17 December 2011

Emmanuel's Coming - The Other Perspective

We know the story of Jesus' birth by memory. The stable, the angels, the shepherds, and the wisemen. I have grown up assuming that Jesus was born on a beautiful night. It was wonderfully clear, so you could see the stars. The wind was calm and the air was comfortably cool. The stable, warm and cozy, was a rather neat place for a baby to be born. The animals all around were lowing, or cooing, or making some sort of soothing sound. Baby Jesus slept peacefully in a manger filled with soft, sweet-smelling hay. Plus, he was wrapped securely in swaddling clothes. And we mustn't forget the shepherds. They were nice people - another part of the story.

How deeply have you searched the scriptures for details? The King James Version Bible doesn't give many details - at least not as many as I wrote above. So what would happen if we would peel away the gloss? What would the night of Emmanuel's coming be like when viewed through the opposite perspective?

Neither Matthew nor Luke mention the weather in their descriptions of Nativity. Hardly surprising, since they weren't there. Perhaps it wasn't a beautifully clear night. Perhaps it was a very black, stormy night with a howling wind. Maybe it was cold - abnormally cold - and pelting rain. The shepherds might have at first mistaken the angels' song for the wind shrieking through the trees. No wonder they were terrified.

If Bethlehem was bustling with travelers, what about the stable? No room in the inn likely meant little room in the stable. So the barn wouldn't only have been jam-packed with animals, but, to put it plainly, it would have stunk like crap. How many barns have you been in that don't reek of manure? Then add more animals than there should be...

The ferocious wind would have found every hole in the place, sending chilling drafts everywhere. The wild weather certainly wouldn't have calmed the animals. Instead of standing quietly, they would have been stomping and snorting and uttering all types of unearthly sounds. And the hay. You might like the smell of hay, but since when is it soft? It isn't. It is prickly and pokey, and that's from my perspective, not from the perspective a newborn with tender skin. The manger wouldn't have been sanded smooth and coated with child-safe paint. It made a lousy crib with the possibility of slivers, as well as gaps where a baby could fall through.

Enter the shepherds. Not just shepherds, but shepherds. They cared for sheep, but they weren't refined. They worked hard. They were rough and tough and stank of BO. Socially, they were about as far removed from royalty as could be imagined.

Into this setting, the Majestic One was born.

Perhaps it wasn't pretty. Perhaps to humans, it was degrading. Perhaps it was uncomfortable. Who said Jesus was any more comfortable when He came into this world than when He left it? Perhaps the first noise Jesus made was a cry from the cold, or damp, or noise, or pokey hay, or all of them combined. But He did it anyway. He has been there, done that. The Most Holy became the Most Lowly so He could redeem us from sin. And that shows how much God loves us. Only it is just the beginning; just the tip of the iceberg.

While writing, I have found an interesting correlation with the shepherds. People often wonder why God chose them. Perhaps the key was their humble, unpretentious hearts. Perhaps God used them to showcase His boundless love for everyone, especially those that humans judge as inferior. Whatever the reason, this is what I have found: The first people to hear about the Good Shepherd's birth were... shepherds. 

05 December 2011

Scramble! - Flight of Fantasy

I was lost in thought, scrawling a letter to home. The other guys were lazing around, some playing cards, some following suit and communicating. Abruptly, the PA crackles through my thoughts, "Scramble!" Adrenaline surges over my distaste for interruption. Go! The room erupts into organized chaos. Rush! Clamber into my flight suit. Hurry! Gather my gear. Listen to the rest of the announcement. Luftwaffe bomber squadron. Heading towards London. Poor weather. Hurry! No time for nervousness!

A foe to face; a threat to thwart. Find them before they find us. Keep moving! Feet pounding, we rush outside. Poor weather indeed! Downright crazy. Doesn't say much for enemy intelligence. Run! It's black. Gusts of wind whip the chilling drizzle into my face. Shiver. My heart is chanting, Hur-ry, hur-ry, hur-ry! Jump a puddle. Watch a fellow pilot slip-splosh through the next. Keep running! Panting, I reach my trusty Hurricane. The ground crew is working like clockwork. Going double time. Don't slip on the ladder! Keep moving! Before sliding my canopy shut, the eerie wail of the air raid sirens begins. It duets with the singing wind. No time to waste! My aircraft's engine drowns the symphony while I methodically plough through my checklist. Hurry! Not too fast! Focus! Ignore the clammy cold. Dry the splattered goggles.

Through the gloom, we taxi to the runway. Go! Find the enemy! And I'm off. No! Stay on the runway! I fight the invisible, gusting wind. Away! My aeroplane dips and slips through the tumbling air. Spinning, rushing rain disorientates me. Fly blind! Maintain airspeed! A drop, a twist, and I break through the low clouds, trading my sightless world for something other-worldly. The moon glares on the twisting, angry carpet of clouds. I bounce as it glints off the dark enemy formations. To work! The scramble is over - successful. Less urgency, but I remain, as ever, intensely alert. 

"Bomben weg! Dies ist nicht das, was man dachte, es sei!" My head jerks; so fast my neck pops. The blast of guttural radio communication dies away. Scrape my frenzied heart off the canopy and stuff it back where it belongs. Sometimes the radio frequencies do that. 

Perhaps I shall get down in one piece. Or even two pieces. Then the adrenaline will be past. Then I can escape from this eerily insane game of chess. And I can finish my interrupted letter.

-----

A flight of fantasy. Start with a stormy evening. Drive places in a hurry. Throw in some World War II "memories." An over-active, inquisitive imagination weaves all manner of exciting worlds.

25 November 2011

God Heals

Exactly one month till Christmas! Christmas songs, excitement, gifts, and goodies, here I come!

Below are a couple of paragraphs by Max Lucado that rang true with me. It isn't the prayer that delivers you, it is the One to whom you pray.

We know that in everything God works for the good of those who love him. Romans 8:28 
Prayer isn’t what heals us. God heals, not prayer. A matter of semantics? No. If you think the power is in the prayer and not the One who hears the prayer, you fault the pray-er for unanswered prayer. If I had prayed more, better, differently.  It’s a depressing cycle. 
Don’t assume that the faithful will never suffer. 
Remember that Peter was in a storm before he walked on water. Lazarus was in a grave before he came out of it. In Matthew 26:39, Jesus himself prayed to be delivered from earthly pain. Please don’t interpret the presence of your disease as the absence of God’s love. I pray he heals you. And he will, ultimately.

18 November 2011

Your and My Romances

Are you enjoying your romance with God? Read it again: Your. Ro. Mance. With. God.

