“And then what?” Jon asks.
“Well, then they went home for tea and had their favourite food.”
“Ice-cream” Jon states, nodding his head against the pillow. “And then what?”
“I think it’s time you went to sleep. I’ll tell you another story tomorrow.”
“Can you tell me another one now Dad? Can you tell me the one about the magic machine?”
“Hmmm, will you go straight to sleep and not make any noise?”
“I promise!”
“Weeellll”, Dad thinks for a moment, “okay, but you’ll have to remind me how it starts.”
Jon starts very slowly, “Once upon a time there was a boy called…”
“Joe?”, Dad offers.
“No! Jon!”
“Ah yes, that’s right. Once upon a time there was a boy called Jon and he had an amazing machine that made toothbrushes”
“Not toothbrushes – magic!”
“Did you clean your teeth?”
“Yes – keep going with the stor-eee.”
“Let me see your teeth.”
Jon squeezes his eyes closed and opens his mouth wide.
“Wow that’s a big mouth! Okay, so Jon had an amazing machine that made magic.
The magic machine was a square box covered in the most wonderful colours all spiralling and swirling together. Sometimes it looked as if the colours were moving and making new patterns.
On the side of the box was a small switch.
Can you remember what happens when you push the switch?”
Jon shoots his hand towards the ceiling and exclaims, “Nothing!”
“Nothing!?”
“You have to say the magic words!”
“What magic words?”
“Magic Machine,
Magic machine,
Open your top,
Show me the screen!” Jon recites in a solemn voice.
“Ah yes, those are the magic words alright.
So Jan”, Dad resumes.
“Jon!”
“Sorry, so Jon said the Magic words.
Slowly the box began to open. As the box opened a small mirror came out. At first when Jon looked at the mirror all he could see were his very clean teeth.
Then slowly the picture changed and he could see all the fun things he had done that day.
What had he done that day?” Dad asks.
“Well dad, he had done some drawing and talked to Mum and helped with the vacuuming.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and he went for a walk and saw a tree and it was loosing its leaves for winter and it only had one leaf left on it!”
“Man, that was quite a day! Anyway”, Dad continues, “Jon saw all these things and they made him smile. Then he used the magic box closing words. How do they go again?”
“Magic machine,
Magic machine,
Thanks for the pictures
Please hide the screen!”
“That’s it. Well Jon, must be time for sleep. Sleep tight little mite.”
“First give me a hug big bug. Dad?”
“Yes Jon?”
“Is there really such a thing as magic?”
But Dad just smiles and turns off the light.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Images
I just had the most elaborate dream. The story was this.
A woman wakes from a deep coma surrounded by a family she does not remember.
She goes to see the Oracle on the Pier, who says,
“Why have you come to me?”
“I have forgotten my history. Without my past the present seems like an illusion.”
“The illusion is not outside you.”
The pier becomes a bridge, a boisterous sea playing against its sides. Ahead is an island with a castle on top.
Now she stands on top of the castle watching as enemy aircraft fly in formation towards her.
“They are like ours”, she thinks.
“They were trained by us”, someone near her replies.
Antiaircraft bullets fill the air like angry insects. A plane is shot down the pilot ejecting near by.
“I think... I think I knew that man.”
And in that moment all the things she knew and all the things she didn’t swirl around her.
“I am that man!”
Again she is waking up from the coma and this time she knows that she was the pilot.
This time the Oracle says,
“You need to take this to make it stop.”
Slowly she takes the pill to her mouth, opens her mouth, puts the pill on her tongue, closes her mouth and swallows.
A strong light illuminates her and dissolves her as if she had been but a shadow, or a dream.
A woman wakes from a deep coma surrounded by a family she does not remember.
She goes to see the Oracle on the Pier, who says,
“Why have you come to me?”
“I have forgotten my history. Without my past the present seems like an illusion.”
“The illusion is not outside you.”
The pier becomes a bridge, a boisterous sea playing against its sides. Ahead is an island with a castle on top.
