Friday Night Bachelor

The girls are going out tonight, so I am going to be by myself. I have planned my ideal Friday night in-- it will probably look like this:

-hurry home from work and quickly go out and do a painting before it gets dark
-walk down and get take away green chicken curry from the local Thai place
-eat Thai in front of Big Brother
-drink beer in front of first game of footy
-have a cup of tea and a cigar before second game of footy
-watch second game of footy in bed
-fall asleep.

Now that's my kind of night.

What's your ideal Friday night in?

A Near Miss

Walking past a building site this morning, a worker was chipping away at something or other with a chisel. As it suddenly gave way, a chunk of something grey and hard went whizzing over the safety fence, and sailed past my ear; very nearly van- goughing me.

"$*@#!", exclaimed the worker to his pal. "That's not @#$%ing safe!".

Cobber, you're telling me.

I Got It!!

Can't talk. Reading.

Thursday Peanuts

Henri Rousseau

This week I have been fascinated with Henri Rousseau, a French 'naive' painter. While his style didn't appeal to me immediately, I love the bold, clear colour and design of his paintings. Most of all though, it's the weird, dreamy subject matter that sticks with me.


(top--The Sleeping Gypsy,1897 ,bottom--Eclaireurs attaques par un Tigre, 1904 )

Holy Grail-- Discovered Two Suburbs Away

Rosalind Hollinrake, in 1979, wrote the only Clarice Beckett biography that exists-- Clarice Beckett, The Artist and Her Circle. The book is long out of print, and is something I have been searching longingly for, for years. It is pretty rare- just the other day I saw a used copy on Amazon for $211.

But, the day before yesterday, I made a very exciting discovery. I stumbled upon the website of a library quite close to where I live--

Clarice Beckett, the artist and her circle / [by] Rosalind Hollinrake. Hollinrake, Rosalind.Melbourne : Macmillan, 1979.
Non Fiction
759.994 Bec
Available

Available, baby! So tonight I'm heading straight over to this library, where I will hopefully finally get my hands on my holy grail. It's going to be hard to not 'accidentally misplace' the book when it's time to return it... Keep me accountable, brethren.

Unquiet Slumbers II

This morning, in the very wee small hours, we were woken by-- wait for it-- a man standing out in the street playing a trombone. A trombone.

Humans are very peculiar creatures.

Mental note-- build a slingshot

Tranquil Spectators

I am too quick to jump to my own conclusions, and from my safe vantage point, explain things away, neatly, ignorantly and flippantly. Having started reading The Doors of The Sea, I realise what I wrote in this post about God in disasters might fall into this category.

Hart quotes the poet Voltaire (a non-Christian), writing about a great earthquake that struck Lisbon in 1755, killing at least 60,000:

Tranquil spectators, intrepid spirits, contemplating the shipwreck of your dying brothers you search in peace for the causes of the storm...

All is well, you say, and all is necessary. What? The entire universe, but for this infernal abyss engulfing Lisbon, would have been worse off?

While Voltaire is speaking against theodicy (which from what I gather tries to reconcile an all-powerful, just, loving and intervening God, with giant catastrophes brought by 'natural' disasters, by saying that all is worked for a general happiness and equilibrium), I think I was going down this route by implying that if the Burmese cyclone is the catalyst for overturning the junta, then a good outcome has occurred as a result of all this suffering and death.

From my 'tranquil' vantage point, I can't weigh up on my little scales whether the loss of all that life was 'worth it' because good might be worked from it in the future. This is very callous to the people suffering, and very presumptuous that my logic is God's logic.

I am really glad to be thinking through these things, though, and look forward to reading on.

The Doors of The Sea

This is a passage from The Doors of The Sea, by David Bentley Hart that I read this morning--

They seem to take issue, after all, with a God of their own devising. Rosenbaum, for example, mentions a somewhat famous article by J.L. Mackie from 1955 that argues that we must conclude from the evidence of history and nature that if God is indeed omnipotent, he manifestly is not good, and that if he is good, he manifestly is not omnipotent.

It is an argument, says Rosenbaum, that so far no one has succeeded in refuting. In point of fact, though, there is no argument here to refute; the entire case is premised upon an inane anthropomorphism- abstracted from any living system of belief- that reduces God to a finite ethical agent, a limited phychological personality, whose purposes are measurable upon the same scale as ours, and whose ultimate ends for his creatures do not transcend the cosmos as we perceive it. This is not to say that it is an argument without considerable emotional and even moral force; but of logical force there is none.

Unless one possesses a divine, eternal vantage upon all of time, unless one knows the precise nature of the relation between divine and created freedom, unless indeed one can fathom infinite wisdom, one can draw no conclusions from finite experience regarding the coincidence in God of omnipotence and perfect goodness. One may still hate God for worldly suffering, if one chooses, or deny him, but one cannot in this way "disprove" him.

The Doors of The Sea, p.13-14.

Unquiet Slumbers

I am a sleepwalker.

Actually it's not so much that I walk as much as get up, talk and fuss about. I am not so deeply asleep that I don't remember it all, and know what I'm doing, but I am just enough asleep that I believe everything that is happening is 100% real.

