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Tuesday 13/2/01. Its 5.15 & Ive stopped at a boat ramp near Marlo for the night. Yesterday eveningHelen sent me off with a half bottle of De Bortoli The Noble One 1998. It was a surprise & I only twiggedwhen I entered the bedroom (at the Ivanhoe house) & saw the pair of crystal wine glasses on the window-sillabove the bed. The room was perfumed by a gardenia from the garden put there the previous day. How rich canyou be! Earlier I had dropped in on Joe who says he might be shifting back home before Im back & earlier stillI had had tea with Kate (15/3/01 not Kate the philosopher who works at the Eaglemont newsagency onsaturdays) at the Hong Kong & a beer at a thai type bar across the road from Stalactytes. Before that I chancedon Frank Lovece sitting outside the State Library on his tea break & as he does so often he left me withsomething to chew over. He reckons the story of the fall, which he calls the fall into history, is really the story ofthe birth. He says that knowledge of good & evil is what man is about & that it would have been boring beforethat. Without knowing you wouldnt have been able to praise or criticize or condemn. He has apoint : wandering about starkers in the garden of eden but in total innocence subsisting on a diet consistingmainly of fruit lacks appeal. Ive been thinking about it on the way without gaining any clarity. There is aproblem in there somewhere. Ill ask Frank to elaborate when I get back. (14/3/01. & I did catch up with himyesterday at Brian Maclures 60th birthday at the check club where Walter & Denis Spiteri & Roger Smith &Andrew Hollis & Don & heaps of other people I knew also were but above all Vic Fleming whom I havent seenfor years & promised to hopefully meet again at Brians 70th & where the music was supplied by none other thanBasalt himself & Co & where no major philosophic solutions were possible as it was too noisy though Frankdid his best to shout something between puffs of a cigarette but the only bit I got was how when he was in italyhis friend Gianfranco Baruchello (whose book How to Imagine I read last week) gave, not lent but gave him$300 (this was in the 80s when it was worth a lot) because he was broke & because someone had once givenhim (Baruchello) $300 when he was down.) I also continue to mull over the card I found when me & H. gotback 3 weeks ago from N.S.W. Its signed Chogyam Trungpa & it says : Our vast collections of knowledge andexperience are just a part of egos display , part of the grandiose quality of ego. We display them to the worldand in so doing, reassure ourselves that we exist, safe and secure, as spiritual people. Ive finished my stubby

(3rd, which I needed to become vague after the road accident I was at an hour & a half ago) & a school of littlefish jumped out next to where Im sitting on some concrete steps going down into the water (Brodribb River).Its 6 pm & Im going to have a bite to eat. Ive spent a night here before with Helen. I remember there wereplenty of mozzies then but they are not here now, nor people Before I started eating a 4x4 utility truckarrived pulling a boat full of what looked like drum nets. It turned out to be an eel fisherman & what I presumeto be his son. There are 19 commercial eel licences in Victoria he explained after I told him Id spent timetalking to another eel fisherman at Curdies Inlet in Western Victoria years ago. He knew the man. They all knoweach other & there are feuds among them as in any other family. It was nice talking & they excusedthemselves for disturbing me when I told them Id be spending the night here. The eels are mainly exported (theguy at Curdies told me all of his went to Sweden),some frozen some smoked. Apparently the very fat ones Iused to call congers that we got in the Latrobe River when I was a kid & thought were rubbish are the most

prized by the chinese in Melbourne & for export. My sister Egles godmother, Mrs Eskirtas, used to serve up theones her son Vytas caught when we lived in Sale & I used to hate them. The amount of flesh on one was nomore than on a normal 1 inch thick eel I could catch in Lake Guthrie (or that you can buy in the Victoria marketnow) the rest being pure fat. Mrs Eskirtas is dead now & her son lives in tassie. I met her daughter Roma atlitho house a week ago. Returning to the card I quoted I havent been able to get it out of my mind. I admirethe buddhist point of view & have been wrestling with that problem without being able to resolve it. But itseems to me that life itself is an expression or irruption of ego from inanimate matter. Am I doing anythingdifferent by mailing out my observations to a small number of friends & acquaintances than the writer of thecard is doing by sending it to me? I might as well describe the accident now. From Bairnsdale I took theroad through Bruthen instead of the one through Lakes Entrance because I heard on the radio that a tanker

