STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS

Mr. Speaker! - Danny Bhoy Sydney Opera House

2011-12-14T21:47:00.002+13:00

Utube is a great source for sampling some very funny comedians. Some like Danny Bhoy are outstanding. If you live in a country which operates on the Westminster Parliamentary system and you have listened to parliamentary sessions on the radio or watched them on television I am sure you will find this very funny indeed.
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Works of Art

2011-12-14T15:50:00.033+13:00

Queencyl Rabang Age 9

This is the picture for April, in a Calendar for 2012. Each month has a picture created by a young New Zealander. Queencyl Rabang is a student at Bairds Mainfreight Primary School in Auckland New Zealand.

There is a spontaneity that is both naive and endearing about children's artworks. Here we have a mermaid floating in a bubble, a very cool sun either seeing the world through rose tinted glasses or shielding its eyes from the sunlight; party hat girl elevated above shark fin grass on gossamer wings; a fairy executing a flashy pirouette on the head of a flower (pah! you can keep your angels dancing on the head of a pin) and a unicorn who is either paradoxically looking as if he is a long, long, long way away, despite the fact that he is in the foreground - or is returning from a meeting of the Miniature Unicorn Society. The sky is high summer blue and the clouds poetically float as lonely as a cloud.

The detail in this picture is interesting. The mermaid is wearing a bikini top to defend her modesty and she has what looks like starfish earrings and maybe a starfish in her hair. The sun has a particularly distinct wry smile of its own amongst a number of smiles with the smile motif repeating in some of the pictures patterning if you look carefully. The unicorn has a headscarf held on by a large maroon coloured bow, which is colour coordinated with the unicorns horn and hooves. For balance and to accent the panache that fashion conscious unicorns are bound to have there is a scarf tied to his tail. The artists palette is restricted to six colours only, with the pinks and maroons crisscrossing in a subtle tension that ties this masterly executed picture together.

When I look at this picture I don't ask myself, what does it mean? I am more taken with the way it makes me feel. I feel happy and it makes me smile.

As a teacher I have viewed 4 decades of children's art. A large proportion of what I have seen deserves more respect and place of prominence than to be just held temporarily on a fridge door with little magnets. The cream of the crop deserves to be framed and displayed with the prominence and reverence that our culture gives to the cream of its adult works of art.

Pablo Picasso said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child ............ Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up."
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The Human Condition - 9

2011-12-08T00:53:00.002+13:00

The Human Condition - 8

2011-12-08T00:47:00.002+13:00

The Human Conditon - 7

2011-12-08T00:28:00.001+13:00

The Human Conditon - 6

2011-12-08T00:24:00.001+13:00

The Human Condition - 5

2011-12-08T00:07:00.002+13:00

The Human Condition - 4

2011-12-08T00:00:00.003+13:00

The Human Condition - 3

2011-12-07T23:53:00.001+13:00

The Human Condition - 2

2011-12-07T23:27:00.003+13:00

'We wake, if we ever wake at all, to mystery, rumors of death, beauty, violence ........ "Seem like we're just set down here," a woman said to me recently, "and don't nobody know why." '

Annie Dillard - Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
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The Human Condition - 1

2011-12-07T23:04:00.003+13:00

There Is No Correct Answer

2011-12-06T23:53:00.001+13:00

I found this picture on the Internet and have found it strangely compelling. I have looked at it long and hard trying to figure out what that compulsion is.

I think it goes like this. One way (some would say the only authentic way) to look at art is to come shedding yourself of all preconceived notions, ideas and associations - put aside your 'self ' and let the painting unveil its meaning - allow the artist to communicate his / her ideas.

Of course this becomes complicated with abstract paintings because human beings are always searching for meaning. We seem hard wired for meaning and when confronted with abstraction, I think one of two things happen. Either we consciously impose a meaning on the abstraction, or we wait and allow the subconscious to suggest a meaning. In the latter case the painting is acting as a kind of psychological Rorschach 'Inkblot' test - the painting elicits associations within the subconscious mind which are bought to consciousness.

The conundrum I find with this genre of paintings is that they are a paradoxical mix of realism and abstraction in terms of 'meaning'. Its immediately obvious what the content of the painting is about, but the meaning of the content has been abstracted away somewhat by its unlikely happening in the "real" world.

So, ponder the painting dear reader, repose comfortably on said couch and tell me if you please......there are no 'right' answers - and it might be very helpful to me :>)

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The Philosophy of Sailing

2011-12-05T22:14:00.008+13:00

The good ship 'Mariner' with a bone in her teeth - That's sailors talk for 'going fast'.

Last Sunday my good friend David and I raced in the Whangarei Cruising Clubs two handed race. David is a very keen sailor and a very good crew. He rings me up and encourages me to keep our date with the clubs racing programme, whatever the weather.

The weather on Sunday was blustery and rainy, with the rain building over the day to a constant deluge - It was the sort of rain that thinks its having an annual job appraisal and wants to show how efficient it can be by finding its way through every microscopic pore of the very sophisticated well sewn wet weather gear worn by the crew.

We got the worst start out of the fleet. We hit the mud at one point. We were last across the line at the finish. We were out sailed and outclassed by a lot of fast flash Harrys in lighter boats with vast arrays of triple nipple back shackles and titainium impregnated gossamer winged trianglulated sails and foodle rigged bifercated zelda masts (none of which actually exists, I just made it all up, but there you are, a skipper needs a scapegoat when part of his ego has been keel hauled).

......... and all the while, down came the rain which led to an after race lunch of warm beer and sodden sandwiches in wet, cold, (did I mention the rain?) wet weather gear (that's us in the wet weather gear, not the sandwiches) as we made our way back up the harbour to the mooring.

"The thing is about these sorts of days" said David, as he bit into the end of a sodden ham roll that drooped like a banana in his hand, "Is that all this makes you appreciate warm clothes, a nice roaring fire and a dry place to sit." ---- "Yes" I replied, ( making a quick mental note to promote him to ships philosopher) "Indeed" I said ..... and feeling uplifted by the compelling nuance of my crews, to date, unrevealed sage like qualities I replied in my very best Socratic voice, " Some observers have said that owning and sailing a boat is a bit like standing in a very cold shower while tearing up $50 notes."
I said this as all the while looking at the fragments of hard boiled egg that had fallen from my limp sandwich into the scuppers sway fore and aft with the motion of the boat ..... "We must do this again.... soon," I said .........

........ and we will .... its the Sail Rock Race next Saturday ..... we'll be there, we'll pray for sunshine and a warm fair wind, but take whatever old Huey throws at us, on the chin (old Huey is sailors talk for the one who controls the weather) ....... its the contrasts that make it all worth while - just ask David, my good mate and philosopher......

.... and if you do ask him he will tell you something else he said on Sunday ...... he said .... " When I come out here and sail ... no matter what the bloody weathers like, I really know and feel I am f..king alive" ...... I couldn't agree more and in fact I think he should be promoted to Ships Poet as well.
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Joshua Slocum, Carpet Tacks and 'Just So'

2011-12-01T19:12:00.009+13:00

I was first alerted to the existence of Joshua Slocum when I read a story about his voyage (which was the first single handed circumnavigation of the world) in a New Zealand Primary Schools "School Journal" a much underestimated and unsung state funded reading resource still being produced for New Zealand Primary Schools. I still remember the drawings of Slocum's converted oyster mans boat named "Spray" which showed a couple of wooden water barrels fitted carefully on deck. I thought those barrels were very shipshape indeed and a romantic hint of long distance provisioning and far off places - provisioning that was a far cry from the plastic bread bag of sandwiches and a water bottle that I would stow for a cruise on my 7 foot P Class. I was perhaps 12 years old at the time. The "Spray" was a real little ship with big wide decks, a yawl rig and had the uncanny ability to steer herself on any point of sailing. Over the years this boat has been romanticised and many have thought her the perfect world voyager. She is in fact far from being that ....... but talk of what constitutes a perfect dream ship.... is another story.

When I came home from school and told my father what I had seen he steered me to Joshua Slocum's book "Sailing Alone Around the World."
Needless to say I devoured that book not once, but twice. It was books about single handed circumnavigations from my dads vast nautical library that became my very own vicarious 'Boys Own' experiences - all my heroes had salt water in their veins and felt compelled to commune with the wind to a far horizon.

This painting that I came upon in the latest edition of Wooden Boat magazine is a painting by John Stobart of a particular well known incident on Slocum's voyage.
Slocums passage took him through the winding Straits of Magellan at the tip of South America. Inhabited by the fierce, nomadic Yaghan people, the area became known as Tierra del Fuego (Land of Fire) from their practice of burning small fires for warmth, even in their canoes. In this particular anchorage Slocum was worried about the Yaghan who were close by and observing him. During the day he had fended off attempts to board with a rifle but he was worried about what to do at night. At anchor, to give the impression that there was more than one person on board he kept coming and going on deck dressed in different sets of cloths and hats and at night he covered the deck with carpet tacks to discourage any boarding party. An attempt was made at night and apparently the carpet tacks worked very well, alerting Slocum and repelling the boarders.

Apart from the memories of Joshua Slocum that this painting invoke, I am attracted to the way John Stobart has painted her at anchor. This is exactly how a yacht sits at anchor in these conditions, as a slight cold breeze off the mountains ruffles the water - the boats sits, 'Just So,' and it is a testament to the painter that this authenticity of ambiance has been captured. The Spray will tug gently at her anchor. Slocum will wander the solid wooden deck of his little boat, pulling up the collar of his coat against the chill and have his eureka carpet tack moment. He has already traveled from the east coast of the United States down through the South Atlantic to Tierra de Fuego, he is far from home and he has a long way to go. (double click the painting to get an enlargement).

We all have our heroes as we grow up. Mine were always circumnavigators of the world in small yachts - Joshua Slocum, Harry Pidgeon, Alain Gerbault, Vito Dumas, Marcel Bardiaux, Jean Gau, John Guzzwell, Bernard Moitessier...... the list goes on and on - this was the psychological milieu that I was bought up in - perhaps that's why often I feel so restless. Hmmmmm.

TEDxSF - Louie Schwartzberg - Gratitude

2011-11-26T09:47:00.001+13:00

This video was sent to me by Janice (thankyou) - the images and the words speak for themselves - watch it : > )
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Bianca Ryan - America's Got Talent

2011-11-25T22:17:00.002+13:00

I found this video on utube as I took a break from report writing. If you can put to one side all the blah blah blah and hype of these type of shows I think there is something here that is really wonderful - a young person with their whole life ahead of them and obviously wonderfully talented - I think that's great.

I have to say this performance begs some pretty big questions regarding the nature versus nurture argument. This girl is only 11 years old and yet here is a voice almost fully formed - she opens her mouth and belts it out - mature, deep, solid performance - amazing.
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California Dreamin - Mamas & The Papas

2011-11-25T21:21:00.004+13:00

This is fast becoming a list of 'Not Kiwi Songs' - but as I was looking on utube for old Kiwi songs that I could remember I came across as you do on utube, the rest of the world.

I remember this song so well - golden harmonies and great melody and I always liked the breathy flute riff - - it has a spirit of those far off days of 'make love not war, let it all hang out, flower power, hippie days.' (bell bottom trousers and paisley shirts AND white boots OMG )

This song (circa 1966) reminds me of 'borrowing' my older brothers black suede winkle picker shoes and going off to dances at St Chads in Christchurch (46 years ago).

Looking at the Mamas and Papas perform its clear that fashion sense has moved on - but somehow the music remains timeless - simple, clear, harmony and melody, evocative and enduring - Utube - what a Memory Lane.

Eva Cassidy - Fields Of Gold

2011-11-22T23:37:00.006+13:00

This isn't a Kiwi song but that doesn't matter it is worth a place in my pantheon of great songs. There are other songs of hers on utube to be listened to but this is one of the best. She also does a good rendition of Louis Armstrongs 'What A Wonderful World'.

This is perhaps one of the most wonderfully beautiful voices - It is Eva Cassidy singing Stings song "Fields of Gold" - Many, many people commenting on this song on Utube say that they want it played at their funeral. I would like it to be sung at mine.

There are two curious (to me) and sobering facts about Eva Cassidy. The first is that my life embraces this young life - I was born in 1951 - her life was (1963 - 1996) and it is now nearly 2012 - That fact I find, curious, sobering and somewhat intolerable. The second is that there are many young, talented and short lived lives among us - If each of us is a spark from a huge bonfire, some burn high and incandescently bright, high up by the stars. Then in a twinkling of the eye they are gone - Eva was such a one - and the world is richer for her life and poorer for her death.

One commentator stated:

" I just discovered this brilliant woman. I'm sad to learn she died in 1996 of cancer and the world discovered her talent after her death. I'm not a man who easily becomes emotional, especially when listening to songs but, there's something in this woman's voice and her selection of songs that melts me and I find myself a bit choked up. I thought I was emotionally numb to this world until I heard this woman sing. Thank you Eva Cassidy. I wish I knew of you before"

Like many people I have understood that music exposes our souls to meaning, a meaning that goes beyond ordinary language - if it is a gift to reveal this meaning, with a naked flame that scorches the heart and soul, then Eva Cassidy certainly had that gift.

"Eva Marie Cassidy (February 2, 1963 November 2, 1996) was an American vocalist known for her interpretations of jazz, blues, folk, gospel, country and pop classics. In 1992 she released her first album, The Other Side, a set of duets with go-go musician Chuck Brown, followed by a live solo album, Live at Blues Alley in 1996. Although she had been honored by the Washington Area Music Association, she was virtually unknown outside her native Washington, DC when she died of melanoma in 1996." z
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Welcome Home - Dave Dobbyn

2011-11-22T22:20:00.009+13:00

.......... and here is the other great Kiwi Song that I mentioned on the previous post ....... come to think about it (and I have) there are a huge number of really good Kiwi Songs ........ I will continue with this song posting theme........ watch this space.

'Welcome Home' is a song by New Zealand singer/songwriter, Dave Dobbyn. The chorus is gorgeous: 'Welcome home from the bottom of our hearts/from the bottom of our hearts ... So welcome home, see I made a space for you now.' It is a song sung in response to a racist incident, in which a far right group suggested Chinese migrants were no longer welcome in New Zealand.

WELCOME HOME - Dave Dobbyn

Tonight I am feeling for you
under the state of a strange land
you have sacrificed much to be here
‘there but for grace…’ as I offer my hand
welcome home, i bid you welcome,
i bid you welcome welcome home
from the bottom of my heart
out here on the edge
the empire is fading by the day
and the world is so weary in war
maybe we’ll find that new way
so welcome home, see i made a space for you now
welcome home from the bottom of our heart
welcome home from the bottom of our hearts
keep it coming now - keep it coming now
you’ll find most of us here with our hearts wide open
keep it coming now - keep on coming now
keep it coming now - keep on coming now
there’s a woman with her hands trembling - haere mai
and she sings with a mountain’s memory - haere mai
there’s a cloud the full length of these isles
just playing chase with the sun and it’s black and it’s white
and it’s wild all the colours are one
so welcome home, i bid you welcome, I bid you welcome
welcome home from the bottom of our hearts
welcome home, see i made a space for you now
welcome home from the bottom of our hearts
from the bottom of our hearts
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Finn Brothers - "Won't Give In"

2011-11-22T21:37:00.012+13:00

There are a lot of great Kiwi songs for the asking - Two of the best are 'Welcome Home' by Dave Dobbyn and this one by the brothers Neil and Tim Finn - ' Won't Give In'.

WON'T GIVE IN

You call me up and I'll say a few words
But I'll try not to speak too long
Please to be kind and I'll try to explain
I'll probably get it all wrong
What does it mean when you promise someone
That no matter how hard or whatever may come

It means that I won't give in, won't give in, won't give in
'Cause everyone I love is here
Say it once, just say it, and disappear

Once in a while I return to the fold
With people I call my own
Even if time is just a flicker of light
And we all have to die alone
What does it mean when you belong to someone
When you're born with a name, when you carry it on

It means that I won't give in, won't give in, won't give in
'Cause everyone I love is here
All at once, and I'll show you how to get here

Come on now, come on now, can you feel it, I can see it in ya
Come on now, come on now, reveal it, turn around won't ya
The right time, the right place, right now, turn around

A chance is made, a chance is lost, I carry myself to the edge of the earth

It means that I won't give in, won't give in, won't give in
'Cause everyone I love is here
Say it once, just say it, and disappear
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Living Authentically and Self Actualization

2011-11-21T00:22:00.004+13:00

I have been looking at some old blog postings of mine from a few years ago. This old posting seems to have relevance at this time.

I have been reading about the American, humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow. It is to Maslow that the term 'Peak Experience' is associated. What I find interesting about Maslow and other psychologists of the pioneering era of the early to middle 20th century is that although there were often fundamentals that they disagreed on there was much that they held in common. They agreed on the concept of authenticity, of living ones own life, not the life that is an expectation of ones parents or of societies. Furthermore, when taking on the persona of some role within society they agreed that it is important to make that role your own in your own unique and creative way.

Finding your own 'centre' and 'truth' and living outwards from this centre is far more healthy and life enhancing for the individual than being on the periphery of someone else's centre and trying to emulate or live someone else's truth. Of course making the distinction between the worth of 'role models', modeling our truth on others and developing our own truth within our own life story is a delicate balance and one we all find a slippery log to walk on at times, but attitude and intention and knowledge helps us along the way.

C. G. Jung the great psychoanalyst would fly into great rages if he ever witnessed other people emulating him in speech, mannerisms or in any way whatsoever. He believed that the process of individuation was a process where we all grow into our own truth and potential, to be all that we can be and that that wholeness is absolutely unique.  Maslow like Jung and others saw the sacredness of the individual and the need for individual growth, but he advanced his theory from a different perspective. In 1954 he published a book called "Motivation and Personality" which is seen as one of the major psychological achievements of the 1950s. In contrast to the approaches of Jung and Freud who studied human weakness and neurosis he focused on healthy, exceptional, high achieving individuals.

Maslow's theory of needs has self - actualization as the highest level of human experience, the highest level of spiritual intelligence.
Maslow discovered that self actualised people have a more efficient perception of reality, have better hunches and intuitive powers, more mystic experience, more peak experience, better awareness of connections and relationships, higher values and ethics based on principles rather than conventions, greater knowledge and wisdom and inclusive views on philosophy and religion.
"They see themselves as human beings who transcend the values of their culture and become world citizens"
The way to achieve this self actualisation is the road that many spiritual, psychological writers and advisers point to:

"Your inner voices, Maslow believed, are extremely weak, extremely subtle and delicate, where you have to dig to find them... One of the necessary methods in the search for identity, the search for self, the search for spontaneity and for naturalness is a matter of closing your eyes, cutting down the noise, turning off the thoughts, putting away all busyness, just relaxing in a kind of Taoistic and receptive fashion... The technique here is to just wait to see what happens, what comes to mind...... forget about the outside world and its noises and begin to hear these small delicate impulse voices from within."

So in relation to the photo in this post the point is that if you want to be a pirate, don't be a pale imitation of Blackbeard or some other grizzled swash buckler on the Spanish main -- choose your own colours, design your own flag, build your own galleon, and teach your own parrot your own particular words of piratical slang and cussing.