Romance stories aren't unfamiliar to any of us. Most likely, we've all imagined ourselves as one of the lovers in a book. Or perhaps you like someone particularly much. (Be honest with yourself ;) Your thoughts drift towards them. You worry about them, can't wait to talk to them, and wish to know them better. You desire to share their glowing laughter and sorrowing pain. They fascinate you, and if you could, you'd spend all day with them. Or perhaps the rest of your life.

Is this your perspective of God?

The Bible supplies us with plenty of analogies to our relationship with God and Jesus: Father, Brother, the Good Shepherd, Friend. It uses the analogy of a bride and bridegroom to the church and Jesus. But for God and you to be lovers?

You were honest before, so I'll be honest now. Like all relationships, my relationship with God has all manners of ups and downs. As much as I wish I could say there aren't any downs, I can't. One thing I can say, however: He has never been the one to drift away. A few other points. God doesn't need me to worry about Him. And while I haven't carried much of His sadness, He certainly has carried mine. I want to share His laughter and know Him better. I'm fascinated by His majesty, love, mercy, and wisdom. I- I think I'd like to spend the rest of my life with Him. I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be a boring romance.

10 November 2011

Something New

Dare the precipice of Something New.
Tread the edge, flirt with the ledge,
Stand where you’ve never stood before.
Let the wind whip
Past the treacherous lip
But don’t let slip
Till preparation and consideration are past.
Then brace yourself
And-
        P
          L
          U
          N
          G
          E
          !
Overload!
Up is down, left is right
Disorientation reigns your flight
Catch your stomach as it floats past
Flip-flop through free fall - fast!
Spin, spiral, swooping motion,
Solid ground is just a notion
Perhaps,
Perhaps your plunge won’t ever stop
Dizzy firmament, underneath, on top
So
Settle back on nothingness
Capture the view of upside down
Mesmerized in light-years sped
Enjoy your gently mangled head
From touchdown.
Touchdown! Congratulations on your survival!
No clean pants needed upon arrival
Expectations hardly met!
But you know what?
Something New wasn’t half bad!

27 October 2011

Faded Rose

This is one of those "back-burner" thoughts. I've thought it strange that people would study a person that has died, finding out about their life, and maybe even idolizing them.
I've been thinking about my late grandfather, William Isaac. I have faint memories of him, but he died before I really got to know him. However, as I've gathered details of his life, I've become quite fascinated. And disappointed, too, that I couldn't have known him better. From what I've heard, he was different, and not in a bad way. He and Grandma always had time to listen to people. He was given first class service at the local china store because he would buy. He loved to give china to Grandma. He was an expert gardener. His favourite flower was a yellow rose; yellow because that was one colour that his colour-blindness didn't cheat him on. As Grandma's vision failed, he was the one that would cook for them. He replaced his Bibles not because he misused them or misplaced them, but because they actually wore out. 

I've found connections between his interests and my interests. I love skating, and my mom says that he was a wiz on skates. Biking was his favourite type of exercise, just as it is for me. I love to sing and so did he. He led songs until his hearing made it difficult to understand selections from the benches. He enjoyed writing and was a skilled writer, especially of poems. I find poetry difficult to conquer, but it doesn't stop me from enjoying writing. I think I get my "Isaac" walking posture from him as well. But best of all, he served the same God I do. By faith, I will see him again someday. 

Not surprisingly, people haven't mentioned his faults. I doubt he was faultless, but my fascination continues. So I want to say something to all of you that can still speak to your grandparents: get to know them, or get to know them better. And love them especially much for me.

18 October 2011

The Escapades of the Swaddles

Someone wanted to show me "the clouds," so I stepped outside to see "the clouds." Instead, I saw him wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in the parking lot. With an apple on his head. I couldn't tell if he was coming or going. The white strips made him look like both a baby and a mummy (like the dead Egyptian kind). It was such a shameful waste of swaddles. You see, these weren't just your ordinary swaddles, but two-ply swaddles. But I managed to reuse them quite nicely. The apple, well...*sniff* it chokes me up a bit. It splatted on the ground in a subdued manner, spraying apple-flesh hither and yon. But, thinking on the bright side, the ants will enjoy it.

And that is my short story for the day.

14 October 2011

Not Like Santa

Do you ever treat God like Santa? Sometimes I do.

Let's pretend it is close to Christmas and we are going to see Santa. We want to see him before he visits us with his slide down the chimney, so off to the mall we go. Unfortunately, the mall isn't simply next door. We have to drive, and it takes a long time to get there. When our journey ends, we get to wait some more, this time in line with lots of other people. Finally, finally, our turn to see Santa comes. We excitedly tell him the many things we would like from him. And then it's over.

Is that sometimes the way we approach God?

Except God isn't like that at all. I don't have to drive a long way to see Him. I don't have to wait for Him to come down my chimney. As a Christian, God is with me all the time, wherever I go. In fact, part of Him lives inside of me. I don't have to stand in line and wait my turn. He turns His head my way as soon as I speak; sometime before. Most importantly, talking with God isn't simply asking Him for the things I want. Who says one of us has to talk? Have you ever sat in silence with God?

I think God enjoys talking to me even more than I enjoy talking to Him. The first thing God says when I start listening to Him is "I love you." The second thing He says is "I love you." And then the third thing He says is "I love you." You see, He knows that I forget how much He loves me, and that I don't always trust His love.

I've been reading an inspiring book by Max Lucado called Just Like Jesus. I really like his writing style, but the subject he writes about is even better. Here's a quote that I'll share with you. It made me cry inside a bit.

"Conclude the day as you began it: talking to God. Thank him for the good parts. Question him about the hard parts. Seek his mercy. Seek his strength. And as you close your eyes, take assurance in the promise: 'He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.' (Ps. 121:4) If you fall asleep as you pray, don't worry. What better place to doze off than in the arms of your Father."

09 October 2011

Working in the Light

I did something new yesterday. I wandered around telling people about the One who "came to touch the hardness of our hearts." I didn't approach it without apprehension, but as I'm finding more and more, the little fears never materialized. As the bundle in my hand shrank, the bundle in my head expanded. Have I ever said that my mind is bursting with thoughts? Nah, I didn't think so.

It could hardly have been a more beautiful day. I used to think nothing was prettier than a sunny summer day. That was before I tasted the vibrancy of dusty clear day of Indian summer. And when you mix in some twilight too... Which is why I went walking with a friend a couple evenings ago. The sights and sounds we discovered! A pumpkin cat sitting silently on a fence. Geese honking, wings whirring, floating blackly on a pale sky. Trees blushing at their reflection on still water. Lights glowing and beckoning through the dim. However, I have a question. Why do beautiful things hurt?