It has gotten pretty bad since little e was born, and I feel bad for E because I disturb her sleep a lot. Ever since the baby was born, I have had the same recurring dream, over and over and over, and quite regularly. It's wearing pretty thin.

Basically, the dream goes that little e is in the bed with us, and her head has gone under the blankets, and she can't breathe. I sit up frantically and feel around trying to find her head quickly before she suffocates. Or, little e is about to fall out of the bed, and I am hanging on to her feet for dear life. Although it feels very real and frightening to me, to E it is basically me jumping about in bed with flailing hands, chattering and scaring the life out of her.

It happened last night, and I slowly came to my senses with E angrily repeating 'those are MY legs!', as I gripped her ankles with all my might, thinking she was the baby about to fall to her death. I said "well what do you want me to do, just let her fall?" She was very angry that I was doing it again. I was very angry that once again she seemed to not care that her child was on the verge of death.

Anyone know any remedies? Otherwise I might end up sleeping on the couch.

Searching for Rosalind Hollinrake

I am searching for a woman called Rosalind Hollinrake.

If it weren't for her, the memory of Clarice Beckett would have faded completely.

Many years after Beckett's death, Hollinrake discovered some paintings, signed 'C. Beckett', and set off to discover who this mysterious painter was. Eventually her search led her to a farm in Victoria, where to her horror she discovered, in an open-sided barn, rows and rows of Beckett paintings, 1200 in all, and most of them completely destroyed by the elements.

The farm was owned by an old lady, living on her own-- Becketts' sister.

Eventually Hollinrake gathered together the surviving paintings from private collections, and mounted several exhibitions, bringing to public consciousness the criminally-neglected work of a genius.

So I really want to try and find Rosalind Hollinrake, maybe to write to her or something. I have looked all over the internet but can't find an address or number anywhere--but I'll keep looking.

To Kill A Mockingbird

I was thinking this morning how much I love To Kill A Mockingbird, both the book and the movie. I really love the opening title sequence of the movie-- it is so beautifully shot, is so nostalgic, and conjures up feelings and memories of childhood.

Beautiful black and white photography, simple but classy type, great music (and cute humming). Not bad for 1962.

Best opening titles ever, I reckon. If you wanna see 'em, click here.

Teacher's Meme

Simone tagged me for this meme. I am supposed to name my five favourite teachers and say what made them great. Hmm. I have found this a little tricky, but have enjoyed looking back and trying to come up with a list. So, in no particular order--

Mr Fox was my year 4 teacher in Darwin, a tall, lanky bloke with a black moustache. He had a knack of making everything fun. When he signed his name, he drew a little cartoon fox beside it. What other teacher draws cartoon foxes? He was also a nature photographer, and for prizes in class, he would give us photos he had taken. I still have a couple of Mr Fox's goanna photographs in a drawer somewhere.

Miss Oliver was my high school art teacher. She was straight out of university, and only seemed to be a few years older than us. She was really cool, and talked to us like peers. She came to see bands with us, and we had a New Years party at her place once. She was also a very keen christian, and was very open about her faith to us, and taught us that God is the ultimate artist, and that Creation is His canvas.

It feels weird to list a current teacher, but I would have to say my current boss, Craig Handley. Sort of a cantankerous bloke (hopefully he never reads this!!) who is very talented. He has taught me a massive amount in the nearly seven years I have worked under him. I learnt more from him about drawing in a few months than I did in four years of university.

My Dad has been a wonderful teacher to me throughout the years. When I became an adult (last Tuesday) I realised how much he has taught me, mostly by his actions, and by the way he lives. More than with words, his consistently selfless and generous actions have taught me a great deal, and he has always been the benchmark for me to look up to, for being a godly man, husband, and father.

My Mum has also been an amazing teacher. She is very wise, open and honest, and without her patient listening and invaluable advice and guidance through the years, I would be a very different person today. A lot of little bits of advice she has given me have stuck with me, and I frequently call them to mind. For example, many years ago I told her I was concerned that I did not FEEL forgiven by God. She said to me, "you can't always trust your feelings".

If you read this, and have a blog, you are tagged.

God In Disasters III

In response to my post the other week about God in disasters, my friend Drew lent me this book yesterday.

I look forward to reading it and hopefully getting a better grasp on God's role in, or view of such 'natural' disasters as the tsunami a few years back, and more recently the cyclone in Burma and earthquake in China.

I will let you know what I learn.

Why Go To Church?

I love that God proves me wrong. I was driving to church yesterday, and I was in a bad mood. I was on to play guitar, and we were running late. I was tired. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. There were a zillion things I would rather be doing.

But I ended up really enjoying church. The music went well. I caught up with friends. There were all these visitors from the Access All Areas conference, and a really interesting guest speaker, Arne Fjeldstad from Norway. I got a lot out of being there.

It goes to show why church is vital to a christian, not just when they feel like it, but on a consistent basis. I think if I only went when I felt like it, a lot of things in my life would pretty quickly unravel.

