In motion.

“It’s just like riding a bike”.

Countless times this phrase will ring in a vague reference to any action or task that may take adjusting to. For it is a difficult concept for a child to grasp; sitting on a piece of metal that doesn’t even balance, propelling it forward through one’s exerted kinetic energy.

Yet a balance is struck, the wheels spin faster, the cuts and bruises heal up, and it begins to make sense.

So much so that you begin to feel a peculiar familiarity with the bike’s motion and subtle character as an independent, yet co-dependent, entity. Because beyond the romance of riding for its pleasure, practicality, eco-friendliness or its cost-cutting benefits to name a few, cycling can surpass this to become an outlet for, and extension of, your own physiological and psychological expression..

Just as in managing one’s own temperament, emotions, and decision-making, riding a bicycle is very much a mirrored exercise in measure, balance, and dexterity. Take the concept of gears; whether upon a flat plain, steep incline or a gradual descent, you find yourself unconsciously measuring the required combination of power and pace, potency and perseverance, in deducing how to pedal most effectively from A to C via B. There may be times when you battle a steep ascent sat with a steady pace using a lower gear, countered by occasions when you decide to shift the gears upwards and stand up to the climb with greater weight & leverage.

Either way, and irrespective of method, you crawl ahead as the bicycle has but one sense of direction; Forward. And but one universal speed setting; Go.

There are no reverse or neutral gears.

To stay static on a bicycle is to fall by the wayside, and to freewheel backwards is to descend into decline, hence the bicycle favours those with a forward sense of direction and balance.

That balancing act of staying in control whilst sitting high above the blur of spinning wheels and solid ground beneath, as the bike is perpetually in flux; tyres rolling, gravity pulling and frame swaying. Thus it is how we channel our energy and apply our force upon the bike that we are able to stay in command, in sustaining a steady rotation and transferring our weight from side to side without leaning too far one way or the other. All whilst maintaining focus in avoiding any static or moving obstacles scattered en route, ably adjusting trajectory at speed in swerving past potholes and straying from animals let loose.

As said obstructions are but two potential hurdles encountered whilst getting about on two wheels, for the modern bicycle is a beast of many breeds – be it bmx, racing, touring, tandem, hybrid, folding, road, or mountain – that have evolved to prowl all terrains and topographies.

With all sub-species possessing and requiring a different form of finesse, characteristically distinct by the environment and intensities encountered. Yet none so distinct as to stray away from the universal diamond-shaped frame set as standard across all cycles, from which stems the undeniable substance and spirit that the bicycle embodies.

Consider cycling to work in the city, weaving between the road’s traffic and the pavement’s footfall... There’s something almost adolescent about the bike’s own spirit in shape-shifting between pedestrian and vehicle as and when it pleases. For this element of pick and choose is a teenage weapon, being young enough to live by kids’ concessions and irresponsibility yet old enough for grown-up chat and adult vices. And this stirring sense of mischief whilst dodging passers-by or bypassing static traffic rouses a certain arrogance in the biker’s ability to scamper through the gaps and alleyways that other vehicles cannot chance. One can almost feel the onlookers’ resentment for your speed, agility and perceived lack of obedience to the rules, further fuelling your love for the freedom the bicycle affords.

For freedom and liberty become the pollution-free by-products of the bicycle’s output, powered by the passenger as its engine, with each motion and emotion generated in the process. A process so cohesive in its pairing of biological and mechanical dynamics that it almost melts into the human body’s musculoskeletal wiring, whether it be for the purpose of transportation or pleasure.

As the bike is both the guide and the guided, leading one to his desired destination yet forever following its rider's own direction.

And despite Lance Armstrong’s claims otherwise...

It’s always about the bike.


Daniel Bowen.

Slaying The Beast

I recently set myself a challenge in the name of charity..