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carrying liquid gas had turned over opposite the Nowa Nowa hotel & the road wouldnt be open till night time.As I was approaching Newmerella I could see a semi on its side blocking half the road with the cabin whichwas a right old mess in the depression by the road. This must be the day for semis going out of control Ithought. There was rubbish scattered across the road & a guy from a truck on the other side was kicking someof it away. As I was passing the overturned truck I spotted a person (or a body) lying in the long grass about 4yards to the side of the mangled cabin so I pulled up about a 100 yards further along & came back to see how hewas. He was in awful shape with what looked like busted legs & his eyes were strangely starey. Then he let outa moan of extreme pain. I didnt know what to do & the bloke kicking rubbish off the road was behaving as if he

wasnt aware of him. Later I asked the guy on the road if the ambulance had been called & he said they calledone five minutes ago. All I could think to do was to keep telling the one in the grass who kept letting outagonizing groans at intervals that help would soon be there. I suppose a woman would have held his hand ortried to reassure him but I kept walking away bewildered & coming back again to say help was coming. Onlythen did I notice another guy lying on his back a few yards further. He was very still with blood on his lips &neck but then lifted his head & looked compus mentis. I told him also that help was coming & asked him howhe was to which he said his back was in pain & I said to him to keep lying perfectly still. I told him his matewas in a lot of pain, hoping to distract him I think. He said that he was the passenger in the truck & had beenrelaxed at the time of the crash & I could tell he was afraid his back was broken. I didnt think the analgesics Ihad in the car were appropriate as I was expecting the ambulance & police to arrive at any moment. The otherguy who was the driver was lying on his side & every now & then would groan as if he was dying. The bloke

kicking rubbish off the road was staying away. Then another car arrived from the direction I had come & a wellpresented middle aged person with a thick accent that might have been dutch or german started making hispresence felt. He seemed to project himself as a sort who takes charge in a crisis except he wasnt doing anythingcoherent. At first I thought he was a doctor but he kept clear of the guys in the grass. Then he asked if anyonehad a phone so he could ring the truck company whose name & phone number were written on the truck!Finally after about 10 minutes the fire truck, police & an ambulance were all arriving together from the Orbostdirection. (12/3/01. Just been talking to a neighbour, Kevin Crowther, across the road at 88 here in Melbourne &he tells me that he was entering Orbost with a delivery of meat as he does every tuesday apparently just as theambulance etc were leaving for the accident site. That means he was travelling the same road only 15 minutesahead of me. He also had taken the detour through Bruthen. Hell find out for me if the dead man was a localfrom Orbost.) By now a few cars had banked up on either side of the accident. A policeman asked the nearest

guy in the grass whether there had been only one person in the other vehicle to which to my surprise he wasable to reply that there was only the driver. It was only then that it dawned on me that this was a two vehiclecollision. Head on. The other, a small utility truck, was so completely mangled that I hadnt seen it separatelyfrom the cabin of the truck. A ghoulish instinct made me peer into the mess & I could see a body which hadbecome part of the wreck. It was only a piece of meat, something from a horror movie, the head split open likean egg with brain spilled out like a large pancake. At least his death would have been instant. After taking myname & address the police allowed me to leave. I had been the second arrival at the scene but hadnt witnessedthe accident. As I was walking to my van I noticed some cooked prawns scattered among the debris on the road.I suppose that one of the drivers had been shelling a prawn at the moment of impact. I went into Orbost to get acouple of stubbies & decided to come here, closer to people, than the spot I had meant to go to in the bush nearCorringle Creek. A bunch of italians have come to fish off the pier & they are stamping their feet to keep the

mozzies away. Im a sitting target time to call it quits.

