Tag Archives: religion

I chase small miracles

10 Feb

As Easter approaches, well at least in our supermarket chocolate aisles, it’s nice to reflect on the delightful little chocolate crumbs of meaning that our subversive sign writing friends leave for us.

As the movement of rampaging atheists is also growing, at least on my news feed on facebook, I thought it fitting to reflect on what is perceived as the miraculous.

As a writer and song-writer, the fact that ideas spark and tumble into my stream of consciousness is something I find amazing and inexplicable. As is the fact that human beings can fill me with frustration and loathing one moment and then overwhelming joy and love the next. Some would no doubt rationalise these to chemical activity in the brain &c, but I will place my self in the devil’s camp and agree with Blake who said there is no separation between Body and Soul, but rather that the senses are merely the chief inlets of Soul in this age.

To close ourselves off to mystery is to lose connection with what makes life brilliant and bearable. Those mysteries do not need to be earth-shattering or sky-splitting. They can, and usually are, as this beautiful stencil states, small miracles.

It may pay to drop the judge at the boozer the next time you go for a walk, and see the world through the eye’s of the little child that still lives inside. This is how we learn to hear the voice of the divine, and see and appreciate those small miracles.

I chase small miracles

AFTERWORD by the Author and Printer Will.m Blake. 1793

“The ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could percieve.
And particularly they studied the genius of each city & country, placing it under its mental deity;
Till a system was formed, which some took advantage of & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects: thus began Priesthood;
Choosing forms of worship from poetic tales.
And at length they pronounc’d that the Gods had order’d such things.
Thus men forgot that All deities reside in the human breast.”

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Don’t be afraid of the sadness that will set you free

24 Nov

After all that crazy insult shit, I thought it was about time for some sweet sadness.

This beautiful aphorism has been on a fence close to Croxton Station for a good year or more – testament to the power of its sentiment.

The day I stopped to snap this photo was one pregnant with the promise of impending thunder storms. The thunder heads were billowing behind me, and just as I stopped, a few rays of late afternoon sun stole through giving me a good half minute’s window to take my photo. Cosmic ha?

This is a very sweet take on sadness, so I’m not going to fill your mind with my own long winded interpretations, suffice to say that it has lead me down some interesting paths of thought.

It puts me in mind of a Sufi story though, more about aphoristic thought and the search for answers than sadness, though sadness, as our fence-post poet understands, has its own path to bliss.

Mullah Nasruddin is tearing up and down the high street of his village on his donkey. After a while the whole town gathers scratching their heads and wondering what is going on, till one person steps forward and asks, “What are you doing?” Nasruddin replies, “I’m looking for my Donkey!”

Don't be afraid of the sadness that will set you free

The book of love?

14 Feb

Ambiguity is built into language, doubly so with the artifacts left behind by the pictographically frustrated. My first thought upon seeing this bold aphoristic pictogram was a couple of gravestones times love equals?  Well the answer is the eternal question of the bereaved – never really understood but as a painful fading memory that may never disappear. But then, why did the author paint two grave stones – isn’t that a book? Perhaps a religious allusion – a challenge to the new atheists that love is the key to understanding the meaning of the word of God? (deep hey?) – or a new form of graffiti marketing for the sellers of romance novels? Or just the inspiration for this Valentine’s day post for yours truely? Will we ever know? Not until ambiguity disappears from communication between us all, and that’ll never happen.

Book of Love

Books or grave stones – is it just my twisted mind?

God Woz ‘ere

8 Feb

In the backstreets of Northcote, armed with a spray can and a ouija board, our hero stalks. He is a man on a mission, yet the particulars of that mission are unknown – hence the board. All he knows is that something must be said, and it must be said tonight. Oblivious to the lights of passing cars and the smell of piss from the Friday night tourists, he plants himself on the footpath and begins to summon his muse.

When the spirit infests him it is a familiar warmth – first his groin, then his stomach and finally his heart lights up. He knows what he must do. Impulsively he turns and throws the useless board away… it won’t tell him anything he does not know instinctively. He picks up the can and turns to the metal junction box, or whatever the hell it is, and pours out the contents of his illuminated soul, the great I Am … “God woz ‘ere”.

He does not linger for long to admire or even comprehend what has been written, but he leaves the place knowing others will come to honour their own inner light, or expel their inner darkness – be it with spray can, felt marker or prepared paper – for this is the sacrement they all share, and the city walls are their holy church.

God woz 'ere