So, for my part, to go forward, to live authentically, to solve some of the big problems of how to live my life I need to take heed of many of these concepts spoken of by wiser heads than me - especially I need to listen to the words about the inner voice, stop analysing, stop ticking boxes, - shut up and listen, listen to the small inner voice and hope to find the authentic path which is either the path I am following, or a new path - whatever the outcome it will all be part of the same larger journey - the road less travelled? or the safe and familiar way?

But how do we decide what to do at any given time? I think now that 'What' we decide to do is a function of all our past decisions - The authenticity of our life is the result of having made authentic decisions, (despite the pain these may cause sometimes) to produce our own human growth - so the idea of crossroads in our lives becomes a paradox, there are crossroads - we do choose a direction - but at the same time the direction we take is a function of all that has come before - life weaves us out of both the small and the big decisions we make - so when we listen to the small inner voice we need to listen very carefully indeed.

Starry Night

2011-07-14T23:21:00.002+12:00

Starry Night - Vincent van Gogh

POEM - For Alex

My Child - Star - you gaze at the stars
and I wish I were the firmament
that I might watch you with many eyes.

PLATO. 427 - 347 BC

Theo Jansen Kinetic Sculptor, Sub Creater?

2011-07-14T22:05:00.007+12:00

Mankind has been described as 'sub creators', that is, if someone or something has created us, we in our turn are able to create both with our minds and our hands creations of our own - nothing new about that idea, nothing extraordinary about that either, but when I see creations like Theo Jansens I think about this fact.

Think about how the invention of the wheel has lead to the extraordinary sophistication of the motor car, the invention of optics have enabled us to peer deep within the universe, the invention of computers has given rise to robotics. Think of a simple humanoid like robot or the insect like sculptures of Theo Jansens. If we developed these inventions continuously over time and incorporated at some stage synthetically created biological elements, at what point in the exponential graph of development does the invention become a living thing? at what point may consciousness emerge? Do men and women, the sub creators, have the power to create consciousness? or is consciousness something that is outside of, separate from the sub creation?

Blatant Resistance

2011-07-11T23:52:00.015+12:00

On the 26th of June this year I turned 60 years old

BLATANT RESISTANCE

I have a new scarlet coat and
I look like a fire engine
And I don't give a damn
One should grow old gracefully
Somebody said - I don't know who
But I've heard it all my life and
So have you well to hell with that
I refuse to grow old any way
But reluctantly and bold as brass
And when arthritis bites in all
My bones and sleep sulks outside
My bedroom window in the dark
I just toss and turn and scratch
And swear the hours away I'm not
Growing older - it's a stupid
Betrayal of bones and flesh
That makes me feel this way but

Look at me now with springs on
My heels and the wind in my hair
Any moment I'll start whistling
And might even dance you a jig
And stop all the traffic along the
Quay wearing my new scarlet coat
And looking like a fire engine

-- Bub Bridger

PLAYING WITH THE MOON - “When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky” - Buddha

2011-07-03T08:29:00.031+12:00

All my childhood I heard people talk about the man in the moon, all I ever saw was a rabbit - and still do.

REAL LOVE

2011-05-11T00:18:00.031+12:00

I saw these videos on DAN GURNEYS BLOG - 'A MINDFUL HEART' - http://mindfulheart.blogspot.com/ (On my Bloglist on the right hand side of this page) - I was so impressed I thought I would repeat the videos here. I think the more people who see these the better.

This is one of the most hopeful series of videos I have seen in a long time. Take the time to watch them. If parents and teachers taught with such insight and love, maybe the world would be a more honest, worthwhile, caring and loving place.
I thought the action of the little boy to challenge and change his teachers decision was a wonderfully brave act on his part and shows both the wisdom and autonomy enhancing power of this teachers careful style of relating - It gives a vision of a world devoid of utopian lies; where the shadow and the light are integrated into something larger and more whole. This teachers work is a statement about living honestly and authentically.

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The OK Dinghy Project (1)

2011-05-06T18:00:00.040+12:00

Many years ago I used to sail a Ferrari Red OK Dinghy. Less than two years ago I restored a small P class yacht exactly like the one I used to sail before I graduated to the OK Dinghy. This restoration gave me the inspiration to look around for an OK Dinghy to restore - but the looking around has not had much success - never mind - it looks as though there is something more involved and interesting developing around this issue. Watch - This - Space.

The OK Dinghy was initially designed as an easily built (hard chine) relatively cheap trainer yacht for the (round bilge) Olympic Finn class yacht - but the OK dinghy has developed over the years into an impressive class of its own. This video (below) is of the Oks slightly bigger sister.

I chose this video but not the music - The music is OK (to coin a phrase) although if I had written the lyrics I may well have left out the line "Tonight God is a DJ" LOL
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BEANNACHT (IRISH BLESSING)

2011-04-17T03:26:00.018+12:00

Here is another Irish blessing - there seems to be many of them.
This is a particularly beautiful contemporary one by the poet
John O'Donohue

BEANNACHT (BLESSING) - John O'Donohue
On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

TRADITIONAL IRISH BLESSING

2011-04-17T00:54:00.011+12:00

This was written on the back of the order of service at my mothers funeral. It was the first time I had seen this, and is as I found out latter a well known and loved Irish blessing.

TRADITIONAL IRISH BLESSING

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

BODY OF MY MOTHER

2011-04-15T01:18:00.004+12:00

BODY OF MY MOTHER

They laid you in an open coffin
Said its good to view the body
Helps you with your grief
Maori brother in law said it was unusual
To find Maori custom in a Pakeha way

As if seeing a ghost my son recoiled
When first he saw his Grandma lying there
New customs can take some time
To colonise the brain

Watching you from afar expecting you to rise
Like Lazarus from the dead
Once more you were the matriarchal centre
Holding those willingly within your orbit one
Last time but in no fit state
To take up your bed and walk

Moving closer I held your cold hands and kissed
Your forehead, but you were not there
This cast off shell, this husk,
This silent hollow bell was not you
Friend, you had gone: a voyage I could not follow

Tears, pain and loss do scar the grieving heart
But this witness brings a certainty
And leaving is a compass needle pointing to
Arrival on a new and different shore.

Later outside in the soft dark embrace of night
Under high stars I heard far off a Morepork call
Amongst the singing cicadas and waves lapping
On a beach so far away.

- Alden

Vinegar Hill Road

2011-04-14T10:21:00.007+12:00

The newly named Aquaplane Corner on Vinegar Hill Road

Vinegar Hill Road is a back road to my place of work that avoids the stop and start centre of town with its traffic lights. It is also shorter and has a lot less traffic driving on it. Last week while driving briskly to work I hit the brakes a bit too hard coming into this corner in wet weather and found the tail of the car lurching to the right (we drive on the left in New Zealand - our steering wheels are on the right hand side of the car) - I over corrected and the tail then lurched left; another correction and I was straddling the road with the front of the car almost in the hedge to the left of the picture. I am sure the brief quick pressure on the brakes got the car aquaplaning. The road has plenty of good coarse surface and the tyres on my car have good tread. Scary stuff indeed! Luckily nothing was coming the other way.

On Monday night of this week while driving home from school I nearly bowled a black cow that was standing in the middle of the road not far from where this photo was taken - Another teacher was right behind me and as I stopped I put my Hazard lights on to warn her. She told me the next day that she had an uneasy feeling when she left school and decided to follow me rather than go ahead of me in her car - she reckons she would have hit the silly black cow - but that's a questionable conclusion considering that she drives a lot slower than I do.

The next morning, Tuesday, as I turned into Vinegar Hill road I was stopped at a police road block and given a breathe test (good job I wasn't drinking before school!!! ). Of course I was in the clear, but I got to thinking how this road was becoming such an interesting part of my early morning drive.

Maybe next week I will be abducted by aliens who will investigate all my orifices and poke me with sharp implements and I will henceforth roam the world attending UFO conferences enduring endless recovered memory hypnosis sessions and ranting somewhat.

Maybe I will crash through a hedge into the living room of a remote country cottage and find that Elvis is still alive and living in Hikurangi - Elvis will come out of retirement and we will make an album together called "Al and Elvis - Road Songs From Vinegar Hill", of course I will let him have a few solo spots on the album, that's only fair dos eh.

Maybe I will aquaplane again on this corner as I try to avoid a possum on the road just as the CEO of Porsche Italia comes driving towards me - he will of course be amazed at the skill of this aging Honda driver and I will be given a job testing cars at the Porsche factory in Italy (between driving formula one cars for them). It will of course be hard to leave New Zealand for an international career but the salary I will demand will be an offer I cannot refuse.

Anyway, today as I headed home listening to 'Coast Radio' which plays all the classic hits endlessly "without ever playing two advertisements in a row" I was thinking about Elvis when a large dog lept onto the road at the exact moment as Elvis's song "Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog" began playing --- and do you know, out of the corner of my eye I was sure I saw a dark haired man in a white sequined suit disappear through the trees towards an old cottage.

I know its hard to believe, but that last paragraph didn't actually happen - but it gives the story a nice symmetry don't you think?

.

A SMALL MODEL AND A POEM

2011-03-29T20:30:00.007+13:00

After my big rave about nautical authenticity I thought I might provide a photo of a little model I have. It only cost NZ$35. It was mass produced somewhere in South East Asia. I like it very much. Although it lacks the small detail of very expensive hand made models it expresses an over all character and form that is believable and charming. In fact I liked it so much that the next time I passed the shop I bought another one with a blue hull! - 'A bird in the hand might be worth two in the bush' as the saying goes, but believe me from my point of view a little model yacht in each hand is far better.

Here is a nice little poem by my old friend Pablo Neruda:

TIDES
.

I grew up drenched in natural waters
like the mollusk in the phosphorous sea.
In me the crusty salt resounded
and formed my singular skeleton.
How to explain - almost without
the blue and bitter rhythm of breathing,
one by one the waves repeated
what I sensed and trembled with
until salt and spray formed me:
the wave's rejection and desire,
the green rhythm which at its most secret
raised up a transparent tower.
It kept that secret and all at once
I felt that I was beating with it,
that my song was growing with the water.

.

MOVING JUST SO

2011-03-26T00:49:00.005+13:00

f you love something a lot, you get to know it in a deep, deep way. Your attention becomes undivided. You attend to and understand every little nuance, mannerism, detail and movement. I have often thought that the great Australian Aboriginal trackers must have a very great love of their physical environment to be able to notice so much, to be in tune with the very fabric of creation.

I have a great passion and love for sailing. For as long as I can remember I have always loved the way boats move - by boats I mean almost exclusively small yachts - sailing dinghies and small cruising yachts - and for as long as I can remember I have been irritated by the inauthentic way yachts and ships are sometimes portrayed. A case in point is the 'WestSail32' yacht in the film 'The Perfect Storm'. Its not so much the patently obvious fact that the yacht in the storm is being filmed in a huge Hollywood bathtub attended closely by huge wind machines. It's the fact that the yacht has far, far too much sail up in such a storm for it to be in any way believable. Most sails would have been been ripped to shreds at the point of action in the film or the yacht in such a wind with so much sail up would be sailing at a 45 degree angle. Another recent film 'Master and Commander' suffers the same lack of nautical authenticity - big models filmed in slow motion to aid the idea of big seas and cascading water starts off well, but a huge square rigger standing upright with that amount of sail up in what appears to be a Hurricane? I don't think so.

Model yachts also walk the gauntlet of my self appointed scrutiny. You would think that authenticity increases with price with items such as these but in my experience this is not always the case. I have a number of small model yachts that didn't cost a lot of money and although not replicating exactly the small fine details of equipment and rigging, they are sufficiently authentic in their overall form and character to be a delight to look at - its somewhat like good portraiture, a portrait isn't a photograph, but it has sufficient likeness to be believable.

Paintings of boats sailing can also be problematic for an aficionado like me with my exacting self opinionated standards. Sometimes the effect is stilted and wooden - for there is a way that a small yacht moves through the water - and it moves - well it moves, just so - and for those that know and look and love (we are the few rather than the many) we are like aboriginal trackers, immersed in our beloved world with a heightened sensibility to the bits that are out of place.

The painting above is of a small yacht famous in the annals of small boat literature. She is the little 18 foot yacht Sopranino, famous for a wonderful, adventurous trans Atlantic crossing in the 1950s from England to the USA.
Here she is running free in mid Atlantic, the traditional twin spinnakers used by cruising yachtsmen setting well in the fresh following breeze. As she comes off the large ocean swell she dips her bow down almost to deck level, and in a few seconds the buoyancy of her fulsome bow will have her scudding down the face of this big lazy Atlantic roller - she is moving well here, she is always vulnerable in such a sea, but she is capable and brave - and she loyally forges ahead as she moves - just so, just so, just so.

SERIOUS FUN

2011-03-25T14:28:00.014+13:00

Not withstanding the warm tropical cyclone that is bearing down on Northland New Zealand today and the humidity of the last few days, the water temperature has dropped, Autumn is here and the swimming season is over at my school.
The annual closure ceremony for our pool was held today. This consists of emptying a large amount of water out of the pool.

So........ this is how you half empty a large school swimming pool Kiwi Style:

1 - Fill your swimming pool with an appropriate number of enthusiastic children.

2 - Choose an enthusiastic teacher to coordinate the fun.

3 - Allow the audience to get close to the action - Wet shoes are not a problem here at my school as most children come to school in bare feet.

4 - Direct the children to move in unison backwards and forwards in the pool.

5 - Observe the second law of thermodynamics in action, which states that "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction" ----- translated into this context this means "If you get heaps of Kiwi kids in a pool and run them backwards and forwards, tons of water will slurp over the ends of the pool and everyone will whoop and scream with delight."

6 - Close observation is being made here of secondary effects such as the grass at the end of the pool getting a much needed watering and the capture of the child in the pool by the big slurpy wave. Much to the huge disappointment of everyone attending the child wasn't washed out of the pool.

If you look closely you can see that the water level in the pool has been substantially reduced.
This is a very good thing to happen to pools at the end of the swimming season. Don't ask me why this is so because I don't know. Nobody I asked knew. Nobody wanted to know. It seemed to be one of those things that "just is" - It 'just is" good for the pool to be emptied at the end of the season.

Of course the reason for half emptying the pool at the end of the season is patently obvious - The pool gets half emptied at the end of the season because its simply such fantastically great, surging, slurping, wave cresting, whooping, hooting, wet, noisy fun to do so!

And having fun is good. Very, very good.

HIGH COUNTRY WEATHER

2011-03-24T21:41:00.002+13:00

HIGH COUNTRY WEATHER

Alone we are born
And die alone;
Yet see the red - gold cirrus
Over snow - mountain shine.

Upon the upland road
Ride easy, stranger:
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.

- James K Baxter

A SUMMER WEDDING

2011-03-24T15:07:00.011+13:00

A SUMMER WEDDING

The Marriage Of Our Daughter Charlotte Smith To Nathan Hawkins At Whangarei, Northland, New Zealand - March 2011

"I would like to begin by welcoming everyone and thanking you all for coming to Whangarei to celebrate this very happy and special occasion with us – Welcome to you all – both those who live relatively close by, and those who have travelled from the other side of the world to be here.

As well I would like to also begin by thanking everyone who has been involved in the wedding preparations for making this such a beautiful and successful day – your help is noted and much appreciated. I would also like to give a special thank you to Christine for all her organization, common sense and the planning that she has put into our daughters wedding.

This is indeed a special occasion. Charlotte is our only daughter and I have to say how proud I am and how full my heart is to see her look so stunningly beautiful and radiant as she travels through one of life’s great transitions and embarks on one of life’s great voyages.

Charlotte has of course been ably assisted by her bridesmaids, who are today a picture of beauty and sophistication. All these lovely bridesmaids are cherished friends who have been steadfast in their support of Charlotte – they all spent last night together at the marriage venue in one of the visitors Chalets and I know that Charlotte was very appreciative of their support.

As for the blokes? They look as though they have scrubbed up quite well too.

Let me tell you a little bit about our daughter.

Charlotte has come a long way from that little Tomboy with the pudding bowl haircut wearing her older brothers track pants who had to be on occasion bribed by her mother to wear a dress – What a metamorphosis! From a ragamuffin tearaway on a trike to a beautiful, poised, elegant young woman wearing a couture wedding gown – Charlotte – Christine and I are so very, very, proud of you.

When I think of Charlotte I am aware of three golden threads that shine within the tapestry of her life.

The first is her sociability. She has a gift for making friends and being involved with people. Charlotte has always been a popular girl with a great circle of good friends, old and new.

I remember how Christine once told me with pride that one of Charlotte's Whangarei Girls High School teachers told of how when situations got out of hand with cattiness or relationship issues with the girls, Charlotte was always a voice of reason and common sense – Charlotte was valued for usually being able to hold herself above these situations, see the bigger context, thus using wisdom and leadership.

The second thread is her love of performing.

This love developed early at primary school where there were opportunities for her to develop her love of singing and performing – Many a time I remember her telling us breathlessly that she had to go early to school because the stars within the singing troupe – the much lauded microphone singers were having a special practise – Many a time I remember Charlotte closeted with her CD or DVD player singing along with great gusto to Celine Dion or Mariah Carey – the walls of the bedroom quaking to the beat - Charlotte took to all this singing and performing like a duck to water – It definitely was her forte and she loved it – and she went on to perform and sing on stage publicly, including in later years leading the worship of her church for a number of years.

The third thread in this tapestry is the spiritual walk she embarked on long ago. Her love of her faith and her church involvement have been constants in her life. They have provided a context for her sociability and musical gifts. It is something that has shaped her and from which she draws great strength. Most importantly it is within its values that she finds meaning for her life.

It was through this involvement with her church that she met Nathan.

Charlotte and Nathan have known each other for about 5 years.

During that time they have flatted together, been overseas together and run a business together.

I think that from the very beginning Nathan was convinced that Charlotte was the one for him. He has been pretty steadfast and faithful in that view.

I know that Charlotte has been a little more circumspect in all this. She has wisely exercised that wonderful shaper of human civilization called “A woman’s prerogative” and has wisely watched carefully for signs of whatever women demand signs of.

The result has been that Nathan has had to slay a large number of metaphorical dragons, had to crawl on his hands and knees through ice and snow with dozens of red roses clenched in his teeth and has had on occasion had to rescue Charlotte from various castles throughout the land.

Moreover he has had to endure deep theological, political and worldview debates with his prospective father in law and has shown damn good common sense by agreeing with me.

Nathan, you have shown great tenacity and great love. You bring your own gifts and talents to this partnership. We entrust our daughter to you with our love. Love her, treasure her and cherish her, as she will you – that is as it should be.

Charlotte and Nathan, as this days exciting journey ends – you begin another, bigger journey together. You are now embarking on a life together. We wish you both every success, every happiness and much love.

Would you please charge your glasses and stand and drink a toast to Charlotte and Nathan."

..... so said the father of the Bride.