   Mission:                                 The London Triathlon, ‘Sprint’ Edition
   Detail:                                    750m swim, 20km cycle, 5km run
   Date of acceptance:                7^th August 2012
   Deadline:                               22^nd September 2012
   Objective;                               Raise £400 for Amnesty International
   Timescale until completion:      6 weeks

I originally signed up on a day of much coincidence, maybe one in which charity fundraising reps prey upon impressionable & impulsive fools such as myself. As, within a few hours, I had gone from marvelling at the Brownlee brothers’ Olympic Triathlon triumph to stumbling upon Amnesty's online advert for last-minute entries into the London Triathlon. Suddenly I was but 6 weeks away from my own pop at glory, #inspireageneration and all that hash. So then it began…

6 weeks of fatigue, 6 weeks of excitement, 6 weeks of “I can do this”, 6 weeks of “can I do this?”, 6 weeks of recovery shakes, 6 weeks of baking fundraising cakes, 6 weeks of accumulating the required gear, 6 weeks of "this was a ridiculous idea"…

5 weeks culminating in “f@#k, it’s next week”.

However I became consumed by the whole build-up and all its little victories and challenges...  The perpetual game of Tetris that was fitting in the training around my busy working & social life, the weekly transformation in my physical form & fitness, the harassment of family & friends in chasing their donations, and even recording a cheeky (cheesy) sing-song to bring in the punters!

Sure enough the funds came in via my casual topic-dropping in conversation and the occasional Facebook plea, so much so that I was greatly encouraged to have trickled over the £400 target before the race had begun. So, bags all packed with energy bars, easily-identifiable welsh flag for my transition station (yeah I watched the Youtube hints videos), and Amnesty running vest, I made my way down to London... 

And there it was looming over me; a 750m swim in the crowded, murky waters of the Royal Victoria Dock, followed by a 20km cycle in competition with the mass of uber-bikes around me, and a jelly-legged 5km run to finish it off. 

It was painful. It was exhilarating. It was addictive. 

I managed to slay the beast within 1 hour and 34 minutes, smashing my sub 1hr40m target! And despite uttering the words “never again” on 2 or 3 occasions during the route, I was seduced by the intensity & athletic spirit of the experience and have since joined the Sheffield Triathlon Club. Like I said, addictive..

Posing as #1

However, more importantly, the collection pot for Amnesty is now overflowing at a healthy £457 thanks to your generosity. The offline donations, currently at £116, will be donated to the AI Sheffield branch that I work with, whilst the greater proportion of £340 (plus £75 in Gift Aid) will go to the Trust itself. 

On behalf of myself and Amnesty International, I’d like to say a huge thanks to you all for your support, contributions & hearty donations :)

Much love & appreciation,

Daniel.

OperationChase!

I consider myself something of a paradox in my approach and attitude towards life…

I am very logical in my planning and organisation of all things around me, yet I am often highly spontaneous in my decision-making and in embracing my adventurous nature. It is something that puzzles yet pivots me perfectly between order and disorder on a weekly basis.

 This coiled contradiction within me sprung to life again this week.

Whilst watching the mens’ Olympic Triathlon, within which Team GB’s Brownlee brothers podiumed (yes, ‘podium’ is now a verb) with gold & bronze on Tuesday morning, I felt compelled to get back into my fitness game and possibly tackle a triathlon myself in the near future. Just a fleeting thought that I shared with a friend before grabbing another handful of nachos and flicking over to watch another event during the London 2012 gold rush…

However, later that day whilst floating around Facebook I spotted an Amnesty International advert for last-minute discounted entries for the London Triathlon… Taking place next month! Needless to say my interest was aroused, and I threw an email straight through to Amnesty’s fundraising rep to find out more. It turns out they were happy to pay my full entry fee as long as I was able to meet a lofty target of £400 in fundraising!

Ah. This is where that familiar reality of logic clashed with the spontaneity of desire, with the realisation that I had only 6 weeks to train for a triathlon and to raise £400 in funds! And all to be fitted in between working two jobs and, of course, a highly distracting social life…

So this demanded some consideration, however I knew that once the seed had been planted there was little chance of turning down the opportunity lest I feel a huge sense of regret come the day of the event on September 22nd…

So the race against time has commenced. My registration has since been submitted, training buddies have been recruited, and OperationChase has begun.

I hope to and intend upon reaching the £400 fundraising target, of which I shall split 30/70 between the local Sheffield Amnesty Group that I work with and the Amnesty International UK Charitable Trust respectively…
I’m sure you’re aware of the admirable work that Amnesty do in fighting for human rights worldwide, and they continue to protect people wherever justice, fairness, freedom, and truth are denied. We would love and much appreciate any donation you can contribute to the cause.

Here’s my justgiving page…

www.justgiving.com/DanielJB

Thank you.
Daniel Bowen

Starving Billionaires and Victoria Falls.