Wednesday 14/2/01. 7.07 am. During the night the mozzies buzzed me on occasions & I was wonderinghow they were finding their way in. This morning Ive discovered that the drivers side window has been openall night & the front window had scores of mozzies inside waiting to get out. In the circumstances I got offlightly or slept through. The accident however has been with me most of the night in some way other thanthought. At around 10 last night I rang Helen on the mobile (the replacement to the one I had thrown away - seestory 5/10/00). She has a way of connecting things she hears on the news with family members & I told her Iwanted to make sure she knew I was ok but my real reason for ringing was that I wanted to tell her about it (shehad just got home from taking Vi to a film as she does every tuesday). Shes talked to Dan who had arrived inMelbourne in the morning for a fitting . He has two shows to do on the weekend, one at the casino, before

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returning to Sydney on monday. Shes also talked to Ben on the phone who is pretty chuffed because he thinkshe might be able to get a bottle or two (or more) of 10 year old krupnikas (herbed litho alcoholic drink) for me.The domestic normalities were not able to shift my mood. I think that the driver of the truck might also be deadby now. When I first came up to him his eyes were staring in a bulging way as if they might pop out & I thoughthe was dead or almost then. It was a shock but also a relief when later he came out with the first of hisagonising groans. The strength of his pain made you think there might be enough life in him to pull himthrough. Later he was able to indicate to the medic that his pains were internal, all down the front of him (hewas lying on his side doubled over). The way he was staring may have been his astonishment that he was dying.

The other man, who was lying on his back, was able to lift his head up a bit & to close his eyes when he put itdown again. If his back is broken he might be the worse off. I cant get out of my mind how peaceful the scenewas when I first got there. Why didnt the guy casually kicking the rubbish off the road say to me that there weretwo people in their death throes lying in the grass nearby? There was a wisp of smoke rising from what I nowknow was the crushed cabin of the utility truck. Later when I told one of the people who had assembled acouple of hundred yards away about the body in it he kept asking me if the man was dead. I said to him what doyou think hes all in pieces. But he kept wanting to hear me say the word, that he was dead. Finally I gave in &said yes mate hes dead alright. I suppose that made it comprehensible another road statistic of the kind that isreported on the news on telly.

Its 8.55 am, Ive finished the Kellogs Komplete Muesli so while the coffee is cooling I continue theentry. Ive brought 4 books this time: Field Guide to the Birds of Australia which I always have; Sea Fishes of

Southern Australia coz this is meant to be a snorkelling trip; Arthur Schopenhauers The World as Will andIdea where Im up to p.83; & the Mausolff & Mausolff Saint Companions which is becoming a habit. I forgotto bring the bible I keep on the dashboard as I had taken it out of the van last week while it was getting the frontball joints, shockers & tail pipe replaced, & serviced at a cost of $1500. Here are the saints. Yesterdays is St.Catherine De Ricci (Virgin 1522-1590). Alexandra Romola was a Florentine, the daughter of an old patricianfamily of bankers & merchants. Her tendency to solitary prayer was already observed in early childhood and at13 she was received into the strict Dominican convent of the neighbouring city of Prato where she took thename Catherine. After five years, during which she was much misunderstood and calumniated, her holiness wasrecognized and she was advanced to novice mistress, then sub-prioress and finally, in 1560, to prioress, inwhich office she remained until her death 30 years later. Her famous Ecstasy of the Passion, which would lastfrom Thursday noon until four oclock on Friday afternoon, began in 1542 and continued each week for twelve

years, when it finally ceased at her own urgent prayers; for the confluence of great numbers of visitors, amongwhom were three future Popes, was seriously disrupting the religious life of the convent. During these ecstasies,which have been fully authenticated, St. Catherine would witness all the stages of our Lords Passion and wouldsense and vividly describe our Lords sufferings. The wounds which our Saviour suffered during theflagellation, the crowning with thorns, the carrying of the Cross and finally the Crucifixion became visible inher body. St. Catherine also had the gift of miracles and is known to have held what might be termed telepathicconverse with such contemporary Saints as St. Philip Neri in Rome and St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi inFlorence, without leaving her own convent in Prato. Reflection : God forbid that I should glory save in theCross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world (Gal. 6,14).Todays saint is St. Valentine (Priest Martyr ?-269). Valentine, a Roman Priest and physician, distinguishedhimself during the persecution of Emperor Claudius the Goth by helping numerous Christians to escape and by