THE RETURN

2011-03-24T01:44:00.002+13:00

THE RETURN - James K Baxter

Came to the rock, asking forgiveness,
To humpbacked roads and the piddling schoolhouse
Where children hammered asphalt into holes.
Venus with her thunder slept
On tired dunes, in grey maternal
Macrocarpa branches. Rigid Mars,
Demon of the middle earth, leprous
Chewer of continents, was a boy tumbling
In a ditch with a bloody nose.
Came, how late and strange, to childhood's rock
Sealed against the comer,
Where once was unequivocal peace or pain.
Nostalgia, more precise than hope,
Washed granules of bright quartz
From layered seastone, honoured
The foul river, oared by ducks, flowing
From inexhaustible springs. Came
To cold farms, banks of seaweed
Piled on the coast by a spring tide.

I have no skill to set down
The perils of a late journey
Made to get back a full sight of loss.
Many miles from here my youth died
In northern warrens, stifled by invisible
Cloths of delirium and habitual greed.
But here the stars that shine between our bones
Shine as if at the entrance to the maze
From which none walk alive, on mushroom rings
Darker green than the sheep-nibbled grass,
On foam -belts of the southern shore, houses
Where some still trim the wick,
At evening, of a kerosene lamp, and watch
For sons and fathers drowned on the drumming bar,
Delivered from a false season
To the natural winter of the heart
One may set foot with the full weight of man
On shell and stone and seabirds skeleton.

Cry The Beloved City

2011-02-28T16:51:00.004+13:00

Christchurch is where I grew up. It is my spiritual home. It is my Turangawaiwai - the place where I stand. The recent devastation breaks my heart. What can I say. Perhaps its too soon to say anything at all. Kia Kaha Christchurch and your people - stand strong.

.

Swimming Sports and Violin Bows

2011-02-26T22:01:00.012+13:00

Michael Houston is an excellent New Zealand concert pianist who has had a long and illustrious career. Many years ago I went to listen to him play in the Exhibition hall at 'Forum North', Whangarei s' very own multipurpose venue. I will never know why the concert was held in the Exhibition Hall, the floor of which is as flat as Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah. The Capitaine Bouganville Theatre which is very close within the same venue is a purpose built performance theatre where many fine musical performances have taken place.

The result of using the Exhibition hall was that when everyone sat down no one could see the players except for those in the audience in the first few rows of seating.

But when the performance began with great ravishing crescendos on the piano, the violins answered in unison to this provocation - and that unison became the spectacle - the top two thirds of a sea of violin bows suddenly made their appearance, changing altitude, angel and velocity like so many swarming northern swallows in a pre - migratory dance.
I well remember my reaction. I thought that for the price of the ticket I could have purchased a tape or CD of Michael Houstons' piano playing and listened to it add infinitum. I wasn't impressed at all.

The memory of that occasion welled up into my consciousness today as I thought of my schools recent swimming sports. The whole school sat at ground level while each class in turn performed or raced in the pool which is raised off the ground a meter or more. It had been raining and they were sitting on tarpaulins under big outdoor tent shelters. It was amazing how well behaved they were considering the fact that all they could see were furtive swimming arms being raised out of the water like so many uncoordinated violin bows. Even when they all stood up it was only the front rows that were able to get a good view of the swimming. But they all yelled and cheered and generally had a good time - Similar situations, different reactions.

TERRA INCOGNITA

2010-08-03T22:44:00.002+12:00

TERRA INCOGNITA - D. H. Lawrence

There are vast realms of consciousness still undreamed of
vast range of experience, like the humming of unseen harps,
we know nothing of, within us.

Oh when man escaped from the barbed-wire entanglement
of his own ideas and his own mechanical devices
there is a marvellous rich world of contact and sheer fluid beauty

and fearless face - to - face awareness of now - naked life
and me, and you, and other men and women
and grapes, and ghouls, and ghosts and green moonlight
and ruddy - orange limbs stirring the limbo
of the unknown air, and eyes so soft
softer than the space between the stars.
And all things, and nothing, and being and not being
alternately palpitate,
when at last we escape the barbed - wire enclosure
of Know - Thyself, knowing we can never know,
we can but touch, and wonder, and ponder, and make our effort
and dangle in a last fastidious fine delight
as the fushsia does, dangling her reckless drop
of purple after so much putting forth
and slow mounting marvel of a little tree

.

Sometimes It Pays To Be Explicit

2010-05-24T16:51:00.005+12:00

At the top of this page there is a statement that declares - "My behaviour in front of relievers needs to improve." Below this statement is another that declares - "I must not slap other children." - Let me explain:

Today I went relief teaching in a local primary school. This piece of paper was blue tacked onto the whiteboard in the staff room. The paper had its genesis as a result of an altercation the previous day. A child had slapped another child during class time when a relieving teacher had been in the room. The child was sent to the Principal. The child was given a piece of paper by the Principal who said - " Your behaviour in front of relievers needs to improve!! I have written down here on this paper exactly what you must not do in future!! Now write me a page of lines!!

That's exactly what the obedient child did. He wrote a page of lines - and personally I can't fault them. There has been no attempt to avoid the punishment. Every horizontal line on the page is filled with little vertical lines.They are reasonably straight lines, well spaced and legible. One could not mistake them for anything other than..... well....... lines.

Meaning is implicit as well as explicit. Sometimes it pays to be very explicit indeed.

What Are You Grateful For ?

2010-05-22T17:30:00.019+12:00

The local Whangarei Museum is currently showing a travelling exhibition from the Anne Frank museum in Amsterdam. I found viewing this exhibition a deeply moving experience.

The exhibition is in the form of 10 adjoining panels that contain a time line and photographs. The panels begin with the birth of Anne Frank and end with the death of her father who survived the war and died in 1980. The time line weaves together the Frank family history with the wider historical events leading up to and including World War Two. I was informed as I silently read of the impact on the Frank family and all European Jews at that time. It made for harrowing reading. There is no sound track. I stood and moved slowly and silently with other witnesses in the room. The facts of this barbarity are not new to me, but the impact of the facts does not lessen on a revisiting. It became a sombre walk as I read my way slowly along the panels.

There were lots of photographs, some taken in the carefree days in Germany, others taken in The Netherlands where they had fled to. I thought this one was the cutest and the most endearing. It shows a young Anne outside her fathers place of work in Amsterdam. She is checking her watch.
The Nazis sent little girls like this to the gas chambers all over Europe. Its beyond belief really.

This photograph was taken circa 1935 which makes it nearly 80 years old. From time to time I see very old photographs like this. They are taken in bright sunlight, usually with the sun at the photographers back. The shadows are sharp and the image is crisp - so much so that it seems as though the photo was taken yesterday. For me this creates a special poignancy that reaches out, calling and echoing across the years. Despite the unfolding tragedy of what I was reading I couldn't help but look and smile at this image. One day I hope to go back to The Netherlands and visit the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam.

This display was at the exit to the museum. It asks a question. It sounded slightly like a challenge in light of what had just been viewed. If this question was the name of a song on one side of a old styled vinyl record, the other side may well have said, "Count Your Blessings".

It's a very good question - What are you grateful for?

Physically separate in another part of the museum but part of this exhibition, there was a video to watch. Two survivors of the concentration camps were interviewed about their experiences. One of them quoted the English philosopher Edmund Burke who said, "The only thing necessary for the triumph [of evil] is for good men to do nothing."

It is those who did something that I am grateful for in this context - good men and women helped and hid, at the risk of their own and their families lives, those fleeing from the Nazi terror. The outcome for the Frank family was a bitter one with only the father Otto Frank surviving. But for many in a Europe on the brink of a new dark age, the courage of those prepared to do something rather than nothing, was the difference between life and death. It is this spirit and this imperative that lives on. That is something that we can all be grateful for.

.

Transcendent

2010-05-17T23:34:00.006+12:00

Transcendent Light - Painting by Michael Callihan

A very old memory welled up from my subconscious today. It was a memory of a documentary filmed in a hospital ward in England. In one room of the orthopedic ward of the hospital were a number of men with broken limbs. One of the men was a Japanese tourist who had broken his leg. One of the Englishmen, despite the language difficulties struck up a great relationship with the Japanese man. There was a chemistry between them – there was much laughter, bonhomie, fellowship, caring and the swapping of family photographs. The whole room full of patients attended court to this relationship which dominated the social dynamic of the room.
One day the Japanese man got on his crutches, said goodbye and left. The documentary showed how over the next week the social dynamic in the room changed. Those on the periphery now asserted themselves. Those who had been in the limelight now took a different place in the scheme of things. It was a story about change. It was very interesting and intriguing.

Last year I retired from teaching but like many before me I have gone back occasionally to do relieving teaching. It is all care and no responsibly and very enjoyable. Many of my relieving days have been in my old school.
Since I have retired there has been a bit of an exodus from the school. My old Principal has retired as have other teaching colleagues who like me spent many years at the school.
My old school now has a brand new Principal. There are other newly appointed members of staff. It is a mixture of old and new, and yes, it is interesting and intriguing to observe how the dynamics have changed.

Some of my colleagues who in the past I may have crossed swords with have mellowed somewhat towards me and view me a bit like an old familiar shaggy dog who you pat on the head. To others I appear as a sort of much loved old mascot like a teddy bear. Some have found a new alliance with me within the great changes that a new administration broom brings. For better or worse I am part of their past, I share an institutional memory with them …. Do you remember when?........ and as I observe what is going on in my old school I see, as in the hospital documentary – those on the periphery now asserting themselves, those who had been in the limelight now taking a different place in the scheme of things – it is very interesting and intriguing.

When I look back over the years at that school I can remember the whole spectrum of emotional feeling regarding my experiences there – moments of creativity, frustration, accomplishment, disappointment, anger, loss, genuine happiness and much more. To look back is to feel nostalgia, happiness and a bittersweet quality that comes from the realization that our lives and the contexts we live them in are constantly changing.

The Buddhists call this concept of change the “Dukkha or difficulties caused by changing circumstances” which is linked to the First Noble Truth i.e. Life is difficult.

The Buddhist response to the First Noble Truth is to become liberated from difficulty by leading a compassionate life of virtue, wisdom and meditation.

I feel the Buddhist response is entirely sane but I also sense that the every day difficulties and the big life changes contribute towards forging something valuable - Something of value that doesn’t require transcending. Somehow whatever is being forged in the human spirit is part of something much bigger than ourselves and that something has a transcendental quality about it

.

"Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More ......." ..........Until We Finnish.

2010-05-09T17:56:00.016+12:00

I told myself that I would not do this, I promised I would give myself a long, long, long, break from teaching but within a month I had been rung up and asked to help out for a day at my old school - so I went. I took along my trusty guitar, my song charts and really, really, really enjoyed myself.

Since then I have relieved around the town in a number of schools and enjoyed myself immensely.

I am told that being a grandparent is "all care and no responsibility." I am not a grand parent yet but that term could well apply to relief teaching. You walk in, teach, and walk out again at the end of the day and leave, really leave everything, except the joy of the day, at the school - the baggage stays behind.

Its a sad commentary on, but enlightening as well, to feel that freed from the worries of a vastly overloaded curriculum, perpetual compliance testing and the internal school politics distorted by stress and worry there is time to connect - I like that word - Connect! in an authentic way with children and their learning - Its been a time to smell the communication roses, to see, feel, hear and interact with childrens smiles, laughter and intelligence - To wonder at that uninhibited rising sap of enthusiasm that is the lifeforce that drives growing lives.

Retiring from it all has also been a time to reflect and read a little about the direction of New Zealand schools. We do some things well, but in terms of some of the changes that are presently being wrought it seems to me that we have lost our direction - We should start looking at the compass again. The compass points to the empirical data, not anecdotal evidence or the whimsy of totally ignorant and misinformed politicians.
What does the data tell us? Well, the country that tops the charts educationally is Finland. Since the Program for International Student Assessment (PISA) began in 2000, Finnish students have ranked at or very near the top in science, maths and reading. Their high performance has seen educators and policymakers from around the world including NZ flock to Finland to learn more.

What they find is a Primary School system with a number of features. New Zealand schools share hardly any of these features, neither do any other schools that have been influenced by the neo liberal policies of the 1980s and 1990s. Policies that turned to market driven educational reforms - more testing, greater accountability on teachers, increased competition etc.

In Finland:
-All children start school in August of the year they turn seven.
-Class sizes are around 20.
-NO nationalised standards or testing, although teachers
use a range of everyday assessment tools for student learning.
-A high level of teacher autonomy. NO national school
inspection or review process. Municipipalities govern and
monitor local schools.
-The teaching profession is highly valued in Finnish society.
Only one in seven applications for teacher training are accepted.
-Teacher education is research based and to high academic
standards. Students graduate with a five year masters degree, and there's no probationary period.
-The school day starts at 8.30am and finishes around 1.30pm.
-Relatively few teacher staff meetings.
-All students provided with a hot meal daily, free health and
dental care, and all learning materials.
-All students receive the same comprehensive schooling for
the first nine years.
-Finnish teachers are held in such high regard
(because they and the system deliver) they top polls of the
most respected profession.

As our new and very stupid government (You know, the ones who want to rip the guts out of our national parks by mining them) embarks on a system of national testing and national standards (against all the international evidence and advice) - they need to listen to the advice and good will of the teaching profession, international experience, international educational advice - those who have the real interests of kids and their learning at heart, not misinformed populist policies.

Food for thought.

.

Listen To The Cree

2010-04-26T22:04:00.008+12:00

Great Barrier Island New Zealand

The recently elected New Zealand Government is going ahead with a number of initiatives which I really don't like, but let me concentrate on one of their dumbest ideas.

One of the most idiotic ideas that anyone has proposed for years has been announced.
There is a proposal to take land off the schedule four list. Land on the schedule four list is land that is crown land within our National Parks. In tandem with this proposal is to fund a multimillion dollar investigation into a cost benefit analysis of MINING land within New Zealands National Parks. The areas being investigated are on Great Barrier Island, The Coromandel Peninsula and areas within our national parks in the South Island of NZ. Of course this will do nothing for New Zealands clean green image and many are saying that damaging our image will damage our tourism industry and 'Brand NZ' (whatever that money making dipstick factoid means) - Of course they are going to have a fight on their hands over this one.

The rationale for mining by this mammon worshipping government is that the benefits will increase the net worth of everyone and help us catch up economically with Australia which relies pretty much on being an open cast mine for much of its wealth - and if we have to rip the guts out of our National Parks to be like them - well, so be it. It makes me want to weep.

But! will mining our National Parks actually achieve this economic goal?
I recently read an article by Professor Bryan Gould, Vice-Chancellor, University of Waikato, New Zealand. He pointed out that countries that come across vast wealth may not in the long run reap the benefits that they envisioned unless they are very aware of some of the economic impacts this wealth has on an economy. He talked about an impact that happened in the UK and in Europe which is termed the 'Dutch Disease'.........

........The de-industrialization of a nation's economy that occurs when the discovery of a natural resource raises the value of that nation's currency, making manufactured goods less competitive with other nations, increasing imports and decreasing exports. The term originated in Holland after the discovery of North Sea gas. It is well documented that this happened in Britain which closed a lot of its manufacturing base because of the effect of oil riches on the British currency.

Apparently because of this effect the only country to benefit from North Sea oil in the long run has been the Norwegians who were able to 'ring fence' the riches from the oil and invest it on Norways behalf and keep that money from influencing Norway's currency. Britain and other European countries apparently have endured this Dutch Disease effect to the extent of having a nil gain overall economically. But surely these Norwegian riches were only able to be gathered because the mining company was owned by Norway? The move here is to open mining up to mulitnational companies with 95% of the profits going to overseas investors. Where is the wealth for New Zealand in all of this? - the jobs and infrastructure that come with this mining despoilation of our environment will only be transitory.

But putting aside economic arguments aren't there greater values at stake here? Values that are mistaken for intangible values when in fact they are very tangible - Values of the spirit. Values to do with our humanity. Values which honour our natural world, a world on which we all ultimately depend as a species for our very survival ?

I read something on a poster a few weeks ago that sums up in a more succinct way what I am trying to say here. It is an old Cree Indian Prophecy:

"Only after the last tree has been cut down,
Only after the last river has been poisoned,
Only after the last fish has been caught,
Only then will you find that money cannot be eaten.

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Attitude

2010-04-22T21:55:00.004+12:00

" We who lived in the concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: The last of his freedoms - to choose ones attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose ones own way".

- Victor E Frankl - 'Mans Search For Meaning.

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"The Coin That Pays For Ecstasy......."

2010-04-20T17:31:00.006+12:00

A highly intelligent and insightful friend sent me an email with this quote at the end.

"The coin that pays for ecstasy is always stamped despair. One cannot love empathetically until one wanders there."

- Jane Krainin - Dictated right before she died of ALS

I asked my friend what she thought this quote meant and she replied -

How can we know joy without an understanding of pain and sorrow?
I think Krainin was saying that what we experience teaches us to understand and love others from a position of empathy for their feelings of pain, and of joy, and that there is a cost attached to that understanding. I had a friend once who survived ALS (only 5% of people who get it do), and she was very philosophical about her condition. She was in a wheelchair, but lived alone, a remarkable woman, who once said to me that she had learned so much about life, and God, and people that she wouldn't exchange that chair for anything. She ultimately died of cancer, but not before she helped a lot of people with ALS.What do you think?

What do I think? - Well a few weeks ago I was walking along one of Northlands beautiful and pristine beaches and saw this signpost in the sand. A signpost with no message. I think that Jane Krainins quote and my friends explanation should be written on the signpost for all to see and read.

Thank you my friend, because your insight goes some way to helping me with that old raw theological callus which C S Lewis tried to deal with in a book titled - "The Problem of Pain." Your explanation has increased the displacement of some of the partial answers I have struggled to find. Thank you.

A Crucial Test

2010-04-18T15:42:00.007+12:00

"Never trust a man, who when left alone in a room with a tea cosy doesn't try it on."

