Learning to respect people (even when you disagree with their ideas)

In responding to Kate’s email on a new school-level resource website to help people see the facts & dialogue properly on the Creation/  Evolution debate... and discussing with the site WebMaster about adding in some stuff on Epistemology: Naive Idealism/Realism cf Critical Idealism/Realism. Friday 27/7/2012.

This sounds great, Kate!
May conversate-
-tion with ol' mate
a-lle-vi-ate
the spit & spate,
bring love, not hate,
for all who "wait".

The Sting

An unknown dream may turn into a nightmare, but it may turn into an adventure.

What is worse than moving into the unknown dream, is the sure anticipation of the known nightmare.

Taking this world only into account …

The first Adam had the agony of having to choose to act

in an unknown, uncharted world,

with the felt possibility, if he obeyed God,

of experiencing the pain & suffering

of feeling left out of Eve’s & the Snake’s company

 & the “Knowledge of Good & Evil” club…

…He chose not to go through with it.

The second Adam had the agony of having to choose to act

in a known  world,

with the surety, if he obeyed God,

of experiencing the pain & suffering,

of being deserted by his friends & disciples,

being rejected by his nation’s leaders

& the representatives of his God,

who would unjustly try him,

condemn him to death,

hand him over to another nation,

who would mock him,

spit on him,

whip him,

kill him

…

…He chose to go through with it.

Why?

Because he was stupid?

…There’s more to take into account than 

“this world only”.

---

[another looking at yester-year's thoughts, (July/ Aug 1998) ]:

"Mendooran on the Castlereagh.."

"Mendooran on the Castlereagh.."
- with a couple o’ hundred folk -
“has the best school” I’d like to say
(& says “more than one” other bloke).

It’s got a Pub to boast, as well
a General Store, & Farmer’s Hub,
Commun’ty Centre, R.S.L.,
Cemet'ry, & a ‘Bolo’ club.

It used to be called “Mundooran”
but then the railway line came in
& called their station “Mendooran”,
& finally the town gave in...

The Castlereagh don’t run too much,
but in the old times, Mundoo ran
away from white “spirits and such”
(he was head of the local clan).

Australia’s Postal service,
celebrated by “Banjo”,
might here¹ still make ya nervous
if you don’t know “What’s the go”.

Free car’van park - (jus’ for wishin’).
Two bridges, one river, one creek.
Heaps o’ carp to practice fishin’,
enough to keep ya here all week.

Some churches, from the olden days.
A P’lice station to quiet the frays,
a friendly copper says “G’day”s,
and after work folk chat & laze..

And what do folk do e’v’where-else?
Most mobile phones don’t work - just here.
So these folk talk, (whisper, or yell),
get to know you, shed smiles & tears.

And so by bits, you feel like you
start to get to know them too.
‘til you forget, and feel that you
are “quite home” here, near Dunedoo.
 
(June/July 2012, Mendooran Central School)

1 THE TRAVELLING POST OFFICE by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson  http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/patersonab/poetry/travellingpo.html

A friend turns forty..

Fiona's family & a few colleagues &  old friends met on Saturday night at the BCCS school to celebrate Fiona graduating from her 40th year on God's Earth. Joining with that celebration...

Fiona is forty
years old about Now
Fi, don't get haughty!
(though, you could take a bow)

Multi-skilled is our "Fi":
just now with School Teachers,
before that was "O.T.";
and most caring features...

..Psych nurse; & a Carer;
I think there was "Cleaning".
But you won't get fairer,
or more forth-right in meaning!

If Fi thinks it, she speaks
what's come into her mind;
so you know, before weeks,
what you're likely to find.

But she won't "put you down"
(at least not meaning to).
Sometimes comes a frown,
but she'll listen to you.

All this stuff, Fiona,
we've seen over the years,
you've certainly grown a 
bold daughter[1]! Now, here's cheers!

---

[1] Background for the use of “daughter” here (as well as being the daughter to her parents, who joined in the night). Somehow Fi reminds me of that determined (and open) lady, who [had a haemorrhage (& was thus considered “unclean” by her society. After seeing & hearing about what Jesus had done in healing people by placing his hands on them, she put two & two together, “If I just touch his clothes I will get well”, and acted on it. But he stopped in the middle of everything to say “Who touched my clothes?”.. and waited… the story goes that she had felt in her body that the bleeding had stopped &] when she realized what had happened, came & told the whole story… and Jesus said to her “My daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace, & be healed of your suffering.” I was thinking of Jesus responding to Fi’s logic, boldness & open-ness & calling her “My daughter..”.  But if you prefer, you could use the word “gal” (for girl), instead of daughter. 

Tick Tock

O God,
we've plod
where trod
poor sod,
with tick,

which now
somehow
burrow,
won't go
so quick!#

This hales
more tales:
old rime*,
"that time..",
they're thick!

And brings
mean-ings,
new. Must!
To "Just
a tick.."


#  We went for a bit of a walk through the bush Thursday morning... Next morning one of the family found a tick on their body... then someone else found one.  (These are either larvae or adult stages of a spongy beetle-like critter that normally gets blood from native animals. Now that we are natives, to planet Earth, & to this part of the planet, I s'pose  we're part of the ecosystem. Makes you feel some sort of solidarity with the local kangaroos & wombats.) These disposed of we headed for home... next morning 2 txt's from different family members: one saying they'd found 3more, one found another...


* see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rime_of_the_Ancient_Mariner

On B & B's birthday.