News Flash--Big Brother Sucks

It hurts me to say it, but Big Brother just isn't doing it for me this year. I was watching it last night, and was soooo bored. The new hosts are duds too. Kyle is icky and sleazy, and Jackie O sends me to sleep as soon as she opens her mouth.

But I'm not giving up on it just yet (so there, Trish). There is still time for it to come good.

Out Of My Control

Midway through the weekend, I took on "It is out of my control" as my new mantra. With two family picnics for little e, and other various stuff, we were once again in that dreaded position of being 'events coordinators', with me scrambling about trying to be competent.

I get ridiculously anxious and flustered, and it got to the point where I just had to say to myself, look, you can't control everything, just let happen what will happen. I felt a lot better after that, and rolled with the punches more.

An important thing I realised also is that out of MY control does not mean out of control all together.

Round 11: Tigers 20, Titans 18

Woohoo! The Tigers narrowly beat (competition leaders) the Titans, yesterday arvo at Leichhardt, 20-18. This puts them at 7th place on the table.

I saw the second half on tele after little e's picnic -- it was a very stressful 45 minutes. I couldn't sit down for the last ten minutes, but was pacing around the loungeroom. Little e was watching me with curiosity.

Less or More Than a Touch?

Clarice Beckett- Beaumaris Seascape c.1925.
Oil on cardboard, 50x49cm

Among Clarice Becketts' belongings when she died, was a cherished and well worn copy of Walt Whitmans' Leaves Of Grass. The following lines were underlined--

All truths wait in all things,

They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,

They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon,

The insignificant is as big to me as any.

What is less or more than a touch?

A perfect way to sum up her own life and work.

Bad Mood

I was in a bad mood yesterday, for pretty much the whole day. Once I get into a bad mood, I spiral down, and stubbornly refuse to get my self out of it. There were various contributing factors, including the fact that I had barely slept the night before, but for the most part the factors are irrelevant.

They are just an excuse for me to sit around sulking in my dirty nappy all day. What got me out of it was reading a devotion last night that I had skipped reading in the morning. Maybe things would have been different had I not skipped it. This is the bit that got to me--

God is not concerned about our plans; He does not say- 'Do you want to go through this bereavement; this upset?' He allows these things for His own purpose. The things we are going through are either making us sweeter, better, nobler men and women; or they are making us more captious and fault-finding, more insistent upon our own way. The things that happen either make us fiends, or they make us saints; it depends entirely upon the relationship we are in to God. --(Oswald Chambers)

What this made me see is that it is not the circumstances of my life that put me in a bad mood, or frustrate me, make me anxious, or leave me angry and flailing. It is not the circumstances of my life that will make me happy, give me peace and set me in a good mood for the day. It ALL stems from where I am standing with God, how much I have put my trust in Him.

If I submit to follow Him, the road is not necessarily easy, but He still will give me peace, security and joy on that road, even though the going may be hard. Whereas if I let my mood be determined by circumstances, than I am going to go up and down like a yo-yo, and any peace or happiness that comes to me will be shallow and fleeting.

The only consistent happiness I can find is by letting go of the steering wheel, and saying YOUR will be done.

Thursday Peanuts

Jewels

Well, little e is one today. What a year it has been-- the most full on twelve months of my life. In some ways it has gone super fast, and in some ways it is hard to remember or imagine our life, pre-baby. She has been an amazing blessing to our lives, and we constantly thank God for her little life.

I thought I would share a poem (oh no! get away while you still can!) that I wrote the night after she was born. I am not a poem writer, but I just felt compelled to write in some way about the way I was feeling. The girls, the most precious people in my life, were at the hospital, and I was alone at home trying to come to terms with it all.

What risk to love so much-
to let my jewels lie on the rocks,
where an ocean blind could let them fall
and leave them lost in a blind mans' wake.

What fear and dread to strike me dumb-
to know power slips through my fingers,
to take from my hands the power of my loves' limbs
and leave me a spectator to hold my breath.

What relief to know such love-
the rushing water that flows from your well,
the wave that gathers under its' wing
those it loves to never fall.

Our Little Girl Turns One Today..

Happy Birthday, Little e!

White Lamp, 2008

White Lamp, Oil on Canvas board 2008

I even got in a bit of painting on the holiday. E's Dad came out of a $2 shop with some oil paints, brushes and canvases, so one night I sat down for an hour and did this painting. I quite like it and am sad that I had to leave it in Queensland, as oil paints take ages to dry. Hopefully one day I will get it back.

Rocky Marathon

While we were up the there was a bit of a Rocky movie marathon on pay TV, which was cool. It was the first time I had seen the most recent one, Rocky Balboa. I really liked it. I had heard lots of people say it was garbage, but I thought it was great. Good premise, decent acting, lots of good clock cleaning, and a good training montage. I love a training montage, especially if it is to Survivors' Eye of The Tiger. That song is made for montages.

I may have liked it more because I had seen Rocky V earlier that day, which was pretty tough going. Certainly not the best of the series. Apollo Creed. Mr T. Ivan Drago....and Tommy Gunn. Sorry, but he was not a worthy opponent at all. Still, the closing credits had an Elton John song with some poignant lyrics, Soak in this poetry, readers:

These battered hands are all you own,
This broken heart has turned to stone.