Billy Connolly

Cycling In Holland

2010-04-08T17:29:00.011+12:00

Many of the dear readers of this eclectic blog will remember that last year I did some cycle touring in The Netherlands, a country that is now dear to my heart. I often Google about Holland as I continue to expand my knowledge of this extremely interesting country and its people. Most of the text that you read below is from a internet site about cycling in Holland. It explains why cycling is so popular there - but does not mention one of the most decisive reasons - which I have added at the end. The site show a video giving an example of how common cycling is in Holland. Apparantely, it was -2 degrees when this video was taken. In the winter months cycle rates can fall to as low as 95% of all children arriving by bike.
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When you look at the infrastructure of cycling in Holland you can see why cycling is so popular.
Cycle paths are wide, well maintained and numerous. Cyclists get preference at many lights and paths often go underneath. There is plentiful cycle parking. For example, a secondary school in Assen has 725 students and 850 cycle parking spaces. (just imagine the space for 850 cars)Motorists expect cyclists and road planners design city centres with pedestrians and cyclists in mind
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Cycling Statistics
In the Netherlands 27% of all trips are made by bike, compared to
UK 1.3%
US 0.9%
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The average distance cycled per person is
Netherland 2.5 km,
UK 0.2Km,
US 0.1Km
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Women’s Share of Cycling
Netherland 55% of all cycle distance travelled by women
UK 29%
US 25%
Australia 21%
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Cyclists Injured per 10 million Km
US 35
UK 6
Netherlands 1.4
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Why Is Cycling So Popular in Netherlands?:
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Extensive systems of separate cycling facilities:
• Well-maintained, fully integrated paths, lanes and special bicycle streets in cities and surroundingregions
• Fully coordinated system of colour-coded directional signs for bicyclists• Off-street short-cuts, such as mid-block connections and passages through dead-ends for cars
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Intersection modifications and priority traffic signals:
• Advance green lights for cyclists at most intersections
• Advanced cyclist waiting positions (ahead of cars) fed by special bike lanes facilitate safer andquicker crossings and turns
• Cyclist short-cuts to make right-hand turns before intersections and exemption from red trafficsignals at T-intersections, thus increasing cyclist speed and safety
• Bike paths turn into brightly coloured bike lanes when crossing intersections
• Traffic signals are synchronized at cyclist speeds assuring consecutive green lights for cyclists(green wave)
• Bollards with flashing lights along bike routes signal cyclists the right speed to reach the next intersection at a green light
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Traffic calming
• Traffic calming of all residential neighbourhoods via speed limit (30 km/hr) and physical infrastructure deterrents for cars
• Bicycle streets, narrow roads where bikes have absolute priority over cars
• ‘Home Zones’ with 7 km/hr speed limit, where cars must yield to pedestrians and cyclists using the road
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Bike parking
• Large supply of good bike parking throughout the city
• Improved lighting and security of bike parking facilities often featuring guards, video-surveillanceand priority parking for womenCoordination with public transport
• Extensive bike parking at all metro, suburban and regional train stations
• ‘Call a Bike’ programmes: bikes can be rented by cell phone at transit stops, paid for by the minuteand left at any busy intersection in the city
• Bike rentals at most train stations
• Deluxe bike parking garages at some train stations, with video-surveillance, special lighting, music, repair services and bike rentalsTraffic education and training
• Comprehensive cycling training courses for virtually all school children with test by traffic police • Special cycling training test tracks for children
• Stringent training of motorists to respect pedestrians and cyclists and avoid hitting them
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Traffic laws
• Special legal protection for children and elderly cyclists
• Motorists assumed by law to be responsible for almost all crashes with cyclists• Strict enforcement of cyclist rights by police and courts.
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But the one thing they forgot to tell is that one of the main reasons why cycling is so popular in The Netherlands and so easy to do is because:
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THE COUNTRY IS AS VLAK AS A GROOT PANCAKE!

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The Vision of a Child

2010-04-07T16:31:00.023+12:00

"Don't touch very secret latest plans Space Ship Book PETER SMITH (Standard) 4 Browns Bay." - This is a book that was created over 55 years ago by my late brother Peter. Peter always said that it was he who invented the landing procedures for space ships by using the main rocket engine to facilitate a smooth landing - and that he had the plans to prove it. Come on this short little visual journey with me and I show you that he was a visionary not just concerning the landing of the 'Eagle' on the moon in 1969.

This rocket is obviously landing as it has its tripod landing undercarriage deployed. The main rocket is being used to slow the rockets landing - yes, I hear you whisper the words 'empirical evidence' under your breathe and yes, NASA owes him big time. US dollars to the Smith Family Trust headed by Moi, will do just fine.

"Bottom can turn around to any angle" - are the visionary words written at the top of this design page. Yes, exactly! you are thinking "British Navy Harrier Jump Jet" aren't you. And indeed the Harrier vertical take off jet uses the principal of altering the direction of the engines thrust to take off and land vertically. - Again - case proven. RAF - British Pounds Stirling are quite bankable in New Zealand, so bite you stiff upper lip and cough up.

Yes, exactly! I know what you are thinking! Yes, and yes again!- this is "Proto Enterprise" it is from this original concept that the Starship 'Enterprise' was created for the long running television series 'StarTrek' All that the producers and directors have done to this image is shift the large dish from the middle to the front of the spaceship.
Again, substantial royalties are due. Of course a slight royalty reduction of 1% could be obtained by offering me top billing movie roles - Perhaps "Mamma Mia Two" or a starring lead with Brad Pitt and Pierce Brosnahan in minor support roles.

Look familiar? A childrens toy called a "Transformer" ? Welcome to Litigation City all you toy companies. But wait! there is something else - if you look closely you will see in the body of the robot there are food storage rooms - Exactly - A visionary prediction of the merging of the biological and mechanical - you are looking at Protobiologicaltechnoroboticus him/herself.

Shape seem familiar? Yes bingo! you are right, its not the shape of a WW2 Uboat, its the shape of a modern nuclear submarine - Navies of the world, open up your wallets.

It took me a while to work this one out, but with the help of a linguist I was able to translate from the original Martian into English the words "Martian Saucer". Does this provide A posteriori evidence that Peter had contact with beings from another world? Hmmm, well maybe, but my lips are sealed to all low bidders.
This is evidence of the scope of Peters visionary imagination. Within his book I found this bubble gum wrapper firmly glued. Being a commercial product it has obviously been produced by an adult graphic artist. But what can we make of its vision? - could this be a metaphor for subsequent email?? Nah!!! - its visionless graphic gobbledegook! By comparison, such awkward, clunky ideas highlight how well Peter had come to grips with the true nature of his cosmic vision.
Yes, your are right, this is something you have never seen before. It is a "Martian Flying Crab" - This idea goes far into the future of space exploration. It is an idea whose day will come far into our dreaming futures.
Someday on the cusp of great intergalatic events we might all be truely thankful to have by our sides one or more Martian Flying Crabs.

Precious Signatures

2010-04-05T14:36:00.018+12:00

About fifteen years ago a friend of mine was killed in a car accident. I saw her leave school on a Friday and she was hit by a drunken driver that evening as she drove into town to pick up her son. She was a much loved teacher and a dear friend and colleague. Bonds are formed with the people you work with. It wasn't a bond where we tripped the light fantastic together, rather it was the bond that is formed from honest work and the trench warfare of the politics of teaching. She was like a sister and a comrade in arms - many a time we rammed home powder and shot together into the idealistic barrels of our shotguns and fired both barrels in unison.

A few months after her death I came across a brown manila folder of hers. Inside the folder was a recently completed Reading Recovery analysis report on a child. I turned the page over and saw the impression of her writing on the blank side. Her signature was at the bottom of the page. At the end of her signature there was a small blob of ink from the ball point pen. It looked so fresh to me that it seemed as though she had written it that morning.
It wasn't a poignant moment. I didn't cry, I had done my grieving previously - it was more of a sharp realisation that our grip on life is tenuous and as thin as the thickness of the piece of paper that I held in my hand - somehow the immediacy of her signature had been the catalyst in bringing about that realisation.

I was reminded of all the above that I have written when yesterday I came across another signature within another story - let me explain:

In 1945 my Uncle Pat and another Government deer culler were drowned in the Haast river in South Westland New Zealand. He was the third of five brothers, my father being the fourth. He was a strong, handsome and very popular young man in his early twenties. As often happens the family never quite got over the death and not a lot was spoken about it by my father.
Recently on a trip to the Molesworth station in the South Island of New Zealand (see previous blog post) my brother Christopher and I got to talking about it. We both had different bits of conflicting information regarding which river the drowning took place in. When we met up later with our older brother Tony, he had the name of yet another river.
To try to sort it out, in the last couple of days I have been Googling and looking for information. Yesterday I came up with something that stopped me in my tracks. It was an assessment document completed for the Historic Places Trust concerning an old deer stalkers and road constructors workers hut close to the Haast River on the West Coast of the South Island.

http://www.doc.govt.nz/upload/documents/conservation/historic/by-region/west-coast/landsborough%20rangers%20hut/landsborough-rangers-hut-heritage-assessment-p21-42.pdf

The document has a number of photographs attached which are not only of historic interest, but of great personal interest to me and my family.
The photograph that stopped me in my tracks is the one shown above. In this photograph is the name of our Uncle Patrick written by his own hand on a rafter of the hut. This is what it says:

Patrick R Smith
450 Avonside Drive
Christchurch
Govt Deer Shooter

Off on the right hand side someone has written Drowned Burke.
A footnote in the text refers to the drowning as happening in the Haast / Burke - which I take to be the junction of another river.

When I rang my brother Christopher to tell him this he pulled out an old set of maps of various areas in the South Island that have been printed on cotton fabric, which used to belong to our Uncle Patrick and said excitedly "The signature written on the top of this map is exactly the same as the one in the photograph".
So the name of the river has been solved. Also a new information lead has opened up. Another footnote in the document refers to a book written by someone called Galbreath who mentions the drownings - so there is another lead for me to follow up regarding this tragic piece of family history.

When I look at that signature of my uncles that is now 65 years old, it reaches out to me with the same sort of fresh immediacy as the signature of my old teaching colleague. I feel a curious sense of continuity, of an abiding pattern within the shape of things. In a strange way this deep echo from a time before I was even born gives me a sense that all will be well.

When I make a pilgrimage to that hut, and look at that signature sometime soon, no doubt I will experience a new set of feelings as I look at that name and remember my uncle Patrick, my father, his immediate family and my old teaching friend.

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An Accidental Introduction To Video

2010-04-03T21:21:00.012+13:00

I can't believe I actually shot this video. I have only just found it downloaded with a whole lot of other photos in a folder on my computer. This video was taken by accident on the Cook Strait Ferry as we headed to the South Island and the Molesworth Station. The camera I have is new and I hadn't until recently used the video function. I do remember fiddling around wondering why the camera wouldn't click and holding the camera up trying to get a good shot of the yacht and mucking around with the dials - hence the shot of the water in the middle of the video. I am still somewhat at a loss to explain how in the circumstances the video image is so stable.

Today I spent some time trying out the video feature - And now, since I shall be posting home made videos on this Blog I might rename my BlogSpot - maybe call it something racy like the Roxy or the Lido, charge an entrance fee; sell ice creams, candyfloss, jaffas, etc at half time :-) ...... Half time at the movies!!!!!!!!!!! Boy I really am showing my age.

In fact there was a time when the picture theatre experience included a half time and took this format:

1 - All stand for the playing of "God save the Queen" (A youthful Queen shown riding a horse during the trooping of the colour at Buckingham Palace) - (counter cultural, anti-establishment types always sat for this).
2 - Travel features, Cartoons, Human interest stories, Newsreels shown.
3- Half time - The lights would come on for about 10 minutes. Children in white cotton coats would sell ice creams street vendor style from large boxes with glass sides. These were hung around their necks on a large strap.
4 - The main feature was shown.

* During the main feature, boredom, anarchy and /or lack of a proper upbringing was displayed by emptying packets of Jaffas, Snifters or other suitable sweets/lollies down the sloping wooden picture theatre floor - the percussive effect was always eclipsed by approving laughter.

Which in a roundabout way doesn't take us back to what I was talking about - Video.
But watch this space anyway. :>)

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HAIKU

2010-03-31T08:43:00.001+13:00

I got up very early this morning and went out to the letterbox to get the newpaper. As I turned to go back inside I saw this moon - hence the photograph.

I have two little books of Haiku. What strikes me about the Haiku I read in them is the great frequency in which the moon appears - this from a country (Japan) that has the rising sun on its national flag.

Haiku need to be read in a particular way - ".....For the Haiku does not make a complete poem in our usual sense; it is a lightly - sketched picture the reader is expected to fill in from his own memories. Often there are two pictures, and the reader is expected to respond with heightened awareness of the mystical relationship between non - related subjects."

EXPERIMENTING...

I HUNG THE MOON

ON VARIOUS

BRANCHES OF THE PINE

Hokushi

Nor'wester

2010-03-30T15:10:00.003+13:00

Nor'wester In The Cemetery - William A Sutton 1950

This painting by the Canterbury (New Zealand) artist Bill Sutton has become an iconic New Zealand image. The cemetery is a montage of a number of cemeteries around Christchurch.
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I remember growing up with this image and remember it especially when I was a Teachers Training College student doing Art as a major in my third year. This painting was in the permanent collection of the Robert McDougall Art Gallery and I made many trips there during those years.
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The painting is very large and very compelling to anyone who has grown up in Canterbury and knows the strength and power of a Canterbury Nor'wester - It is a hot and furious wind, full of passion and drive. It's a wind that you either have to embrace head on or go and hide from. It's a wind that takes no prisoners. To lean into this wind with arms outstretched is to ask Mr Issac Newton some very hard questions indeed. Nor'westers have a unique gravity of purpose all of their own.
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The Canterbury Nor'wester is part of a larger metrological three act drama.
It begins with what is called 'The Nor’west Arch' which is a band of high clouds which form an arch in the sky from one horizon to the next.
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Next comes the wind. Wet laden air from the Tasman Sea drops its moisture on the west side of the Southern Alps in torrents before screaming across the Canterbury Plains with a ferocity that can almost set your hair alight - ah, to sail a small yacht successfully in such a wind is to feel like a Viking or an old Cape Horner. Who would condemn a small boy from shouting, screaming and whooping down the sailing wind on a day like this? Who indeed would hear him?
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The finale is when the sideral fire of the hot nor'wester creates its opposite - The hot dry furnace wind, the hot dry plains create a gigantic vortex of hot rising air which sucks in from the south a southerly buster of cold air which arrives with its own set of atmospheric fireworks. Trundling up from the south comes a huge mass of grey clouds, often with towering anvil like features that reach the moon. Then with a sudden Blitzkrieg this southern monster is unleashed - the temperature plummets, anything not tied down that was spared by the nor'wester now becomes airborne and the wind and the rain envelope the land with such a ferocity you can hear old Noah chuckling.
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Many a time I watched all this through a rain lashed window with eyes shining because I knew; I knew it meant a backyard hugely flooded. It meant raincoats and gumboots and small homemade model boats sailing, and participation in the gumboot challenge i.e. - See how long you can keep the insides of your gumboots from being flooded - (world record about one and a half minutes).
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Here is what prompted this post about the Canterbury Nor'wester. It's a poem by Brian Turner:
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JUST THIS

Affecting without affectation, like the sere hills
then the early evening sky where Sirius dominates
for a time, then is joined by lesser lights,

stars indistinct as those seen through the canopies
of trees shaking in the wind. There's this wish
to feel part of something wholly explicable

and irreplaceable, something enduring
and wholesome that suppresses the urge to fight....
or is there? Ah, the cosmic questions

that keep on coming like shooting stars
and will, until, and then what? All I can say
is that for me nothing hurts more

than leaving and nothing less than coming home,
when a nor'wester's gusting in the pines
like operatic laughter, and the roadside grasses

are laced with the blue and orange and pink
of bugloss, poppies and yarrow, all of them
swishing, dancing, bending, as they do, as we do.

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Thoreau Would Have Approved

2010-03-29T14:42:00.005+13:00

BRONZE STATUE OF HENRY THOREAU OUTSIDE HIS CABIN
AT WALDEN POND, CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS, USA.

LIVE YOUR BEST LIFE
- By WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING

To live content with small means;

to seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion;

to be worthy, not respectable; and

wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think

quietly, talk gently, act frankly... to

listen to stars and buds, to babes and

sages, with open heart; await occasions,

hurry never... this is my symphony.

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Cold Duck And Subjective Experience

2010-03-27T20:35:00.005+13:00

There was an alcoholic beverage that for a brief period was very popular amongst High School and University students in New Zealand during the late 1960s, early 1970s. It was a sweet sparkling wine with the inexplicable name of “Cold Duck”. It was initially popular for one reason only – It was very cheap. It became very unpopular very quickly with many people when it was found that not only was Cold Duck cheap, but it was nasty as well. Some unkind people compared the taste to the dregs from a wine tasting spit bucket.

However this wine continued to make an appearance at parties and gatherings at the places I haunted during those years, its cheap and nasty persona vying no doubt with that notion that cheap and nasty can morph into affordable and mellow if you drink enough of it – As they say, “After the fourth glass who can tell what the forsooth it is and who forsoothing cares? ”

Today I purchased a March/April 2010 copy of the magazine Scientific American – Mind. On page 30 I read this:

“In 2008 Hilke Plassman, now associate professor of marketing at INSTEAD Business School near Paris, sneakily switched the price tags on bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. For some it was at $10, for others at $90.
Would the difference in price be reflected in a difference in taste? It sure would.
Volunteers rated the $90 bottle considerably more drinkable than the $10 bottle – even though both bottles, unbeknownst to them, contained exactly the same wine. And that wasn’t all. Subsequently, during a functional MRI scan Plassman found that this simple sleight of mind was actually reflected anatomically, in neural activity deep within the brain. Not only did the “cheaper” wine taste cheaper and the “dearer” one, well, dearer, the supposedly more expensive wine generated increased activation in the medial orbitofrontal cortex, the part of the brain that responds to pleasurable experiences.
Similar results have also been found with experts. In 2001 cognitive psychologist Frederic Brochet ………at the University of Bordeaux in France, took a midrange Bordeaux and served it in two different bottles. One was labeled as a splendid ‘Grand cru’ the other as a ‘Vin du table’
Would the wine buffs smell a rat? Not a chance. Despite the fact that, just as in the Plassman study, they were actually being served the same vintage, the experts appraised the different bottles differently. The ‘Grand cru’ was described as “agreeable, woody, complex, balanced and rounded,” whereas the ‘Vin du table’ was evaluated less salubriously – as “weak, short, light, flat, and faulty”

“So what ?” I hear you ask as you quaff your own version of Cold Duck or Grand Cru as you read my splendid and riveting Blogpost.

Well, it raises questions relating to subjectivity and objectivity.
If one can be persuaded (by the price, dining companions opinions, the wine waiter) that Cold Duck in a bottle with a $200 price tag is really worth that price and that if that worth is registered as delicious deep somewhere within ones brain, it begs the question as to what exactly is the relationship between subjective / objective reality / experience.

It also begs the question as to what might the wine connoisseurs opinion be of Cold Duck served up in a bottle with a serious sounding label such as Layfette Aldonis Vintage 1953.

Of course all of this sparks my entrepreneurial appetite, whets my international trading juices and my number 8 wire ‘Can Do’ Kiwi spirit. I have a plan. I will of course become a multimillionaire – Yes you guessed it – A few million bottles of Cold Duck – a few million empty bottles with expensive sounding labels and a bottling machine – don’t know why I didn’t forsoothing think of this sooner.
In no time at all I will have enough money to purchase the Heineken factory........ now there’s a drink the connoisseurs surely wouldn’t mistake amongst all the wine tasting.
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The Sublime And The Slightly Ridiculous

2010-03-16T00:26:00.010+13:00

Molesworth sheep station lies on a rough old secondary road that travels through high hills and mountains between Blenheim and Hamner Springs in a rugged area at the top of the South Island of New Zealand. The road is only open during the summer period for a few months. I explored this area a few months ago with my brother Christopher in his Camper Van. We not only drove through the main area from top to bottom and back again [The area that is accessible to all robust cars and camper vans (too rugged for caravans which are not allowed) ] but also drove a southern section of the road which is only possible by four wheel drive vehicle.