If Indian summer was a beverage, what colour would it be? Perhaps light blue with wisps of white and swirled with orange. Or maybe layered yellow, orange, and red. The only problem being if the colours mixed completely, you'd end up with a lovely brown hue. Appetizing! Or what would it taste like? Dying leaves? Dirt? Apple cider? Apple cider! I think it would be sweet and tangy and bitter. But no matter what, a shot of twilight would top it off perfectly. I wish I could fill of bottle with this delight and savour it year-round. Except I'm afraid the secret to its sweetness is its scarcity.

06 October 2011

Too Much Green

If only this radar could detect aircraft. A certain POTUS and First Lord of the Admiralty wouldn't have believed it for a moment. In fact, they might have dropped dead. Even a contemporary air traffic controller would be shocked at the volume of information this thing displays. Alas, that is the essence of the problem. So perceptible and sensitive, it picks up everything. Unfortunately, "everything" is too much. If only there was a way to dismantle it, or leave it behind, or something. Good grief, even an off button would be rather handy.

The targets never suspect its presence. In most cases, they don't realize it exists. But woe to the carrier in an environment crowded with targets. The green blips will multiply. They will invade the screen. Every minute detail will appear. Only there are too many of them. The information will come faster and faster. No time to sort, process, or absorb it. This torrent will build up into a creeping pool of green. Don't underestimate its power to overwhelm. Perhaps it will drown you. The only way to reduce the flow is to reduce the number of targets. Flee! Except after you have vacated the zone, the echos will come. And then you will remember that you forgot to forget the instrument. Hurray. Perhaps there is a flip side.

If you identify, my condolences. If you don't, my congratulations.

-radar kid

29 September 2011

Changing

Every day is a miracle. Today it was the drive to work. If I would have imagined hard enough, I could have pulled back gently on the wheel and floated up to tumble though the clouds. Mystical, magical, majestic clouds. Into a world of mixed contrasts: light and dark, sanguine and melancholy, stormy and calm. Willow-y wisps caressed towering grandeur. But today I was earth-bound. So I explored the clouds' footprints and watched them play cloud-games and do the hula laugh. Through the aged sunlit fields, under the arching burnished trees. The light and shadows drifted here and there, ever changing as they went. Dynamic-ism!

All the foliage was tired. But, strikingly, it didn't care. Rather it reveled in its ancientness; enjoyed it, even.  How? People always seem to dread getting old. They loose their beauty; but perhaps they're blind to the new beauty ancientness has given them.

25 September 2011

Two Thoughts

No one is completely open-minded. And I doubt anyone is completely close-minded. Are you open-minded enough to accept your close-mindedness?

Now onto a different thought, here's a beautiful paragraph from the Max Lucado Daily, titled "The Same Hands."

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 21:4) Someday God will wipe away your tears. The same hands that stretched the heavens will touch your cheeks. The same hands that formed the mountains will caress your face. The same hands that curled in agony as the Roman spike cut through will someday cup your face and brush away your tears.

17 September 2011

More Questions Than Answers

"Hey, how are doing?
"Fine, and you?"
"Pretty good."
Really. 

It's a knee jerk reaction. Of course I'm fine, what else would I be? Everything is always "fine." There is no such thing as pain or sorrow or depression or confusion. Yeah, right. And nothing ever goes wrong, does it.

Have you ever told someone that your life is falling apart, or that you are depressed and you don't know why? Has anyone ever replied to you in that way? Why can't I look at things the way they really are and say things the way they really are? 

Sometimes I'm scared of myself. I used to think I had a pretty good idea of who I was. Right now I have no idea. Sure, I know my personality and my interests, but why do I react this way, when everyone else seems to react a different way? Why do I say the things I do?  Or more aptly, why don't I say the things I don't say? Lol. I really don't know, but I know Someone who does.

No, right now everything is not going perfectly. But I'm not worried. When I admit to a problem, God can work with it. When I admit I need help, I can accept help. Between God, the exquisite thoughts He sends,  prayers, and friends, it is impossible to not succeed.

13 September 2011

Word by Word

Finishing an enthralling book always fills me with elation. The rush to devour each chapter is over. A million and one ideas swirl through my mind; a million and one perspectives and experiences to digest. So much to learn from: people's reactions and interactions, different life styles, healing wounds, breaking hearts, humour in spite of hurt, and always an obstacle to conquer. The intoxication subsides after awhile, and I wonder at the journey through someone else's imagination. Fifty thousand words, maybe a hundred thousand, weaving an imaginary plot in an imaginary world.

09 September 2011

Less Is More

I admire people who can say much with few words. Simple is profound. And now I shall likely disregard my preferences and ramble for awhile. When someone speaks simply and succinctly, their thoughts stay with me. When they don't, on the other hand, I have to sort and sift to find the point, and in the mean time, I've forgotten what they've said, and do you suppose this would be considered a run-on sentence?

I thought I was looking forward to winter. Apparently I was deceived.

I was rummaging in my closet, and suddenly, quite un-biddenly, a winter glove jumped out and plopped onto the floor. Shudder! I closed my eyes to the hateful thing. I've really enjoyed summer, and I'm ready for autumn , but please, no winter quite yet! By the time the snow starts flying I'll probably embrace it whole-heartedly, but just think of bundling up every time you head outside...

05 September 2011

Mango Twilight

It happened a couple months ago and I don't know why I waited, but the time is... now.

Ironically, it was because the electric storm thwarted our electricity that I found myself relaxing: witnessing the most amazing light show I have ever seen.

The sun was heading for brighter lands. The thunder still sounded in the distance, the rain was still softly falling, and the last of the dilated orange sun dangled a rainbow in the evening sky. The clouds overhead soon stopped their weeping and the sun slipped out of sight. Something lingered. Elusive light mingled around. I thought it was bright - until I tried to see. I thought it was dark - until I soaked up the glow. Everything was drenched in orange light. Long ago should the land and sky have been dark, but they refused to be. On and on it lasted. And on and on I watched. The trees, the sky, the clouds, the grass, the fresh rain; all were saturated in light. But the source was gone. It was half-light. No shadows, no glare, no distinct light or dark; nothing describes it better than glow.

The earth slowly diffused its light and the program ended. I think the answer lies in the clouds, quite literally. The clouds that initially covered the sun were the same clouds that reflected the sun's rays long after I could see them. In the simplest sense, they were a mirror. 

I always knew I liked indirect lighting.

30 August 2011

Catching Up

Oh, oh, where to begin! And what to write! Soon August will stop "laughing across the sky" and the "still September fleetness" will begin. I think I'm ready for it, too. 

