What’s it all about? What’s it all for? Why are we here? Where are we headed and what will we do when we get there? Just the other day I was talking with my Mum and I mentioned that a well known person, from our hometown, had passed away. My mother was sad to hear the news and she said to me (as so many have said before her) “When you get to my age...all your friends start to die around you.” “ Yes that’s true, but I guess we’re all on the same treadmill.” I replied. I wasn’t meaning to diminish what my mother was feeling, although in hindsight it sounds like a harsh retort. If anything, I was trying to show that I could empathize as we are all aligned to the same trajectory. Some of us don’t even get the chance to step on the moving pathway. Some of us fall off far too soon. Some get to ride right to the very last, as all those by our side fall away, leaving us to face the end alone. This may seem to be the grimmest of topics. The sort of ‘heavy’ conversation that makes us yearn for the ‘lighter’ things in life. Bear with me as I hope to offer a view that finds comfort in the bleakness that awaits us, but be warned, many mixed metaphors and a questionable use of punctuation may lie ahead. I remember being about 7 years old when I was walking through Gunnedah Cemetery with my Dad. I had begun to notice the inscriptions on the headstones. I looked at the dates, the births, the deaths, the extreme length or shortness of time between the two. I recall a wave of dread as I realized the implications and my place in the scheme of things. It seems like a cruel joke that at about the same time we are struggling with the notion of our existence we in turn have to grapple with the concept of our past and future nonexistence. I began to think about the people in the ground. What had they done in their time on Earth? Where had they travelled to? Did they live out all of their days here or had the gone far and wide only to return home. I resolved then and there to make sure that I explored as much of the world as I could. I knew that I wanted to travel, but I also wanted to make sure that I tried to live the fullest of lives. I felt so sad for the children laid to rest there. My short life seemed so long compared to those that only had days, weeks, and years countable on one hand only. “Carpe Diem” I did not know the famous call to arms at that time, but I felt it instinctively as I day dreamt in my father’s footsteps. Life has a way of occupying your attention, consuming your time with day to day concerns, and sidetracking you with dead end emotions and trivial activities. Before we know what has hit us we are swept away by life’s challenges. We find ourselves pushed here and there. So many tasks for ourselves and so many chores required by others. The seemingly endless lazy summers of our youth fade into memory, to be replaced by mid semester breaks, long weekends, rostered days off, annual leave, sick days, family weddings, conference calls, internal meetings, daily commutes, midnight runs for milk and bread, and all manner of things. The everyday activities that chew through our time. When we get a chance to pause we allow ourselves the briefest moments of rest and reflection. Most of us find that we don’t mind building our lives. Working feverishly for ourselves and/or others. We find a niche and fill it. Each role helps us a little. Piece by piece we build our place and we help to maintain the world that has been built around us. Each person plays a part, whether it be big or small, some lives are seemingly key to specific moments in time whilst some lives seem to come and go with no apparent import or consequence. Some lives seem to weigh heavy upon the world and some lives have such a lightness and brevity that they appear to vanish before our eyes. Can we really give one life more value or merit over another? How can we possibly know which life will bristle with ramifications and which one will pass on only to be markedly unremarkable? Every single life has a connection to the past, present, and future. Every moment connected to the next. Some moments appear to have longer lasting ramifications than others. Just as some lives seem to influence the world for generations to come. This does not mean that one life is more important. Life, like just about everything, is a spectrum. Each colour does not exist in isolation. Each colour bleeds into the next. Our eyes see a range of colours and our ears hear a range of frequencies. We need the high notes to contrast the low. We need the loudest sounds to balance the, almost imperceptible, quiet sounds. Even then we do not hear or see everything around us. I remember the day that I realized the reason why we couldn’t look directly at the Sun. I squinted at the raging ball then looked away only to see the ghost of the Sun still glowing in my vision. If we could see the sun then we would see it only and we would then be blind to all the subtlety of the world around us. So to if we only look at the famous, the notorious, or the noteworthy, then we will become blind to all the other lives around us that don’t appear to burn so intensely. I’ve let myself be distracted and lost the focus of what I wanted to say. What’s it all about? Why are we here? We are all a part of a golden thread tied to the arrow of time. Some strings snap and fall away, but the thread itself remains unbroken. Everything connected and every single particle as important as the next. Why are we here?...because we are here? What’s it all mean? For every answer there will be a new question. We build our understanding in some areas only to forget it in others. Where are we headed and what will we do when we get there?…We’re headed forwards because, for now, there is no other way to go. The arrow of time pulls the golden thread behind it. Every person is part of that thread. Every life contributes. Every strand as integral as the next. All of us defying the merciless entropy and the cold still blackness of empty space. We are life. We rage, we feed, we fight, we fuck, we fall, we fuck up, we live, we love, we laugh, we cry, we join together, we sit alone, we are our fathers, we are our mothers, we are ourselves, we are our children, we are the lost, we are the found, we are the leaders, and the followers. We may find everything or we may lose it all along the way. We are all in this together and we will see it through until the very end. Come what may.

