Thursday 30 January 2014

The surface of the world

One of Plato’s most famous allegories is known as ‘The allegory of the cave’. Plato has Socrates describe a gathering of people who have lived imprisoned in a cave all of their lives, facing a blank wall. The people watch shadows projected on the wall by things passing in front of a fire behind them, and begin to designate names to these shadows. According to Plato's Socrates, the shadows are as close as the prisoners get to viewing reality. He then explains how the philosopher is like a prisoner who is freed from the cave and comes to understand that the shadows on the wall do not make up reality at all, as he can perceive the true form of reality rather than the mere shadows seen by the prisoners.


Riverine environment at my mother's house

This allegory is a part of Plato’s ‘Theory of Forms’ that propounds the idea that what we perceive dimly is just the shadow of ‘real things’. Reality exists in an ideal realm beyond our senses, and this archetypal realm is the home of the true forms such as Truth, Beauty and Reason.


Water surfaces


I want to describe how this idea, which is extremely pervasive in modern society, drove my life in very unsatisfactory directions, until I was finally able to free myself of its grasp.


Paperbark parasite


I wanted to be like Plato’s philosopher who could perceive the truth behind reality. I began in religious and spiritual domains. Maybe the esoteric teachings of religions could reveal what was truly real and really true. I joined monasteries, meditated and explored religious practices.


Concrete and sea surfaces

Dissatisfied with those pursuits, I dove into the more occult realms for real meaning. I studied the Kabbalah, astrology and yoga, masonry; seeking this elusive reality. Eastern metaphysics and its trivialized reincarnation in ‘new age’ beliefs sidelined me for many years. I lived in an ashram in India and worked with a revered saint of Kashmir Shaivism, Muktananda.



Light post nail

The more intensely and devoutly I studied these approaches, the more disenchanted I became. So I thought, perhaps I could use the intellect to approach pure reason. I went back to university and pursued learning in psychology, computer science, acupuncture, education and mathematics. I acquired seven degrees, enough to convince me that while knowledge is indeed a beautiful and powerful thing, it did not contain a path to the inner wisdom that Plato’s philosopher must have possessed.


Megan, blocks and sea

Along my academic journey, I encountered post-modernism and its ideas of deconstructing the cultural and social biases behind ‘perceived truths’. Its elimination of any kind of absolutism demonstrated to me that meaning is constructed. Cracks were appearing in the true and the beautiful. If all thought is a construction, how can there be any ‘higher reality’. I realized that each and every human being is a ‘meaning-making machine’. There was no absolute truth out there; we each constructed our own reality. The corollary is that we are all free to construct whatever reality we so desire.


Ballina bar river entrance

So if meaning is so subjective and transient, what of the search for verities on which to base one’s life? I began to ruthlessly cull myself of beliefs. Any kind of spiritual remnants were the first to go. I cultivated a relentless evidence-based empiricism while acknowledging the constructed nature of science. My faith in psychology faded, my interests were drawn to the more rational and empirical science like mathematics and physics.


Navigation mark

I began using Buddhist ideas of mindfulness in my approaches to personal change and education. Mindfulness encourages a simple observation of what is, without interpretation. I rethought the approaches of the phenomenologists that studied raw sensory experience. There was a glimmer of salvation here that would re-emerge later.



Hard and soft surfaces

Concurrent with all this thought, I was ageing. Particularly after retirement, I had more opportunity to observe the meaning-making activities of people. I’ve written previously about the mindlessness of status-seeking consumerism and how Megan and I now called ourselves ‘post consumers’. The activities of old no longer held much interest. Sports, shopping, fine dining, cars, houses, possessions: all seemed to be just ‘stuff’, encumbrances to life.


Random texture

The value propositions that I’d been sold no longer held warmth and attraction. I seemed to be heading for an existential void, a kind of nihilistic despair. I think Megan was wondering whether medication might be appropriate.


Close encounters with surface

However, this simple little blog intervened with an answer. I had been taking photo’s to illustrate the blog, and we’d bought an SLR camera before we left. As I started to explore learning to take better photographs, I started observing the ‘surface of the world’ more closely. This may have been visual to begin, but I’m really referring to the entire perceptible sensorium, including sound and touch.


Modern day flight

This skin-of-the-world, on reflection, seemed to contain so much more than the dim flickers on the wall of the cave that Plato referred to. This skin is directly given; it isn’t constructed by meaning making. In the jargon of cognitive psychology, perception is the ‘front-end’ of cognition. Certainly, there are fine-grained constructions that create our percepts; there has to be to perceive order from Berkley’s ‘buzzing booming confusion’. But this skin seems to be as close as you can get to the mystical ‘it’; it is the fabric that stands between subject and object.



