Skip to main content

When the pupil is ready to learn, a teacher will appear.


This is the concrete bunker that leads through to the carpark in Salamanca Square, which is built into an old quarry. I think that it looks suitably World War Two.

On occasion I drift into moments of Zen-like prescience, peace and composure. Of course, these moments represent diversions from the reality of the daily grind of waking up, rustling up Weet-Bix for Henry, shower, dress, bus, work, lunch, work, bus, rustling up Henry dinner, washing children, sleep, rinse, repeat.

What I want to know is whether Zen is fulfilment or exertion? Permanent or transitory? Arrival or journey?

Would we want it to be permanent?

Comments

Candie said…
Are you in too?Well..nothing surprises me anymore..

Yes that pic is scary!Reminds me of a bad nightmare.
Anonymous said…
Well, that all depends. I'm thinking zen likes a nice view, but maybe I have the budget zen, which means it's pretty tempermental, requiring frequent adjustments. You get what you pay for, so they say.
Kris McCracken said…
Candie, no Zen moments today.

Give it time...
Kris McCracken said…
Altadenahiker, I like the notion of budget Zen. I've not got the time or patience for the real deal...
A dungeon-y photo with an uplifting thought.
Sue said…
My Zen moments these days consist of...Zen I will go to work, Zen I will do the washing...Zen I will scrub the toilet...Zen I will do the grocery shopping...Zen I will cook tea....etc, etc, etc. I'm sure you get the drift!??
A permanent journey to exertion (and exhaustion).
Kris McCracken said…
Diva, it is an interesting space. Great acoustics.

I don't know how people got by in air raid shelters.
Kris McCracken said…
Sue, can't your boys cook for you?

I've already got Henry wanting to do all sorts of things in the kitchen.

One day he shall be making MY dinner.
Sue said…
Yes...my boys were once helpful about the house too. When they were little they did all sorts of things to help me. But they are grown up now and far too busy to do such menial things. Tell me Kris...how many dinners did you cook Roddy and Franny when you were at home pre-Jen?
Kris McCracken said…
Sue, my mother worked in kitchens and was thus out of the house at dinner time.

Father worked away.

I regret that I never really had the opportunity.
Priyanka Khot said…
I believe in the truth of the quote to quite an extent. This too is Richard Bach's? Am I correct?
Jagjit said…
Nice perspective.
Sue said…
Aaah...that is the answer! I have to make myself scarce at meal times! And the father being away we have down pat! hehehe
Honestly, I really don't mind most nights. The boys help in most other ways if I need it and they do cook a meal if I insist.
And I think it is quite lovely that you do so much with your boys. I am sure they will (and do) appreciate it...as well as Jen.
KL said…
Creepy! this place is definitely haunted.
Kris McCracken said…
Priyanka, well, Bach did rip an awful lot off traditional Zen philosophy…
Kris McCracken said…
Jagjit, it was fun.
Kris McCracken said…
Sue, I shall have them waiting on me like a GOD.

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.