Our vacation was wonderful; we even came up with a motto for it: houseboats rock! Actually, for a few days after we returned to land, everything rocked. I have to say it's the oddest sensation to be sitting in a restaurant, but feeling like you're bobbing about on the water. Kind of creepy! 

15 August 2011

Sailing Through My Mind

I've gone "Sailboats"-ing the past few nights. On some nights there are far too many interesting memories and perspectives to explore to waste any time in sleep. And so I let myself go drifting through my mind. Many memories and ideas bob to the surface of my thoughts like glowing orbs, and I float around, exploring them as I please. (It's kinda like Google Street View.) Some orbs are lonely, some are shockingly new, others are like old friends, and some are just... uniquely entertaining. Of course, some make me wish I had never ventured into this vast sea. However, a few memories that began poorly have become well-aged, and they plunge me into delightful laughter. These voyages leave me laden with many curios. I usually just leave them scattered around where I can trip over them during the day. Luckily, I've only stubbed my toe once or twice.

I think if someone told me I was weird, I'd be the first person to agree with them. Ok, now that was really weird. But no matter... Do you know what? God loves you and me, not in spite of who we are, but because of who we are. You see, we were His idea in the first place.

08 August 2011

Big Little Orchestra

You don't have to pay a penny to hear it; just a bit of your time. Until this year, I had no idea that the big little orchestra didn't start until late summer. Since it's that season now, though, I hear it all the time: while sitting and reading, while driving in the evening, or while dozing off at night.

"A stream of tender gladness,
Of filmy sun, and opal tinted skies;
Of warm midsummer air that lightly lies
In mystic rings,
Where softly swings 
The music of a thousand wings 
That almost tones to sadness."
     E. Pauline Johnson

The verse above is from the poem "Shadow River: Muskoka." The italicized lines mention the big little orchestra: big in the area it covers, little in the size of its members. This verse scatters delicious chills all over my skin... The second verse, not shown here, points to the future, to a time when I will "float upon a sapphire floor." I can hardly wait.

02 August 2011

Encounter with Water

Water. Lots of it. More excess than you can imagine. Enough to submerge yourself until its cool watery-ness flows over you. It stretches on and on, farther than you can see and glows deep blue: a reflection of the sky. It constantly moves; flows, ebbs, swoops, drops, and splashes. What a unique substance! Thicker than the sky, thinner than the land. Playful and menacing at the same time.

We went to the lake in the middle of the day yesterday, which we don't do very often. The wind created some waves for once, and I could have spent all day bobbing up and down on them. But I didn't. Thank goodness I didn't have to swim for eighteen hours like a pilot did recently after his small aircraft ran out of fuel! 

Did you know that if the water from Lake Superior was spread out evenly over North and South America, these two continents would be covered in 30cm (1 foot) of water?

28 July 2011

Gift of Grace

Why do blog inspirations come at the most unseeming times? Like when you're trying to wind down and go to sleep, but ideas refuse to be calmed. Sometimes the number of intricately connected ideas would take the whole night to conquer and record... 

"And of His fullness we have all received, and grace for grace." John 1:16

Do you comprehend how much we rely on God for righteousness? Do I? The verse above says that if it weren't for God's grace, we couldn't even receive God's grace. We are so sinful that of ourselves, we aren't capable of obtaining God's gift of forgiveness. In my battle with God against the devil, I have come to realize that either I can use God's grace to keep me from sin, or I can use it to forgive me from sin. That doesn't give me license to sin when I want to and expect my relationship with God to remain strong. Rather, it shows that in the end, whatever my actions, it's God's grace that saves me. Whether I sin or not, I still use God's gift of grace.

"Gift." I have come to love that word. I am completely incapable of repayment or justification for God's grace and blessings that He gives me. Recently, I have wondered why I haven't been very happy. I would work hard to find happiness in the experiences around me. Now I am beginning to realize that happiness doesn't come from "out there." It comes from inside; it is a gift from God. Of course, when I realize that happiness is a gift, I realize that all the little things in life (like the beautiful weather) are gifts as well, and suddenly my happiness and thankfulness increases exponentially. Why? Because God has given me the grace to use His grace.

27 July 2011

Int'resting Life

Like Marigold says in Magic for Marigold, "Life is so int'resting!" This past weekend was particularly "int'resting," as it was spent with about two hundred people between the ages of fifteen and twenty-three in Ohio, U.S.

I had no idea how much I valued originality until this past weekend. At one service centre, forty percent of the people were wearing the same type of sandal. It made me want to go buy a pair of my own right away! Gag.

And that is only one of the many thoughts rumbling around in my head that started at this gathering. Another one is my thankfulness for being back in the country where people understand my humour. Quite a few times, after spewing a random comment, I would find myself sitting in silence while the rest of my group would look at me as though they didn't know what to do. Just laugh, ding-dong! Vocabulary is another source of difference. Oh, the poor people who don't use words like serviette, courier, and toque!

I have a feeling that this weekend's experiences will strongly affect me; its influence will pop up all over my blog. Only you probably won't recognize it. I will, though, and so I'll chuckle to myself as I write.

12 July 2011

Hop, Skip, and a Jump

You're probably wondering about the title of this post. Well, keep wondering a little longer.

Ever been an air traffic controller? Me neither. But I've used this wonderful online simulator. Some days, it feels like I'm an air traffic controller for the radar of my life. Mostly when my job and personal life get really hectic and I need to coordinate fourteen random things that are happening at once. "Air Canada one-twenty-two, descent three thousand." lol

The Tour de France is well on its way. This race is so difficult that most of the riders focus on finishing the race, rather than placing first. Only the elite can dream of covering the 3,400 km in the shortest time. The effect this race had on me is amazing, and I'm still elated. A few days ago I managed to maintain an average speed of 30 km/h over a circuit route for the first time! I have a long way to go before I reach the speeds of the professionals. On similar routes, they can achieve an average speed of over 50 km/h!

In some ways I feel sorry for those cyclists, though. As much as I like cycling on the side, I couldn't enjoy it in the amounts they handle it. It seems to be their life. I have to wonder, "What about playing tennis, or swimming, or watching fireworks with friends, or driving to work in the morning, or falling in love with summer, or, or, or." The list stretches on. So I'll cheer them on and not envy them even a little.

I finished Rilla of Ingleside recently. It seems different from many of L. M. Montgomery's books. This one is far from idealistic. It takes place during World War I, and nothing could be less perfect. Yet it captures my imagination. I am so glad I don't have to face the fear and worry that these brave people had to face every day on the home front.