A unique view of the world

Strangely, this gives me solace. I can sit in the skin-of-the-world and just bask in it for what it is. There is no meaning other than this. This is the one finger of Buddha pointing at the moon. Metaphorically, I can ‘undig’ myself from whatever cognitive tangle or quest for meaning that embroils me, and just lie back on the surface. I feel supported by it, its silky embrace promises to me in quiet whispers that this might just be enough.



A satisfied surface aviator




Tuesday 14 January 2014

A day at the river

I've been feeling a bit apologetic for all the social news on our blog for the past month, so I thought I'd revisit our old sailing club to represent our nautical theme.


Club house

Megan and I first started racing at Richmond River Sailing Club at Ballina, Northern NSW. This is a small but active club racing every Sunday on the river, where it enters the sea through a particularly difficult bar. So, current and tides and moving sand-bars create an interesting racing area.


Skiff fleet

The club has an active skiff fleet, a number of beach cats and a growing trailer sailer fleet. Tony, Ayla's new husband has just bought an older 16 square Nacra, a single hander, single sail and wire cat. This was the boat I was lucky enough to get to sail. It bought back many memories of Megan and I racing our 5.8m Nacra at the club.


Tony's 16 square Nacra
The river's estuarine environment is endlessly fascinating, there is so much bird and sea life around. 


A sandpiper

... about to dive for a fish

I particularly love the pelicans, who operate like bomber command on the river.


Close quarters fly-by


" Bomber to landing control ...



... requesting approach 

... taxying back to base ".

But the main attraction was the fast and furious racing by the small fleets on the river.

A 16 square flying a hull


Two on the wire of a racing F 15


Bombers patrolling the racing fleet


Light wind tactics


Battle of the kites

The narrow mouth of the river allowed some close-up shots to be taken from the shore.


A Tornado under full canvas


Somewhat more sedate craft


Tony on the wire





Making for the finish gate

Close quarter battles

This locale reminds me how blessed we are in Australia with natural beauty. People, sailing craft and wildlife all harmoniously sharing a wonderful natural resource.


A ubiquitous seagull

Priceless beauty



 

Saturday 11 January 2014

My Daughter is married

Coming home to Australia has been an extraordinary experience. Realising that life has gone on for those at home and not frozen in a moment in August 2012, when we left for Turkey, has been thought provoking.

Michael finished his BA, Sophie got engaged and married. Life stops for no one. As I said from an airport lounge on my way to Fethiye in my first blog, it will be interesting to see how we change during our time away. I should have also said: how everyone else changes too.

The Wedding. Steve has commented on the events, I suppose it is up to me to describe my feelings.

I was worried about the day. I didn't really know what to expect or what role I was to play. Sophie had everything worked out: spreadsheet prepared. I wish I had some of her organisational skills. I wished to be able to do more than give money. But Turkey and Greece are a long way from Oyster Bay. So Sophie and her friends and aunt did the jobs which had to be done to make the day go like clockwork.

Bes, one of Sophie's dear friends, organised her kitchen tea. I'd never been to one before so was not sure what to expect. Female family and friends enjoyed a beautiful afternoon tea in Sydney- cakes, tea coffee, chai...


Cakes......

Sophie looked great in a summery frock. Not knowing the protocol I bought a present as did the rest of my family. We bought a beautiful Turkish plate and Greek embroided table cloth.

My Beautiful daughter

A rehearsal occurred at St Benedict's Church on the Monday before the wedding. This was a chance to see what words I had been given to say, never short of words to say it would be different to be given some. Meeting the priest, I was reminded of Tanya's wedding and Philip's funeral since he had been at both. Events like this are often accompanied by a variety of thoughts.


My son Michael

Back to the wedding. Clockwork is how things went. The ceremony went without a hitch. I managed not to cry until the last word. Ray, Sophie's dad, and I complemented each other on our beautiful and capable daughter; a credit to us both.


Sophie and Ray 
Photos were taken. Luckily Steve was my private photographer so he took some great shots of the day.

Friends I hadn't seen for years due to distance and divorce were there. There were also family we rarely get to see. Unfortunatley we had little time to talk to them.

Skipper and First mate- land bound for now.
The bridesmaids looked stunning. It was deja vu seeing Tanya's daughter Anna, as Sophie's bridesmaid : as Tanya had been, aged 13, at my wedding to Ray in 1982.

Anna in front leads the procession
Chris looked handsome and happy to be marrying my girl; yes a lucky man. He too is a great addition to our small families.

Beautiful couple- a new beginning


The reception was held at Sydney Rowing Club, DeDe's Restaurant. The backdrop was fitting- the inner harbour Sydney. The view of sailing boats made Steve and I feel the loss momentarily of Pavlov. But no time for that: speeches and dancing to be done.