So true.

The Dayspa

One day E's dad booked E and I into a day spa without us knowing. It was cool, we've never done anything like that before. I gotta say though, call me neurotic, but I found it all a little stressful. Another one of these places where there is all this unspoken etiquette that I don't know about.

We were led through a maze of dark corridors, and quick instructions were given. E was to go to such and such a place, and me somewhere else. I was then left alone, and had no idea what I was meant to do. I had a gown, but was I to keep my undies on, or go starkers under that? I need to be told these things.

Eventually a masseuse came and found me, and was all flustered because we were losing valuable massage time. She whisked me down more dark corridors to a little room, had me lie on a bed thing, and told me to relax. Easy for you to say, Jocelyn.

Anyhow, she then worked a bit of her magic on me, and it was actually really nice. But when she was massaging she was acting like I was a bit of a hopeless case, that I was too far gone. She kept going, Hmmm. Tsk. Hmmmm. Half an hour is not going to do it. You are really in a bad way here. Hmmm. Tsk. Sort of like some one coming to inspect your house and finding the structural beams ridden with termites. Hmmm. Is this supposed to make me relaxed?

Jocelyn said what would really help is for me to do Sun Salutes A and B, a few times a day. I said, yes that seemed like a good idea, but didn't have the heart to ask what the heck a Sun Salute was. Anyway, later on it got better, when I met up with E again, and we pooled, spa'd, sauna'd and steamroomed together for a hour or so. I reckon now that I know more of the rules I could enjoy it more next time. And maybe in the meantime I should take Jocelyn's advice and go and do me some Sun Salutes, of the A and B variety.

The Father in Law

It was good to spend some time with E's dad. I got along really well with him, actually. We had some good bonding sessions, smoking cigars, watching lots of footy on pay TV, sitting in the sauna together. It was good.

One morning he decided to cook up a breakfast. Bacon? Sausages? No. Liver. Yes, you heard right. I don't know about you, but the first thing I feel like eating when I get up of a morning is not some foul smelling, horrid textured, internal organ of a sheep. Hard to believe, but true.

I really struggled. I tried to put on a brave face so I wouldn't offend him, but inside I was in turmoil. I pretended I was on that Fear Factor show and I was doing this for 2000 dollars. No good. I pretended I was on an island with no food, and starving, and this was my first meal in a week. No use. Starving seemed preferable.

Anyhow, I got it down and then foolishly got cocky, and took another piece, to really prove my intestinal fortitude to him. But half way through my body started to rebel. Abort mission! my stomach cried. Wrong way, turn back! screamed my taste buds. I had to give up. Sometimes you need to know when you're defeated.

The Appartment

The appartment we stayed in was awesome. I have never been to a resort or anything, so this was pretty cool. We were right in the centre of things, up on the 11th floor of a big high rise. It had a big pool with a pretend beach around it (because you need that), plus a heated indoor pool with a spa and sauna. Check out the view from the balcony--

Surface Paradise

Well, to my surprise, the plane did not go down in flames, and today I am in fact alive and well (though very pooped and in need of a holiday to get over my holiday). We had a really great time away. One good thing about being a pessimist is that you are often pleasantly surprised when things go better than you expect them to.

We stayed in Surfers Paradise, in an apartment that E's dad owns. He flew up with us also and stayed with us. It was really good to spend some time with him, and it was great for little e to get to know him. I liked Surfers. It was good to go somewhere unlike the places we usually go. I didn't mind the touristy-ness of it. One bad thing about the place though, is the coffee. You pay four bucks for a take away flat white, and it's bland, weak and generally poo.

Incidentally, until very recently I thought that Surfers Paradise was actually called Surface Paradise. If you think about it, this was not a stupid ignorant mistake, as you would first assume, but rather a telling little Freudian slip-- a reference to the dark underbelly that lies beneath the beautiful, bronzed exterior of the place; paradise on the surface, but what dwells below the skin? A question we all must ponder.

Gold Coast Tonight

Me and the girls are flying up to the Gold Coast tonight, for a bit of a holiday. I have never been up there before, so I am looking forward to it. Also looking forward to flying -- I've only been on two planes in the last twenty years, so it's definitely a bit of a novelty.

I am a bit scared of crashing and dying, but I just keep on telling myself people do this crazy thing every day. So, (God willing...), I will see you all next Tuesday. Have a great weekend (and/or life).

Thursday Peanuts

God in Disasters II

I read this article after that post I wrote this morning about disaster. The following quote got me thinking-- I wonder if God is going to bring change through this tragedy, if this is the way He is going to work good things through a bad situation?

The junta faces a dilemma as the pressure intensifies.

If it opens its doors to foreigners, it may never be able to seal the country again against the outside influences it dreads.

By keeping foreign assistance out, though, the generals must be ready to accept the deaths of hundreds of thousands of more people. This is the choice it appears to be making.