Did you know that William Stephenson was an introvert? Maybe you don't know him by that name. He was also called Little Bill and Intrepid. During World War II this Canadian was one of the most important Allied intelligence commanders. I've only read about two chapters into one of his biographies, but I can tell already.

And now back to the title. I had all these unconnected thoughts. So instead of carefully organizing them, I let them lump together. Happy leaping!

06 July 2011

After the Pressure

Here's a video of... actually, I'll let you discover what it's about. Click here.

01 July 2011

O Canada

In honour of Canada Day, I'm posting the lyrics of our national anthem in their original language - French.  Surprisingly enough, the English lyrics that we know so well aren't a literal translation at all. Anyway, these words were written by Lieutenant Governor of Quebec Théodore Robitaille in 1880. Enjoy!
Ô Canada!
Terre de nos aïeux,
Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux!
Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,
Il sait porter la croix!
Ton histoire est une épopée
Des plus brillants exploits.
Et ta valeur, de foi trempée,
Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.
Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.
And this is what a literal translation looks like:
O Canada!
Land of our forefathers,
Thy brow is wreathed with a glorious garland of flowers.
As is thy arm ready to wield the sword,
So also is it ready to carry the cross.
Thy history is an epic
Of the most brilliant exploits.
Thy valour steeped in faith
Will protect our homes and our rights
Will protect our homes and our rights

26 June 2011

Terror on Both Sides

(Kogo)

Of the only two flight-worthy in the world, I have seen one of them; a flying piece of history, the B-24 Avro Lancaster. For those who don’t know, it was one of Britain’s most important bombers during World War II. I was intrigued by the noise as it roared overhead. Its four engines with twelve cylinders each beat out a steady, throbbing rhythm, while the propellers spun out a steady whine. What a gloriously wonderful sound! Or was it? For a few moments I wasn't so certain as I slipped away.


The only thing that was the same was the sound of the engines. Through pitch blackness of night, I heard them faintly in the distance. My heart stopped beating. I knew what that meant. Through the darkness, the evil, throbbing rumble gained intensity. The air raid siren wailed to life. “Run!” it screamed. And so everyone did. Yet over the desperate pounding of feet and the piercing siren, you could hear them marching steadily on. The invisible foe was coming for us, identified only by the dreadful noise it made. The bomb shelter was supposed to protect me. Physically it did. Was it my imagination or did the thrumming sound of the engines follow me underground? Was it my imagination, or could I hear the whistling of the bombs, feel the earth-jarring collision, and experience the instant explosion that wracked the earth and shredded humans like paper? Was there relief when the danger passed? Would I stop shaking in an hour? Two hours? The eerie glow of fires met my eyes as I emerged. And fading into the distance was the steady throbbing rumble… 

In the air it wasn't any better. 

The throbbing serenaded us; it propelled us through the darkness. Us as in our aircrew, us as in our group of bombers. The vibration was fatiguing. And as we drummed over Germany, the terror began. A single pillar of light stabbed menacingly through the darkness. If only it had stayed single. Exponentially they multiplied until the sky was filled with the flaming swords that swished viciously and threatened our thunderous journey. The flak popped and pushed us around. Up and down, side to side we swung, trying to weave our way through the maze of explosions and blinding lights. Suddenly the searchlights converged on a single bomber. It glittered as it twisted through the sky, attempting to elude the fearful focus. A flash and a stream of orange. The aircraft became its own light, spiraling down, down, down. And still our engines droned on. Once the bombs were away, we left the city to its terror as we faced a terror of our own: weaving back through a dangerous night. Terror combined with tiredness as the engines throbbed on… 


And then I came back and the throbbing engines were only a harmless historic aircraft. Did I still find the sound so wonderful? Is it surprising that veterans don’t speak of their experiences?

Kogo. "Avro Lancaster." Wikipedia, 9 July 2005. Web. 26 June 2011. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Avro_Lancaster_B_I_PA474.jpg>.

18 June 2011

Mystery of Languages

I have a work place filled with wonderfully diverse people. Yesterday I could listen to three conversations, all in different languages!

I find languages rather fascinating. This is my favourite perspective: a conversation in a foreign language is just a string of sounds to me, but to those who understand, it is complete thoughts. 

I'm sure you have heard a conversation in a language that you don't understand. (If you haven't, I ask you, "Where have you been all your life?") Anyway, don't some words sound absolutely hilarious? How the speakers can keep a straight face? But what about with English? Good grief; pick any word, say it to yourself a couple times, and see if it doesn't sound funny.

Have you ever attempted to see what English would be like if you didn't understand it? On occasion, I have tried to do this... I try my best to block out the meanings of the words and listen only to the sounds. I have yet to succeed. My brain is wired so the thoughts always take precedence over the sounds. Now I challenge you to read this without understanding the words. Come on, view it like it's just a jumble of letters. Pretty hard, eh?

Every noticed that you understand people when they laugh? Last year, I was sitting in a McDonald's in eastern Ontario listening to a small group of people speaking French, when they all started laughing. I thought, "They're laughing in English!" Well, actually they weren't... 

14 June 2011

Castle in a Storm

I drew this picture for our school's drawing contest. Unfortunately, it didn't win. (sniff, sniff) Click here to see the picture that won. Anyway, I used a combination of pencil and charcoal; pencil for the outlines and charcoal for the shading. The coolest part about charcoal is that you can use an eraser to "lift out" white highlights, which is exactly what I did for the foam. 


12 June 2011

The Coming of Power

Travel back to Easter. The crucifixion of Jesus, the fear in His disciples hearts at the time. Think of what has all transpired in your life... April seems so long ago already. Many incidents have come and gone. And yet, in A.D. 33, Jesus disciples had been cowering from the public all this time. They'd seen Jesus in person after he rose from the dead, but to them, even that must have seemed like a long time ago. Until today. You can read all about it in Acts 2. Pentecost, the might rushing wind, the tongues of fire, and most of all, God's power resting within them. But why the wait? For months, the disciples might have felt that God had forgotten them. He just waited. But when the glory of the Holy Spirit come on them, I don't suppose they would have wished for any other way! 