ministering to those in prison. In his work he was ably assisted by St. Maris and his family, the Persian pilgrimsto Rome, whose martyrdom is commemorated on January 19 th. St. Valentine was at length apprehended,severely beaten with clubs, and beheaded. The Christians buried him in a catacomb about half a mile outside thecity gate, and there Pope St. Julius I constructed an underground basilica in the 4 th century, which Honorius Irestored in the 7th. From this latter period dates an ancient fresco painting of the Crucifixion, which isremarkable for being the only representation of our Lords death to have ever been discovered in any of thecatacombs. St. Valentine is the Patron Saint of young couples who are engaged to be married, and on his feastday the popular Valentine greetings are sent out, a custom which seems to have originated in the Middle Ages inconnection with the then current belief that the birds began to mate on February 14th of each year. During the12th century the Puys dAmour, a kind of song festival and competition for troubadours and romantic minstrels,used to be held on this date. (happy valentines day honey guess what Im getting a typing job ready for ya.)

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2.30. Death alerts to more death. Yesterday as I was leaving the crash scene I saw a tiger snake that hadbeen run over. Today a bit out of Orbost a barn owl was squashed as flat as a sheet of paper onto the highway.Near Cann River I got out to examine a lyre bird (female) carcass. Im writing in the wharf caf at Tathra over alatte & after eating one of the very good fish burgers I got into the habit of buying when I was here with Helenlast year. I wanted to put a distance between myself & that scene. From Orbost you start seeing beautifulFormosa lilies by the roadside (some of which Ive transplanted to the Ivanhoe garden & will probably get moreof on the way back) but I kept noticing the increasing number of crosses & other informal memorials that markthe sites of road accident victims. I suppose it would make sense if you could believe in a soul that lived on in

another, happier world, waiting to greet the arrival of relatives temporarily left behind. Ive used the word soulin poetry but I think for me its a shorthand way of summarising the transactions & decisions that a personmakes in his dealings with neighbours (& god?). The traditional idea of a kind of spirit whose contours coincidewith the skin & which at death can leave the body as a diaphanous ghost to wander homelessly or go to heaven,hell or purgatory seems the stuff of comic books. I find no evidence for it & those who say it is so also dontpretend to have anything more than hearsay. Or dubious written accounts. What makes it easier for somemodern men to cling to the notion uncritically is that Cartesian dualism (or forms of it dating back to plato) hasbeen the main tool philosophers have used to sort their ideas into two groups, the first division if you like. Thedualism is so pervasive in many different philosophic discourses that it forms a mutually supportive whole. Forplato it was object / idea; for descartes I think therefore I am ( though I cant imagine a less consequentialtherefore; & even if so what would be added to the I think by the I am); in the book Im reading Schopenhauer

is already getting himself into contortions with the idea of the thing as separate from the thing in itself & Imonly up to page 83. Why always have two of when there is only one you can see? At the last poets meetingPeter Murphy reckoned that the notion that a thing (another thing?) exists outside a perception of it is intuitive. Ipointed out that Wittgensteins main contribution to me has been to make such an intuition impossible. Peterreads Wittgenstein too but he says he reads it like poetry. It may help to disentangle yourself from Cartesiandualisms if you view words as bundles of instructions (see explanation in story 14/8/41) the thingness ofwords, ie when they become nouns, is because after practice the instructions get wired in the brain. (12/3/01.people who learn musical instruments & singers should be able to understand this process.) Ive gone into thisairy discussion not just because there are some students of philosophy (& even of theology) on my mailing listbut in an effort to explain why I dont understand what Chogyam Trungpa means by the word spiritual on thecard. Is it used in eastern religions with the same meaning as christians have used it in the west? My knowledge

of buddhism is negligible do buddhists use the notion at all?4.50 Wittgenstein says he is like an elderly widow rearranging the items on her mantelpieces. Perhaps its

as important as that. You get absorbed in the task I forgot my flanno at the wharf caf & drove back to get it. Itfills in the time on rainy days. I havent seen the sun in the last two days of the trip & its raining now as I sitwriting in the car between swigs of Sheaf Stout (in a Crows stubby holder) on a narrow spit jutting into thelake on the northern exit from Tathra. & hey, it feels good here. I hope these jottings reach some otherrearrangers; well compare notes. Soon Ill have to start looking for a spot to park for the night at the end of oneof the many beach accesses in the Mimosa Rocks National Park to the north. Meantime a bit of portuguese fadoguitar should set a suitably mellow note.