Could this disaster be God's way of having the junta in Burma overthrown?

At the same time, I guess it's important to remember that if He does not choose to work in this way, not to assume that He isn't working at all. The solutions I come up with in my tiny brain are folly compared to God's amazing wisdom. And He works in mysterious ways. Still, I will pray that this will be the catalyst for eventually overturning the military junta.

Got a Spare $37.3 Million?

This late Monet painting, Le Bassin Aux Nympheas (1919) is up for sale.

Anyone want to go go in with me?

Movie Meme

Ali tagged me to do this movie meme--

1. One movie that made you laugh
Planes, Trains and Automobiles. That movie is gold.

2. One movie that made you cry
Secrets and Lies. Also cried at the end of Iron Giant

3. One movie you loved when you were a child
Neverending Story

4. One movie you've seen more than once
The Pianist. A great movie I can watch over and over.

5. One movie you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it
About A Boy. I think because it had Hugh Grant. I am ok with that now. Also Castaway, and this time because it had Tom Hanks.

6. One movie you hated
The Hours. Also Mulholland Drive.

7. One movie that scared you
One night when I was a kid my parents went out, and I watched Carrie on TV. My first foray into horror movies. It scared the heck out of me, and I loved it.

8. One movie that bored you
Good Night, and Good Luck. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

9. One movie that made you happy
To Be and To Have

10. One movie that made you miserable
Babel

11. One movie you weren't brave enough to see
Titanic. Too many crying people in the audience to contend with. And too much Celine Dion to contend with also.

12. One movie character you've fallen in love with
Amelie, Sophia Coppola's character in The Godfather III

13. The last movie you saw
It's been a while.. um, I think No Country For Old Men

14. The next movie you hope to see
Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

God in Disasters

We had a big discussion last night at Bible Study, and couldn't really reach agreement. We were talking about the recent terrible disasters in Burma (the cyclone), and China (the earthquake).

I asked if God still uses disasters as punishment, in the way He did in the Old Testament. My gut feeling is that He doesn't, but that He uses bad things to bring about good things, perhaps to point people to Him and to bring Himself glory.

Is this right? Are disasters the result of a fallen world? Does God let them happen, or make them happen? I still feel really unsure about all of this.

Does anybody have any thoughts on this, or know of any helpful books or passages I could read?

My Testimony

I have never really sat down and wrote out my testimony of how I came to Christ, so I thought I would give it a shot. Probably the main reasons I haven't are that it was quite gradual, and it maybe wasn't that spectacular. But I figure EVERY story of a person coming to Christ is spectacular! So here goes--

I was raised in a Christian family, and my parents were missionaries in the Northern Territory. I grew up going to church, and Christianity was always there around me. I never saw a reason to doubt what I heard about God, and always just believed that He was real, even though I had never seen Him personally-- maybe like I believed that China was real, even though I had never seen it with my own eyes. But as I didn't really give China a second thought, I didn't really ever give God a second thought either.

The first time I remember thinking about Him, was when I was about twelve years old. I had been listening to tapes of Keith Green's music, and I found myself being very moved-- particularly when I heard songs like Rushing Wind and The Sheep and the Goats. I would be so moved as to get a lump in my throat, and I think those were the first times that I really thought of God as Someone, rather than Something.

Then came high school and rebellious teenager stuff, and God was pushed aside as I cherished the idea that I was the centre of the world, and that the world revolved around me. Though I believed in God, and continued to go to church with my family, I felt no real twinge of conscience about the way I was living. I find it bizarre to think about now, that I was so exposed to the word of God, and to the lives of Christians around me, and yet it was all like water off a ducks back to me. What i really needed, was a bit of a shake up in my life.

This shake up came in 1996, through a combination of things. I was in my first year of university, and had joined a Bible study there. The leader of the group asked me to start meeting with him one on one, to look at the Bible together. I was really happy to do this, and we started reading through the book of Colossians. At the same time, there was a new student minister at my church, and I struck up a friendship with him. The influence of these two guys was massive. They were different to all my other mates. They seemed very gentle and humble, and very honest. There was no bravado. They seemed to genuinely care about me, and where I stood with God, and this all had a very big impact on me.

At this same time, two people close to me died, both within about five or six months, and this really knocked me for six. The first was the sudden death of the father of my baby nephew, a guy a few years older than me who I had really looked up to. I really did not know what to make of this, or how to deal with it. It is all a bit of a blur to me now. But the one thing that sticks out to me, was that the guy from church came over to my house to see me and talk to me. He listened while I cried, and then he prayed for me. As he was saying goodbye, he grabbed hold of my shoulders and pulled me in to a big hug. This took me by surprise, but it really meant a lot to me. He genuinely was feeling my pain, mourning because I was mourning.

Later in the year my grandfather also died, and this kept the ground feeling shaky beneath me. I really had this sense of realising that the world was a lot bigger than me, that I was definitely not in control, that I couldn't bank on things staying the same forever, and that death could come anytime. All of this finally pushed me to look at my Bible, not with a passing glance anymore, but as the place where I might find answers, relief and comfort.