Imagine a world where anything is possible I am flying somewhere above Asia, at an unimaginable height, in a mighty bird fashioned from the earth, fashioned from dirt, and dust, and oil, and trees. Powered by the remains of long dead creatures, built from a centuries old plan that has been designed refined, reworked, and passed down the generations like an elaborate Chinese whisper. An idea handed on like a much loved story. A treasured tale that grows more elaborate, unlikely, and improbable by the day. My circumstances have come about entirely because of the power of the human imagination. Thoughts drawn from the infinitely deep well of the human mind. An ancient body of bottomless water that can simultaneously be black, thick, and poisonous, or so clear and pure that if you were to look into it you could see all of eternity. The fountain of the imagination. The fathomless muse. The eternal lake from which all things that are good, and all things that are not, must spring. Why am I telling you this? Why am I speaking to you in flowery phrases? Why do I sound like an echo of so many people’s words that have come before me? I have been formed from this water. I come from the well. My very being is the result of one impossible idea being built upon another. I am, quite literally, the human embodiment of the most unlikely idea. I am an echo, a song passed on, a grand tale, a myth, a legend, a vicious rumour, perhaps even a viscous rumour. I’m not sure which. I am blasting through the sky inside a machine built from the human imagination. Everything surrounding me within this thin metal pipe has been adapted, manipulated, fashioned, tamed, and domesticated to suit the whims of that imagination. Not every thought is pure. Not every thought is noble. Not every thought is the wisest, best, and good. Many ideas can be wicked, heartless, stupid, selfish and cruel, when humans put their minds to it they can imagine the most wonderful and the most terrifying of things. I am in a machine that is flying higher than most birds, it is an incredible thing. At one moment it is magic, at another it spews poisons and is filled with plastics, glues, useless garbage, and tacky souvenirs. At the same time it contains hundreds of minds. “Each little brain inside each little head is filled up with thinking, though most thoughts go unsaid…” Each mind is carrying its own world of thoughts. Filled with life’s dramas, thoughts of tomorrows and memories of yesterdays. I look around in the darkness and see screen after screen displaying imagined stories brought to life by the combined imagination of my fellow humans. Stories of magic, of drama, from history, or set in the future. Stories from real life, the retelling of old legends, or treasured family favourites. Each story has been imagined then brought to life by thousands upon thousands of creative people. Set designers, prop builders, costume designers, background painters, lighting, sound, and music artists. A cast of millions called into service to entertain their fellow humans in the sky. Meanwhile people are eating food made from imagined recipes. Sipping drinks invented by human minds. All packed imaginatively together. I am in this impossible tube because I have travelled to foreign lands to use my imagination to create an object that I have then fashioned in stone. I carved the object alongside more than a hundred fellow carvers. Each fashioning objects from their imagination or echoes of ideas from those that had imagined before them. We worked in the courtyard of the Bishop’s Palace beside the 900 year old Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim, Norway. Cathedrals are built entirely by human hands working stone in service of the human imagination. Some could say that they are built on the very foundation of an imagined way of interpreting the world. The cathedral too can be both a symbol of immense wonder and joy. A symbol of all that is right in the world and a symbol of all that is wrong with it too. Whatever your belief…one thing is certain. None of the crazy, elaborate, beautiful, dark, impossible world we have built would be possible without the human imagination. So the next time you’re made to feel small for dreaming, for imaging a better world, or a better way of doing something, for being creative (in both your mind and your actions)...the next time you are mocked for daring to dream…the next time someone tells you that creativity and imagination are a luxury that we cannot afford and have no time or space for in our every day lives…the next time…stand your ground and so “No!