Thursday 15/2/01 In the end I camped in a crook of the Wapengo Creek near a little bridge where the

road from Tathra to Bermagui crosses it. I took my wedding ring off to check the inscribed date (1965) for whenI was first here (yes, kids, it was on our honeymoon (thats what they were called) when people still used to getmarried.) I have a clear memory of it because there were thousands of large mullet making their way up thecreek presumably to spawn. This is the third time Im back & now the road is sealed & there are only a fewmullet & they are much smaller. A sign next to the bridge says : Wapengo Catchment Community Group Inc.(Rivercare): Wapengo Creek Rehabilitation Project restoration project stock control- native riparian plantregeneration revegetation weed and pest control. For information contact your local River care or Land careCoordinator 6491 6200. The sky is clear this morning. Todays saint is St. Jane of Valois (Queen 1464-1505). Adespised and deformed daughter of King Louis XI of France, Jane was raised by guardians in a lonely castle andthen forced to marry the heir presumptive, Louis, Duke of Orleans, for purely political reasons. But onascending the French throne as Louis XII, the latter had this marriage annulled as having been contracted under

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duress, and then married Anne of Brittany. The repudiated queen, now made Duchess of Berry, acquitted herselfwell in the government of her province. In 1500 the Good Duchess founded at Bourges, her capital, the Orderof the Annonciades for prayer and penance, with a rule based upon our Ladys ten Gospel virtues. Towardsthe end of her life Jane herself took the veil there. Numerous miracles of healing occurred after her death, sothat she became popularly venerated as a Saint, although her actual canonization did not take place until 1950under Pius XII. Reflection : None are fit for the works of God, but those who have profound humility and asincere contempt for themselves (St. Vincent de Paul).

Its 4.00 & Im at Barragga Bay beach only 12 or so ks up the road. Did a walk of about 4 hours

southward from Ardmonds Bay beach (an optional dress beach which means nudist). The landowners havemanaged to prevent access from the road to that section & it shows by being free of rubbish & people. Done itcountless times but walking along a pristine piece of coastline is still one of the best things I can think of.Murrah Lagoon is full of largish mullet & bream. There are some very fancy houses hidden away in the scrub.Didnt have time to walk along Bunga beach which ends at Pt Mimosa Rocks N.P. but it looks beautiful fromGoalen Head where I turned around. I wanted to get back in time to continue these notes in comfort instead oflater when the mozzies start attacking. Im treating the writing as a priority.

One of the most influential ideas of the 20th century, Freuds sub-conscious, provides another exampleof the influence of cartesian dualism. On the one hand we have the conscious mind, our perceptions of theworld including ourselves (always remembering that we are unable to see the thing we perceive with). I have notrouble with that. On the other we have the sub-conscious which like a conspiracy theory is impossible to prove

by definition. The evidence in both cases is circumstantial. Both provide excellent fodder for the movieindustry. The subconscious is like a ghost in the machine which every now & then causes a person to actstrangely as in the case of a neurotic or is used to explain behaviour that baffles us. The example given when Iwas doing Psych. I at Melbourne uni was of a lady whose legs became paralysed on her wedding night & onany other night when her husband wanted to prove his manhood. Apparently there were no physiologicalreasons for the condition & it was later discovered that she had been abused as a child by an uncle. Theparalysis was said to be a hysterical product of her subconscious memory of abuse. I think psychoanalytictheory has it that if the ghosts from the subconscious are dragged out into the light of day they dissipate & theproblem is solved. I doubt it. A far easier explanation would be that the childhood experiences resulted in aneurological circuit being laid down that remains permanently part of the persons make up & is triggered by aparticular key, the key being a similar sequence of events as led to the circuit being formed in the first place. No