I looked at Ecclesiastes, and at one of the gospels, and the penny, after all this time, finally dropped. Belief in God was one thing, but trust and allegiance to His Son Jesus was something else. This was the one thing that I needed. So I prayed and asked Jesus to be MY saviour, and I said to God that I wanted to follow Him wholeheartedly from that point on. It hit home at last that Jesus had died FOR ME.

This was no longer some words repeated at church, or sung in a song. This was a fact, a real thing that had happened for me, to me. With the realisation of the depth of the love of God, I found so much joy, and my life suddenly seemed to take on a much deeper sense of worth and meaning. My life had a point now.

Anyway, that's about it. That was twelve years ago this year.

Morandi

--My second favourite artist of all time, the Italian painter Georgio Morandi

Little Things

It's the funny little things little e does that warm my heart the most. This morning I was feeling tired and dreary, and was out in the lounge room getting dressed, at 6am. I went to pull on one of my boots, but there was something in there stopping me. I tipped up my boot and one of little e's toys fell out-- she likes hiding her toys in strange places. I suddenly felt very happy, and had a big smile on my face. A little surprise that she had hidden for me.

Tim Winton Literary Dinner

Last night my Dad and I went to that Tim Winton literary dinner thing that I posted about a couple of weeks ago. It was really good, I enjoyed the night a lot. It was in a ballroom thing in a flash high rise hotel in the city-- not the sort of place I find yourself in every day. Tim Winton was really interesting to listen to. He is such a down to earth, humble sort of guy, and had a lot of good stuff to say. He was mainly talking about his new book, Breath.

He was also taking questions from the audience, and he gave a really cool reply to the question he probably gets asked over and over-- why do his books seem to leave so much up in the air at the end. He said that he didn't like books that carry you to bed, tuck you in, give you your warm cup of Horlicks, kiss you goodnight, turn out the lights, shut the door and return in five minutes to check on you-- meaning that there is nothing for you to do or engage in as a reader; you've consumed the book, and now you don't need to think about it again.

He wants you to get in to the characters and try and fill in the gaps and speculate on what was left unsaid, to think about it after you've finished reading. As Iv'e said before, I love a nicely tied up ending, but I liked his reasoning.

It was also really nice to do something, just my dad and I. We got to chat about a lot of stuff that probably usually wouldn't come up. I have to say for a 'literary dinner' the dinner part was pretty light on-- a little box about the size of your fist, with a couple of squiggly little bits of raw something or other, wrapped in some rubbery plant from the ocean, topped with a few black icky fish eggs. Yeah, that's going to fill me up. Thank goodness for the late night drive through medium Big Mac meal.

Day With Little e

Well, overall today went well. Both little e and I had a good day spending time together. She was really good, and there were no real dramas. My sister was at Equip with E, so I caught up with her husband (my brother in law) and their little fella (of 'happy ben' fame) for a couple of hours. We went to a cafe intending on grabbing a coffee, but ended up staying for big brekkys. It is hard for a day to be bad if there is a big brekky involved. Did a few other bits and pieces throughout the day, but I'll spare you the boring details.

But yeah, the overriding feeling that I have is satisfaction. It felt really good to know that I could do it, and it felt great to spend so much sustained time with her, taking care of her by myself, driving and singing together, reading together, doing everything together. I definitely will do it more often.

And as expected, the day gave me a deeper appreciation for E and for all she does for little e while I'm at work. It's relentless taking care of a kid by yourself . I feel exhausted from one day--doing it day after day must be pretty full on. Anyhow, with Mother's Day tomorrow, this experience has been a really good chance to take stock.

Let Them Eat Toast

Why is it that raisin toast takes about four seconds to toast, far quicker than normal bread? I took two slices to work, put them in the toaster, turned my head for a mere moment, only to turn back and see trails of smoke coming from the toaster. And why on the other hand, do crumpets take an eternity to toast? You could read War and Peace with time to spare in the time it takes to brown one of those suckers.

FACT: I read in a scientific journal just now that if you had a big enough crumpet to shield you, you could actually get within spitting distance of the sun without even breaking a sweat. Hard to believe, but true.

Little e and I

E is going to the Equip conference tomorrow, so it will be just little e and I for the day. I am kind of excited about it, as we don't really spend that much time together, just the two of us. I am a little nervous as well. How do you entertain a kid for such a long, sustained period of time? I am fairly certain that ten hours of peek-a-boo probably isn't going to cut the mustard.

The other thing is that she won't have the good stuff on tap, and will be drinking formula milk for pretty much the first time. So my fingers are crossed that she won't hate this new beverage and decide to punish me for it. Anyway, I am sure I will come away with a deeper appreciation of what E does every day, and that it will build my confidence to do it more -- two good things.

Tired? Anxious? Stressed?

Let this sort you out..

Happy Ben

For some reason, my little nephew calls me Happy Ben, rather than Uncle Ben. I am not too sure why, but I don't mind the title. It's a good title to have.

Also, he thinks that the new yellow Wiggle and I are the same person. He is known to point to pictures of the wiggle and say "Happy Ben". I don't mind this either, as I feel like a bit of a celeb when I'm around him.

