Essays
Coming by Sea to Hope and Distress
Read moreWood that turns to stone,
That turns to bone
At the bottom of the sea;
Flotsam in the ocean,
Like the great raft
Of rubbish that is
Part of what we have
Discarded—too difficult
To address but distant enough
To ignore.Pro patria mori
Read moreToday was ANZAC Day (the Australian Memorial Day); I’m conflicted over the concept of war memorial. Earlier this week, I made this photograph of a wood carving in the mezzanine at work (click on the image to see it larger). It was commissioned in the 1950’s by the Federation to commemorate teachers who served and died in World War I & II. It depicts a prone soldier holding what seems to be either a bouquet of some sort or perhaps a handful of grasses and what I assume is meant to be a Bible in the other hand. It’s not clear whether he is resting or is, indeed, dead; the text reads ‘He served in war that we might live in peace’. That’s debatable for WWI, where the Australians suffered a terrible defeat in far away Gallipoli (observed today); perhaps less so for WWII where they were directly at risk from Japanese invasion.
Misstep
Read moreBecause an airplane flew overhead
At 4AM
I am awake.
It is the interconnectedness of all things;
Because, two days ago,
In an intersection somewhere
In Denver,
The flight mechanic responsible for this plane
That flew overhead
At 4AM,
Missed a stop sign and nearly
Ran over a pedestrian,
He was upset and, later that day,
Forgot to note he had repaired a minor problem in a pump.
But, when the plane landed in Fiji, the prudent pilot
Was concerned and had it checked.
This only took a moment;
But, because of this, they missed a take off window.
Whilst they were waiting, the engineer there noticed something else
That was critical and had to be repaired
Thus delaying the flight several hours and putting it in to Sydney
At 4AM; awaking a swath of sleeping suburbs.
Because of that pedestrian, who had paused for a moment
To greet a neighbour in Denver who had surgery some weeks ago.On Difference
Read moreThere is a special awareness that comes from reading old journals whilst jet-lagged; the words don’t seem any more profound, but the filter of strange tiredness certainly adds a layer of ‘did I write this? What was I thinking?’ which could be a positive or negative observation.
I wrote the notes below about ten years ago when considering how a very conservative religious institution (I had my former university in mind) could open a discussion on racial diversity. Much of this would apply to ethnic or interfaith conversations as well. All, of course, presupposes a level of openness to begin with.
Tidal Surge
Read moreI woke early this morning and found this essay I wrote about six years ago for the Spiritual Activism course in my Human Ecology program at Strathclyde; we were asked to write a justification for enrolling in the course. No answers to the questions have presented themselves but the narrative still unfolds.
I am the product of a place, a people, a culture and the religious thought that bind these together. This idea was easily established in my thinking; however, it has taken some time to unravel the meaning of it. I’ve felt, at times, part of some grand American Destiny; but that destiny, parsed out, does not fit nicely back together again. Indeed, though Americans speak often about the core history of our nation, there is little practical evidence of this history playing itself out in daily life. The perception of common aims; the meaning of place and community; the content and concept of culture; the course and character of these societal supports are now subtly altered (e.g. our “Founding Fathers” were mostly men of the Enlightenment; strangely, they have become paragons of religious piety and defenders of The Faith).
Smaller Faith
Read moreA couple months ago I was visited by a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses at the door (again). We had a conversation that really didn’t go where they wanted it to go (it rather dulls their efforts if the person they are speaking with has actually read and studied the Bible and already has some thoughts about its ramifications). However, they were pleasant enough and we had what seemed like the necessary dialogue. At one point, one of them asked if I was a person of faith. I said, “Yes, I’m a Quaker.” She paused with a bemused expression. It was a cross between now, who are the Quakers again? and we should probably make a hasty retreat down the street; he’s some kind of cult member!