“ Remind the naysayers that everything we have fashioned around us has come from the human imagination. Every movie they love, every song that they hold dear, every house they may live in, every building they photographed, every car that they’ve been in, every recipe, passed down, every insight into the world, every game that they’ve played, every dream that they strive to bring to life…it all comes from the human imagination. It is our greatest tool and our most fearful of weapons. It is magic and monstrous, both like all the gods and the devils combined. Do not let anyone tell you what is and isn’t possible! Dream the impossible and then see if you can make it so. Pass on your dreams. Even incomplete ones get built eventually. Be a champion for the best of the human imagination. Don’t suppress it. Help create a world where our hearts and minds soar. Imagine a better world and get to work building it. What else should we be doing with ourselves? I should sleep now…perchance to dream? Graham “Dreams last for so long Even after we’ve gone.” Jewel

It never rains chilis

I was, initially, excited when I moved from 3rd class (year 3) to 4th class. Our new teacher was a Mr. Nugent. He seemed pleasant enough and at the beginning of the class he brought out a guitar. He strummed his guitar and he sang two songs to us. The first song was 'Screwball was a racehorse' followed by 'It Never rains in Southern California'. On the first day this seemed like a real novelty. The songs were interesting and his singing was quite tuneful. Mr. Nugent got us to discuss the lyrics of the songs and it was my first introduction to the idea that a song could have a multilayered meaning. At this point in my tale you may expect me to espouse the value of music in the class room and for me to wax lyrical about Mr. Nugent or to remember him through the warm lens of nostalgia. If that were the end of the story then that may well have been the case. The story continues because on the second day Mr. Nugent pulled out his guitar and played us two songs…'Screwball was a racehorse' and 'It never rains in Southern California'. It seemed as if we were going to listen to these songs until we learnt them all the way through. Every day the guitar came out and every day the same two songs were played. It seems that one of the lessons that we were to learn was that these were the only two songs that Mr. Nugent knew how to play. The story could end here, but unfortunately Mr. Nugent had several more things to teach us. These things are important to learn, but it could be argued that his methods were (at the very least) inappropriate for year 4 students. Mr. Nugent taught me that not all teachers/adults act responsibly, that cruelty can be a powerful persuader, but should never be seen as the only tool in a teacher's tool belt. Mr. Nugent would not tolerate any talking or muttering in class (I have been a teacher for many years so I am aware that it is important to control the volume of speech within a classroom and that it can be a struggle to keep a group focused on the task at hand). If anyone spoke out of turn they would be ordered to sit in a chair out the front of the class, off to one side, with both legs held out in a horizontal position. If you're muscles became fatigued (as they inevitably would) your legs would begin to drop as your heels sought the feeling of blessed relief that the support of the floor could offer. If your legs were seen to dip. Mr. Nugent would be at the ready to strike your shins with the metal stripped edge of his wooden ruler. The choice was between aching discomfort and sharp searing pain (or perhaps not talking in class in the first place). When I was the person in the chair (this would only be occasionally) it was very apparent to me that this method was cruel and totally unnecessary. When it was another child in the chair the unnecessary cruelty was even more apparent. It taught me that feelings of empathy can be almost as strong as the emotion that you are witnessing in others. It taught me that one lesson that cruelty can teach is that cruelty is wrong. The other lesson that Mr. Nugent taught me was that humiliation and torture were ineffective and unacceptable. There was a boy in our class called Guy H (I won't use his full name as this story should not be about him and everyone else in that class will know of whom I am speaking of). Guy sucked his thumb. He would not be the first or last primary student to do so. Mr. Nugent took it upon himself to be the one person that was going to stop Guy and change his behaviour. Mr. Nugent set up a roster. Each day a student was assigned chili deseeding duty. Mr. Nugent would bring in a long red chili and the seeds would be removed so that the soft inner flesh of the chili could be rubbed on Guy's thumb. It was meant to act as a deterrent. It seldom worked. The whole process backfired when one of the seeds flew up and went in the eye of the de-seeder du jour Craig G. Craig was in so much pain that the incident came to the attention of the Principal (Mr. Evans). The Principal brought a halt to the chili roster and the case of the fiery thumb. A few days passed before Mr. Nugent tried his second method…public humiliation. He wrote a large note and pinned it to Guy's back. It read "My name is Guy H. I am in 4th Class and I suck my Thumb!" Guy was made to wear the sign out in the playground and around the school. Thankfully Mr. Evans saw the sign and ordered that it be removed. I don't think any of Mr. Nugent' methods were very effective and I hope that he learned something about his behaviour by the way it was received by Mr. Evans. I learnt destain for Mr. Nugent and I gained respect for Mr. Evans. I also learnt the importance that variety plays in a musical repertoire and that cruelty, torture, and humiliation are wrong. https://g.co/kgs/4rwpuo