Thursday Peanuts

Gold

The Dudley Moore movie Arthur II was on tele at luch time, and while it looked a bit pooh, just before I changed channels I heard this top joke--

-He passed away..it was the big C

-Oh, cancer?

-No, he drowned. In the big sea.

Now that is comedy gold.

Otters Holding Hands

Awwwww!

Have You Ever Noticed.. #2

This is kind of gross, and I will understand if you haven't noticed this. But have you ever noticed the strong similarity between the smell of men's b.o. and the spice cumin? I know, you are recoiling and saying, no, that couldn't possibly be true. But it is.

Sometimes you will be on the train, and some gross sweaty bloke comes and sits on the seat beside you, and for a moment you can't quite work out whether he has some take away curry in his bag, or he just needs a good shower. Next time you are cooking, open your jar of cumin, close your eyes, and have a good whiff. You will visualise an armpit and realise that I am right. Strangely though, b.o. burns my nostrils, whereas I love cumin. Go figure.

Have You Ever Noticed.. #1

Have you ever noticed that a strange thing happens when you come to an escalator that has stopped working? You get a strange sensation, as though it's taking a while for your brain to compute. Your eyes find it hard to focus on the steps that you are so used to seeing moving. Now they are still you don't know what to make of it. You temporarily forget how to walk, and have to consciously get your feet to move. When you do get them working-- left, right, left, right-- it feels like you have big robot boots on, or are walking through sand. Strange

My New Aerosports

At the beginning of 1988, I moved from Darwin to Sydney. I was about to start at my new school, going in to grade 5. Even though this was already my fifth primary school (that's the life of a child circus acrobat prodigy, folks), and I was used to moving, I felt quite nervous about this particular new start.

What made it bearable however, was that I was going to get a pair of brand new sneakers to kick off the year. I went shopping with my Dad, and after some deliberation, chose a pair of sparkling white, ultra- awesome, high-top Aerosports. They were a very good looking shoe, I can tell you that right now.

So the first day at my new school arrives. I have kept a pretty low profile, just sussing out the kids from a distance. Speaking when spoken to, but otherwise, just taking it all in, scoping out the terrain. After lunch, things start to go awry.

I have foolishly forgotten to go to the toilet before returning to class, after having a long drink at the bubblers. The teacher is standing out the front, talking about some such thing, but I can't focus. The pressure is building, slowly but surely. Can I hold out till home time? Nope. I put my hand up. The other kids look at me, but the teacher doesn't. My hand stays up. He finally sees me. Thank goodness, just in the nick of time.

What's this? He's seen me, but is not acknowledging it. What sort of fool new school is this? "Excuse me", I say. "Excuse me". Nothing. I realise I have to take matters into my own hands, or else things could get ugly. I get up out of my seat, and walk up the aisle towards the front of the class. He'll have to listen to me now. I get to the front, and am met with a hard glare.

"Sit down!"

"I really have to.."

"Sit down!".

Talk about not cutting the new kid any slack. The other kids are stating to laugh. I am getting flustered. This was not how it was supposed to be. The hard yards I had put in during the day were quickly unravelling.

What happened next, valued reader, is difficult to explain, and hard to comprehend. I know what you are expecting me to say, that I couldn't hold on any longer. But no, I did hold on. It was something else that happened, something completely unexpected. There was a sudden rumble below. The stress had taken it's toll. I proceeded to vomit, right there, over the front of my teacher, over the floor, and worst of all, all over my pristine Aerosports.

Havoc breaks loose. Kids are laughing, shouting, horrified. I am crying. My teacher is in shock. Parents are called. I am now sitting out in the parking lot, waiting for my Dad. My reputation at my new school is shot. I am The Vomiter. My sneakers are forever soiled. I continue to wear them for years, but always, just below the surface, just beneath the smell of detergent, soap, bleach; there lingers a smell that will not let me forget, an odour that fills my nostrils and my nightmares.

Drawing Shmawring

I am having the worst drawing day in the history of the world. Some days it just doesn't work. I put the pen to the screen, but what comes out is just rubbish. I get VERY frustrated on these days, and it just ends up getting worse and worse. I'm falling behind with my work, and have forgotten how to draw. Stupid drawing. What sort of job is drawing? Get a real job. I bet doctors don't have days where they forget how to.. doctor.

Gable Window, Dulwich Hill

Gable Window, Dulwich Hill (2008)
25x 20cm, Oil on canvas

It has been a while since I did a painting, so I went out this afternoon. I was at a kids' birthday party yesterday at a park, and noticed this house, so I went back there today and painted it. It felt great to be out in the beautiful day, and to be doing something productive. At first I wasn't happy with the painting, but it's grown on me.

Painter's Tip: If ever you want to speed up your painting process, and be fast and spontaneous, drink a massive glass of water beforehand, and paint in a park with no public toilets. I was needing to go even before I started painting, but I tell you, after that hour and a half, I was a nervous wreck; a vessel full to overflowing. I threw the gear in the car and sped home like a man possessed. As close a call as I can remember in recent times.