The landscape in this area is stark, rugged, beautiful and silent. The road winds its way through hills that change colour with the light - blues, purples and the mellow glow of golden tussock. The sky is very big and the stars at night look brand spanking new. River flats of waving tussock, braided rivers, hills almost like moonscapes come and go during the day. We stopped from time to time to look and to listen. The deep silence has its very own set of soft percussion instruments - the wind in the tussock, the sound of cicadas in the distance, the noise of a seed pod bursting somewhere. All kept in time to the beat of a relentless sun.

Two things can help to get close to something - time and contact. Driving through an area cocooned in a car is one kind of experience, we did this, but to get closer to this landscape we parked and camped at one end of the Molesworth Station at a Department of Conservation camping ground and spent a day cycling about 40km of the southern part of the road. The experience was sublime. It's that experience we have all had from time to time if we are wise. Its simply to go into an area of wilderness and take the time to look, listen and feel the scale of it all. This scale puts all sorts of things into perspective. I guess without wanting to get too carried away I would say that it was a sublime spiritual experience.

Of course while God (whatever the hell that word means) is making her presence known in impeccable ways. The humans in the landscape are doing what comes best - being slightly ridiculous - let me explain:

It would dovetail really well with my previous blog posting to tell you that ridiculous things happen to me in threes, but I would be telling a porky if I did. No, for me the number is always legion. But for reasons of symmetry and to guard my sensitive ego I shall only tell you about three of them.

One of the main attractions for me in doing this trip was that I would be able to bike through parts of it. I learnt a lot about the merits of cycling in The Netherlands - and the main point is that you really, really do interact in a much more exciting and personal way with the environment when you are truely close to it.
- Its the difference between winning your way to windward through spindrift towards a safe harbour on a beautiful little yacht called 'Crackling Rosie' as opposed to motoring there in an ugly fat launch called 'Fatmans Gin Palace' spewing diesel fumes everywhere - - So when it came time to put the quick release wheels back on the bikes and saddle up I was disappointed to find that a nut off the back axle was missing. The wheels had been stored in a cardboard box (with a large hole in the bottom) and had been loaded in and out of the back of the camper in various camp sites all the way from Auckland. To say that I was disappointed is well a bit of a porky - I was furious, and got angry - well angry as in throwing a mild tantrum, Ok, Ok, a fairly large tantrum, but being a sensitive new age guy I stopped as soon as Chris started to take a photograph of me.
I was pretty sure that for me the cycling was over before I had even begun. I couldn't see where we were going to get such a strange little nut with such a curious little thread. BUT find one we did - we took one of four nuts and bolts that held the carrier on the back and before you could say "Nick knack paddy whack adult tantrums are so immature and make you look and sound like a really sad bastard" my bike was ready to go. NOW here is the interesting bit. A couple of days later when we were parked up at a former place in a previous camping ground the axle nut with its little black plastic end was found by my brother, "Hey, he shouted, come and take a look at this! " - I held it in my fingers in disbelief - a nut, returned to a nut - how appropriate I thought.

The second and third interesting things happened to me at the southern Molesworth station camping ground. After a long day cycling I went down to the Clarence river for a much needed wash. I took with me a bottle of green Palmolive Dish Washing Liquid as we had both forgotten to bring any shampoo with us. I thought that if this stuff gets dirty dishes squeaky clean then it will do the same for my hair. I stripped naked and plunged into the icy snow fed Clarence river. It was invigorating and refreshing after having spent the day cycling in 30 degree heat - The Palmolive liquid didn't turn my hair green, in fact it worked a treat, and as I was plunging myself under and telling myself what a fine, intelligent and oh so adaptable fellow I was............

(Dish washing liquid! pah! when I am cycling the Gobi Desert I shall scrub myself with sand ! I am such a hardy and redoubtable character)

..............I felt something bite me very very hard on my right foot ---- Don't try and imagine this, protect yourself, pass over this bit quickly --- a slightly overweight white man runs stark naked, stumbling over slippery boulders, leaving a comet trail of white fluffy dish washing suds behind him... out of the river... a pretty sight? not at all, but I wish someone had had a camera, the photo would have looked really, really good alongside any of Lady Gagas' photos.
As I reached the river bank I turned and saw a large black eel swimming away. It had bitten me very hard and when I looked down at my foot it was bleeding. Later on I showed the wound to the DOC Ranger at the camping ground and he said, "Yes, thats an eel bite, see the pattern of the rows of teeth, lucky it didn't bite a chunk out of you."

That night I had a dream. I was on a large stage. The music was raging. Fireworks were going off in every direction. I was dancing with Lady Gaga, who I could see was outraged that my dancing was upstaging her. She was in a blue leotard - I was naked, limping and holding a nut in my hand.

--- None of thats true of course, I made the dream up - but it adds a nice end symmetry to the story don't you think :-)

One Plus One Plus One Equals Three

2010-03-12T21:23:00.009+13:00

This blog post has come about because I used an introductory line - 'There is an old adage that states: "Things usually come in threes" ' as I began to write a blog post about a recent trip to the South Island with my brother [Next blogpost folks]. I googled the adage and found the results so interesting that I am using what I found as a blog posting in its own right.

THINGS USUALLY COME IN THREES

3 Billy Goats Gruff
3 Coins in a Fountain

3 French Hens (song)

3 Days of the Condor
3 Alden look-a-likes if I had been born an identical triplet

3 Bones in the Human Ear

3 Miles in a League

3 Old King Cole's Fiddlers

3 Bronte sisters (Charlotte, Emily, Anne)

3 Goals in a Hat Trick (hockey)

3 Little Pigs

3 Bears in Goldilocks

3 Sheets to the Wind

3 Times a Lady

3 Minute Egg

3 Piece Suit

3 Feet in a Yard

3 Books in Lord of the Rings

3 Ring Circus

3 Ships of Christopher Columbus

3 Sheets to the Wind

3 Books in a Trilogy

3 Witches in Macbeth

3 Heads on the Dog Cerberus
3 is the number of times you need to tell Alden stuff to make it really sink into his thick head

3 Little Kittens They Lost Their Mittens

3 Wheels on a Tricycle

3 Stooges

3 Blind Mice

3 Wise Men

3 Legged Race

3 Ring Circus

3 Wheeler

3 Point Landing

3 Strikes & You're Out

3 Cornered Hat

3 Is A Crowd

3 Dimensional

3 Faces of Eve

3 Mile Island

3 Musketeers

3 R's

3rd time's a charm
3 Bee Gees

3 Branches of US Federal govt (RIP)

3 Sides of a triangle

3 Capitals of South Africa
3 legs on Aldens trousers when he wants to do a rendition of Rolf Harris's song "I'm Jake the Peg with An Extra leg, diddle, diddle, diddle dum" ( Its ANZAC cultural inhouse knowledge)

3 Races in the Triple Crown (horse racing)

3 Angles in a Triangle

3 Cousins of Donald Duck: Huey, Dewey and Louie

3 Dog Night

3 Ring Circus

3 Alous (Matty, Jesus and Felipe)

3 Kennedys (John, Robert and Teddy)

3 Trimesters in a Pregnancy

3 Flavors in Neapolitan Ice Cream

3 Bean Salad

3 To Get Ready (and four to go)

3 Stars in Orion’s belt

3 Parts To An Atom: protons, neutrons, and electrons.

3 Caloric Sources: Carbohydrates, Fats, Proteins

3 Quarks in a Baryon.

3 Primary hues in white light red, green, and blue.
3 is the number of classes of yachts Alden has owned, cruised and raced extensively - a 7 foot P Class, a 13 foot OK dinghy and a 30 foot Keeler - not a 3 hulled trimaran amongst them.

3 Parts to the Personality: Id. Ego, super-ego

3 Earth Divisions: Core, Mantle, Crust.

3 Rock Formations: Igneous- Metamorphic- Sedimentary.

3 Times A Lady

3 Bags Full in Baa Baa Black Sheep

3 Barleycorns in an Inch

3 Hands on a Clock (with the Seconds Hand)

3 Is a Crowd

3 King Lear's Daughters (Regan, Goneril and Cordelia)
3 is usually the number of wheels left on Aldens jacked up car as he changes a punctured tyre (he's no fool)

3 Colors in the Flag

3 Legged Race

3 Men and a Baby (movie)

3 Minute Egg

3 Card Monte

3 Great Pyramids at Giza

3 on a Match
3 legged race

3 Point Basket

3 Miles in a League

3 Men in a Tub Rub a Dub Dub

3 Holes in a Bowling Ball

3 Balls on a Pawn Brokers Sign

3 Colours in a Set of Traffic Lights

3 Lines in a Haiku Poem

3 Life lines in Who Wants to be a Millionaire

3 Leaves on a Shamrock

3 Minutes in a Boxing Round

3 Scruples in a Dram

3 Teaspoons in a Tablespoon

3 Valves on a Trumpet

3 Shakes of a Tail

3 Megajoules in a Kilowatt Hour

3 Laws of Motion

3 Legs on a Milking Stool

3 Monastic Vows (Poverty, Chastity and Obedience)

3 Points for a Field Goal in (American) Football

3 Penny Opera

3 Ring Circus

3 Wise Men, Casper, Melchior, Balthasar

3 Tenors (Carreras, Domingo, Pavarotti)

3 Gorgons (Medusa, Stheno and Euryale)

3 Greek Fates Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos

3 Roman Graces: Aglaia, Euphrosyne, Thalia.

3 Parts to a Chimera: Lion Head, Goat Body, SnakeTail

3 Roman Furies Alecto, Megaera, Tisiphone

3 Greek Harpies: Aello, Ocypete, and Celaeno.

3 Times Peter denied Christ.

3 Body Types: Endomorph, Mesomorph, Ectomorph

3 Ring Notebooks
3 is the number of car engines Alden has managed to stuff in his lifetime so far - Triumph Toledo (clunk, clunk, clunk, stop, completely fucked, happy car wrecker dealer) - Mazda 626 (overheated, warped the head, needed head planed, expensive, bugger) - Honda Accord (broken cam belt, bent all the OHC valve thingies - new engine and I drive off to Peter Paul and Mary singing "when will they ever learn, when will they eeeeeevvvvverrrrr learn)

3 Notes in a Triad (chord)

3 Bases in a Codon

3 Domains: Archaea, Bacteria, and Eucaryota

3 Germ layers: Endoderm, Mesoderm, Ectoderm

3 Species of Homo: Homo habilis, Homo erectus, Homo sapiens

Cu*m Laude, Magna Cu*m Laude, and Suma Cu*m Laude

Frankencense, Gold and Myrrh

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob

Hegel’s Thesis + Antithesis = Synthesis

The Truth, The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

Of the People, By the People, For the People

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

Hear no Evil, See no Evil, Speak no Evil

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity

Veni, Vidi, Vici

Faith, Hope and Charity

Father, Son and Holy Ghost

Paper, Rock, Scissors
3 is the number of prongs I had on my eel spear when I was a young whipper snapper eeling in the creek behind my house at good old Pages Road - hold the thought about eels, a blog is coming your way soon.

Peter Paul and Mary

Winken, Blinken, and Nod

Snap, Crack, and Pop

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Small, Medium and Large

Alvin, Simon and Theodore (chipmunks)

CBS, NBC, ABC

Ready, Aim, Fire

On Your mark, Get Set, Go

Alden Raymond Smith
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* And here's three cheers to you if you have managed to read through the list to the end without falling asleep :-)

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Where Is The Real World?

2010-03-08T22:22:00.011+13:00

Enchantment - Dorit Braun

I have been reading a book by the American founder of the Humanistic Psychology movement and father of client - centred therapy, Carl Rogers. This post is based on a chapter in his book - A WAY OF BEING.

I am sure you have seen this cliche scene in a movie - someone suddenly sits bolt upright in bed with a wild eyed look in their eyes. Its always either a moment of terror or a Eureka moment. Well that scene is a metaphor for a sudden mental realisation that dawned on me. Let me explain:

A dear friend of mine commented on a blog I had written on this Blogspot. He took apart my convoluted logic regarding my subject of 'Common Sense'. He slayed my incisive repartee, my stupendous intelligence (always modestly alluded to by me of course), my huge instinctive, inspired logic which in a very spare 4 million words I had outlined a momentous epochial idea that I felt would surely change the course of human history and win me a Nobel Prize - and he contradicted my thesis with just nine words.

He said: "Common sense tells us that the world is flat".

He is Wright of course: And when we put to one side our "Common Sense" and re-examine some of the perceptions given to us by our five senses we are left with the question: Where or what exactly constitutes reality?

The fact is "common sense" can give us a false idea about many things. As I lie in the cockpit of my small yacht in some safe anchorage and stare up at the high wheeling sideral light of the stars for hours at a time and watch the Milky Way slowly rotate around me I could let 'common sense' tell me that the whole cosmos has me at its centre. Yet the fact is we are all on board spaceship earth that is hurtling through space at 108,000 kilometers (67,000 miles) an hour.

If my ego and sensibilities have been rocked by not being at the very centre of the universe, 'common sense' tries again and tells me that as I lie on deck viewing the stars surely I can be sure of the reality that the deck beneath me is solid and unmoving except for the gentle sleepy rocking of a happy yacht in a safe harbour. Wrong again! The deck of the yacht is indeed at the Macro level stable and solid, but its underlying reality at the Micro level is extraordinarily different, i.e:

A yachts deck is made of atoms. The extraodinary fact about the atom is that not only is the atoms core (which is made up of protons and neutrons) in constant motion but the electrons that surround an atoms core are a great distance from that core - If we made a scale model of an atom with the nucleus of the atom (protons and neutrons) the size of say a small soccer ball - the orbit of the first electron in this scale model would be nearly 11 miles (17.5 km) from the nucleus - the atom is almost 99.9% free space. Does common sense come to my aid in developing a complete picture of the true nature of reality? I don't think so.

If we shift to the interpersonal world looking for some reassurance that our common sense deductions regarding those around us can be relied on we are again in for some more surprises.
Carl Rogers states: "But at least in the interpersonal world, I know my family and friends; this knowledge is surely a solid basis on which I can act. But then my memories trip me up. One needs only the simple occasion of a softly facilitated encounter group, where permission is given to express oneself, to discover how shaky our interpersonal knowledge is. Individuals have discovered in their closest friends and family members great realms of hidden feelings. There are previously unknown fears, feelings of inadequacy, suppressed rages and resentments, bizarre sexual desires and fantasies, hidden pools of hopes and dreams, of joys and dreads, of creative urges and unbidden loves. This reality, too, seems unsure, and full of unknowns."

If we shift again to the individual self and tell ourselves, "well at least I know who I am" again we come up against some perplexing questions. What is this "I" that resides within us all? Descartes stated that "I think therefore I am" i.e identifying the "I" with thinking - but the Buhddists talk of their experience when the thinking is stilled until it is no more - the "I" still remains. What is the reality of the "I" - the behaviourists will tell us that we are nothing but the sum of stimulus inputs and conditioned responses, while others will point to the experiences of dreams, visions, hallucinatory experience, meditation experiences, near death experience, separate realities, out of body experiences and various other states of altered conciousness which beg questions about what consitutes the 'real world' or at least question our knowledge of where the boundaries lie.

What is commonly agreed (or imposed) to be "reality" as a tribe / community / society / culture can have grave consequences for those that might disagree with the common "world view" - Copernicus and Galileo are the classic examples of those who looked deeper into the nature of things and upon expressing a different point of view were declared heretics for their trouble. The history of much of human culture is a history of the torture and killing of those who deviate from the group, tribe or cultural perception of what constiutes the agreed religious or philosophical reality and certainty.

Carl Rodgers conclusion regarding all of this is to say: "I, and many others, have come to a new realization. It is this: The only reality I can possibly know is the world as I percieve and experience it at this moment. The only reality you can possibly know is the world as you percieve and experience it at this moment. And the only certainty is that those percieved realities are different. There are as many "real worlds" as there are people!...."

My conclusion is that these ideas and questions regarding the nature of reality mean that I must try and not rush to judgements regarding ideas - wait, watch, dig deeper if possible - I must try and suspend my judgement regarding attitudes and opinions that may differ from my own - Be open to new experiences and hold off the human need to catergorise, pigeonhole, analyse and confirm. Enjoy the wheeling stars, the wind in my hair and in my sail, enjoy the human experiences of friendship and love, and if unable to fully explain what it all means, then be happy with no explanation for the moment, defer any judgements, be happy in the moment with the partial answers - and until some inspiration from deep within me awakens some sort of understanding and /or answer, just call the things, ideas and dreams that are bigger than myself by the names they have always been called - wonder, mystery, magic, numinousness, enchantment and love.

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Haiku - Walden Pond

2010-01-19T21:46:00.007+13:00

THE LEAVES NEVER KNOW
WHICH LEAF
WILL BE FIRST TO FALL
DOES THE WIND KNOW?

Soseki

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His Fault Villa

2010-01-03T15:37:00.006+13:00

Recently while staying in Auckland I did a number of very pleasant cycle rides. One day I took along my camera with the purpose of obtaining some shots that would make good blog posts - Well! in the Auckland suburb of Davenport where I began to keep a look out for some quirky things to photo I obtained within a couple of hundred meters about half a dozen very interesting photographs - this is one of them.

This photo begs a number of questions:
- Why was it his fault?
- Has the result of his fault been ultimately positive or negative?
- How often has this plaque been photographed?
- Does everyone comment on the plaque who knocks on the villas door?
- How many times has the plaque been a party ice breaker?
- How many times has the plaque been stolen?
- Is the owner going into commercial plaque production?
- Has he been forgiven for it being his fault? Does anyone care?
- Does the postman smile with solidarity every time he delivers the mail?
- Is the owner of the house in fact a single woman wanting to blame someone?
- Is the owner of the house in fact a single man with a persecution complex?
- Should all Kiwi males visit this house to burn incense and pray for forgiveness?
- Should all Kiwi males visit this house and laugh like fuck?

Will contemplation of these perplexing questions lead us by a set of complex logic to ask other important questions such as - Did the sky really fall on Chicken Lickens head? - How can anyone resist Fate's will? - If I hold my breath and suck my tummy in will people fail to notice I have been a pig over Christmas and put on 3 kilos?

So many questions, so little time.

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Happy New Year

2010-01-02T17:51:00.003+13:00

I watched a full moon rise above the Tarwharanui Peninsula at Snells Beach in Warkworth on New Years Eve - May your life in 2010 be as full as this brimming moon and may love and compassion light your way.

"A person's life purpose is nothing more than to rediscover, through detours of art, or love, or passionate work, those one or two images in the presence of which his .... heart first opened. " - Albert Camus

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SEA FEVER

2009-12-30T14:33:00.006+13:00

Alexander helms the good ship Mariner on Whangarei Harbour.

Yesterday I went sailing with my son Alexander - it was a good sail with the breeze building over the day to about 20 knots. It is good for dads and sons to do things together and yesterday was one of those kind of days.