Two brutal dictators. Two very different stories.

Two news stories from the same page on the very same day, in fact.

The good news; Charles Taylor, the former president of Liberia, was sentenced to 50 years in prison for his countless atrocities that took over 250,000 Liberian lives between 1997 and 2003. Mass rape, enforced child soldiering and enslavement are also listed upon his crime record.

Excellent news, of course, in the sentencing of a prominent war criminal whilst other tyrants such as Ratko Mladic await their verdict and wanted fugitives such as Joseph Kony are hunted down. 

The bad news; Robert Mugabe, the Zimbabwean president accused of ethnic cleansing and election-rigging whilst overseeing the  country’s super-inflated economy, has been sought as a ‘leader for tourism’ by the UN’s World Tourism Organisation.

Yes, the United Nations. The same international body that presides over nations’ cooperation in law, security, economic development, human rights and, ultimately, world peace. All ideals that Mr Mugabe doesn’t seem to care too much for upon researching his record as president, which includes;

-          Being named as one of the world's ten worst dictators by Amnesty International in 2004.

-         The undertaking of Operation Murambatsvina (English translation: Drive Out Rubbish), in which as many as 700,000 people, according to UN estimates, lost their homes and/or livelihoods amidst the government’s program of mass forced evictions in 2005.

-         The 1983 and 1984 “Gukurahundi” massacres of over 20,000 Matabele citizens of Zimbabwe committed by the Fifth Brigade of the Zimbabwe Army. 

-         Presiding over an economy whose inflation rate soared to an unimaginable 231,000,000% in 2008, that produced the infamous 100 trillion Zimbabwean dollar banknote, and plunged into 80% unemployment.

Hardly a prestigious portfolio to qualify this 88 year old, who is ironically still bound to an EU travel ban himself, to champion his country’s prospects of boosting their near-redundant tourism figures. It almost defies all moral and ethical principles, let alone logic, in handing such statesmanship to a man of his reputation. Does the UN really believe that tourists would appreciate the welcomings of a travel ambassador with such blood stained upon his hands? 

British MP Kate Hoey, chair of the parliamentary group on Zimbabwe, said: “For a man who has destroyed his country’s infrastructure and cynically engineered hunger to be an ‘ambassador’ for tourism is disgraceful – particularly as he has been personally responsible for the downward spiral of the economy and destroyed the tourism industry in the process.” Canada have echoed these sentiments by duly withdrawing themselves from the United Nations World Tourism Organisation, with their foreign minister John Baird citing Mugabe’s recommendation as the ‘last straw’ in Canadian participation at the UN body.

And what of Zimbabwe’s citizens? Dewa Mayhinga, of the civil society organisational body ‘The Crisis in Zimababwe Coalition’, commented “It boggles the mind how the UN could appoint Mugabe as an ambassador of any sort. It sends the wrong message to Mugabe that he is now acceptable to the international community”. 

The furore also brings further questioning of the UN’s credibility and its double standards of recent times, such as the striking contrast in their speed of intervention within the Libyan conflict to their current neglect of responsibility within Syria, and the perpetual absence of a global Arms Trade Treaty.

The UN have since released a press statement reassuring the media that Mugabe has not been appointed in any fixed capacity, but the symbolism of his advocacy within the international community will remain an ugly stain upon their judgment and moral standing.

The Food Chain.

Amidst the low-key publicity of last week’s National Vegetarian Week, I found myself reflecting upon my recent decision to abandon my carnivorous instincts and go vegetarian. Okay, pescatarian. I continue to eat fish, but have decided to give up the taste and texture of chicken, beef, bacon [I miss you] and the rest for the peace of mind that they intruded upon…

Cue the common question that greets this declaration… “Why?!?“. A fair question I guess, especially from a male friend surprised to hear that I’ve given up that most macho of food products, juicy protein-enriched MEAT. Well here’s the answer…

Giving up meat has been on my mind for the last two years, ever since reading up on the meat industry and spending a month following a raw vegetarian diet at a Portuguese eco-project. I became educated to the dark side of meat’s mass production, whilst also witnessing the positives of a vegetarian diet in real practice. But I wasn’t ‘brainwashed’ or even ‘converted’, as once I’d left the project I slowly slipped back into eating meat as I had done previously. But the seed had been planted, and the quandary grew…

Because I still had some reservations to the whole idea, and wasn’t completely sold to dropping a lifetime’s staple food at the drop of a hat without giving it due consideration. My prime obstacles to vegetarianism were namely; the possible deficiency in protein intake [“what would happen to all my muscle!?”], a lack of variety in my meals & diet, and my own ideas regarding our traditions as a human race in eating animals’ meat. And it was the latter, more ethically-focused, issue that tipped me over to ‘the green side’ as I began questioning the way in which today’s meat is prepped and processed in comparison to the hunting and cultivation of our past.