The Best $29 I Ever Spent

I just gave myself a haircut. Feels good to be lightweight again. By far the best purchase I ever made, was my $29 Proclipper Professional Haircutting Set from a bargain shop in 1998. Since that day, ten years ago, I have probably paid for about five haircuts, the rest of the time I have done it myself.

I have become quite proficient too-- using a selection of carefully placed mirrors, I can cut the back of my hair, even pulling off a seamless fade from blade #4 down to blade #1. It is an art that I have mastered. If ever the drawing business falls through I might open a barber shop.

Bird's Nest

I found this little bird's nest the other day. It had fallen out of a tree and was abandoned, so I decided to take it home. I love bird's nests, how they are made with such care and purpose. I wonder what sort of bird this belonged to?

This one is best at a distance though-- if you look closely you see a fair portion of human hair woven along in there with the bark. Ick!

No Regrets

I was thinking today how much I hate the little saying 'no regrets'. Such a big thing to say in such a brief, flippant way. How can anybody have no regrets? There is nothing that you've done that you wish you hadn't?

I understand the idea of not getting bogged down in guilt or dwelling on past mistakes-- but surely regretting those past mistakes is important and normal too? If I have a brother, and I do something to hurt him, and then apologise and he forgives me, well yes, the issue is dealt with and the matter closed. But I still regret having hurt him in the first place. No regrets says, yeah I hurt you, but if i could go back I would still do it all over again. Seems pretty pathetic to me.

I don't know, am I making too big a deal out of a little saying? (Before you answer that, remember that you can't go back and say things differently..)

Tomato and Ginger Soup

I cooked up a pot of tomato and ginger soup for dinner tonight. It was nice, I was pleased with how it turned out. I made it up as I went along-- Fryed up some onion, ginger (lots), garlic, fresh herbs I picked from my parents' garden today (marjoram, chives, thai basil) in a lump of butter, whacked in two tins of tomatoes, some tomato paste, balsamic vinegar, water, beef stock cubes, brown sugar, pepper and salt. I tried unsuccessfully to push it all through a sieve, so it remained sort of clumpy. But good eating though.

Saturday Blogging

Blogging on a Saturday-- this is a rarity. Mainly because our home internet connection is actually the slowest ever recorded (a survey was done). Doing it mainly to take my mind off little e screaming. Poor little thing is supposed to be going to sleep, but is really congested and unhappy tonight. It will probably be a bit of a rough night for all concerned...

Clarice Beckett

It's strange that it has taken me so long to write a post about Clarice Beckett. When I was thinking about writing a blog, my main reason for wanting one was that I wanted to talk about Clarice Beckett, an Australian painter who died in 1935 .

She is my all-time favourite painter, and I have been frustrated to find that there are no good websites about her life and work, and not really any good books about her either. It seems crazy to me, to think that there was this absolute genius, and yet she has gotten so little recognition. So I thought if you can't find a website, make your own.

As it turns out, this has not turned out to be a Beckett blog, but I still will do regular posts about her, perhaps as a test-run for starting a whole other blog, solely about her work. It would be a good'n. I have a cool title for it and everything. I can't see it getting a big readership, but it will just be a labour of love.

Even Now

"Even now," declares the Lord, "return to me with all your heart.." (Joel 2:12)

Even Now. These are two of my favourite words in the Bible, and I come back to them again and again, and find great assurance and relief. When I go off the rails and drift away from God, I put off coming back to Him. I feel too pathetic, too sinful. I'll do it later. Maybe tonight.

I pledged my faithfulness and obedience to Him, and an hour later I completely disregarded that pledge, and made a mockery of it, so how can I show my face? I put off coming back to Him, because my apology seems so lame and hollow, I am a 'white-washed tomb'. I never stop believing that He will give me forgiveness, but I feel too much of a wretch to ask for it.

But He says Even Now. Even Now, though you have gone so far from Me. Even Now that you have done what you have done. What a huge comfort this is. Never can we go so far that we are beyond His grasp, love, forgiveness, redemption.

Thursday Peanuts

Female Praying Mantis: One Sick Puppy

WARNING: May blow your mind-

..the female will mate with and devour up to seven males, whether she has laid her egg cases or not. The mating rites of mantises are well known: a chemical produced in the head of the male insect says, in effect, "No, don't go near her, you fool, she'll eat you alive." At the same time a chemical in his abdomen says, "Yes, by all means, now and forever yes."

While the male is making up what passes for his mind, the female tips the balance in her favour by eating his head. He mounts her. Fabre describes the mating, which sometimes lasts six hours, as follows: "The male, absorbed in the performance of his vital functions, holds the female in a tight embrace. But the wretch has no head; he has no neck; he has hardly a body. The other, with her muzzle turned over her shoulder continues very placidly to gnaw what remains of the gentle swain. And, all the time, that masculine stump, holding on firmly, goes on with the business! I have seen it done with my own eyes and have not yet recovered from my astonishment."

(Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)

A lesson there for all of us. By the way, if you need a little more help visualising, this might do the trick. A nasty, nasty business.