06 June 2011

Journey Through The Heavens


I went wandering through the cosmos last night. The old familiar constellations had delightful tales to tell. Cassiopeia seemed lost; she was far from her usual palace. I told her so. She said she was just taking her yearly travels. I didn't dare to disagree; she can be such a disdainful ice queen. However, we gossiped about two stars that were flirting, Cassiopeia supplying some dreadful details. After the fact, she sternly reminded herself that royalty should never gossip, especially young royalty, but I promised her that I wouldn't leak any statements to the media. Later on, I swung within a couple light years of the flirting stars to see what they were up to, but they were very secretive. They weren't about to include me in their confidences! The man in the moon was on sick-leave, but in his place was his fair daughter. She was just a fragile crescent drifting gracefully towards the horizon. Well, I say a crescent. There was a deceptive glow that transformed her from a crescent into an elusive sphere. She wasn't very chatty; we sat in silence until she bid me goodbye for new worlds. Scorpius must have been feeling very friendly, for he talked to me. He’s one of those cold-blooded creatures that find a warmer dwelling place for the winter. Did he ever have some tall stories to tell! You can’t believe everything you hear. Anyway, his raspy voice got on my nerves after a while. And of course, Mother Milky Way was waiting patiently for me. Such a wise one, she is. She has been around for a couple eras and has a multitude of experiences to share. I was surprised how old she looked. Maybe it was one of her poorer nights, but it's a gentle reminder me that she won’t be around forever. And then it was time to leave this far-flung world for my own. All I have left from my travels are some memories and a bit of star dust around my lips. (Cassiopeia said I had to taste it; trust me, it’s wonderful). 

Do you ever wonder whether there really is such a thing as the music of the spheres? When you see the intricately placed stars strewn across that great dome of sky, and you stand in an atmosphere of communicative silence, you can almost imagine the majestic music played by the orchestra of the sky.

24 May 2011

Whale Watching

It's not very often that you get to see whales this far inland, but my whale watching paid off yesterday. I saw one! It came floating over my head, singing it's distinctive song. It smelt a lot like jet kerosene... Um, this whale was a little different than you're thinking... it was flying. To be exact, it was an Airbus A380, the world's largest passenger whale plane.

In simple words, I went plane spotting yesterday and had a wonderfully introverted day. There were a couple of surprises, mostly good ones. The prime spotting location was unusable because the adjacent runway was shut down. So we found a less ideal location, and were treated to all takeoffs and landings (a great many) because of it! Another bonus was an Hainan Airlines A340-600, all the way from China. And, of course, Emirates' A380!

22 May 2011

In The Shadows

I am sailing to the leeward, 
Where the current runs to seaward
Soft and slow,
Where the sleeping river grasses
Brush my paddle as it passes
To and fro.

On the shore the heat is shaking
All the golden sands awaking
In the cove;
And the quaint sandpiper, winging
O'er the shallows, ceases singing
When I move.

On the water's idle pillow
Sleeps the overhanging willow,
Green and cool;
Where the rushes lift their burnished
Oval heads from out the tarnished
Emerald pool.

Where the very silence slumbers,
Water lilies grow in numbers,
Pure and pale;
All the morning they have rested,
Amber crowned, and pearly crested,
Fair and frail.

Here, impossible romances,
Indefinable sweet fancies,
Cluster round;
But they do not mar the sweetness
Of this still September fleetness
With a sound.

I can scarce discern the meeting
Of the shore and stream retreating,
So remote;
For the laggard river, dozing,
Only wakes from its reposing
Where I float.

Where the river mists are rising,
All the foliage baptizing
With their spray;
There the sun gleams far and faintly,
With a shadow soft and saintly,
In its ray.

And the perfume of some burning
Far-off brushwood, ever turning
To exhale
All its smoky fragrance dying,
In the arms of evening lying,
Where I sail.

My canoe is growing lazy,
In the atmosphere so hazy,
While I dream;
Half in slumber I am guiding,
Eastward indistinctly gliding
Down the stream.

E. Pauline Johnson

This poem came to mind while canoeing yesterday, and sums up everything perfectly. Except for the part about September. Instead summer ending, it's just beginning! Isn't "Where the very silence slumbers" a beautiful line? I think so.

19 May 2011

High Flight

This poem doesn't need an explanation.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee No 412 squadron, RCAF Killed 11 December 1941

11 May 2011

A New Perspective of Our Planet

Have you ever wondered what Earth and the Moon look like from the Sun?
The largest bright ball is our planet, while the smaller one to the right is the Moon. They look pretty small, eh? Imagine trying to find this oasis from some far-flung star in the Milky Way! Virtually impossible!

22 April 2011

How Long?

“How long must I put up with you?” 
Jesus’ actions answered his own question . . . 

Until the rooster sings 
and the sweat stings 
and the mallet rings 
And a hillside of demons smirk at a dying God. 

How long? 
Long enough for every sin 
to soak my sinless soul 
That heaven will turn in horror 
Until my swollen lips pronounce the final transaction: 
“It is finished.” 

How long? 
Until it kills me. 

Max Lucado 
from A Love Worth Giving

21 April 2011

Silence

Abraham Lincoln said "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt." (from Brainy Quotes)

Social silence is an interesting thing. Some people run their mouths until they verge on verbal diarrhea. Others sit in total silence, feeling left out and disjointed. I think that if you can comfortably sit in silence with someone, you have found a wonderful friend. There's a paradox to that, though: Often your friends that are most relaxed with silence are the ones you talk to the most.

11 April 2011

If Things Started Expanding...

Imagine if random objects suddenly swelled to ten times their original size. Setting the table would be a daunting task, and you might fly away if you tried to take a piece of paper outside on a windy day. And this is what a calculator would look like...




Weird, eh? This is actually the final art project for my high school course. I used a combination of cardboard, paper, paper mache, and spray paint to construct this. If I had the chance to do it again, I wouldn't take it. 

05 April 2011

Big Deal, Little Deal

As big of a deal as you make it. That's my new philosophy. 

I've found out time and again that most situations or tasks usually become as big of a deal as you make them. Most of you can probably think of times when you made a big deal out of some insignificant thing you dreaded, and later realized that your worrying had been a waste of energy. If you hadn't made it into a big deal, it would have been simple.

What would happen if you flipped the idea around? Take a little thing that you enjoy and make it into a big deal. Not to the point where you would fret over it, but rather that you could stretch it out as long as you could to squeeze every drop of enjoyment out of it.


28 March 2011

As Pleasant as a Root Canal

Irony is such an interesting thing! You can find it everywhere you look; you can even create it. In the most basic sense, irony occurs when one thing is said, but the opposite is meant. (such as the title to this post)  The following are examples of situational irony, which "describes a discrepancy between the expected result and actual results when enlivened by perverse appropriateness." From Wikipedia's article on irony.

"When John Hinckley attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan, all of his shots initially missed the President; however, a bullet ricocheted off the bullet-proof Presidential limousine and struck Reagan in the chest. Thus, a vehicle made to protect the President from gunfire was partially responsible for his being shot.