need in this explanation for a chimerical, bubbling entity, just below the conscious mind & suspiciously similarto a soul or ghost or spirit or psyche. Think of it as an electronic door which has a circuit in it that is trippedonly if you key in the correct number. If you dont want to trip the circuit make sure you key in a differentnumber. The lady would be well advised to marry someone who was as different as possible to her uncle. If theuncle was a big, brutish man who came at night into a small room & persisted regardless of protests then sheshould marry a small, kind bloke who always showed that he would take no for an answer & had a preferencefor making love in the day time in open spaces & only after elaborate seduction if ever. Here is another exampleof how the subconscious is used. It was suggested to me recently that its the place where your thoughts arewhen youre not thinking them. But really?! Can you have thoughts when youre not thinking (& what are theywhen you are? see Wittgenstein)? A far more believable scenario is that when the thought is not there its simplynot there or anywhere else until some perception or event triggers it. When youve learnt to drive a car can you

really believe that when you go to sleep (or are knocked unconscious) the ability to drive is pulsing away(maybe glowing a bit) in some diaphanous space. Or is it that the driving practice has laid down a neurologicalcircuit which will be joined only by the correct code ie alarm goes off, get ready to go to work, get car key, startcar drive (etc.). I realise that what I am saying sounds like the stimulus-response description of mansbehaviour whose followers by studying isolated examples denied mans dignity, autonomy & complexity. I dont.The whole is more than the sum of the parts. Nature is infinitely complex & we are an expression of it. We areits eyes & ears. I think its far more insulting to mans dignity & a far greater denial of his beauty & complexityto find it necessary to assign a spectral double (ghost, soul, spirit, psyche, subconscious) to accompany him.There is another problem with those difficult to locate doubles : there are always third parties who claimprivileged access to their company & special knowledge of their attributes & requirements. Priests, rabbis,mullahs, psychiatrists, gurus, politicians but above all journalists (John Laws is still on air, can you believe that,

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hes on the local radio station all the time), & a variety of other mediums will tell you what you should be doingon the strength of their acquaintance with your double. Theyll tell you you should do it coz its good for yoursoul (& good for you). Theyll tell you in great detail & if you let them get away with it theyll even tell youwhich hand you should wipe your arse with.

Friday 16/2/01. 8.15 am. Ive just reread the last part of yesterdays entry & I reckon I got carried away abit. I think I was still energised by the walk when I was writing. I dont know any priests or mullahs, not evenany politicians or journos. Most are probably excellent people. The point I was trying to make is that those

doubles, which probably start their life as expressions of mans complexity & that the whole is greater than thesum of the parts, lend themselves to misuse. When that happens they become vehicles for laying downprescriptions & for simplifying our view of ourselves which is the opposite to their original intent. I am alsoaware of the shortcomings of the phrase neurological circuit which I suggested as an alternative. It smacks ofthe electrical circuit board & sounds mechanistic but I cant think of a better one. It should be understood thatthere are untold numbers of these boards, that they affect each other, that they are changing as all organicthings do, that they are not just resident in the brain but involve the entire nervous system & body & above allthat its probably quite silly (& not my interest) to isolate one specific behaviour pattern. What I was trying to dowas to suggest a model of human behaviour that puts emphasis on our connection & dependence on oursurroundings rather than on a theoretical double which has the effect of centering our gaze inwards. Imconscious of how intimately we are connected to our environment (so much that its not easy & may be

impossible to draw a line between us & what is outside) & when we damage it how hurtfully we are damagingourselves. This applies even more to our connection with others for I feel quite sure it is a closer one than theconnections between the cells of our body 4.50 pm. Eureka! Ive found an access to Murrah Beach. It took abit of doing as everyone I talked to tried to subtly avoid telling me. Its down what looks like a private road & infact a sign says Private Road, Sanctuary but I reckon its public land. The way it was explained to me was thatits a public access over private property & that you have to get the owners permission. Bullshit! I can tell that itruns between two sets of properties & the 6 or so gates you go through are all kept open because they arerequired to be by law. There is a game with language being played along this stretch of coast: most of the roadsthat branch off the Bermagui road towards the coast have a No Through Road sign on them. Its the locals wayof keeping visitors off the coast as they know that tourists who here are interested only in the coast will interpretthe sign to mean that you cant get through to it. The spot I stopped at last night right on the beach at Barragga