This poem by John Masefield is one that I remember from my childhood. I remember it impressing me greatly at a time when I was an avid, obsessed small boat sailor. I well remember riding down Bexley Road in Christchurch NZ and seeing in the distance the shimmering, flapping of sails of yachts rigged ready for sailing at the Pleasant Point Yacht Club - I remember pumping the pedals on my bike and pulling the front wheel of my bike off the ground and into the air in anticipation and excitement as I rushed to rig my own little P class 'Elusive' and go sailing - to be part of the wonder and excitement of it all.

SEA FEVER

I MUST down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

John Masefield

The Earth Is Enough

2009-12-27T22:37:00.005+13:00

Bay of Islands New Zealand

THE EARTH IS ENOUGH - Brian Turner

You listen to a blind man singing
what only the lucky can see
and you've a feeling you're
missing something he is not

let what's constant be reassuring
not dull ..... and let time slow

for you like it that way
there's a rhythm
in the waves of the land
and in the clouds

looking for a way
out of the sky ..... and the light

so bright all day
is fading ..... soft
oh dulcet air and airs
you touch us inside

and out and you don't ever
want them to leave you alone

there must be some
who believe the earth is enough
who thinks of anthems
of refuge ... of wonder ... of peace

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Poem For Charlotte

2009-12-21T20:23:00.007+13:00

My Daughter Charlotte And I Decorated The Christmas Tree Today

Only a daughter knows just what you mean,
Couldn't care less if your life's on a lean,
Keeps all your secrets, knows about fate ---
Only a daughter who's great.
Only a daughter will smile at your quirks,
Helps and approves, shares a dessert,
Not say a word (sometimes) unless asked for advice---
Only a daughter who's nice.
Only a daughter will cover your butt,
Stand up for your rights, tell you what's what,
Offer a thoughtful and smart point of view,
Be the one person who keeps coming through,
Someone you just gotta love (and I do!!)
Only a daughter like you
Merry Christmas, dear daughter to you.

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Welcome To Holland - My Sisters Story

2009-12-13T23:29:00.006+13:00

My sister Elizabeth has raised a severely disabled child. At this child's recent birthday (he is now 34 years old) my sister gave me this story written by Emily Kingsley - Elizabeth told me that this story sums up the life and landscape of raising a disabled child - it is a story she draws strength from - I draw strength from the example of my sister, she is one of my heroes.

WELCOME TO HOLLAND!
by Emily Pearl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel.

It's like this . . . When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Michelangelo David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting. After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes and says, "Welcome to Holland." "Holland?" you say. "What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It's just a different place. It's slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." The pain of that will never go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you will never be free to enjoy the very special, very lovely things about Holland.

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A Time For Remembering

2009-12-13T00:16:00.014+13:00

Two nights ago I stopped at Kaiwaka, a small town north of Auckland and took this photograph of a local house that fronts the main highway. These sorts of luxuriant light displays are not uncommon. In fact whole streets in some towns and cities in New Zealand are flooded with a colourful kaleidoscope of light in this way.

I am both immensely attracted and slightly repelled by this stuff all at the same time.

The adult in me, chin in hand, eyes looking skywards, head nodding knowingly while smiling paternalistically at the chattering classes penchant for glitzy whims and fancies, kitsch quality and shallow transient sentiment, will point out to myself (who is the only one listening) that of course its all a rort, a conspiracy of multinational companies, a flagrant orgy of materialism and that the true meaning of Christmas has been lost forever amongst ostentatious vulgar light displays and that it was never like this in my day.

The child in me doesn't worry about this sort of analysis. Notwithstanding the odd visit to a Christmas Church service around about this time of year, the meaning has always been the same: presents, aka - stuff, lots of stuff, good stuff, new stuff, ripping wrapping paper off stuff, playing with stuff, whooping with delight about stuff - and then a big, big, big Christmas dinner where the adults were so distracted by adult stuff, no one noticed all the extra stuff you shoved in your mouth - I grew up in a poor neighbourhood but there was never a lack of food on Christmas day and I always made a point of stuffing myself with it using the skills honed during the year in a household of nine children - there were two sorts of children - the quick and the hungry.

The child embraces the immediacy of the experience without too much reflection. The smell of a fresh loaf of bread, raiding the neighbours orchard, high stars above a Guy Fawkes bonfire on New Brighton Beach, cowboy movies, throwing stones on the roof of the commercial chicken farm behind our house, sailing on the Christchurch estuary, wearing fluorescent lime green or pink socks (a high fashion accessory in the very early sixties) - the sublime and the ridiculous are all the same for the child - its the experiencing that matters, the reflection comes a lot later.

The adult in me knows that you can't wind back the clock, and that I can't be, or act like a child anymore (well not ALL the time) but I can remember. There's no harm in that. There is a lot to remember. And in a strange way as I grow older the memories shine like beacons, not unlike a light garden in Kaiwaka. A family of nine children makes for a lot of memories - which are still there in my minds eye amongst the wrapping paper and stuff everywhere in the living room on a long ago Christmas morning. Perhaps when I return north in a weeks time I will leave with the falling of the light so I can stop, get out and quietly lean on the car in the night and watch the Kaiwaka light display again - Take another look at all the neon kitschy stuff all over the lawn - and let the child remember.

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Defying Occams Razor

2009-12-12T00:04:00.022+13:00

Noahs Ark - Schagen, The Netherlands 2009.

Of course, it's only a replica of the biblical Ark, built by Dutch Creationist Johan Huibers as a testament to his faith in the literal truth of the Bible.
The ark is 150 cubits long, 30 cubits high and 20 cubits wide. That's two-thirds the length of a football field and as high as a three-story house. Life-size models of giraffes, elephants, lions, crocodiles, zebras, bison and other animals greet visitors as they arrive in the main hold. A contractor by trade, Huibers built the ark of cedar and pine.

Suddenly in the middle of the night a blinding light sears through the curtains. Big scary shadows dance on the bedroom ceiling. There is a roaring sound of an engine. Half asleep, a number of possibilities race through your mind. 1 - A 747 Jumbo Jet has overshot the runway in Reykjavik, Iceland, and is landing in your New Zealand backyard? 2 - An Alien spaceship has arrived to abduct you and invasively poke and prod you with rude sharp instruments, a situation you will only realise on your return from space when you undergo repressed memory therapy with Uncle Looneytunes the local UFO psychologist? 3 - The next door neighbours son is coming home very late in his noisy car with the headlights on high beam ? (a dangerous and irritating thing to do in certain circumstances).
Of course being a nimble and logical thinker you cross your fingers and choose possibility number 3. ---- And in doing so you have proved the principle of 'Occam's Razor' ------ let me explain.

Occam's Razor is a principle that states: Where two or more hypotheses are offered to explain a given phenomenon, it is reasonable to accept the simplest one - the one that makes the fewest unsupported assumptions.

Of course the simplest explanation is not always the correct one in every instance - A saying that expresses the logic and sentiment of Occam's Razor states that: "When you hear hoof beats, don't expect to see a zebra", which of course would be true for most people except those living on the Serengeti Plains in deepest Africa or the local zoo keeper.

I came across this exception to the rule of Occam's Razor myself during my recent sojourn in The Netherlands. While photographing a rather large yacht in the port of Hoorn on the Ijsselmeer a hasty passer by commented, "If you want to see a really large boat, go to Schagen" - A number of possibilities came to mind; A very large traditional 'Botter'? A huge tugboat up an impossibly narrow creek ?(I had already seen this several times); Noah's Ark? Maybe a supertanker moored in a huge inland canal?

When I did get to Schagen, a small pretty little town with a canal that leads to the inland sea (Ijsselmeer) the last thing that I expected to see was Noah's fecking Ark!
It was fecking huge, jaw droppingly fecking huge -

- and if another hasty passer by had commented, "When you hear hoof beats, don't expect to see a zebra", I would have replied, "Of course I would expect to see a zebra, that's the fecking ARK for Gods sake".

Occam's Razor is named after William of Occam, a 14th century English philosopher. The 'razor' comes from the idea of shaving off any unnecessary assumptions from a theory.

Interconnectedness

2009-12-10T12:50:00.007+13:00

Once upon a time in a city called Tiel (same population as my own town of Whangarei) in The Netherlands a man born in 1951 (same birth year as me) with a son named Niek (similiar to the English name Nicholas, as is the name of my son Nikolai) remembered a book that he had read when he was about 12 years old. The book is called "South Sea Vagabonds" and was written by a New Zealander Johnny Wray (Bens city of Tiel is not far from Zeeland in The Netherlands which is New Zealands namesake). I read this book myself at a similiar age and have a couple of copies of it. I was surprised that this book written and published in the 1930s had been translated into the Dutch language.

"South Sea Vagabonds" is the story of how a small ocean going yacht was built during the depression years using scavenged Kauri logs, second hand rigging and sails and good old Kiwi "number 8 wire" ingenuity and tenacity.

The name of Johnny Wrays yacht was the "Ngataki" and earlier this year Ben in Tiel in The Netherlands Goggled the name "Ngataki" and came up with only one link - it was the link to my other and now unused Blogspot called "Simply Sailing". It was from this link that Ben made his way through cyberspace to this Blogspot 'Stream Of Consciousness'.

At the time that Ben was doing all this, another domino in the casual link was falling into place - I just happened to be on a six week cycling tour of The Netherlands which included the province of Zeeland which is very close to where Bens town of Tiel is. Ben began commenting at this time on my Blogspot.
On my return to New Zealand Ben commented again that he was about to embark on a camper van tour for a few weeks in New Zealand before travelling to Australia to see his son. I gave Ben my phone number and was very pleased to get a phone call from him last week. As I am house sitting in Auckland at the moment it was easy enough (despite Aucklands horrendous peak time traffic) to find him in South Auckland.
I arrived at their camper van at about 7pm and left after 5 hours of wonderful friendly talk - how very nice it was to meet Ben and his lovely wife Renee, to laugh and wonder about the global cyberspace enabled connection and to talk about New Zealand and The Netherlands.

It was an interesting scene - I arrived with a big map of The Netherlands wanting more information about a land of water, canals, dykes, bicyles and that range of corpulent, beautiful, wonderfully, specifically, contextually evolved traditional Dutch yachts ---- and they were armed with a map of New Zealand with their route marked on it. They were well informed about where to go and I think (as I write the weather has been glorious for many days) they are going to have a very nice time.

Ben and Renee are warm and friendly people; open and straight forward; generous, intelligent and very, very interesting to talk to ---- I thought house sitting in Auckland was going to be a bit starved of interesting things to do - but meeting this couple was a bit like going to the biscuit tin thinking that everything has been eaten and then finding to your surprise and delight that amongst the old wrapping paper is a big fat chocolate macaroon biscuit - The Dutch would say of our meeting, "It was very Gezellig" - and that's what it was - very,very Gezellig indeed. :-)

I like dominoes and causal links and I hope the dominoes keep falling.

Mr Darcy

2009-12-07T19:04:00.009+13:00

Pride is a good feeling if you have accomplished something - my brother in law Darcy Sheehan sits astride the custom built Harley Davidson that he built and entered in the Whangarei Motorbike show by his company 'East Coast Motor Bikes'

Prejudice by a group of insiders is avoided by donating a trophy " Best In Show" - that is voted for by the viewing public"

My brother in law Darcy Sheehan is an accomplished businessman who currently runs East Coast Motor Cycles - a company that imports and sells Harley Davidson motorcycles. A recent development in his business is to import various component packages to make custom built bikes - it seems to be a bit like putting together Lego - you decide on the look of a bike and then import and bolt together the component custom parts.

A few weeks ago there was a bike show in Whangarei and Darcy and his partner in the custom bike building part of his business built a couple of bikes for the show. They also donated to the show a trophy "Best Bike In The Show" to be awarded on the result of a popular vote by the viewing public. It was with a huge amount of embarrassment that Darcy and his colleague won back the trophy that they had donated!!

Congratulations Darcy! - The Whanau is proud of you, but we are prejudiced :-)

I wonder if I keep the engine noise down I could get away with riding this on the cylce paths in The Netherlands? No? Well I was only wondering.

First Sail Of The Season

2009-12-03T09:05:00.029+13:00

My Friend Gerry Steers The Good Ship Mariner

Last week I went for a sail down the harbour with my friend Gerry. It was a day not without its drama - for the first part of the day there was no wind whatsoever and we had to motor. Then when the wind filled in I heard a terrible screeching sound from the motor and on inspection found that a drive belt had shredded itself as it came off the flywheel. I have learnt from some hard marine experiences to think before I act (and I usually do so) So, at the point where my hand was on the kill switch I realized that if I turned the motor off I wouldn't be able to start it again because the drive belt was attached to the starter motor. Getting the boat back onto the mooring under sail only, is possible except for an extremely narrow and difficult section of river where we would have both the wind and the tide against us. So I decided as the wind began to pick up to put the engine out of gear and sail with it idling. It isn't the way I like to sail having the chug chug of a diesel engine in the background and it would have irritated me greatly if it hadn't been for the very good company of my genial friend.

There are some people you just get along with. There is a sort of chemistry. When I met Gerry over twenty years ago we began by talking, laughing and joking and have pretty much been doing that ever since. There are no taboo subjects,the talk comes
easily and it's intelligent and interesting. Often it is extremely irreverent, gloriously hilarious and swings like a pendulum between the hysterical and the sublime - the whole carboodle goes swaying up and down all over the place like a little yacht of dubious pedegree in a big wind and a choppy sea. Gerry knows almost nothing about sailing, but he is one of the best of crews.

Later I reflected on how despite the fact that the trouble with the engine had meant that we had had to cancel some of our plans for the day (A quiet lunch at anchor and a walk ashore) we had both had such a great time. It reminded me of a crucial factor in how to choose a crew by one of New Zealands most famous and successful sailors - Sir Peter Blake. It was Blake who won the around the world Whitbread race in the 1980s and was the manager of 'Team New Zealand's successful winning of the Americas Cup in San Deigo in 1995.

When choosing his Whitbread around the world crews Peter Blake would take the candidates on a weeks adventure camping, which included some sailing. Of course those that had applied were very experienced sailors. But it wasn't experience alone that Blake was looking for, it was something else. The people that were chosen were by and large not the most hot shot sailors, nor those with the greatest technical expertise. He chose those who could get along with others; those that didn't take themselves too seriously; those without huge egos; those slow to anger and quick to make amends; those prepared to put aside their own individual egos for a time in the quest for the common good, the collective goal; those whose attitudes promoted camaraderie and fun, because he knew this was the key to binding a group together in pursuit of a common goal. He chose those who were willing to immerse themselves in a cooperative venture and strive for the glory of the little sailing community that would be formed on board the huge Whitbread Yacht.

Of course it would be a statement of great hubris to suggest that Gerry and I would have been at the top of Blakes list. We would have in fact been complete pests - I for a start would have wanted to water ski behind the yacht when she was doing 20 knots in the Roaring Forties and fly big coloured kites off the stern every day. Gerry would have had the crew divided into debating, joke and story telling teams and they would have all been too distracted to ever put up a spinnaker. In fact debating philosophically issues such as - the morality of winning, the definition of winning [Is not the last yacht home also a winner of sorts? especially if they have more fun than the first boat home??] etc etc - would have been philosophical issues promoted by both of us - not because we care about the questions or their answers, but rather because we care about talking, arguing and laughing.

--- BUT I like to think that the sort of camaraderie that we had during last weeks sail also had its place and value on Blakes winning yacht.

.....I wheeled with the stars. My heart broke loose with the wind.

2009-12-02T22:41:00.005+13:00

POETRY - Pablo Neruda

And it was at that age.... poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, not silence,
but from a street it called me,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among raging fires,
or returning alone,
there it was, without a face,
and it touched me.
I didn't know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind.
Something knocked in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first, faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom,
of someone who knows nothing;
and suddenly saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
the darkness perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire, and flowers,
the overpowering night, the universe.

And I, tiny being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars.
My heart broke loose with the wind.

* (And Pablo, your poetry has the same effect on many who read it)

.

I Am Grateful

2009-11-30T22:12:00.009+13:00

I Am Grateful - Pablo Neruda

I am grateful, violins,
for this day of four chords.
Pure is the sound of the sky,
the blue voice of air.

A Champagne Supernova

2009-11-30T01:59:00.003+13:00

I don't usually take much notice of trite sayings, lists of 'to do' prescriptions, exhortations and the various other Deserterada that abound. But I came upon something of this genre recently that made me look closer - Well it didn't just make me look closer, it made me ask the kind lady for a pen so that I could make a copy.
A couple of weeks ago I was in a country cafe close to Warkworth. As I sat down to drink my tea I spied a painting on the wall. The nicely framed painting wasn't a visual image, it was a quotation ? or maybe just the musings of the artist? - anyway, I liked it a lot so I wrote it down and here it is:

Life should not be a journey to the grave
with the intention of arriving safely in an
attractive body but rather to skid sideways
champagne in one hand - strawberries in
the other, body thoroughly used up, totally
worn out and screaming
Woo hoooooo..............................
What a ride................................

Yep, quite like that idea.

Boyhood Dreams

2009-11-19T14:44:00.010+13:00

This is the Alan Buchanan designed sloop 'Barbican' - she is a very salty 32 feet of pure joy.

There is a saying that goes like this - "Be careful what you dream of young man, for you shall surely attain it" - I don't know the origin of this quote but it seems to contain both a certainty and a warning. The warning is that: - As it is certain that you will attain what you want (if you dream hard enough - and work hard enough to make that dream come true), make very sure that what you dream of is worthy, is of substance - good and true.

This yacht 'Barbican' is a yacht I dreamed about when I was growing up - I have always loved this design and in 2003 I purchased the plans from the designer Alan Buchanan with the intention of perhaps building her - and it is still a dream I would like to fulfil if the circumstances are ever favourable enough to do so.

Since 2003 I have collected a dossier of articles and photographs of Barbican and last week downloaded an article about her from the 'Alan Buchanan Classic Yachts' website - When I read the article I smiled for two reasons - First, the story told me that someone else like me, had dreamed when they were very young and had now seen that dream fulfilled, and secondly because I was reminded of similar circumstances regarding another yacht and someone elses dream.

At the end of the Barbican article I read this - "Barbican is now sold to a marine electrical engineer who, as a boy 20 years ago, wrote to the author offering to buy her from the proceeds of his paper round. He now has his dream ship"

This yacht is the 'Stiletto' and in an article about her I read this a few years ago -

"Chris Petrie first set eyes on Stiletto when he picked her out of the crowd at Burnham Week in 1962. He was just 18. She was making her debut. It was love at first sight. 'I remember saying to myself, "I want that boat one day...one day." - Twenty three years later in 1985, and quite by chance, he spotted a broker's advert 'Rare chance to acquire Stiletto'. He didn't have to think twice to make a cherished dream a thrilling reality. When the long awaited moment arrived there was sweet satisfaction indeed in helming and owning such a classic thoroughbred."