"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is a story whose plot revolves around irony. Dorothy travels to a wizard and fulfills his challenging demands to go home, before discovering she had the ability to go back home all the time. The Scarecrow longs for intelligence, only to discover he is already a genius, and the Tin Woodsman longs to be capable of love, only to discover he already has a heart. The Lion, who at first appears to be a whimpering coward, turns out to be bold and fearless. The people in Emerald City believed the Wizard to be a powerful deity, only to discover that he is a bumbling, eccentric old man."

And here is an image depicting irony, which also happens to be a pet peeve of mine.

If I could cook up my own life, I'd definitely add the spice of irony.

27 March 2011

Fin De Siecle

Here's a poem that makes me laugh...


Fin De Siecle
( The End of the Cycle)

This life’s a hollow bubble,
Don’t you know?
Just a painted piece of twouble,
Don’t you know?
We come to earth to cwy,
We gwow oldeh and we sigh,
Oldeh still and then we die,
Don’t you know?

It is all a howwid mix,
Don’t you know?
Business, love, and politics,
Don’t you know?
Clubs and pawties, cliques and sets,
Fashions, follies, sins, wegwets,
Stwuggle, stwife and cigawettes.
Don’t you know?

And we wowwy through each day,
Don’t you know?
In a sort of, kind of way,
Don’t you know?
We are hungry, we are fed,
Some few things are done and said,
We are tired, we go to bed,
Don’t you know?

Business, oh, that’s beastly twade,
Don’t you know?
Something’s lost or something’s made,
Don’t you know?
And you wowwy, and you mope,
And you hang your highest hope
On the price, pe’haps of soap,
Don’t you know?

Politics! oh, just a lawk,
Don’t you know?
Just a nightmeah in the dawk,
Don’t you know?
You pe’spiah all day and night,
And afteh all the fight,
Why, pe’haps the w’ong man’s wight,
Don’t you know?

Society? Is dwess,
Don’t you know?
And a sou’ce of much distwess,
Don’t you know?
To determine what to weah,
When to go and likewise wheah
And how to pawt youah haih,
Don’t you know?

Love? Oh, yes. You meet some gi’l,
Don’t you know?
An’ you get in such a whi’l,
Don’t you know?
Then you kneel down on the floah
And imploah and adoah -
And it’s all a beastly boah,
Don’t you know?

So theah’s weally nothing in it,
Don’t you know?
And we live just for the minute,
Don’t you know?
For when you’ve seen and felt,
Dwank and eaten, heahd and smelt,
Why all the cawds are dealt,
Don’t you know?

You’ve one consciousness, that’s all,
Don’t you know?
And one stomach, and it’s small,
Don’t you know?
You can only weah one tie,
One eyeglass in youah eye,
And one coffin when you die.
Don’t you know?

Edmund Vance Cooke

24 March 2011

Jogging My Memory

The weirdest thing happened to me a couple weeks ago. I was attempting to clean out the dishwasher while deep in thought about other things. I pulled two items from the dishwasher, wandered around, set one of them down on a counter, and then put the other one away. I was so lost in thought that after putting the one item away, I couldn't remember what item I had set down. I scanned the counter, but everything seemed more or less in place. Unless the canning jar by the stove wasn't supposed to be there. I tried to review my movements around the kitchen, but couldn't remember if I had actually set the jar by the stove. Finally, still quite unsure, I walked over and picked up the jar. Immediately, I knew that it was the other item I had had in my hand. Why? Because of the particular noise it made when my fingers ran over it's surface.

Isn't that weird? My mind was far away from my task, yet it stored that funny rubbing noise somewhere in my head. As soon as I heard that noise, my brain recognized it, and I realized that I had been carrying the jar around previously. But why did it take that noise to jog my memory? Why did my brain remember that noise in the first place? Why couldn't it have remembered visually or sensory clues?

Anyway, the moral of the story is... Either pay attention to your task and do it right, or else don't pay attention to your task and see what funny things happen.

19 March 2011

One of Two Minds

Watch out! The following is a favourite subject of mine. I hope I won't bore you to tears...

Do you find yourself dreading large parties because they can be exhausting? Do you find it confusing that you don't seem to enjoy socializing like everyone else? Do you find yourself being overwhelmed by a task that others seem to think is simple? Do you often need time to organize your thoughts before you answer a question? If you answered yes to more than a couple of these, chances are you are not abnormal like you think; you're probably just an introvert. (Further down, I've posted a link that will help you decide)

Introversion and extroversion could be considered personalities, but really they describe the way our brains our wired. Introverts are happiest when by themselves, with well known friends, or in any restful setting. They recharge themselves mentally when they have time to rest and reflect. Extroverts, on the other hand, love socializing and adrenaline. They recharge when there is lots of excitement. While some people are extreme introverts and others are extreme extroverts, most people are somewhere in between, usually defaulting to one side or the other. Others, however, are very balanced, and can operate on both sides. As you grow older, you will slowly drift towards the middle of the scale.

Neither side is right or wrong. However, because introverts make up only 25% of the population, they often think something is wrong with them; the world they are in is geared towards extroverts.

If you know that you're an introvert, there is a way that you can function in this majority of opposites. The key is to understand how to recharge yourself. Maybe before you go out for the evening you can read a book, take a nap, do some easy tasks, or just simply sit and do nothing. This will give you extra energy, which you'll need, because being in a big group can be very draining!

Most importantly, you are not abnormal because you don't like to socialize like extroverts. Most likely, you can remember a time when you socialized with just a few friends and you had a complete blast. See if you can do that in large groups. Pick out another person that looks like a fish out of water, and try start a slow, relaxing discussion by tuning out all the people milling around. I think you'll be surprised.

Here's a website that will help you determine whether you are an introvert or not: Being an Introvert If you think you are an introvert or if you have a close friend who is an introvert, I suggest you read the book, The Introvert Advantage, available at Chapters. It'll really open your eyes!

The diversity in mankind is truly amazing!

17 March 2011

Imagine!

The power of the word "imagine"... In seconds, you will be where no other person can follow. Oh, you can tell them of your journeys later on, but you will always be by yourself... and yet you'll never be alone.

Imagine sitting on millions of grains sand: hard yet soft. The noise of rushing, thundering water close at hand. A burning sun, whose hot embrace toasts your skin. A slight breeze fans your body, bringing the fresh smell of water...

See, I just led your imagination on the same path mine took. Pictures of beaches, palm trees, and waves probably sprang into your mind. You could feel the heat, hear the water, smell the air. You were beyond the reach of reality. Beyond reality, isn't that slightly terrifying, yet exciting?

Of all creatures of creation, we are the only ones that have the ability to imagine. We are special. Use your ability to your own good. Never lose your power of imagination!

