#39: Buddhist sign

Is this true?

This sign in a local health food shop seems questionable to me. Why should the absence, rather than presence, of thought be desirable? What about trying to use our powers of thought to their fullest potential – is that not equally praiseworthy? Or even having the brain ‘fizz like a firework’, as Tim Parks puts it in his account of his search for a cure for chronic pain, Teach Us to Sit Still. Parks found meditation helpful and interesting, but was concerned that a quiet brain could actually diminish creativity.

The ‘Joycean buzz’

I also wonder whether it is possible to ever empty the mind of what neurologist Oliver Sacks called the irrepressible ‘Joycean buzz’ and A S Byatt, describing her literature-oriented character Frederica, a ‘chatty linguistic self’. Among my persistent ‘buzz’, for example, are dialogues with imaginary people and imaginary representations of real ones, snatches of songs, visualisations, problem-solving suggestions, the ‘pop’ of new ideas, intentional and unintentional memories, and a stream of other mental odds and ends, all often bringing with them intense emotions. 

I'm inclined to consider this a survival technique, as though the brain were constantly ticking over, scanning for problems to solve and meaning to make. I used to think of my imaginary dialogues as faintly embarrassing, then necessary, and now have actually come to see them as a sign of mental health, since if I am ever feeling particularly low they quieten down. This suggests that being ‘without thought’, as the notice above enjoins, may not be the healthiest option.

And yet I wish for more focus; not an empty mind, but a more disciplined one, which would include periods of quietness and much-needed rest from the inner chatter. But in my own experiments with meditation I find it singularly difficult to stop my mind wandering. My version of the sign would read: ‘a focused mind is something to aim for and a powerful tool’.

What do the scientists say?

So what do scientists say about our mental landscapes, and the need to tend them? A 2012 study tried to discover whether meditation can lead to longer-term changes in thinking and feeling which would last longer than the meditation session itself. Using a small sample of 24 people, it investigated mindfulness training and also compassion-based meditation, in which people are encouraged to have empathy towards others and view everything in the world as a source of support and benefit. They monitored participants’ amygdala, the part of the brain which focuses attention towards emotionally significant stimuli.

Results broadly showed that meditation can improve emotional stability and response to stress (at least, stress induced in test conditions). Those who had practised mindfulness meditation responded less intensely to pictures of human enjoyment and suffering, and to neutral images. Those who had done compassion-based meditation also responded less intensely to images of enjoyment and to neutral images, but those who did it most frequently showed heightened response to images of human suffering. For reasons I do not understand, this last finding correlated with decreased depression in these people. ‘Overall, these results are consistent with the overarching hypothesis that meditation may result in enduring, beneficial changes in brain function, especially in the area of emotional processing,’ says co-author Gaëlle Desbordes.

The mind’s effect on the body

And of course our mental and physical well-being are linked. The Radio 4 programme ‘Inflamed Response’ looked at some of the evidence that negative states of mind actually influence our physical health – it quotes one study of 42 couples, showing that minor wounds healed more slowly after negative interactions between them than after supportive ones. Another study quoted on the programme showed that people who feel that they are lonely are more vulnerable to illness.

So what would a research-supported version of the sign read? Something like: ‘meditation can improve emotional and physical health in the long-term.’ Less snappy but, in my view, more accurate and useful.

#38: Port Meadow

The wide skies, geese, horses and meandering river in Port Meadow and the adjoining Wolvercote Common, are one of the delights of Oxford. The houses on the edge of the Common, with their makeshift walkways over the ditch surrounding them, still evoke a long-gone time when this part of the city was much less gentrified. Then the mini-pond on one corner, now home to ducks and gulls, might have been a noisome puddle to be avoided by those wanting to pass through or graze the horses on this common land (which Wolvercote ‘villagers’ can still do). 

The allotments in the middle are unusual in not being sandwiched between housing. 

Port Meadow is not only a beautiful space but a site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), partly because it is said not to have been ploughed for at least 4000 years. A sign on the edge encourages people to ‘Protect Cherish Preserve.’

'Protect Cherish Preserve'

But of course Port Meadow is in no way virgin land. It was cleared of trees long before countryside protection was ever thought of and at a time when every place would be an SSSI for us now, if we could only bring them back.

I wonder if saplings are regularly uprooted to prevent trees covering it again. In today’s bureaucratic parlance, whether it is ‘managed’. Such treatment would I imagine be strongly criticised by rewilders such as George Monbiot and Ben Goldsmith, the latter recently tweeting that those who had helped to secure World Heritage Status for the Lake District were ‘dinosaurs’ for wanting to keep it in its current, tree-shorn, sheep-nibbled state. He said that the Lake District looks as if it had had chemotherapy, and looking at photos of bald Cumbrian mountainsides it is difficult to disagree.

