We're staying in a terraced holiday house in Hove about fifteen minutes walk from the sea. An ice cream van drives down the road playing the Colonel Bogey theme. The fridge in the kitchen gurgles and sighs in a contented sort of way. First thing is to make dinner. Luckily, the owner of a shop around the corner opens up especially for us `after hours' and kindly sells us unusual wholefoods and veg. He invites us to a party he's having in a few weeks time. "So far, so Brighton," I can't help thinking.
Danus- Brighton 2006
Brighton Autumn Men's Appeal 2006 - Danus came across the FWBO at university in 1993. Since then he spent 8 years working for Windhorse driving vans, cooking and doing admin (though apparently not at the same time). He now works at the Buddhist Centre in Bristol. This is his first Appeal.
Blog Syndicated From http://bri2006-danus.blogspot.com/
10
SEP
My First Time...
This is my first time doing a Karuna Appeal, and my first time in Brighton. It's quite an experienced team: there's a friend I've known for years, someone I know a little bit from various retreats, and someone I've only met briefly once before. I'm 34 and I've been involved in the movement for more than twelve years, but I still often find myself to be the youngest in any given bunch of Sangha folk (and that's the case here). At least no-one says "Eat up, you're a growing lad" or "My, haven't you grown" (though I do still get that sometimes).
13
SEP
The Training Starts
So far in the training we've been doing role-play exercises which are useful opportunities to rehearse what we say and how we say it when we're out and about. Our team meetings, the role-playing and the door-knocking itself all offer the chance for quite an intense and detailed look at how we communicate. At times I'm finding it challenging, but rewarding and fun also. My old familiar pattern of getting angry when I feel criticized or judged has made itself known already in one of our team meetings, and has duly been put under the spotlight. And this is just the beginning!
I've been learning to reduce the amount of words I use to explain what we're about. Also to allow much more space to take in the person answering the door (and for them to take me in). Another working ground for me is learning to listen more, and to express more interest in who I'm communicating with. (I'm not offering this as an excuse, but the astrologers say that my first five planets are all in Leo). I need to learn to shift my focus more away from myself and what I've got to say. What do you think of the blog so far?
I'm generally finding it interesting and engaging work, but have only raised four pounds in cash so far. No standing orders yet. Surely it's only a question of time. My patch consists of several small towns about ten miles inland from Brighton. I drive to them in a sprightly new blue Vauxhall Corsa hired for the duration. As I get out of the car to start my rounds each evening I lock the doors with a `click'. I usually feel very alert in that moment: the positive effects of the day's training and Dharma practice are with me, and so especially is my purpose - it seems big, close by, hovering overhead.
18
SEP
My First Score, and some Focusing
Well, I am off the mark as they say. It's a good feeling. I have heard tales of fundraisers going two or three weeks before getting their first standing orders, so I am glad to be spared that tension. We had a day and a half of `Focusing' workshop yesterday and today. That really helped with my fundraising efforts this evening. [Focusing is a kind of guided or directed way of listening to yourself and tuning in to how you are in a deeper way. See www.livingfocusing.co.uk for more info.] I experienced my communication with the people answering the doors as qualitatively better tonight. I was more present and comfortable with myself, the householders had more time for me and I had more time for them. The `nos' and the `no thank yous' seemed more friendly.
The place where I got my first standing order was a rather unique and idiosyncratic cottage on the edge of town. There were several personalised features in the porch and garden, for example the name sign hanging above the door was painted on a large mock-up of a saw, complete with jagged teeth. Even the way the car was parked in the drive seemed unusual. The woman who answered the door last week said she already supported several charities (a lot of people say that), but she took a booklet anyway. When I called back a few days ago she had a terrible migraine, so I said I'd come back another day.
So tonight was the third time I knocked on her door, and it turned out to be third time lucky. She said she felt very sympathetic to Karuna's work and to Buddhism. She wanted to give, but said she couldn't manage £15 per month (which is what she thought was implied as the minimum contribution in the booklet). I pointed out that even five pounds per month would support literacy classes for a dozen women, and she ended up signing for £10 per month. I found it all rather beautiful and humbling and unlikely.