11 March 2011

From out our bourne of Time and Space

Please open this image larger by clicking on it.
Imagine yourself in this position, lying here for awhile and watching Earth spin by. You could watch the clouds and the beautiful blue as you'd never done before. Mind you, hang on to something or you might find yourself floating across the room!

On the other hand, think of the effort needed to obtain this position. A multi-year degree in one of the sciences and years of experience, or years of involvement in aviation and probably some time in the military. Only then would you begin to qualify. Through rigorous physical activity you would be sent, along with hours upon hours of training for your special part in a space mission. And then, in a few days or maybe months, it would be over. The exhilaration of a rocket liftoff, the weightlessness of space, and the reentry back into the world you were made for.

I've been reading about STS-107, better known as the Columbia disaster, where a damaged Space Shuttle orbiter broke apart during reentry, killing all seven astronauts. I was young, but I remember the incident distinctly. Now I look back and imagine the horror of being trapped in a burning spaceship, flying nineteen times faster than the speed of sound, 200,000 feet above the protection of earth. What a horribly helpless feeling...

And that brings me to another thought. In the unfathomable light years of discovered universe, through millions of galaxies holding billions of stars, there is only a single heavenly body that nurtures life. Its name is Earth, and at the moment, you're resting in her protective embrace.

Post title from "Crossing the Bar" by Alfred Tennyson

05 March 2011

Joy from the Past

Imagine a time period when eating out was a novelty. A time period when a burger, some fries, and a pop would be the highlight of the month, even the year! Imagine a time period when you would float into a fast food parking lot with your family in a yacht-sized car, and, after parking, a waitress would come to your window and take your order. In a couple minutes, she would be back with your meal, and oh what a meal it would be! The shear deliciousness of that food! And joy of joys, maybe you were on a road trip to see far away places under the warm summer sun. After your meal, you would  head out into the great unknown to see great sights...

Such were my wanderings as we sat in A&W tonight and I gazed at photos of just such a time. 

02 March 2011

Superlative Hand

A continuation of Deft Fingers with an excerpt by Dr. Brand...


     "Often I have stood before a group of medical students or surgeons to analyze the motion of one finger. I hold before them a dissected cadaver hand, almost obscene-looking when severed from the body and trailing strands of sinew. I announce that I will move the tip of the little finger. To do so, I must place the cadaver hand on a table and spend perhaps four minutes sorting through the intricate network of tendons and muscles. (To allow dexterity and slimness for actions such as piano playing, the finger has no muscles in itself; tendons transfer force from muscles in the forearm and palm.) Finally, when I have arranged at least a dozen muscles in the correct configuration and tension, with a delicate movement I can maneuver them so the little finger moves firmly without the proximal joints buckling...
     "In order to observe the types of artificial hand that scientist and engineers have developed through years of research and millions of dollars of technology, I have visited facilities that produce radioactive materials. With great pride scientists demonstrate their skilled machines that allow them to avoid exposure to radiation. By adjusting knobs and levers they can control and artificial hand whose wrist supinates and revolves. Recent models even possess an opposable thumb, and advanced feature reserved for primates in nature. Smiling like a proud father, the scientist wiggles the mechanical thumb for me.
     "I nod approvingly and compliment him on the wide range of activity the mechanical hand can perform. But he knows, as I do, that compared to a human thumb his atomic-age hand is clumsy and limited, even pathetic - a child's Play Doh sculpture compared to a Michelangelo masterpiece. A piano concert proves that."
     from Fearfully and Wonderfully Made, by Dr. Paul Brand and
     Philip Yancey

24 February 2011

Soldier

The following is an imaginary diary entry of a Canadian soldier after the Second Battle of Ypres. I wrote it for part of my Canadian history assignment for this week.


May 5, 1915
                I don’t know how I made it through the last few weeks. Maybe someday I’ll get through the horror of that first battle, but now it keeps playing through my mind; over and over again. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the constant fire, the whistling of bullets, the screams and groans of my friends. Yes, my comrades that keep falling because that’s what we’re here for. The only consolation I have is that we held the Huns back. Oh, but the gas was terrible. It glowed an eerie greenish-yellow, slowly gliding towards our trenches.  It seemed to stretch out its hands to choke the air from us. It smothered so many. The silence that the mist made was terrifying as well; as though the guns were just a dream. Now even the grunge and smoke and dismal skies grate on my nerves and my mind. There is only rest for the dead. And one-fifth of our men are just that. Dead. Physically, I’m far away from the fighting field, but my mind I can’t control. But yet we stopped them!

23 February 2011

A Question of Nerves

What would happen if you had surgery on the nerves in your lower spinal cord, and the doctors crossed the nerves for you legs? If you would stub your left big toe, would you feel it in your right?

19 February 2011

Four Thoughts

From Murphy's Law:

     The best way to inspire fresh thoughts is to seal the envelope.

     The one who snores will fall asleep first.

     The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you 
     are with someone you don't want to be seen with.

     Sow you wild oats on Saturday night - then on Sunday pray for
     crop failure.

And that's all I have to post today, 'cause it's going to be busy!

15 February 2011

Ink & Watercolour

This an ink and watercolour picture that I painted recently for my art course. I got the idea for the lighting effects from the lighting effects master, Pascal Campion. Lighting plays an important part in creating atmosphere, both in paintings and in real life. The people in this picture were lots of fun draw; you could imagine that they were ticked off, or happy, or just plain tired from an evening of shopping...

14 February 2011

A Glimpse

"O! pathless world of seeming!
O! pathless life of mine whose deep ideal
Is more my own than ever was the real.
For others Fame
And Love's red flame,
And yellow gold; I only claim
The shadows and the dreaming."
from "Shadow River" by E. Pauline Johnson


I had to read this verse a couple of times before I understood it. This verse has such... such a wistful contentedness about it. While other people want fame, love, and money, Johnson only wants "the shadows and the dreaming." A little glimpse into her soul.

11 February 2011

Original Door

I posted the link to this animation a while ago on Google Buzz, but it's so good I'll post it again.

10 February 2011

DNA


I was fascinated by the following facts about DNA:
"Each cell carries the entire instruction book of one hundred thousand genes. DNA is estimated to contain instructions that, if written out, would fill a thousand six-hundred-page books. A nerve cell may operate according to instructions from volume four and a kidney cell from volume twenty-five, but both carry the whole compendium. The DNA is so narrow and compacted that all the genes in all my body's cells would fit into an ice cube; yet if the DNA were unwound and joined together end to end, the strand could stretch from the earth to sun and back more the four hundred times."
                  from Fearfully and Wonderfully Made, by Dr. Paul Brand
                  and Philip Yancy

The whole book is filled with interesting facts and uses them to draw parallels between the human body and God's church.