The idea of ‘managing’ nature indeed seems strange to me, since the planet managed itself for billions of years before man involved, much more successfully than we have done. We are the result of those biological processes, not master of them. But of course some reserves are managed now to protect them, for example to conserve biodiversity.

A true wilderness near Oxford city centre is an appealing prospect – until a tree falls on someone and the council is sued. Another way of viewing the space is to appreciate what it tells us about humans, history and use as well as for its intrinsic beauty. I found this approach appealing in the book Millstone Grit by Glyn Hughes, in which he appreciates the denuded beauty of the Peaks, including sites of factories, rebellions and walks. So we can cherish Port Meadow as a delightful – even ‘managed’ – space, as the geese honk and horses come to the water to drink, then gallop quickly away.

#37: Animal adoption centre

Mary and Doris, 12 weeks old

‘I’m Scarlet, I’m a bit shy, go slow,’ warns a notice on the small ginger cat’s door, adding that she can only be visited with a staff member present. Other cats are less sensitive. ‘I am very social cat,’ says Jimmy’s notice. ‘Feel free to open my condo and give me a pat.’ And I do – along with Misty, Oz and Perry (a 1.7-year-old assertive long-haired tabby, who scratches a little and then rubs against my legs as if to make up for it).

These irresistible creatures live in Melbourne’s Lort Smith Adoption Hub, where you can drop in to the café and peer through an interior window at the kittens’ playroom or go right in to cuddle and stroke them, whether you are looking to adopt or not. Dogs have large rooms with transparent portholes for them to look out, and can regularly be seen trotting alongside uniformed staff in the neighbouring streets.

The centre has a five-page waiting list for people who want to give their cats in for adoption. It checks out potential adopters thoroughly – questions for prospective pet carers to consider include future vet bills and ‘boarding fees for human holidays’. I heard two applicants being asked if they were renting, since they would need to provide proof from the landlord that pets were allowed. For potential dog adopters, there’s a meet and greet, then walks together, then a questionnaire to fill in as part of the matching process.

The Adoption Hub has quite a kitty turnover – during my 45-minute visit on 17 April two were adopted, on my second visit one of the white kittens in the picture had gone, and on my third all the kittens were new. Lort Smith rehomes about 850 animals each year, including dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs and ferrets, and places half that number with foster carers. Foster care allows everyone to see the animal in its natural environment: ‘We want to see the animal rolling around, grooming itself, sun baking,’ says Adoption Centre General Manager Serena Horg. That way everyone can decide whether the animal and adopter are right for each other.

The adoption fee for adult cats is $115 (£60) and for kittens $225 (£110). For adult dogs it’s $400 (£200) and for puppies $500 (£250). There’s a two-for-one offer on both, for animals that shouldn’t be separated.

About 30% of its animals come from the Lort Smith Animal Hospital next door, the largest not-for-profit animal hospital in Australia, and has a reputation for high levels of care and working with difficult animals. ‘We take on animals that other shelters can’t take on,’ says Horg. ‘[Ones that need] extensive rehabilitation, cage confinement, ongoing behaviour training.’ They had just rehomed a dog after 400 days. ‘He was probably ready after 200 days, but it’s not about getting them in and getting them out, it’s about finding the right person or family’.

Eighteen paid staff and around 200 volunteers work in the Adoption Hub, and there are partnerships with charity partners, rescue groups and pounds, run by local councils. Animals can be ‘shuffled around’ between these organisations, says Serena, to find the most suitable destination for them. It relies on fundraising since it gets no ongoing government funding, and currently runs a $1 .5 million (£750,000) annual deficit. Nevertheless, the centre is planning a move to leafier Campbellfield in the next two years, where dogs and cats will enjoy a more natural environment and the foster care network can be expanded.

Horg thinks attitudes to animals have improved greatly in the past few decades, because of changes in society and culture rather than legislation. ‘In the 80s the dogs were outside, the cats were inside, now the dog is with you wherever you go’ (her Hungarian Vizsla, Parker Pretzel, comes to work with her every day). ‘They’re part of the family. They have their own Instagram accounts.’

Later I meet serial cat adopter Karen Hofer in the playroom. How many has she adopted? She counts rapidly on her fingers. ‘Thirteen. And no foster failures yet’ (meaning cats she has kept permanently). ‘It stops cats living in miserable circumstances.’ The most she’s had at one time is seven. ‘It’s been pretty crazy at times, but it’s a great opportunity.’

Lort Smith Adoption Hub, 38 Villiers St, North Melbourne, Victoria. Sun/Mon closed; Tue/Wed/Thurs 11am-3pm; Fri/Sat 9.30am-3.30pm.

Faithful Friends: a History of Animal Welfare in North Melbourne, a book by Felicity Jack, is available here. It covers the formation and history of Lort Smith and the nearby Lost Dogs’ Home. $15, published by the Hotham History Project.