View from Abbotsford to city skyline
Most people find speeches hard to deliver. Not me: I love them. Give me the microphone, be it a school auditorium, a protest meeting, a funeral, or my daughter's wedding I am in my element.
I said to Sophie months before that I wanted to speak. I spoke at both my weddings. No" tradition" for me, and we did have a female MC.

So when I approached Tanya( MC and Sophie's aunt plus maybe  PM of Australia one day) to enquire as to when I was to speak, I was aghast to discover that I was not on the program. However my quick witted and ever reliable ex- sister-in-law quickly placed me on the list: an oversight I am convinced. When I was introduced I stepped up to give Sophie and Chris my wishes and advice for the future.

I spoke about how my mother would have enjoyed the day. Mum died in 2009. I made sure that I spoke calmly. Giving advice to newly weds is a fraught affair, particularly when you are the bride's mother. I wished them well and suggested they treat each other with kindness but we true to themselves. 

I hope for both Chris and Sophie that their lives are full of exciting moments and heady experiences- hopefully they will explore some of these with us in the Med in 2014.

Wowing it up with friends







Friday 10 January 2014

The other wedding

Its been a triple duty trip back to Australia for Megan and I. Not only were there family visits over Christmas, and Sophie's wedding; my sister also coincided her wedding with our visit.


Tony, the happy groom

My sister, Ayla, bride to be.

These two weddings were very different in style and content, so some background may be in order. Sophie's wedding was spectacular, and very traditional in every way. It had all the accruements of a modern wedding: gift register at David Jones, hen's party, kitchen tea, bucks night, honeymoon in Hawaii, classy photographer, live band, sophisticated fully catered reception, with the married couple whisked away by chartered water taxi at the appointed hour.


The beach site for the wedding, flags in background


The circles for the ritual

Ayla's wedding was not traditional at all. Ayla moved to Byron back when hippies and the alternative community were based there. She belonged to a group called the Gaia Choir, which celebrated a return to paganistic rituals deifying the Goddess and feminine energy, as well as a certain reverence for sphagnum moss. So there was no way she would adopt traditional religious ceremonies for her wedding. She designed her own ceremony.


The base camp at Flat Rock beach 
From a base camp at a local beach, the men left first to create the male 'space'. They were facilitated by Peter, who instructed each man to carry a stone down to the beach. The stones were to represent each man's intentions for Ayla's and Tony's marriage.

Peter, the male circle's facilitator

The men walked down onto the beach and created the male circle, while mindfully holding their intention for the union.


The men begin their journey to the beach

Male procession

Down to the beach we go

The male circle formed on the beach
Groom and best man anxiously await the Goddess

Then the women, with brightly coloured parasols, each carrying a gerbera bloom, arrived in dramatic fashion.


The female energy enters the domain


The women arriving


Like a flock of bright lorakeets


Each carrying a symbolic bloom

The women formed the female circle. The celebrant drew our attention to the infinity symbol thus created. And then, in a reflection of traditional ways, the bride arrived.


The arriving bride, anxious mother in tow!


Radiance personified


and the circles are joined


on the symbolic marriage alter.

The female circle then interpenetrated the male circle, the women weaving between the men. They placed flowers in the centre of the now united circle, buoying the gravity of the male stones.


Female fecundity?


The gerbera's at the focus of the circle


Male groundedness?

The interwoven circle

The spoken part of the ceremony began, the celebrant explaining the symbolism of the hand tying and the circles.


The celebrant

Mother of the bride and father of the groom ...


joining the newlyweds together.

My mother and Anthony's father formed a bridge that the newly weds passed through; the joining of the two families.

The hand binding


No caption, just loved this shot


Here we go!
Rings were exchanged, songs were sung, we danced and laughed and cried as you do at weddings.

Vows and rings

With this ring, I thee wed

And of course, kisses were kissed.



The moment


Hello, darling!

All the legal bits were attended to.


Ayla signing, with Tayler,  new step daughter.


The ink still not dry


Its all official now

Brian, best man.


Kito, Tony's new step son.

Confetti and rose petals were thrown, then we all packed up and left. The seagulls and surfers returned, perhaps a little puzzled as to what had just occured.


Tunnel of love




Confetti moment


Vacating the beach
Its all over, and just beginning

I had the job of photographer, and there were lots of formal photo's to take.


Anu and Laurie, doing the song bird thing


The new family


Inlaws


and friends



Mother and son


We then departed for a reception at a local restaurant, and later, partied on at the base camp at the beach.


Wedding cake and cup-cakes


Arriving at the restaurant


 A little 'just-married' song from Shanti


A spaghnum moment


A mother's moment


Taking the plunge

As an aside, I have to congratulate Tony and Ayla for creating their own meaning, and their own celebration of their wedding. It was a truly unique experience. My hope for them is that they carry this creativity and uniqueness throughout their new lives together. Our hopes fly with you.