When I got back to the ranch two of the others had each pulled in £25 per month worth of standing orders, so it felt extra good for us all to go into the shrine room and transfer any merits we'd gained.
21
SEP
Some expert help
Yesterday evening a more experienced (and very successful) fundraiser accompanied me as I went around knocking on doors. I found his comments perceptive and helpful, especially as he said "I'm not saying that this is the right way to do things, these are just suggestions for you to try out." He noticed that I was `hanging back' from the door and suggested that I try standing a bit nearer to make connecting with whoever answers a bit easier. Also that I could still do with saying less and allowing the other person more space to speak.
I was introduced to the concept of `warming up' the booklet. Apparently only a little introduction is needed - it seems there's an advantage in just getting the thing into the other person's hands as soon as possible and letting it (the booklet) do some of the talking.
It was also interesting to see my friend knocking on doors. He seemed quite confident and bold, without being pushy, as if to say to the householder "Here I am and here you are and that is just fine. I want to tell you about the difference these projects are making in India." It all seemed quite definite and unhesitant, as if to say "This is the truth of what's going on. And it's important." He encouraged me to take up my space on the doorstep with pride: "This is Bodhisattva work." Dr Ambedkar (who is a hero of mine) came very strongly to mind, and I was glad later on to have the opportunity to tell someone on one of the doorsteps more about him. It was as if in doing so we were clarifying some doubts in the householder's mind. The bloke didn't sign up but we both felt like he came really close - he just needed more time to think about it. My trainer suggested that I call on him again towards the end of the appeal.
Today in training we did various role-playing exercises where we acted as different people of varying degrees of confidence and unconfidence. Afterwards I felt a lot more unsure of (or open to) who I was and how I could be with others. Also who they were and how they might be.
25
SEP
My Mentor
Manjusvara, extremely experienced fundraiser and author of `Writing Your Way', accompanied me this evening. Again it was really interesting and useful to have someone else's perspective on my door-knocking attempts. "Be light on your feet," he suggested, i.e. be ready to move towards or away from whoever I am communicating with on the doorstep as needed, and be ready to put more energy or less into what I'm saying. (We found in the role-playing exercises that communications seem more successful and appropriate when we make efforts to match the style, mood, volume, etc of the other person.)
Then my mentor stood on the pavement in the orange-yellow glow in that streetlit sleepy commuter town and waved our key tool, the fundraising booklet, around in the air. "It's like a magic wand," he said. It was as though a strange wizard from an altogether different world had unexpectedly appeared in this corner of suburbia.
He was helping me to sense extra possibilities in what could easily be mistaken for a gloomy residential area. "It's as though there's a golden thread of humanity and generosity running through this street, and you're coming along here to give it a polish."
He'd noticed that I was putting away and then getting out my paperwork, taking off and then putting back on the lid of my pen between calls. It was interrupting my flow and breaking up a sense of continuity. I felt that there could be quite a bit to reflect on in just those simple little details and comments. The perspective I was being offered seemed to charge every little thing with significance.
28
SEP
Knocking in Hove
I've moved to a new area. It's in Hove actually, and it's quite different to where I was before in the little towns ten miles out of town. In Hove people seem less surprised to find a charity fundraiser on their doorstep of an evening. The houses are much closer together so I knock on more doors, and I'm met with more energy by the inhabitants (who also tend to be a bit younger). After dusk there is adequate street lighting and house numbering for me to be able to find my way around. I'd been finding it hard to find some places in the country lanes after dark - a lot of the residences had names (such as `The Beeches') rather than numbers.
So my concerns about my flow and momentum being disrupted by changing patch have so far proved to be ill-founded. If anything, I feel I can really get started now. I hadn't realised the full extent to which my energy had been leaking away in between calls in sleepy suburbia. I sense that working in Hove may prove to be more rewarding and also more challenging. I suspect the challenge may come from being more fully met, and by so many people. I may have to (continue to) open up to allowing myself to be more fully seen.