Now she stands on top of the castle watching as enemy aircraft fly in formation towards her.
“They are like ours”, she thinks.
“They were trained by us”, someone near her replies.
Antiaircraft bullets fill the air like angry insects. A plane is shot down the pilot ejecting near by.
“I think... I think I knew that man.”
And in that moment all the things she knew and all the things she didn’t swirl around her.
“I am that man!”
Again she is waking up from the coma and this time she knows that she was the pilot.
This time the Oracle says,
“You need to take this to make it stop.”
Slowly she takes the pill to her mouth, opens her mouth, puts the pill on her tongue, closes her mouth and swallows.
A strong light illuminates her and dissolves her as if she had been but a shadow, or a dream.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Lullaby
Stars shine,
On obsidian sea.
Wind plays,
A melody in the trees,
A whispered lullaby
“Sleep tight it’s alright”
You’ll dream,
Of an ocean breeze,
And a ship,
On empty seas.
Close your eyes my love.
Let go it’s time to fly.
Set sail and sleep tonight.
On obsidian sea.
Wind plays,
A melody in the trees,
A whispered lullaby
“Sleep tight it’s alright”
You’ll dream,
Of an ocean breeze,
And a ship,
On empty seas.
Close your eyes my love.
Let go it’s time to fly.
Set sail and sleep tonight.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Buy Skybus Tickets
One of the first things you see when you walk out of Terminal Three at Melbourne Airport is a sign that reads ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’. This sign is attached to an electronic kiosk conveniently located next to the Skybus bus stop. The Skybus is the bus that takes you from the airport to the city.
I love the 'Buy Skybus Tickets' sign. I love the creamy-smooth reassuring directness of the ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign. I love the economy of words used by the ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign. I love the thought that I could probably work out what the ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign said even if I had just arrived at Terminal Three of Melbourne Airport from somewhere in the world where I wasn’t used to reading English signs.
The ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign makes me think about buying a ticket. I could go in to the city and have a coffee; take the day off and sit by the river.
When my girlfriend calls me tonight she might ask,
“How was work today?”
And I would say,
“Well, after I dropped you at the airport I was feeling sad so I bought a Skybus ticket and went in to the city.”
She would be impressed.
I love the 'Buy Skybus Tickets' sign. I love the creamy-smooth reassuring directness of the ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign. I love the economy of words used by the ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign. I love the thought that I could probably work out what the ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign said even if I had just arrived at Terminal Three of Melbourne Airport from somewhere in the world where I wasn’t used to reading English signs.
The ‘Buy Skybus Tickets’ sign makes me think about buying a ticket. I could go in to the city and have a coffee; take the day off and sit by the river.
When my girlfriend calls me tonight she might ask,
“How was work today?”
And I would say,
“Well, after I dropped you at the airport I was feeling sad so I bought a Skybus ticket and went in to the city.”
She would be impressed.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
The Prophet and His Passing
From up here that long oblong driftwood log is a mouth on a parchment face. The sea has stirred thousands upon thousands of sandstone coloured grains of sand into the shape of eyes and left an untidy muddle of seaweed hair.
I think I hear, no, I hear. The rhythm of the waves has become a voice. Adagio.
“I want to tell you something.”
The poetry that follows is wondrous, strong, soft. It is the thing you always knew but never understood. It is the thing that soothes you and breaks you. I feel great joy and great pain as a single emotion.
The voice is inside me cleaning me, making me whole, giving me hope. I feel my preconceptions disappear and my defences reduced to rubble.
But then.
The voice, that beautiful voice, becomes suddenly harsh. “The tide is coming towards me. I can not take this pain.”
As the tide pulls away the edges of the face the mouth opens to drink and to be drowned by the water.
I am left thinking “Surely your own wisdom could have helped you?”
There is no answer to my silent question.
I think I hear, no, I hear. The rhythm of the waves has become a voice. Adagio.
“I want to tell you something.”