I am very, very, very happy for both these people who made their boyhood dreams a reality - It really does make me smile - in a chaotic world, somewhere between ticking time and a hard chance and with the help of the Gods a dream was realised. There is something very satisfying in thinking that some at least defy the odds and make their dreams come true. ---- "Good on ya mate," is what us Kiwis say :-)

A Holder For A Mariners Binoculars (2)

2009-11-17T20:22:00.005+13:00

In a previous post I showed how I had constructed a special holder for the good ship Mariners binoculars. This photo shows the holder which I have screwed to the aft bulkhead with four bronze screws. The round rod is made of brass and was bent carefully in the vice. This rod holds the binoculars in place.

The binoculars fit snugly in the holder. The wooden backing plate is slightly wedge shaped being thicker at the bottom than at the top - the binoculars lean backwards keeping them firmly in place.

The installation completed. The position is close to the helmsmans steering position and it is an easy reach inside to grab the binoculars, use them and then replace them in the holder. I am pleased with the result - it means no more hunting for the binoculars and no more sliding around of binoculars on wet heeling cockpit seats - a shipshape ship is a happy ship.

Making a Difference

2009-11-14T21:32:00.012+13:00

I was putting some books back into one of my bookshelves today and came across a little story that made me think about a sadness someone told me recently.

I was told by an intelligent, gifted teacher who is passionate about her work, about a boy who she had once taught. The boy had had all the help in the world at school because of his learning problems, fell into the wrong company after leaving school and ended up in prison. In prison the boy was helped again and it was thought that he had been thoroughly rehabilitated - and he was for many years - but in the end he went back to his old friends, his old ways, his old activities involving drug dealing and was killed in tragic circumstances.

The question posed was - "Are we wasting our time investing in all this interventionist education in schools, all this rehabilitation of prisoners when so many of them fail themselves, their families and society - is there a genetic disposition that predetermines their recidivism?

The story that made me think of all of the above is called "One At A Time" and it goes like this:

"A friend of ours was walking down a deserted Mexican beach at sunset. As he walked along, he began to see another man in the distance. As he grew nearer, he noticed that a local man kept leaning down, picking something up and throwing it out into the water. Time and again he kept hurling things out into the ocean.

As our friend approached even closer, he noticed that the man was picking up starfish that had been washed up on the beach and, one at a time, he was throwing them back into the water.

Our friend was puzzled. He approached the man and said. "Good evening friend. I was wondering what you are doing."

"I'm throwing these starfish back into the ocean. You see. it's low tide right now and all of these starfish have been washed up onto the shore. If I don't throw them back into the sea, they'll die up here from lack of oxygen."

"I understand", my friend replied. " but there must be thousands of starfish on this beach. You can't possibly get to all of them. There are simply too many. And don't you realise this is probably happening on hundreds of beaches all up and down this coast. Can't you see that you can't possibly make a difference?"

The man smiled, bent down and picked up yet another starfish. and as he threw it back into the sea, he replied. "Made a difference to that one! "

CODA: Now, the difference between starfish and the eddies and currents that influence their destiny and troubled children who become prison inmates is the possibility of making a choice, of swimming against the prevailing current - 'Exercising Free Will' - This possibility of having some control over our destiny is what separates us from the animal kingdom. Despite the legacy of genetics, our upbringing and other social determinates, we still have the possibility of making choices. And there are some inspiring stories of many who beat these odds and don't fall into recidivism. Recidivism rates are often high but they would be even higher without trying to implement the ideal of rehabilitation and giving targeted help where required.

The thing we must not do as teachers (I have been teaching and helping children for over 35 years) is to think that what we do, we do in vain. We must intervene, teach, help, coach and keep the faith - and always remember that those that we help are always better off and further along the road than if we hadn't lent a helping hand ----- As to whether after all of that help the people in question choose to cast themselves back like dark stars on a criminal shore is something we cannot control, and within limits is their choice. It is a bitter pill to swallow if you have been personally involved with one of these failures, but complete identification with, or feelings of responsibility for, would be a great mistake.

As a teacher myself, as I look back over the years, and taking into account the total number of children taught, I am sure that both for myself and for my colleague who posed this question in the first place there are many for whom we can claim that we, "Made a difference to that one"

Wheels Within Wheels

2009-11-11T21:03:00.013+13:00

....."As for the appearance of the wheels and their construction: their appearance was like the gleaming of a chrysolite and the four had the same likeness, their construction being as it were a wheel within a wheel." - Ezekiel 1:16

The phrase "wheels within wheels" is of ancient origin and has generally come to mean something that is not easily understood; that there is more to the situation than may appear on the surface. The quotation above, from the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel, is part of a mystifying biblical passage that has led many to believe he saw a UFO

The phrase denotes complexity, that one must look past the superficial to see deeper into a problem or situation. I know that you know, that I know that you know, that I..... Like the Russian matryoshka dolls we open one only to find another, and inside that yet another, etc., etc. The phrase can also have a more sinister connotation, that there are ulterior motives behind seemingly innocuous actions - all part of a larger and less obvious plan.

This photograph appears in the current New Zealand Listener Magazine. It took my fancy because if you have been reading my Blog over the last few months you will know that I have just returned from 6 weeks cycling in The Netherlands.

When writing Blog postings about The Netherlands I mentioned a couple of ways for a solitary cyclists to elicit conversations with the locals / other tourists - One was to pretend that I was lost and ask directions, the second was to offer to take a photograph of a couple if I saw them taking pics of each other. Afterwards I thought another cunning idea would be to wear cycling gear with New Zealand emblazoned all over it - I know this would elicit contact because foreigners really do like to hear the Kiwi accent and many Dutch people have connections with New Zealand (there was a lot of immigration from Holland to NZ in the 1950s and 60s.

So when I saw this photograph I thought .......Hmmmmmm.... here is yet another way... this would be the conversation eliciter par excellence - a paragon of conversational prompting of epic proportions - In fact I could busk with this bike. All I would have to do is parade it in the local village square, stand next to it with a hat for the money at my feet and nod slowly over and over again, thus answering the questions before they passed the lips of the viewers (yes I do ride it, yes it is a bicycle, no I am not a nutter, no you can't have a ride on it today, no not all Kiwis are crazy bastards only some of us are, yes paper money will do just fine if you don't have any coins) .............

Hmmmmm...., sometimes we just can't think of innovative ways to solve a problem or find a fresh way of engaging with the ordinary. But look! there is always a way, if you keep your options open and your mind thinking outside the square and contemplate a circle in a different way, well, you might find wheels within wheels .................. in fact I am building one of these at the moment in my blokes shed - I wonder if Air New Zealand will fly it to The Netherlands for me? I have some unfinished business there.

Haiku

2009-11-10T23:09:00.006+13:00

HAIKU

Ah, old boat you need launching

Sea mists are gathering

But you will float, you have been built

Zuiryu

A Holder for a Mariners Binoculars (1)

2009-11-10T21:38:00.013+13:00

The 'G' cramps have been removed which held the wood while the glue was drying and I am now ready to fair and level the backing plate with the smoothing plane. In all I glued together four scraps of wood to make a piece big enough to take the binoculars. ( Old boat builders like me never throw out wood ends if at all possible as you never quite know when they might come in useful)

This is a job I have meaning to do for ages. There are times when you are sailing where you are continuosly picking up and putting down binoculars, the wind is fresh, the boat is heeling and you want a safe and handy place to put the binoculars. I intend to screw this holder just inside the companion way hatch, a very handy place and close to the helmsman / woman.

The teak wood block has been squared up with a small fine toothed hand saw and the job of planing and sanding has begun.
.

The sanding is nearly complete and you can see more clearly the detail of the wood grain.

Measuring and aligning the brass rod which will be used to hold the binoculars in place.

I have bent the brass rod in the vice and are about to drill the holes for the rod ends. Quarter inch brass rod is no match for a 90 kg man who has just eaten a good lunch.

Checking and fitting the clearances around the binoculars. The wooden backing plate is wedge shaped so that when it is fitted vertically to the yachts rear bulkhead the binoculars are leaning slightly backwards which help to keep them in place.

A first coat of varnish is applied which brings out the beautiful wood grain. I will give it several more coats of varnish before screwing the whole setup firmly in place close to the skippers steering position on the good ship Mariner.

There are a number of nice little jobs that need doing on the boat. It is always a pleasant exercise problem solving, designing and executing some sort of solution.

Only God

2009-11-08T18:19:00.010+13:00

We all have our passions - Charlottes passion is singing. Here she is holding a stack of her recently recorded CD "Only God". Charlotte has a huge amount of experience singing and worship leading in local churches. A natural outcome of this has been the writing, singing and recording of a CD of Christian spiritual songs.

Charlotte has a website here: http://www.charlottecsmith.com/ - I highly recommend you take a look.

To listen to this album go to: http://www.myspace.com/charlottecsmithnz

What does a proud dad say about having such a beautiful, talented girl for a daughter ? - he says thankyou, I feel blessed, that's what he says.

A Blokes Shed

2009-11-07T12:45:00.009+13:00

This is my very small shed. It is 2.4 x 1.8 metres (8 x 6 feet). There is just about room enough to swing a cat so long as you hold onto the stump of the cats tail and the cat is pulling its head in firmly to its chest - it's a very small work space.

I have been varnishing a storage box that I have built for the good ship Mariner which is on the stool in the middle of the picture.

To be able to work at all I have to haul out the bike and numerous other boxes and bits and pieces. The small space becomes a lesson in tidiness and ingenuity as I struggle just getting bigger projects through the door.

As I was working away on this storage box today I remembered a book about sheds written by Jim Hopkins. Its called 'Blokes and Sheds' and he makes some interesting comments about sheds and their relationship to the Kiwi character.

.......... " What sheds do, undeniably, represent is something about the way we want to be. Much is spoken these days of New Zealand identity. A lot of it is self serving twaddle, an argument promoted by certain superior souls who want other peoples money to pay for the things they enjoy doing. What they tend to overlook is that, apart from the unique, painful and evolving relationship between Maori, and European, most of our 'identity' comes from somewhere else. Our religions, philosophy, notions of class and gender, our legal system, our political processes, our media style, planning concepts, even our fairy stories and notion of Father Christmas mainly come from somewhere else. We can't even claim to have invented a sport of our own.

What we have invented, or evolved - and it's often confused with identity - is an attitude, to the world, and each other, that's ours and ours alone. If anything summed it up , it would probably be Ed Hillary's line after climbing Mount Everest, "We knocked the bastard off". Laconic and tongue-in-cheek, it treats the extraordinary as commonplace and makes it a team effort as well. That kind of self - effacement in important here. We particularly dislike the growth hormone that can make some people too big for their boots. And we particularly like self reliance, the willingness to 'give it a go'. Born of necessity, it survives by choice. Being willing to give it a go is expected, it's part of how we want to see ourselves, it's part of our attitude. Which is why sheds, and what they represent, are important. We've got our share of famous sheds. The one in which Richard Pearce built his aeroplanes (and flew before the Wright Brothers), of where the jet boat, the electric fence and the animal tranquiliser gun were developed. Then, of course, there's Rutherford's den (a sort of basement shed) where he first picked up a chisel and split the atom.

......... There's a tradition of ingenuity we enjoy and still discover out in the shed..... "

- Jim Hopkins - Blokes and Sheds (pub 1998)

Signs of Spring

2009-11-07T11:34:00.012+13:00

Zebby the cat seeks the shade, I wear jandals and sit in the sun drinking a morning cup of tea - a sure sign that the great seasonal propeller is returning Spring to Northland again.

There is a distinctiveness about Northland Springs and Summers. It is a distinctiveness that needs to be felt - something is singing in the air; an unspoken expectancy, a shimmering, a sharpness of light, the wind is warm, warm, warm and the sun demands huge respect - This is no ordinary sun, with its zenith almost overhead at the height of summer and with a burn time of about 6 minutes you feel and know that its engine is thermo nuclear.

That world renowned hedging bush 'Greenis Vegetatas Comminus' displays its Spring flowers. This outdoor chair is world famous - it was on this meditation chair that I discovered the full meaning of life and the universe.

Northland doesn't have the distinct seasonal contrasts that other countries, or even other more southern parts of New Zealand have. The contrast is one of wet, cold and rain contrasted with wet, warm and sun. But there is a very special time from December through to February where Northland transforms itself into something special and very particular to itself - razor sharp light, incandescent sun, furnace like warm, huggible wind, iridescent colours, dusky horizons and magic.

Each locality in New Zealand in every season weaves its own magic as it interacts with the weather - Central Otago, Banks Peninsular and Canterbury, the Able Tasman National Park - to name a few, all weave their own particular chemistry and enchantment.

The old Bottlebush tree at the front of the house with its candles on fire - This tree whooped with delight on November the 5th - Guy Fawkes night - Old Bottlebrush flashed with fire under the high stars and the celebratory fireworks.

Spring brings the rumour of Summer with her and my eyes turn towards the coast and the sea - out come the charts - I look forward to day sails, some weekends away maybe and a few big sails over the Christmas period - Spring is bought to us by the old propellers of the seasons and no matter what has gone before, it always holds gently in its hands, the hopes of new beginnings.

An Expensive Photograph

2009-11-01T21:29:00.008+13:00

In a roundabout way this photograph cost me 35 Euros. It happened like this. I was cycling down the main cobbled street in the Port of Hoorn, one of many such small ports on the coast of the inland Zuider Zee (Southern Sea) in The Netherlands when I was stopped by two ladies in Police Uniforms. The short story is that I should have seen the no cycling signs and walked with my bicycle, but all that I saw were large numbers of parked bicycles, and a few bikes being ridden along the street.

I thought that after I had listened to the no cycling explanation from the Policewomen I would be given a warning, a friendly pat on the shoulder and sent on my way with cream buns and a thermos full of hot tea - (A Johnny Foreigner can get this impression after weeks of amused chortles and smiles at ones accent - gosh! you say to yourself, don't they just looove Kiwis! -- and you are right, except for two Policewomen in the port of Hoorn, who deliberately left a Russian Gulag to make my day an expensive one.)

"The fine is thirty five Euros" I was informed.
"I don't have thirty five Euros on me," I said lying through my teeth.
"There is a bank and a money machine over there" I was informed.
"What if I don't pay?" I inquired.
" We will take you to the Police station and lock you up until you do pay" she replied, mouth twitching at such southern hemisphere cheek.
"Oh" I said and went to the machine which was around a corner out of sight, pulled thirty five euros out of my wallet and promptly paid.

I then gave what I thought was a rather excellent dissertation about how this would never happen in New Zealand and that a warning would be sufficient for a tourist who can't read Dutch. But all this was ignored including my statements about how highly offended I was, blah, blah, blah - but to no avail - I had broken the law, I had been duly fined, the Dutch economy saved by my thirty five euros and two Policewomen who were in fact only doing their job - did their job.

As they turned to go and startle other bike riding miscreants I had an overwhelming urge to pinch one of their bums - not with any sexual connotation but in the deliberate and malicious way I used to pinch John Ryan's bum when I was in primer three at Central New Brighton Primary School - I swear he once attained the height of one metre above his chair - pure fright, pure joy.

BUT - none of this stopped me from enjoying the delights of Hoorn which is a lovely little port - and it was in a canal of this port that I found a rather nice housing arrangement that is a delight to a sailor such as I.

The house in the photograph is floating on the water on the top of a steel barge. Access is from the street on the left through a quaint gate in a large bushy hedge. The house has nice indoor, outdoor flow onto a small deck area where one can sit and take in the surrounding view.
The yacht is called Sirius (I would rename her Delight if she was mine) and is of Scandinavian pedigree - a clean, mean, speed machine - I know she sails beautifully, her lines have a pure poetry of purpose.

I personally would love, love, love, love, love, love to live like that - a floating house with my yacht moored next to it - ah, it would be bliss indeed for an obsessed old sailor such as me.

Painting the Dinghy

2009-10-31T20:45:00.016+13:00

The second boat to the left of my sensible hat (the yacht with the blue main boom cover) is the good ship Mariner. She was glad to see me return, in fact she tugged at her mooring lines in the gentle wind, winked at me and implored me to go sailing - with the caveat that I scrub and paint the dinghy first.

One of the happy tasks that fell to me as I left a Netherlands northern hemisphere Indian Summer moving reluctantly into Autumn - was to embrace a New Zealand / Whangarei Spring that had out foxed Winter with its warm embrace and bold proclamation of Summer. I love the Northern summers on the coast, sailing, the light bright, bright, bright - the water iridescent, the sky huge, Mariner leaning into the afternoon lugging a big sail - I like all that - a lot.

There was a warm wind blowing up the river as I made my way down the jetty to the pontoon to Mariners dinghy. It was a good sailing breeze and I would have liked to have gone sailing but first things first - The dinghy needed some repairs and the bottom painted with anti fouling paint.

One of the advantages of spending four years building a yacht and living the blood, sweat and tears of that experience is that it makes the easy jobs - well, easy, outrageously easy and enjoyable - painting a dinghy in the sun is a relaxing meditative occasion compared with the white knuckle stress of heating and pouring 2 tons of lead ballast, or carting a 12 meter mast illegally tied to the side of a Morris 1100 car at 3 o'clock in the morning. Yes, it was an easy and enjoyable job.

When I started training for my cycling in the Netherlands I weighed 97 kilograms. When I returned I weighed 89.7 kilograms. This picture shows that I am but a shadow of my former self - which is a really corny line isn't it, but I can't think of a better line than that and I quite like the photo and wanted to use it on this post.
The repairs included some gluing up of the gunwales which have cracked in places - yacht dinghies are real work horses and really do get a battering, especially if they are permanently moored to a pontoon all the time.

The completed paint job. The blue anti fouling paint should keep the dinghy reasonably clean of barnacles and weed for a year or so - with the odd hauling out and scrubbing.

When I had finished painting I heard Mariner shout out 'yippee' - I know what that means - she wants a rollicking good sail down the harbour - and who am I to deny her, her hearts desire.

The Noorde Zee (North Sea) Coastal Route

2009-10-31T18:18:00.019+13:00

I began the North Sea route at Vlissingen which is close to the Belgium border. The route hugs the coastline from the province of Zeeland to the port of Den Helder in the north.

You don't bike on the motorways, you bike under them on the well signed network of paths.

Small, now obsolete lighthouse near Rotterdam.

I counted over thirty ships anchored in the stream on the North Sea coast waiting to berth at Rotterdam one of the worlds biggest ports. On the map Rotterdam looked like a formidable place to have to navigate on a bike, but by following the route numbers it was a cinch.

It is very hard to find wilderness in the Netherlands, in fact there isn't any to speak of. As I cycled through the sand dunes on the coastal route I would come across something like this - a large tea / coffee house / restaurant in the middle of nowhere with road access and filled to the gunwales with nice Dutch people taking tea.

The large canal that allows access to Rotterdam from the North Sea.

The natural and artificial landscapes are always in close proximity.

Coastal town. This boat was permanently sited for children to play on.

How do you head north? Just follow the arrows on the signs - easy peasy :-)

Zeeland - Land of the Big Dijkes

2009-10-31T17:11:00.013+13:00

This is one of the very big dijkes that was built in Zeeland after the disastrous flooding of 1953. The 'Delta Scheme' was completed to protect Zeeland from inundation from the North Sea.