Occasionally (often when I'm least expecting it) someone opens a door I've knocked and we just stand there taking each other in. Somehow my preconceptions are taken by surprise and don't have a chance don't kick in. It's like there's just a very pure or full meeting of two human beings (albeit complete strangers) without any masks or barriers. That happened to me tonight on the doorstep of an elderly woman. She had some presence and bearing. In the few seconds before I handed her a booklet she just stood and looked at me and I just stood and looked at her. Quite hard to describe, but quite disarming, charming, wonderful.
So my concerns about my flow and momentum being disrupted by changing patch have so far proved to be ill-founded. If anything, I feel I can really get started now. I hadn't realised the full extent to which my energy had been leaking away in between calls in sleepy suburbia. I sense that working in Hove may prove to be more rewarding and also more challenging. I suspect the challenge may come from being more fully met, and by so many people. I may have to (continue to) open up to allowing myself to be more fully seen.
Occasionally (often when I'm least expecting it) someone opens a door I've knocked and we just stand there taking each other in. Somehow my preconceptions are taken by surprise and don't have a chance don't kick in. It's like there's just a very pure or full meeting of two human beings (albeit complete strangers) without any masks or barriers. That happened to me tonight on the doorstep of an elderly woman. She had some presence and bearing. In the few seconds before I handed her a booklet she just stood and looked at me and I just stood and looked at her. Quite hard to describe, but quite disarming, charming, wonderful.
02
OCT
Honing my awareness
Our morning training sessions are proving incredibly useful for honing what I need to work on to improve the way I communicate, i.e. to increase my awareness of myself and others. A theme that's emerging is the importance of attending to my physical experience. I tend to try to avoid the feelings that arise in situations I find difficult or uncomfortable (e.g. conflict). The theory is that feelings we find it hard to accept or be aware of locate in the body as discomfort. Not wanting to feel the discomfort, I lose awareness of my physical body, and when I communicate from that state people often tell me they don't find it very authentic. They sense there's something else going on for me - something is unspoken. I am experimenting with trying to bring my attention to my centre and my breathing more, especially when waiting for the door to be answered. Of course this is nothing new - it's JUST A QUESTION OF MAKING SURE I ACTUALLY DO IT.Speaking of things unspoken, I've had a few experiences of not knowing what to say when someone answers the door. At least I am learning to be able to laugh at it and acknowledge "This feels a bit awkward doesn't it" as I stand there with my mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. Manjusvara said it may be a sign that there isn't anything to say, or that I am trying to say to much.
04
OCT
'Do you know about Karuna?'
Me: Hello. I called by a few nights ago and left a booklet about charity in India.
Daughter: Oh yes. I asked my mum, and her line is that she's already supporting *name of a charity*.
[I notice she's wearing a uniform.]
Me: Oh, ok. What about you? What's your line? Are you a carer?
Daughter: No. I'm a student nurse, so I don't have any spare money.
Me: No, well, that's fair enough.
Daughter: I'll try and find your leaflet for you so you can have it back...
[calls downstairs] Mum, have you seen that leaflet about India?
Mum [from downstairs] : It's in the recycling. They're coming tomorrow, so it's outside.
Daughter [goes outside to recycling bins]: Let's have a look... it should be in this one... or is it in this one?... no, maybe it's in here.
Me: If it's not easy to find it then don't worry.
Mum [from inside the house]: Do you need a torch dear?
Me: It's not a problem if you can't find it.
Daughter: Ah... here it is.
Me: Great, thank you.
Mum [coming out of the house]: I'm already giving to *name of charity*. They're ethical and I know where my money's going. Not like these other charities...
Me: I see, so you like to give to ethical charities and you like to know where your money's going?
Mum: Yes - I know where I am with *name of charity*. I like *name of charity*, I know them.
Me: So you like what you know and you know what you like?
Mum: Well, it's not just that. You don't know where your money goes with these other charities. You get all these street fundraisers hassling you and giving you the hard sell down on the London Road...
Daughter: But he's not like them mum...
Mum: I've read about it in the paper. I know how much money you're getting out of this.
Me: I'm not getting a penny. I'm a volunteer.
Mum: Well I know about *name of charity* and I know about these other charities.
[Daughter gives up and goes back into the house.]
Me: But you don't know anything about our charity do you?