The poetry that follows is wondrous, strong, soft. It is the thing you always knew but never understood. It is the thing that soothes you and breaks you. I feel great joy and great pain as a single emotion.
The voice is inside me cleaning me, making me whole, giving me hope. I feel my preconceptions disappear and my defences reduced to rubble.
But then.
The voice, that beautiful voice, becomes suddenly harsh. “The tide is coming towards me. I can not take this pain.”
As the tide pulls away the edges of the face the mouth opens to drink and to be drowned by the water.
I am left thinking “Surely your own wisdom could have helped you?”
There is no answer to my silent question.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Famous
The bell rang for lunch and my friend and I strolled out on to the playground talking about space and spaceships.
“What was there before space?” I asked.
No matter how hard I tried to imagine nothingness the best my mind could come up with was blackness, and blackness seemed to be something.
When I was older I learned that we humans are atomically small in the molecule of the solar system. Some people think that there are as many stars in the Milky Way as there have been humans on Earth. Each star is a massive sun – ancient and unique. And there are many, many galaxies in the Universe.
I can not comprehend the vastness of space.
How can something so large that I can’t comprehend it come from something so empty that I can’t imagine it?
Well, maybe we are just the part of the Universe that is trying to understand itself.
No wonder we want to be famous.
“What was there before space?” I asked.
No matter how hard I tried to imagine nothingness the best my mind could come up with was blackness, and blackness seemed to be something.
When I was older I learned that we humans are atomically small in the molecule of the solar system. Some people think that there are as many stars in the Milky Way as there have been humans on Earth. Each star is a massive sun – ancient and unique. And there are many, many galaxies in the Universe.
I can not comprehend the vastness of space.
How can something so large that I can’t comprehend it come from something so empty that I can’t imagine it?
Well, maybe we are just the part of the Universe that is trying to understand itself.
No wonder we want to be famous.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Last Day on Earth
Paul woke with the warm early morning sun smiling through his window. Outside a warm breeze was making a rustling sound as it played joyously in a tree.
Paul yawned, stretched and rolled over to see what time it was. The view of his bedside clock was obscured by a note propped against the dial. The note read thus.
“Good morning Paul,
Hi. It’s me, God. Just wanted to say that today is definitely not your last day on Earth. So don’t worry about dying or anything like that just get out there and enjoy – should be a good one.
Talk to you later.
Lots of love,
God”
There are times when we receive wondrous news, or terrifying news and in that moment everything we had been thinking, every important thing we had to do, vanishes. There is silence behind and between every sound. There are universes created and destroyed in the infinity between the tic and the toc of the alarm clock.
Paul, a passionate believer that man should live each day as if it were his last, has a realisation. He has been living each day as if there had never been a first.
It wasn’t the kind of day you would expect from a man who could not die. No. It was a day filled with a lot of being and breathing and gladness and wonder and just noticing the things around him.
The first day of his life.
God watched Paul’s day and crinkles formed around his eyes. If you had seen those crinkles and those eyes you may have been reminded of the sun on an autumn day.
Paul yawned, stretched and rolled over to see what time it was. The view of his bedside clock was obscured by a note propped against the dial. The note read thus.
“Good morning Paul,
Hi. It’s me, God. Just wanted to say that today is definitely not your last day on Earth. So don’t worry about dying or anything like that just get out there and enjoy – should be a good one.
Talk to you later.
Lots of love,
God”
There are times when we receive wondrous news, or terrifying news and in that moment everything we had been thinking, every important thing we had to do, vanishes. There is silence behind and between every sound. There are universes created and destroyed in the infinity between the tic and the toc of the alarm clock.
Paul, a passionate believer that man should live each day as if it were his last, has a realisation. He has been living each day as if there had never been a first.
It wasn’t the kind of day you would expect from a man who could not die. No. It was a day filled with a lot of being and breathing and gladness and wonder and just noticing the things around him.
The first day of his life.
God watched Paul’s day and crinkles formed around his eyes. If you had seen those crinkles and those eyes you may have been reminded of the sun on an autumn day.
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