Points of light in the night sky I often look up at the night sky. When I look I am more likely to see a tiny array of stars. I would be unlikely to see anything like the image here. (It is a deep field photograph by the Hubble telescope. It shows some of the most distant, and ancient, galaxies in the Universe.) When I look to the sky I cannot see these galaxies. That does not mean that they don't exist. The fact that I can't see them does not mean that they aren't always there. I know that physics tells me that everything I observe is changed by the very act of observation. I wonder if these galaxies have been changed by yourself and myself being able to observe them now. Does the act of observation extend to looking at pixels arranged on a screen? Pixels that are but a representation of these distant objects. It would seem like an unlikely proposition and something that would be impossible to prove in this case. These galaxies are so distant that they would have to be the last possible place that humanity could ever visit to poke, prod, measure, and sample. Logic would deem such a journey as impossible, but then everything we know about the Universe seems to say to us that it is only from the impossible that the possible can spring forth. The unlikeliness of the Universe would make it seem highly unlikely that we should be here at all, and yet here we are. Tiny little creatures with tiny little heads, tiny little eyes, and even tinier little holes that let in the ancient light of the skies…but something amazing happens when this light passes through the lens of our eyes and is inverted. The pin holes that let the Universe into our minds are so very very small when compared to the vastness of the Universe. I wonder if our pupils must be the size that they are because the full power of the Universe cannot be absorbed and understood at any other scale, but that's not the whole story. Once the light enters our heads it falls upon the rods and cones of our retinas. If that's where the journey of these ancient photons were to end then it would seem to be the longest route to the most pointless destination. It's what happens next that is perhaps the most remarkable part of this incredible puzzle. The Universe that enters our eyes is transformed into information that is sent, by the optic nerve, to the back of our brains. It is fitting, perhaps, that our brains are one of the few things in the Universe that have a complexity that can equal (or even surpass) the complexity of the Universe outside. For every star that we know there is a neuron to match it. Perhaps, one day, we will find that the Universe contains more stars than the neurons in just one mind, but we are never just one mind (we never have been). We are a collective of minds, a hive, a network, a community. It shouldn't be surprising that if there were ever to be a chance for the Universe to be understood (assuming that the Universe ever wanted to be understood) then it was always going to take a collective mind that was bigger than the Universe if there was to be any hope of comprehending everything that ever was, everything that is, and everything that ever will be. This is why I greet the world with optimism. I know that there are many things that can make us doubt the wisdom of the human mind. We are simultaneously the most wonderful and the most terrifying of creatures. It could be argued that we are a true reflection of the Universe and that the Universe is the most wonderful and terrifying of places too. We are hot and cold, loving and hateful, wise and naïve, old and young, happy and sad, intelligent and stupid, endless and limited. We are both a particle and a wave…and, for the time being, we're the only hope we have to understand the Universe and perhaps the only hope for the Universe to understand itself… If we could just focus our minds. If we could just join together, then if ever there was a chance to achieve the impossible then it would have to be the impossible creatures that we are that are the most likely to achieve the most unlikely of outcomes. Heads up. Look to the stars. Join together. Fingers crossed. Here's hoping our hearts can be as big as our minds and we can go on to be the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to all of ever.