[I give up and wander off. I wish I'd said something like "You haven't given me a chance. You've categorised me and put our work into a box without knowing anything about it".]
Still no standing orders from the new patch I'm working, but I am making steps forward in terms of giving the other person more space and acknowledging more what they've said before I come in with my ideas about things. It's a small change, but already I feel like it's making a big difference with how well I connect with people. I sense if I can take this away with me from the appeal, life and listening will be so much better.
Daughter: Oh yes. I asked my mum, and her line is that she's already supporting *name of a charity*.
[I notice she's wearing a uniform.]
Me: Oh, ok. What about you? What's your line? Are you a carer?
Daughter: No. I'm a student nurse, so I don't have any spare money.
Me: No, well, that's fair enough.
Daughter: I'll try and find your leaflet for you so you can have it back...
[calls downstairs] Mum, have you seen that leaflet about India?
Mum [from downstairs] : It's in the recycling. They're coming tomorrow, so it's outside.
Daughter [goes outside to recycling bins]: Let's have a look... it should be in this one... or is it in this one?... no, maybe it's in here.
Me: If it's not easy to find it then don't worry.
Mum [from inside the house]: Do you need a torch dear?
Me: It's not a problem if you can't find it.
Daughter: Ah... here it is.
Me: Great, thank you.
Mum [coming out of the house]: I'm already giving to *name of charity*. They're ethical and I know where my money's going. Not like these other charities...
Me: I see, so you like to give to ethical charities and you like to know where your money's going?
Mum: Yes - I know where I am with *name of charity*. I like *name of charity*, I know them.
Me: So you like what you know and you know what you like?
Mum: Well, it's not just that. You don't know where your money goes with these other charities. You get all these street fundraisers hassling you and giving you the hard sell down on the London Road...
Daughter: But he's not like them mum...
Mum: I've read about it in the paper. I know how much money you're getting out of this.
Me: I'm not getting a penny. I'm a volunteer.
Mum: Well I know about *name of charity* and I know about these other charities.
[Daughter gives up and goes back into the house.]
Me: But you don't know anything about our charity do you?
[I give up and wander off. I wish I'd said something like "You haven't given me a chance. You've categorised me and put our work into a box without knowing anything about it".]
Still no standing orders from the new patch I'm working, but I am making steps forward in terms of giving the other person more space and acknowledging more what they've said before I come in with my ideas about things. It's a small change, but already I feel like it's making a big difference with how well I connect with people. I sense if I can take this away with me from the appeal, life and listening will be so much better.
09
OCT
Week five
Well, it's day two of week five and that means only eight more evenings of fundraising left. The intensity continues to build as our collective and individual targets still seem a long way off. I have picked up a standing order on each of the last three nights, but they have all been for £5 per month or less.
Manjuka, the leader of our appeal, has assured me that the fact I am scoring each night is a good sign and there's every chance that the size of standing orders will increase as we go into the home straight.
If there's something the door-knocking has been teaching me over the last few nights, it's to expect the unexpected. Some people seem very keen and say to come back at such a time on such a day and they'll have the form all ready and filled in. So of course I turn up at the appointed hour full of hopes and they're not there.
Then there are people who already give to loads of charities (or even work for a charity) so I half-heartedly leave them a booklet only to find them wanting to sign up when I call back. I am having to work with myself to prevent my mood from going up and and down like crazy according to whether I think the last communication has gone well or not.
I think that my unpushiness when doing `fresh calls' has been counting in my favour quite often. A few times when I haven't been over-eager to persuade someone to take a booklet they have even called me back as I walk away, perhaps out of curiosity to see what I've got. If anything my pushiness comes out when doing `call backs' and I'm sensing a possible contribution is on the cards. My efforts to allow the other person plenty of space and to acknowledge what they say have made a real difference as I do the `fresh calls'. Now I want to bring more of the same into the `call backs'.
I have to say that the booklet is excellent. It's obviously been honed and refined and distilled over the years. It must be doing at least three quarters of our work as door-to-door fundraisers for us. It's attractive, eye-catching, affecting, informative, interesting, clear. I am having to do a certain amount of reassuring of people that we haven't squandered lots of money on producing it. "The photographer used to work for New Internationalist magazine, and the designer has done book covers professionally," I explain, "but they've given their time and energy to Karuna for a very low rate."
