Farrago: On the Importance of Clear and Unambiguous Communication

You told me that you farngblat,
and would never let me snarg.
I spoke to you of biglefamps
that walumed in the jerg.

My friend told me his marvenkik
was frammed beyond norvak:
I sorped upon such giggenhap,
While theathing dear kanbak.

Now if you chance to winklemump
while jerbing with the karmple,
just fik to nab magorium
and disregard the brangle.

The 3D Pop-up Children’s Book

The view from my verandah this morning
reminded me 
of those children’s pop-up
three dimensional
story books.
If you could enter the book
between two of the panels
could you not have access
to a two-dimensional sideroad?

If our lives are like a 3D pop-up
just imagine the strange,
the wonderful, the terrifying
adventures that we’ve missed,
slavishly following 
the arrow of time.

We become stupefied by what may happen next;
by who we are told we should be; 
by where we think we must be going.
Could fulfilment not suddenly arrive
through the serendipitous exploration 
of the laterals, 
the mysteries and wonders
between the brightly coloured pop-ups?

In the 3D children’s storybook of my life,
I have explored the laterals,
retrogressing at times,
but the story,
the real, unimagined, unplanned,
and unanticipated story,
is not the original.
It is a construct in which I participated,
which I changed as the story progressed,
sometimes planned,
sometimes accidental,
but always engaged
in developing the lateral.


The book is different now:
some of the panels are faded,
with rips here and there.
Some brightly scintillate 
with lives of their own.

The tale is, ultimately,
for all its change, wear and tear,
about happy endings.
   And it is my story. 

On the Essence of Time: New to Quantum Shift series

On the Essence of Time

This is me, Now.
This is you, 
and this is your
Now.
I do this in my Now
that you may read it 
in your Now,
Tomorrow.

In childhood the long summer holidays,
in a younger world,
lasted forever,
all lakes explored
all roads travelled.

I have commanded Time
to slow,
and Time acquiesced.

The moss on Siva's flame,
appeared as moss on the back
of a Discworld turtle,
moving slowly through Forever.

And of all that ever was,
and of all that ever shall be...
this is me.
Now.

Miltant Atheism, and Offences Against My Mind

For me, the most difficult part of being a militant atheist is that I am pointing out the absurdity of faith-based beliefs, and good friends and relatives of mine who are believers will be hurt and offended by my remarks.  
They will, I hope, understand the assault on my mind that occurs every time I hear or see expressions like, "Thank God", "Praise the Lord", "If God wills it",  "In'shallah", "In God We Trust".  It is a offence to me to see the ridiculous platitudes that are often placed on billboards outside of some churchs, mosques, synagogues, or temples.  The Charter of Rights of Canada starts off with the words, "Whereas Canada is founded upon principles that recognize the supremacy of God and the rule of law:".  This excludes me and tens of thousands of my atheist and humanist peers.  It opens the door for the abomination that is anti-blasphemy laws.  Which god are we speaking of here?  I would hope it is not the god of the Pentateuch, who is the basis for the god of Christians, Muslims, and Jews.  He tends to be jealous, capricious, vengeful, mean, and calls for cruelity and bloody retaliation and sacrifice from his adherents.  If he lived down the street, I would move far away from him, as he is obviously a sociopath.  This is the kind of assault I bear daily.  I am merely speaking out on a subject that needs to be addressed so that, in time, we can move forward to a better world, without the constant battles between our global tribes to determine which invisible friend is the right invisible friend to have.
I do not ask for forgiveness from you, dear readers;  I ask for understanding.

Jim's Guide to Old Age and Retirement

1. Train for it. Establish a regular exercise regimen.
2. Eat for it. Change your diet to organics, non-hormonal, unprocessed foods.
3. Keep learning. There is a whole universe of truth and knowledge out there. Indulge yourself intellectually.

To give you some idea of the joy of being 71, look at the partial list of things I've learned since turning 70:
Studied the lives of the four great sages: Confucius, the Buddha, Jesus, and Mohammed.
Studied the history of India along with the history of Hinduism, with the Upanishads.
Discovered the wonderful and inspiring intellects of Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Lawrence Krauss, and Hugh Everett.
Studied quantum mechanics and superstring theory.
Rediscovered the joy of international travel
Discovered the magic of BBC television.
Started on three courses in philosophy. (ongoing)
Continued cooking for my family.
Cleaned the kitchen every Friday (well, almost every).
Realised that I am an atheist, perhaps even, as Hitch has said, an antitheist.
Continued to love, and enjoy the love of my family.

