiveness?) by washing the lunch dishes. Good work, mate.

Not long after that, we all went out for dinner together to the Daylesford pub. We were quite impressed by the culinary delights that met us there, actually.

The night, though, was but young and out came the board games: balderdash and pictionary. After I made some early inroads with balderdash (including choosing tomatin, the definition of which no-one guessed), it was Anthony that claimed the run-away victory, thanks largely to being infinitely smarter than the rest of us. Well, me anyway. That gave me more than enough reason to team up with him at pictionary, and again it was us who made the early inroads, though that was soon frittered away by some poor dice throwing (four ones in a row. double snake eyes. not happy, jan.) After having been ‘in the zone’ early, we soon found ourselves lagging sadly behind. Thankfully that game was given away after a while, so we could claim the perpetual Jesus leveller that ‘the last will be first’.

Probably the defining event of the weekend, though, was the teaching and playing of the game ‘Mafia’. I can’t really explain the whole gist of it here, but suffice to say it consists of a psychological game of lying and deceit, and of group dynamics that will blow. your. mind. It’s kind of like survivor, only without the silly party games and the hunger from not eating and the smellyness from not showering. Needless to say it was addictive, and we found ourselves still going at 2am.

The morning saw Lee depart us for work early, and the rest of us brave the driving rain to check out the Daylesford markets. Many a bargain to be had, I must say. Including the item purchased for me, this little gem:

Kind of loses a lot in a still picture – it moves and sparkles and shines – but thanks guys. It now sits in pride of place in my study. Awesome.

On our arrival back at the ranch, we played a few more games of Mafia, had lunch and made our way home again. I know it’s a cliche and all that, but it really was a fantastic time. You guys are so much fun. Let’s do it again soon.