Huge sluice gates are able to be lifted up and down to regulate the flow of water. One third of The Netherlands is below sea level. Many large cities and huge areas of farmland would be flooded if the dijkes ever failed. The 'Polders' are areas of reclaimed land - it was interesting when biking to come upon, from time to time a fishing village that was once on the shores of the sea and was now many kilometers inland.

Early morning in Zeeland - a place of water, boats, tall deciduous trees changing with the growing Autumn, picturesque villages, farmland and the ubiquitous cycling paths and country lanes that made the trip so pleasurable. In Zeeland many of the cycling paths were on the tops of the old earth dijkes, which gave you the same view you would get from a Mack truck cab.

You can't bike very far in The Netherlands without seeing one of these.

Zeeland ice creams were very yummy and came in the biggest ice cream cones I have ever seen. I took this cone back to NZ to make into an axe handle.
From a distance it looked like a large collection of bats, dive bombing each other. Closer inspection revealed a bevy of wind driven carts racing on the sand - the wind from the kites are harnessed to power the carts.

I stopped in Zeeland to eat an apple and look at this house - before I knew it I had purchased it, redecorated it with a maritime theme complete with a maritime library and was building a traditional dutch Botter yacht in the shed.

After completing the traditional Botter yacht I completed a circumnavigation passing south of Cape Horn (as you do) and then became the director of the Amsterdam Maritime Museum. This is my summer residence - nice eh.

Early morning start in Zeeland. I had a few mornings here where I woke to ice on the inside of the tent and ice on the end of my sleeping bag - with a few days of light rain as well as the temperature drop Autumn seemed to be on its way - then the weather fined up again - there is always an upside to global warming when you want to keep biking.

The Land of the Long High Dijke

2009-10-28T23:13:00.004+13:00

This photo was taken from the dijke - behind me and level with me was the North Sea - when the dijkes broke in Zeeland in 1953 most of this land and its houses were completely submerged.

I arrived home from the Netherlands today after a long flight from Schipol Airport Amsterdam - One of my last trips was to New Zealands namesake 'Zeeland' - The Maori name for New Zealand is Aotearoa which means 'The land of the long white cloud' - Zeeland would suit the Maori name for 'The land of the long high dijke'. --- I will post again soon about this pretty part of The Netherlands - for now its a good long sleep - tomorrow I will post again - my brain will be unclogged and I will be less inclined to write double dutch.

The Road To Terschelling (The Netherlands [5] )

2009-10-07T23:28:00.047+13:00

The world is all islands, each with its own quality and character. This island ambience ranges from the luxuriant, dusky, tropical, lagoon paradise with coconut trees swaying in the trade winds - a lazy place of swimming and sunbathing - to the rugged, lonely, windswept, sand dune, slow motion tussock grass blowing, bleak, cold surf breaking on barren shores, collar turned up, hunkering down ambience.
Terschelling is a hunkering down island - Its sublties glow under the sunlight which make this place a delight, golden tussock waving in slow motion to the hungry wind - surf, rocks, dunes, little forests, bird life under a big sky forever changing. When the sun shines it seems a wild but friendly to the soul place - when the sun falls back into a bleak North Sea sky it becomes a place forlorn, wild, untameable, a place of roaring wind, driven rain - misty, lonely - during this weather Terschelling seems to be saying, "Don't look at me, look at the elemental forces that have shaped me. I am wild and moody, but with good reason."

A country lane close to Den Over before the crossing of the 40km dyke across the IJesselmeer to Harlingin which is the port where the ferry leaves for Terschelling in the Frisian Islands.

The van on the left had passed me in a very fast and furious manner 5 minutes earlier on the narrow country road to Den Over. When I came upon this crash it was apparent by the tone of voice and the body language that the young man in the van was to blame. The front of the station wagon on the right was completely ripped off. Luckily no one was injured.

Typical Dutch house on the highways and byways of country lanes close to Den Over.

The dyke across the IJesselmeer. 40km of straight flat road. Noisy, monotonous riding and a huge challenge on this trip on the way back to Nord Holland, as I was riding into failing light in a head wind all the way from Harlingin. You cannot camp on the dyke.

This statue is a tribute to the hard working Dutch dyke builders - When it comes to building the geography of a country the Dutch are the true sub creators - God created planet Earth, the Dutch created The Netherlands.

The only other place I have ever seen such a forest of wooden masts is in old black and white photographs of the golden age of sail. Here at Harlingin the harbour is thick with masts and all the boats are authentic working boats - authenticity in The Netherlands is picturesque and enchanting.The bowels of the good ship Friesland is entered by the bow. The trip to Terschelling takes over two hours.
Leaving Harlingins marine forests for Terschelling.

Bicycles arriving at the port at West Terschelling.

The tenting lifestyle has shown me that fundamental needs are relatively simple - food, a dry bed and the hope that tomorrow will as interesting as today - I haven't been disappointed yet.

These are the conning towers of two WW2 British submarines - They have survived the years because they are made of bronze plate and haven't rusted at all. I was unable to understand the story of these old artifacts written on the information boards. As with everything in a foreign country, Johnny Foreigner is at a disadvantage unless he can read and talk the language.

Quaint village streets - Terschelling.

I wondered why there was a windmill on Terschelling as there is no reclaimed land and the island is above sea level - perhaps its a mill for grinding wheat? or maybe the house of a Dutch eccentric who likes windmills - just the sort of house I am going to build for myself when I get back to New Zealand.

Terschelling garden. Hands up those that love The Netherlands - both my hands were up when I took this photo.
If you want to have your photograph taken with a photoframe that looks like you are appearing on the cover of National Geographic magazine then stand in the frame and smile.

Quiet country lane North Eastern Terschelling.

Much of my time here was amongst the moody mistiness of the place.

There are two methods I use in attempting to have a significant conversation when I am travelling alone. The first is to get lost or pretend to be lost and ask for directions (don't ask me to define 'pretend' you bloody well know it means lost) - the Kiwi accent then takes its usual conversational catalystic path. The other is to ask a couple taking photographs of each other if they would like a photograph taken together, this also works very well. This is Hans from Hanover in Germany. In this conversational case I simply asked him if I could take a photo of him with the Kinderen trailer - a good conversation ensured with the usual gasps of amazement that I would come from New Zealand to bike in such an out of the way place.

The north side of Terschelling is a vast beach bordering the North Sea. The structure to the left in the distance is something that is a feature of Dutch beach life - it is a temporary restuarant assembled each summer on poles fixed in the sand - these restuarants are very popular as summer meeting places. In the late Autumn they are disassembled before the winter storms and assemble again in the spring.

What sort of trip back to the mainland would it be if the Dutch didn't take the time to show off their beautiful traditional craft especially for me? Well I will tell you, it would have been dull and boring but they turned out in force and the trip back was a delight!

The Netherlands is a country of 16 million people in a landmass the size of Canterbury, New Zealand - despite this small size it is impossible to see everything in an indepth way in a 6 week holiday. I have seen much of the province of Nord Holland and will soon move south to the namesake of my own country New Zealand. This Dutch province is Zeeland, a place of islands and dykes and windmills - the place where the land was inundated with water during the 1954 collapse of the dykes. This had catastropic consequences and is the subject of a current film in The Netherlands called 'The Storm' - I am on my way there now - there is still much to see and experience - I shall keep you posted :-)

The Netherlands (Photos) (4)

2009-09-29T00:36:00.027+13:00

All of the little villages on the shores of the Ijsselmeer have a canal that ends in the heart of the village.
Corpulant and beautiful - Traditional Dutch 'Schokker' type yacht.

A New Zealand tent and pannier bags in loose affiliation with a Dutch bicycle is a potent combination.If there is one country on the planet where modern windmills don't seem out of place it is The Netherlands - they complement the old traditonal windmills that are part of the traditional image of Holland.A typical scene - bicycles everywhere - these are some of the many millions of bicycles to be found in The Netherlands.
An iconic symbol of The Netherlands and the way that much reclaimation of much land from the sea was achieved.

Cycling In The Netherlands (3)

2009-09-28T23:04:00.012+13:00

This traditional Dutch 'Botter' yacht is the ''Groete Bear'' and the harbour is Volemdam. These boats are virtually the same as the traditional fishing boats of old. They are big and fat (great cargo carrying capacity) shallow draft and flat bottomed ( good for sitting up right on the sand banks of the Waddenzee) and have twin leeboards rather than a central centreboard (saves space in the cabin, less expensive to build and provides for a strong tight hull)

To date I have completed a couple of trips and are now completing a third. The first was to Amstelmeer in the North. The second from Schagen in the North out to the coast and down through Castricum back to Amsterdam. The third trip is the one I am on at the moment, which goes around the inland sea - the Ijsselmeer.

The land is very flat, great for biking but does not have the grandeur or drama of the New Zealand landscape - it relies on what the Dutch have created for its charm, and charming it is - soft mellow coloured red brick houses with high pitched roofs, traditional designs, window baskets of flowers, little picket fences, narrow lanes, cobbly streets and the patina of history that only these old countries have. The quality is one of peace and quiet (for me anyway as I am avoiding the big cities, I simply get lost in them) and a unity of scenery - there are no dramatic differences in styles of houses and scenery, rather differences in quality and complexity. Leafy lanes, easy cycling and a misty sun shining through a Turner painted sky makes for mellow feelings, a sort of roominness of the soul.

On this trip around the inland sea the cycling route takes me between small towns through farmland on small bike tracks or narrow roads beside ditches and canals that every so often open out unexpectedly into much larger expanses of water - the highways and byways of canals, large ponds and lakes. Riding through this landscape I often see a sail, white or mellow red apperently sailing through a field of barley or corn such are the pervasiveness of the waterways. The canals have rushes which bend gently in the soft breeze and there is bird life everywhere, ducks, swans, herons, crows, and on the larger expanses of water Autumn flocks of migrating birds are beginning to gather.

After riding for say 10 or so kilometres you reach another little picturesque town set well back from the inland sea and joined to it by a canal which leads up to a yacht harbour right in the centre of the the town much like my home town Whangarei in New Zealand, but much smaller and more intimate. For me the joy is seeing the traditional Dutch yachts which have evolved from the traditional working vessels of a bygone age. These stout fat rotund little boats (and the not so little ones) are a joy for me to see - they are built in wood and in steel with traditional gaff rigs and soft mellow red tan bark sails - very nice indeed.

There is also an authenticity about these little harbours and villages. Although the little shops cater for the tourist market it is easy to see that their life is centred on servicing the needs of the local population - the comings and goings of the many boats (which hold up the traffic as the bridges are raised to let them through) are part of the heart beat of these small areas - there is nothing here that is a pastiche.

One other element that binds together and gives continuity to the visual impression of this country is the cycling - The Dutch bike everywhere. It is the most amazing thing to behold, the old, the very old, the young the middle aged, children, families together - biking everywhere - all the time - and good bikes, very good sturdy sensible bikes, traditional and strong with sensible handlebars, most with carriers and pannier bags and all ridden with an ease of purpose - all such a wonderful adaptation to a flat landscape. If the Dutch had failed to drain the land I am sure they would all have grown mermaid and mermen tails as a way of adapting.

The camping / tenting is going well, although it is a mixed blessing - the mixed bit is that it is not much fun constantly sleeping on the ground - a bit rough really, but other than that I am coping reasonably well with it. I am glad that I purchased a two person tent (despite the extra weight) as I can get most of the contents of my panniers next to me in the tent at night, which is handy and makes things secure. There seems to be camping grounds everywhere and the cost is reasonable - to date nothing over Ten Euros (NZ $20) per night.

The camping grounds vary in how they provide amenities - some camping grounds have no toilet paper in the toilets, others do, some have free showers, others you have to put a Euro in the timer thingy. In one camping ground I had to buy special tokens to get things to work. All of the camping grounds have a central building which includes toilets, showers and washing up facilities but none have cooking facilities such as kitchens as is often the case in New Zealand - So any cooking that I do, I do on a great little gas cooker that I purchased - it has a little trigger that makes a spark to light the gas and is very efficient. I mainly use the cooker to make a cup of tea and are not cooking a lot at all. As I am not eating all day long and biking a lot I have lost some more weight and my jeans are now pretty loose and I am onto the last hole on my belt - overall the tenting has worked out really well and it would be impossible to do this bike route unless you did the tenting - despite the tentings obvious limitations in terms of comfort - so its all a bit of a trade off.

I have bought food from supermarkets and this is not a problem despite the fact that I can't read Dutch and take a while to find things - fruit, trail mixes, buns, rolls, cheese, museli bars seems to work well with a hot meal from time to time in the little towns along the way.

This is a good time to be biking here because it is the end of the season and not too hot. From what I can gather, a couple of months ago they were getting temperatures of 30 degrees which would have made the biking exhausting. The downside of this time of year is that there are not a lot of other bikers on the trails so I have had little contact with other travellers except for a couple of Swiss riders the other day - having said that, the Kiwi accent seems to amuse many, and when shopping I usually end up in some sort of exchange with someone, and the other day when getting some lunch of fish etc a local asked where I was from, which ended up with a lunchtime conversation with him which was interesting as he had been to New Zealand a number of times working on merchant ships.

When I have completed this Isjlemeer trip I am going to get a suitable map and head down to the Zeeland area which is close to the Belgium border and take a look around there - there are lots of harbours and lakes and interesting places to explore, or I might head north again and take a ferry out to Texel which is one of a string of close offshore islands in the Waddenzee (northern sea) - I haven't decided yet - probably do both - what I won't be doing is heading for big cities as I have a tendency to get lost - the cycling tracks with their numbers are a secure way to travel (having said that I have still taken the wrong turning a couple of times and ended up riding an extra 20 kilometres on an original 60km ride.

So, generally speaking everything is going well and I am continuing to enjoy myself - it is certainly a good way to travel if you want to soak up things slowly. Its so very different than whizzing along within the bubble or cocoon of a car - when you cycle you embrace the landscape, you linger, you don't just get the sights, you taste, you feel - you get the sound and the smell of things as well.

Hazy Days in Holland (2)

2009-09-22T19:24:00.005+12:00

I have been in The Netherlands now for eleven days. I have a second hand bike that I purchased for 250 euros and have already completed a couple of trips. One trip north to the Amstelmeer in the and another out to the coast and back to Amsterdam through quaint picturesque towns and villages.

This is a land of canals, ditches, dykes and water - there is water everywhere. This really is the land of the "Wind in the Willows" and "Swallows and Amazons" - every corner of my cycling path reveals more canals, lakes and broad reaches of water, little boat mooring areas and always people on the water boating or on the cycle paths cycling through the lazy, hazy days of this wonderful September Indian Summer that has Holland in its grip at the moment. The light is the light of Rembrant and Vermeer, soft, atmospheric and mellow - I have certainly left the sharp, hard light of Northland behind.

This is also a land of bicycles and cyclists - it is a way of life - there are people everywhere cycling - old and young - and on bicycles that I remember from times past, nice big sturdy bikes with sensible seats and riding positions, very sensible the Dutch - and for the cyclist this is about as close to Cycle heaven as one can possibly get this side of the that great Bike Rack in the sky.

There is a national cycling path system second to none. Finding your way around is a kind of painting by numbers - you follow the path from one point to another by following the appropriate numbers which are well marked along the way - its impossible to get lost.
The Dutch people that I have met along the way have been extremely friendly, helpful and curteous - the Kiwi accent brings a smile and a laugh to the faces of some, which actually helps with the personal connection, if you are asking directions to a camping ground or to a place to eat.

As I write I am riding the Zuiderzeeroute which is a classic bike route which follows the borders of the Zuiderzee which is now a huge inland sea cut off from the North Sea by 30 kilometre long dyke - there is a strong wind blowing off the North Sea which makes the rushes and reeds bend and sway in the wind - the Ducks, Coots and Herons go about their busy business and so I will be on my way - I will keep you posted.

I Head North To The Netherlands (1)

2009-09-09T21:09:00.008+12:00

An earlier trip to the Netherlands 2006 - Somewhere close to Volendam, north of Amsterdam.

Someone once said that "We are not here for a long time, so we might as well have a good time" - I quite like that saying - So having recently retired (and to also prove my maxim 'Carpe Diem' is not just a whole lot of hot air), I will this Friday the 11th of September begin a series of aeroplane flights that take me to The Netherlands. I will be away for 6 weeks on a cycle ride through The Netherlands and Belgium.

This trip is something that I have been quietly planning for some time. Lately the pace has quickened and I have completed an overnight camp, purchased some more cycling gear to pack into my panniers, pored over some maps with a magnifying glass (don't laugh, at 58 a magnifying glass is a serious piece of equipment), read a couple of guide books and completed much internet searching. So on Friday I shall place my destinations, expectations and resolutions in my shirt pocket, clamber aboard a big steel bird and head northwards.

The Netherlands and Northern Belgium (Flanders) have amongst other attractions, two that are important for cyclists - both these areas are as flat as a pancake and both are cyclist friendly places with dedicated cycle tracks alongside the roads and special cycle only routes. When you combine this with the huge cultural and historical interest of both countries taken at a leisurely cycling pace (I am praying for a Northern Hemisphere Indian summer here) you have the potential for an interesting and attractive holiday - I shall keep you posted.
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Keeping Fit (4) - Sailing

2009-08-18T13:39:00.005+12:00

Heading up to the Bay of Islands last Christmas - This story has been posted somewhere on this Blog last year, but as this story sums up how I feel about sailing it bears repeating.

Sailing is at the heart of what I love to do. It's not just the sailing itself which as an activity and sensation is to me poetry in motion, it is the associated peripheral things, which when gathered together make for a pleasing and enchanting whole.

To steer her up the coast hard on the wind, at the tiller hour after hour thinking only of the relationship of the angle of the genoa jib to the eye of the wind and to exult in the way the boat cleaves herself through the waves; or to run downwind like smoke feeling her make use of each wave, is to be immersed in and aware of every interaction of the boat with its environment.

To do this is to enter into a meditation of sorts, it is a way for me to be entirely in the present moment and I rejoice in that.

For me, experiencing the many moods of the sea is a blessing. Each time it is as if I am experiencing it for the very first time. The wind, the waves, the sky all have an elemental cadence to them.Watching a mirror like calm change to the spindrift blown spray of forty knots or more of wind and wave, and to sail through all this after reefing her well down and watching the destination grow slowly larger on a bright or hazy horizon, for me is being immersed in contentment itself. Then the safe harbour, the snug anchorage, rowing ashore, pulling the trusty dinghy up on the beach. The walks along the beach and climbing a hill to look down at the boat now a toy anchored contentedly in the bay below.

At night the meal shared, to lights reflected in varnished mahongony and the warm glow of conversation and camaraderie - and the stars. Not just any old stars - sailing stars, high, high, high stars clear and bright, bright, bright, away from the pollution of the city. The whole sweep of the milky way and the cosmos - and as the chill of the night comes, seeking the cosy haven below in a little cabin made for reflection, reading, meditation and contentment.

But you must remember this, the nuances of sailing are a lifes work, it is always a work in progress and it doesn't suit a plastic caravan mentality, for you see wooden yachts are living things and if you are very quiet and listen carefully they will reveal to you their secrets.