For the manner in which the average portion of meat reaches our plate is now so far removed from the reality of an organic food chain that even its packaging feels unnatural. Rather than receiving our meat from local farms that nurture and cultivate their own stock to sell on to the community on a small-scale level, we now source an extensive proportion of our meat from industrial-sized cattle markets or chicken coops. Where the animals are fattened up with corn against their dietary habits, and are injected with growth hormones and immunisations to protect them from infectious diseases which thrive within such small confines. The whole process conforms to our false economy’s emphasis upon yield, to the tune of ‘pile them high and sell them cheap’ with very little consideration given to the ethical and ecological cost of its sourcing.

So this is why I find the romantic visions of our homo sapien ancestors hunting and cooking their game in such stark contrast to the way in which we can now buy our processed meat online and have it delivered without leaving the house. Never mind the fact that only a tiny proportion of people will ever kill an animal for themselves during their entire lifetime. I have personally skinned and dissected a chicken myself, and that was a graphic enough experience without the trauma of killing it in the first place.

 

But what about fish? Well, I believe the way in which we go about catching fish is much more in touch with the average man by both method and practice in comparison to the manner in which land mammals, e.g. cows, are farmed and killed. Here is an exercise in case; Question 1: how many people will readily go out and kill a cow for dinner? Question 2: how many people will happily go fishing and eat their catch of the day? My guess is many more raised hands for question 2. Of course, I’m aware there is fish-farming on a large scale, and that trawler fishing can cause damage to the sea’s habitat; but fishing is now the last real remnant of the contemporary Westerner’s idea of ‘hunting’ in its real form. Kids are brought up fishing with a net or watching their father fish a line at the river, yet how many kids will be willing to witness or assist Daddy kill fowl for their Chicken nuggets?

And there lies my fundamental reasoning... Our disconnection from the food chain, and the conscious ignorance of our meat’s sourcing with every single bite. So just imagine linking back into this cycle, and sourcing dinner for one’s self; whether it be rooting for potatoes, picking out salad, fishing for mackerel or slaughtering a pig…

Enjoy your meal.

Daniel Bowen

Dignity.

An old Irish proverb tells us that
“it is in the shelter of each other that people live”. 

You’d hope this rings true today in contemporary Britain, but does it? When you see people sleeping rough on the street or begging for change, you question who is looking out for those at the margins of our society.

Because the homeless have no-one to shield them from their poverty; no shelter to take refuge from life’s storms. They are ultimately left with no hiding place, exposed to the world with what little they may have for all to see, yet ignored by passers-by and forgotten by the state. You may recognise them with a rugged backpack full of possessions, maybe even a pet to feed, and carrying the burdensome stigma that goes hand in hand with being homeless...

That false yet fabled stigma that they are all alcoholic, drug-abusing, dirty criminals scrounging off the rest of us ‘hard-working model citizens’. But may not this flippant and ignorant perception of the homeless apply to individuals across the board? The idle neighbour drinking at home living off undue benefits, or the chief executive sleazing around with his shareholders’ trusted funds are but two examples. Of course, there’s no denying that a number of homeless people find themselves out on the streets having lost everything due to alcohol or substance addiction, or possibly as a result of a criminal past. But there are also all those without a home having experienced financial difficulties following a business failure, faced housing difficulties after losing a job, or as result of violence or family break-ups that left them cast aside. Each and every one of us regret certain decisions in our lives, just as they do, but they are the ones sitting out in the cold for their mistakes or misfortunes.