I've been meeting quite a few existing Karuna supporters as I am out on my rounds, including a couple last night who've been contributing since 1982. "I wonder if that's a record?" I ask, "I wonder how much you've given over the years, and how many people in India you've helped?". There's no answer of course, just a happy smile.
Manjuka, the leader of our appeal, has assured me that the fact I am scoring each night is a good sign and there's every chance that the size of standing orders will increase as we go into the home straight.
If there's something the door-knocking has been teaching me over the last few nights, it's to expect the unexpected. Some people seem very keen and say to come back at such a time on such a day and they'll have the form all ready and filled in. So of course I turn up at the appointed hour full of hopes and they're not there.
Then there are people who already give to loads of charities (or even work for a charity) so I half-heartedly leave them a booklet only to find them wanting to sign up when I call back. I am having to work with myself to prevent my mood from going up and and down like crazy according to whether I think the last communication has gone well or not.
I think that my unpushiness when doing `fresh calls' has been counting in my favour quite often. A few times when I haven't been over-eager to persuade someone to take a booklet they have even called me back as I walk away, perhaps out of curiosity to see what I've got. If anything my pushiness comes out when doing `call backs' and I'm sensing a possible contribution is on the cards. My efforts to allow the other person plenty of space and to acknowledge what they say have made a real difference as I do the `fresh calls'. Now I want to bring more of the same into the `call backs'.
I have to say that the booklet is excellent. It's obviously been honed and refined and distilled over the years. It must be doing at least three quarters of our work as door-to-door fundraisers for us. It's attractive, eye-catching, affecting, informative, interesting, clear. I am having to do a certain amount of reassuring of people that we haven't squandered lots of money on producing it. "The photographer used to work for New Internationalist magazine, and the designer has done book covers professionally," I explain, "but they've given their time and energy to Karuna for a very low rate."
I've been meeting quite a few existing Karuna supporters as I am out on my rounds, including a couple last night who've been contributing since 1982. "I wonder if that's a record?" I ask, "I wonder how much you've given over the years, and how many people in India you've helped?". There's no answer of course, just a happy smile.
11
OCT
A tough night
I think I experienced tonight's fundraising as the toughest yet. I was tired, nervous and unconfident. I struggled with my habit of talking at the person, rather than listening, acknowledging, taking them in and giving them space. I got a lot of `no's' and felt like I was there to chase the target, trying to save face and my pride rather than out of any sincere desire to help India or make genuine connections with the people I met.
"Too busy / haven't got time / not interested / not a good time / already doing loads / trying to put the children to bed / cooking / eating / just got in / just going out / a guy from another charity was around last week / already donating to Karuna regularly / good for you, but no / wish you lots of luck, but no / etc" came the replies. Pretty much all said in a friendly and pleasant way mind you. Very much the kind of neighbourhood where you'd expect there to already be a lot of Karuna supporters. Also very much the kind of neighbourhood you'd expect other fundraisers to have made a bee-line for and to have cleaned up in just before you got there.
I did actually bump into a guy from another charity on the street the other night. He was friendly enough and said he knew Jayaraja. We compared notes on which streets we'd already knocked, and which ones we were planning to do. I was working eastwards and he was working westwards. On overlapping, we both found the going less easy as we each knocked on doors the other had tried earlier that day or week.
Amidst all the `no's' there were a couple of glimmers of possibility including one guy who said he already does a number of standing orders for other charities. "Here we go again," I thought to myself, inwardly giving up hope, but then to my surprise he said perhaps it was time for a change and that maybe he'd consider `swopping over to us'.
"Too busy / haven't got time / not interested / not a good time / already doing loads / trying to put the children to bed / cooking / eating / just got in / just going out / a guy from another charity was around last week / already donating to Karuna regularly / good for you, but no / wish you lots of luck, but no / etc" came the replies. Pretty much all said in a friendly and pleasant way mind you. Very much the kind of neighbourhood where you'd expect there to already be a lot of Karuna supporters. Also very much the kind of neighbourhood you'd expect other fundraisers to have made a bee-line for and to have cleaned up in just before you got there.