Dear father & mother,

Walkers, Bevan & Beth,

there's not many other

folk who, like you, invest

in friends who'll be, with mirth,

in centuries coming,

not stuck in this old earth,

who hear the new humming..

hum-m-m-m-m-ming

of the cre-a-tor's song

helping us all to sing,

or at least hum along,

like those been inspired

to look past mechanics

to the spirit quiet -

 (well, who never panics)

- even when loud or fast,

or crying or grieving,

laughing (not only last),

or with sorrow heaving.

For love's not passionless,

and neither are you two

(it can seem fashion-less;

at times that's what you do).

That great sense of humour,

that sparkle & “ïdea”,

Love calls “a twirp", (you Ma),
with no con-tempt or fear..

...sees to the source of all
goodness, light, loyalty;

loses itself to fall

before who “gives us free”¹.

From the son you named “Paul”.

[See also the related “Storyof a ppaling life [PART 1]”, below]

1The statement chanted by the slaves in “The Amistad” [the story of a slave ship of newly made slaves captured in American waters after it was made illegal to make slaves (though current slaves could still be kept legally), this was part of the spark that lit the fuse that led to the American war of independence. In this case their very ineptitude with the sounds of English helped to show they were not born in slavery, and worked with their baristers case to argue for their freedom. In the process, they understood something of the work that these others had done on their behalf, & were very grateful. It is a tragic human story, but one involving love & loyalty in the face of despair. If only the ending could have been better than “now they were free to join current American society or return to a dead family & ruined village life in Africa”, ... can you imagine any better? That's the direction..]

On Brother’s Birthday[1]

God bless you my brother.

Thought of you through today,

tried to write another

poem-ish thing: What to say?

It's still on my clip-board,

I'm in bed (at the coast),

someone near me just snored,

you're so old, you don’t boast.

You've prob'ly “hit the sack”

some time ago, I know.

Still you might get a whack,

- not turning your sound low.

A whack or two's not bad,

in more than 45

years; with wife, & as dad,

-it proves that you're alive.

So now, before midnight

I'd better send this text

(the screen seems very bright),

before my wife's too vexed.

The years seem now to fly

(I'm close to old as you),

I'm glad this life is like

our baby teeth that "do"...

..until the "permanent"

teeth push the "babies" out,

the baby ones were meant

for fairies' cups no doubt...

Good - night, and this next year,

to you ol' Craigeo,

don't you give in to fear,

when things get wobbly-o.

Paul-eo.

[& to add to that, from another time (but celebrating this birthday anniversary of Craig R. Walker)...]

Craigeo, Baigeo!

now grows a bit older.

Is he more daigeo[2],

or more like a soldier?

Craigy the baby now

has travelled far beyond

most baby Walkers. Bow!

(- this is how to respond)

“A baby” you tell me;

-older than forty-five-

can NOT stay a baby

if it grows well, alive!

Craigy the baby(-faced)

- to all of his siblings

(who per chance were born first)

is past all these quiblings.

To him [& the one there,

who when not, he Missus;

along with their Pigeon-Pair]:

X, X, come these kisses!

Pauleo. 

---

[1] Sent about midnight 6/7/2012 (but it decided to change it to an mms & took about 5min to send)

[2] Daigeo= a friendly form of “daigo”- from another culture/  a less common form of “daggy”,

Oh God, why this distance?*

* At Maccas at Bendigo, 3 May 2012, left wife & daughter in bed saying they’d just stay at home to talk or to  just sleep…. Feeling like I wanted to tune in with God, off to Maccas, then went to order a tea, saw a meal deal for ~$3.45, was charged ~$4.15, asked why… was told that my adjustment from "cappuccino" to "tea" must have made it dearer, so I changed back to a cap (then saw that the other lady had started to pour the tea), only to find that the price was more again, then we realized that the cheaper price was “burger only”, so I went back to the cheaper “tea” (then noticed that by this time the lady had started on the Cap (half full). Felt bad. Like I was a gluttonous blob that leaves my family to go to Maccas to pig out, rather than relate and wastes stuff on top of that… etc… so got out notebook, (then felt like a gluttonous blob… that hides behind computer screens & is caught up in technology) then started to type this… (Thank you for your help my Father) Paul.

... then remembering that leader of God's people (whom Jesus drew to his students' attention - at the end of Mark 12) - a widow lady ( in a time with little social service)...

Oh, God.

My God.

Why have I forsaken you?

I start with real yearnings

for intimacy with you

I get side-tracked so quick

- don’t know what to do.

But as I just said that, I knew,

& knew that I was doing   it too.

That gives me hope a-maze-singly.

Though I can’t see you leading me;

you none-the-less are.

And I love you,

with all this small heart.

My biggest prayer

as I remember you are there,

is to have a bigger heart;

that it might grow could be a start,

to love you with it all (not part).

And now I recall that widow lady

in that temple long ago

you didn’t think that she was shady

just ‘cause she was bent so low

and you knew

what she was giving,

drew your stu-

-dents attention to her leadership

of the “people of God”;

when all the men

who led, back then,

gave back a part of their own heart

but she whose heart was broken

and who mourned, and was comforted

not by a religious “dot” or token

but by that LOVE from the very start,

was done with all that stuff (just) spoken

of. Oh, give me her leader’s heart!

What can I do

for you -

who loves me true?

What-ever you bring to (me);

whate’r  I should eschew,

or bend and start anew,

these very things – just do!

-and keep re-membering too,

linking it in to the grand story.

Becoming a weaver, a spinner of tales,

helping people (like me) swallow truth (not whales),

stitches to a tapestry, & a chapter add,

linking actions  with story

I think I see enough to do, my Dad.

(this was then followed by my ACT of SURRENDER)