And the cold pavement is no place to sit around, as the homeless’ exposure to the public and the elements take their toll in making them vulnerable to illness, verbal abuse, and physical violence. Indeed last year’s riots inflicted a great stress upon Britain’s homeless amidst the chaos, as does the merciless winter freeze each year. Furthermore, this poverty is compounded by a hunger, lack of hygiene, and a solitude that compounds their struggle to survive. For the public eye sees them as a nuisance littering the street, and this is what they shrink down to; an inconvenient and invisible truth lost amidst the high street’s commerce and commotion as their pleas for help fall on deaf ears…

For what they want is their voice to be heard. And what they ask for is enough money to survive. But what they need is support. We’re told that charity begins at home, and the street is the home of the homeless, so let’s start there. Perceptions and prejudices die hard, but no longer should people divert their paths to avoid the guilt of ignorance, no longer should shops’ adverts avert our eyes from those less fortunate, and no longer should people look at a street seller as if he is selling Nazi propaganda. Because there are avenues offering a way out of poverty, providing a step in the right direction towards better health and housing, with homeless support agencies catering for their needs. Offering them the stability to rebuild their lives, the opportunity to earn their own income, and the help needed for them to help themselves.

So the rest is up to us. To open doors and to welcome the homeless into a more inclusive society, free of prejudice and prejudgment, that gives them hope for a better future. We may not be able to house them ourselves, but what we can offer is the social support that allows a route back into employment, and provide them with a hand up, if not a hand-out. Indeed, Jesse Jackson, the American black civil rights leader, once commented that “you should never look down on anybody unless you’re helping them up”. It is now upon our streets that this sentiment must echo.

Daniel Bowen.

A healthier planet starts here.

Try throwing a book, any self-respecting book, into a bin…

It’s near impossible to do, isn’t it? Because a book has its own story. Its own history. Its own soul. Once it is read you leave your fingerprints upon it, and in turn it imprints itself upon your mind. And once tossed aside it remains alive, seeking another mind to enrich should you decide to clear some space upon your shelves during a ritual clean-out…

But rather than throw it to the trash or try to re-sell it for pennies, why not donate it to Healthy Planet’s BooksForFree initiative? Healthy Planet is a not-for-profit organisation, managing volunteer-run BooksForFree projects that take in public donations, publishers’ surplus, and unsold books from charity shops before giving them away for free. Really. You can walk into any one of the initiative’s nation-wide stores and feel free to take up to three books, free of charge. Regardless of whether you’re donating your own books or not; as the project works to the classic tune of supply and demand, receiving a bag-full of books one minute before passing the same books on in their threes to a new home soon after.

As this is essentially what the project is all about, keeping books in circulation by extending their lives beyond the Kindle revolution and away from the scrapheap. Giving the book another pair of eyes to entertain, another mind to educate, and another set of hands to nestle into whilst converting your own trash into someone else’s treasure. But you needn’t think that you’ll only find old wives’ novels upon these generous shelves, as they are stacked high with fact and fiction, contemporary titles, timeless classics, children’s favourites and even those pricey university textbooks. However this plentiful supply isn’t exclusive to books, as BooksForFree also cater for magazines, Videos, CDs, Audio Books, DVDs and even the old record to complement Dad’s dusty collection. So why not bring the whole family along…

You may well discover their true shopping personalities, as reading the stores’ scattered signs signalling the 3-book-maximum will instantly divide customers into either Camp X’s astounded “three for free??” or Camp Y’s covetous “what, only three?!” responses. As it is a strange concept to grasp, especially when approaching the counter where you find yourself confronted by a donations box in place of a cash register and receive a bookstamp rather than a receipt. You can even return your ‘purchase’ at any time free of receipt squabbles, creating some form of library-shop hybrid without the loyalty card. This makes up a refreshing anomaly within the average shopping experience, noticeable for the distinct absence of cash transactions, chip & pin machines, and promotional offers.

For today’s businesses set a price for everything, but know the value of nothing. And this is how BooksForFree distinguishes itself, as it recognises the value of a dust-ridden literary classic but refrains from barcoding it with a price. It is simply stamped with Healthy Planet’s logo complete with a discreet request to “Pass me on when you’ve finished reading me”, and it becomes a priceless entity. And this collection of entities combine to create a project that provides a contemporary outlet to the cyclical nature of the purchase and disposal of goods, whilst being sustainable in tackling the world’s financial and environmental problems.

For these threats are posing ever more questions to our economic evolution, and projects such as this may prove to be part of the solution.

Follow this link to find your nearest store, and be part of the solution;

http://www.healthyplanet.org/projects/books-for-free.aspx

Daniel Bowen.