Hey, not too bad for an old guy! Life is sweet.

The Road to Moksha

The Path is long,
and I am tired now.
I remember signposts on the way:
long summer days, and bicycles;
grey hitchhikers' highways,
stretching into the unknown; 
looking for love, but not knowing her face.

So many winters, that lasted too long,
and so many queues, waiting for people
who would steal my time
to feed their quest for power.
Wise men who babbled nonsense,
and fools who spoke truth;
friends to whom the word 
simply meant padding in their address books;
dreamers who dreamed big
yet functioned small,
dismissing opportunities
as distractions.

The Path has been long,
and I am tired now:
I knew who I should be,
but in effecting change
I became more of me,
and less of whom I should have been.

I am peaceful now
as I rest here before going on.
I am content now
as those who love me
love me without condition.
I am tired now, but the Path goes on,
and Change still awaits me.

~James Douglas Fanning, 25 March, 2013

Signposts on the Road to 42

Upanishadic philosophy, composed in Vedic verse,
teaches us we are all part of a cosmic multiverse.
Immanent and transcendent, in everything dwells a trace
of the force named Brahman, which is all time and space.

The gentle Buddha's teachings , shorn of dogmatic spin,
counsel us to focus on that strength we have within.
Enlightenment is the knowledge this amazing cosmic dance
is fleeting:  we accept our Now, and embrace impermanence.

Quantum theory teaches that the act of observation
may place one's Reality in different time, space, or location.
Born in the heart of dying stars are the elements of our creation.
The universe does not waste: death is only transformation.

Standing on my hill, overlooking quiet bay
I am possessed of the wonder that I live, here, today.
Embracing every moment and the magic that it brings,
the Answer is Now clear to me, and my Spark of Brahman sings.

Erosion

Erosion

Grey wrinkles on a pallid face,
eroded by the wearing pace
of life,
and the arrow of time.

Deep pathways carved by tears
for loved ones gone for years:
in memory
living proud and strong.

Captured on our aging skin,
echoes of love that dwell within
carve deep
our sense of loss.

Ancient canyons wrought by grief,
as time rushed by us like a thief:
a monument
to loss, and love.

65 Years Since Gandhi was killed

"An error does not become truth 

by reason of multiplied propagation, 

nor does truth become error 

because nobody sees it.

Truth stands, 

even if there be no public support. 

It is self sustained."

 -- Gandhi.

"Being" in Carrickfergus

I had one of those “moments” this morning; a moment of profound and peaceful realisation.  Charlotte Church was singing the beautiful “Carrickfergus” on the Big Magical Wall Screen, and I was making toast to take up to Terry with her morning Rooibos tea.

The plaintive and nostalgic words brought the realisation that so many of my friends, relatives, and acquaintances long for a return to past days: days of childhood, the teenaged years, the years of young adulthood, the days when their children were babies, or the days when the kids first went to school; days when parents and grandparents were alive:-to quote The Moody Blues, “The Days of Future Passed”.  A longed-for return to a simpler past.

In thrall to the music, I reviewed a hardscrabble childhood on the Shore, followed by near poverty in Timmins.  A childhood of taunts from peers, because of my accent, because of my poverty, because, it seemed, simply for being me.  Confused teenaged years with no sense of direction, no understanding of who I was, or where I was going.  Confused with the happiness that some found with a religion that I could not accept or understand.  It seemed that my life was simply a stumbling along, without the tools, the education, the understanding, to ensure a future niche of belonging and contentment.

As I reviewed the long journey, I realised that of course there were good times, there were numerous treasures for the soul along the way, but there was always the feeling, the knowledge that there had to be more to it all than what I had seen so far.

And there was.  I realise now that, waiting for me here on my hill, was my destination: that place to which my body and my mind, my very essence, had always been bound.  Here is where I want to be.  Here is where I am supposed to be.  Here is where I have found myself.  I can, from this nexus, review all the aspects of my past.  I can revel in all that is, be astounded by all the endless variations that are.  I can study, meditate, accept and discard.

I can be.  Here.  Now.

Thank you, Charlotte.