I did actually bump into a guy from another charity on the street the other night. He was friendly enough and said he knew Jayaraja. We compared notes on which streets we'd already knocked, and which ones we were planning to do. I was working eastwards and he was working westwards. On overlapping, we both found the going less easy as we each knocked on doors the other had tried earlier that day or week.
Amidst all the `no's' there were a couple of glimmers of possibility including one guy who said he already does a number of standing orders for other charities. "Here we go again," I thought to myself, inwardly giving up hope, but then to my surprise he said perhaps it was time for a change and that maybe he'd consider `swopping over to us'.
12
OCT
Anything is possible
"Anything is possible," our mentors have been saying. "Stay open. Try and have no fixed expectations."
A few nights ago I knocked on a door only to be told that the guy from another charity had just been round. "Oh well, I guess he's beaten me to it," I said. But it was one of those situations where as I turned around and made my way back down the garden path, the householder called me back and asked to see the booklet.
I went back again tonight, and the response when the door opened this time was "What would you like us to do? Do you want money, or would you like us to visit India and work for one of the projects?". I said I thought that it was very generous of them to consider the latter, but that the former would also be a great help.
"Ok, why don't you come in?". (It usually seems to be a good sign when someone asks you in).
The husband swopped amusing tales of travel in Rajasthan with me while his wife filled in the standing order form. The husband hadn't read the booklet, so his wife explained to him that this wasn't another case of endlessly pouring money into a situation, these are projects that are actually helping people up and out of poverty. I wish I could remember her exact words - they sounded much better to me than the lines I've been habitually trotting out.
Once we were done, I cast my eye down the form and realised they'd pledged £25 per month - fantastic! I hadn't had one for that amount before. That did my confidence no end of good.
As chance would have it, I had an appointment to call back to the house right next door that evening as well, so it seemed easy and logical to go there next. At first a babysitter answered and made as if the homeowner wasn't in, but eventually the bloke I'd spoken to earlier in the week came to the door.
"We'd like to make a contribution," he said, thrusting a £20 note from the Bank of Ulster into my hand.
"Thank you, that's very kind," I said. "I hope you don't find this impertinent, but it really helps us if you can give regularly: either monthly or quarterly or annually. It helps us plan ahead in terms of which projects we can support."
"Ok, come on in," he replied. Three of his nine children were in the front room, said they thought it was a good idea, and helped us to fill in a standing order form.
"How much do you normally ask people to give?" he asked.
"Well, we suggest £25 per month if you can manage it," I ventured.
"Ok, sign us up!". Two £25 covenants in one night! I could hardly believe my luck.
It turns out our new magnanimous benefactor is very sympathetic to Buddhism, meditates every morning, and his company is helping to arrange a mortgage for an FWBO centre elsewhere in the UK.
What a contrast to last night. Even before these fortuitous encounters, I felt much more happy and relaxed, enjoying being affirming towards people on their doorsteps, whether they were interested in supporting Karuna or not.
16
OCT
Autumn arrives
I am still working on trying to slow down, say less, spend more time taking in what the other person has said and acknowledging it (e.g. by reflecting back - preferably not parrot fashion). I expect I'll still be working on these aspects of communication in days, months, years to come. As we go into the last week of the appeal, I find myself thinking about doing another one at some point. It feels like it would be a bit of a waste not to put all that I've learnt during these past weeks to use again in some way.
An image that comes to mind is of trying to master one of those trick bicycles where the front wheel turns in the opposite direction to the way you steer the handlebars. There are brief moments of exhilaration when I think I've got the hang of it and feel like I'm getting somewhere. Then I fall off again. Most times I dust myself down metaphorically speaking, and I want to get on and try again fairly readily. It's going to take a long long time to get the hang of it, if I ever do. But it's utterly compelling giving it a go.
Outside the air is a lot cooler. It's getting darker earlier and really starting to feel like autumn proper. Having knocked on many doors and met a lot of people now, I'm left with some overall or general impressions. One is that the vast majority of people (almost everyone) are giving to charity in some way. The other lasting impression is of how many people's lives are touched by bereavement or tragedy of some kind.