The abandonment of empathy. We've all had moments when we've "turned a blind eye". It could be said that, on any given day, we turn away from what goes on around us or what is going on in the far reaches of the world. In most cases we have no ill intent. We're caught in our own crises, lost in our own cosmos. Our neglect is not completely thoughtless. We know that we can be attentive when it really matters. Empathy is a spectrum, a sliding scale. Our "blindness" is akin to the petty crime of the "white lie". When we are presented with human behaviour at its darkest, we can rise to the challenge (when we choose too), and bring an end to the suffering. We don't always act in a timely fashion. Sometimes were culpable, sometimes we're a party to the crimes, and other times we find ourselves powerless or immobilized by timing or circumstance. Every situation is complex and there can't be a tidy solution for every problem. We try our best to fix whatever's broken (even when we are the ones that are doing the breaking). We feel guilt when we don't act. Remorse is just empathy catching up with us. We know that suffering is wrong because empathy allows us to feel the pain of others.we want our lives to be free of suffering. We can see that hope in others too. Our "blind eye" should only be a temporary condition. We justify our turning away because we know that we can turn back to look when we really need to. A flexible relationship to empathy allows for a considered approach to each situation. The greatest danger comes when we decide to abandon empathy. It starts small when we begin to describe empathy as a weakness. When we ridicule people for daring to be sympathetic. When compassion is derided. When a social conscience is seen as a liability. When callousness is admired. When greed is championed. When suffering is legislated. When torture is hidden. When hatred is overt. When oppression is enshrined in law. When empathy is abandoned. When every eye is blind and no one is looking.

Here are some images that I've made for my shop. They are based on ideas about TV shows that used to scare me as a child or even as an adult.

The Worst Betrayal

Some time ago I wrote a small piece about Trust. http://myideasman.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/some-thoughts-about-truston-several.html It was a reflection on the the notion of 'not trusting anyone'. The basic premise of the piece was that we all trust a myriad of people, and things, and if we didn't we wouldn't get very far in life. This doesn't mean that there are plenty of people that we shouldn't, or can't, trust. I still believe that the people we can trust are in far greater numbers than the ones that we can't. There are always going to be untrustworthy people and the level of mistrust is always going to be a sliding scale that depends on the actions of the other, their reputation, and our expectations that we put upon them. When trust is lost there is always the possibility that trust can be regained. Sometimes that possibility is faint or remote. It usually takes a lot of work by the person, or persons that acted in a way that resulted in trust being lost. It is also very hard work for the person who was betrayed. Forgiveness sounds like it is so very easy but we all know from experience that forgiveness is one of humanities greatest challenges. I think that the worst betrayal of all is when children put their trust in adults, and the adult world that they find themselves in, and that trust is shattered. Small children are so open and trusting in everything that adults tell them. They absorb all manner of information from adults. Sometimes that information is in the form of a lie. The 'white lie' can serve a practical purpose, but as lies slide into darkness they become far more destructive. The instances of children being betrayed by adults are so numerous that they can't all be listed here. Not every loss of trust has to be a direct betrayal. Many children trust that their parents will protect them. Many parents die doing just that. Many parents die with their children from circumstances that are out of their control. Every tiny hand that reaches out to be held is an act of trust. Children trust that their Mum will get them across the road. They trust that Dad won't swing them too high. Many children trust that there will be food on the table. They trust that their house will keep them safe. Their parent's assure them that it's OK to ride their bike or that there are no sharks where they are swimming. We tell our children that 'there are no monsters...not really.' and it's safe to go back to sleep. The Children trust us so much that they follow us, almost, anywhere. We trust in others too and we trust in 'fate' that no harm will come to them. Many people trust in their god or some higher order of things. We tell our children it is safe to play soccer on the beach...we assume that it should be. We send them off to school, or on a trip away, and assume that they will be fine. They hop in a boat or a car and trust that we will take them safely from A to B. We hold their hands and assure them that science and physics will keep the plane in the air. Is all that trust misplaced? Should we trust more in the random nature of things? Should we trust in the greater plan that our gods have for us...even if the plan may seem cruel and heartless? Should we tell our children to expect the worst and be surprised by the best? Is it really our job to crush the wide eyed optimism we see in our children's eyes? Can we trust ourselves to build a better world? I trust that we can do it. I don't pretend it can be easy. It will take love, compassion, understanding, and openness. It will take a lot of hard work by so many generations. The hardest part of all will be to forgive. Our children are trusting in us. Let's take their hand and lead them into a brighter future. image source https://au.news.yahoo.com/world/a/24508409/bodies-litter-crash-site-mh17/