It's as though there's a hidden mustard seed teaching in fundraising. I've been a bit surprised how many people have said to me when I knock on their door that it's not a good time - they've recently lost a loved one, or that someone in the family has been injured in an accident. Then of course I throw out all notions of eliciting standing orders, and try to express some sympathy. That usually seems appreciated and there's a sense of relief.
Tonight I walked around a street corner feeling upset and disputatious. I found a starling dead in pool of dirty water in the gutter. It didn't seem right. I took it as a reminder that in reality there is no time for quarrelling. I know it won't be long before I forget again, but I appreciated the reminder.
An image that comes to mind is of trying to master one of those trick bicycles where the front wheel turns in the opposite direction to the way you steer the handlebars. There are brief moments of exhilaration when I think I've got the hang of it and feel like I'm getting somewhere. Then I fall off again. Most times I dust myself down metaphorically speaking, and I want to get on and try again fairly readily. It's going to take a long long time to get the hang of it, if I ever do. But it's utterly compelling giving it a go.
Outside the air is a lot cooler. It's getting darker earlier and really starting to feel like autumn proper. Having knocked on many doors and met a lot of people now, I'm left with some overall or general impressions. One is that the vast majority of people (almost everyone) are giving to charity in some way. The other lasting impression is of how many people's lives are touched by bereavement or tragedy of some kind.
It's as though there's a hidden mustard seed teaching in fundraising. I've been a bit surprised how many people have said to me when I knock on their door that it's not a good time - they've recently lost a loved one, or that someone in the family has been injured in an accident. Then of course I throw out all notions of eliciting standing orders, and try to express some sympathy. That usually seems appreciated and there's a sense of relief.
Tonight I walked around a street corner feeling upset and disputatious. I found a starling dead in pool of dirty water in the gutter. It didn't seem right. I took it as a reminder that in reality there is no time for quarrelling. I know it won't be long before I forget again, but I appreciated the reminder.
21
OCT
Getting to the end
Well, we’re done. I feel like I’ve run a marathon or something. Rather like in interviews with athletes at the end of big races, I feel like I’ve been ranting incoherently in a sort of slightly exhausted and emotional sort of way. Life before the appeal seems like an age ago. Will I ever be the same again?
I can hardly believe it - I reached my target (admittedly with the help of a contribution from my own self, but apparently that still counts). Last week doing target looked very unlikely, but this week I’ve picked up standing orders every night, mostly between 9.30 and 10.00pm each evening just when I was about to give up hope.
It’s been a fantastic six weeks. I feel really grateful. What a practice fundraising is! The sense of team and camaraderie was very strong by the end. Collectively we didn’t quite do our target, but certainly raised a sizeable amount between us.
I’ve felt thoroughly shaken and stirred and humbled at times. But also moved and alive and inspired. The people whose doors I’ve knocked on have been a source of amazement and have consistently surprised me, often in a very positive way.
Respect is due to those who keep the Karuna appeal show on the road, and to anyone that puts themselves through this repeatedly. I think it’s true what people say: if you do a Karuna appeal you will gain a huge amount, perhaps even more than you give.
I can hardly believe it - I reached my target (admittedly with the help of a contribution from my own self, but apparently that still counts). Last week doing target looked very unlikely, but this week I’ve picked up standing orders every night, mostly between 9.30 and 10.00pm each evening just when I was about to give up hope.
It’s been a fantastic six weeks. I feel really grateful. What a practice fundraising is! The sense of team and camaraderie was very strong by the end. Collectively we didn’t quite do our target, but certainly raised a sizeable amount between us.
I’ve felt thoroughly shaken and stirred and humbled at times. But also moved and alive and inspired. The people whose doors I’ve knocked on have been a source of amazement and have consistently surprised me, often in a very positive way.
Respect is due to those who keep the Karuna appeal show on the road, and to anyone that puts themselves through this repeatedly. I think it’s true what people say: if you do a Karuna appeal you will gain a huge amount, perhaps even more than you give.