Bay was at the end of a No Through Road as is the nudist beach. & it works; there is no one here & my van isparked on beaut spongy grass & the beach sand starts only 5 yards away & I have a terrific, unimpeded viewthat takes in the entire coast to the headland & I cant tell you how dreamy it is & how Im looking forward to anight time stroll & going to bed to the sound of waves & maybe getting up for another stroll in the middle of thenight. During the day I came past here on a walk of 6 hours (9.30 3.30) because I wanted to walk BungaBeach which I had viewed from Goalen Head yesterday. It was worth it : the way the grazing land connectswith the coast here is as beautiful in a different way as a wilderness coast. At Goalen Head you find the largestfield mushrooms (some people call them horse mushrooms) Ive seen, up to a foot across. I flushed a groundparrot (Pezoporus wallicus) & was able to creep up for a lengthy inspection through the binoculars. I was veryinterested because I associate them exclusively with heath whereas here its all pasture. On the way back Iinspected some of the waters between the rocks on what is a very jagged bit of coast between Murrah Beach &

the nudist beach. The first pool I went into I found a fiddler ray (Sydneysiders call them banjo sharks) straightaway & then a juvenile blue groper but that was all. When I got back to where the car was parked next to thetrack that goes to the nudist beach a couple came along (& a dalmation) that I had seen drive past in a Volvo afew times when I was at Barraga Bay last night. She was carrying a tripod & he was dressed like youd expect awriter in an opera might be. As it turned out the house at Barraga Bay (& what a position it has) belongs to thewriter Rodney Hall (I think a lot of houses here belong to artists) whose last book I saw reviewed in the Age afew months back. The chap in the colourful suit asked me if I wrote poetry. I had brought with me an entire setof my hand-outs for last year & the current one as I had intended to give them to Silas, a kid I met last year nearBawley Point & by chance again on the same trip at his partners place in Tathra. But when I called in onwednesday there were new tenants in the house & they didnt know where Silas had gone. So now the pieces are

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all in the hands of Rodney Hall & co.& if they have a poetry soiree tonight I hope they can use some of mypoems.

There are a pair of saints today : Sts. Faustinus and Jovita (Martyrs ? c120). The Priest Faustinus andhis brother, a Deacon, preached the Word of God with such fearlessness and zeal in their native Brescia, inLombardy, even during Trajans bloody persecution that the heathens were exasperated by their success.Imprisonment, torture and fair promises of material benefits all proved of no avail in bringing them to worshipthe Roman gods. As they were of noble parentage and much in the public eye, the governor submitted their caseto Emperor Hadrian when he passed through Brescia in 120 (Trajan having died three years previously). When

persuasions and arguments proved equally fruitless, they were condemned to die by the sword. Sts. Faustinusand Jovita have been the chief Patrons of their native city Brescia from earliest times, and their names are foundin many of the most ancient lists of Martyrs. Although some of their Acts may be questioned as containinglater embellishments, there can be no doubt about the principal facts. Reflection : Collingwood are playing St.Kilda at the Colonial Stadium in the Fosters Cup tonight (a z @ ).

Saturday 17/2/01. Yesterday at sunset I walked to the mouth of the Murrah River at the other end of thebeach about 2 ks away. As I rounded the end of the low dune & scrub that prevents you from seeing the MurrahLagoon I had a full view of the sun setting through clouds over a range. It was sombre. The lagoon was a playof reflections in rose, yellow gold & deep greys. There was a heron on the shoreline highlighted by the angledrays. I was overcome by a particular kind of rapture that I havent seen described in literature but since it is a

state-of-being Ive been in on at least six occasions over a lifetime I am sure others know it too. It may be that itis impossible to describe because a common language has not been shaped. For words to have meaningexperiences have to be shared so that there can be a consensus of usage. It is not the normal catching-of-the-breath or contemplation of beauty that because of my lifestyle I am fortunate to be frequently subject to. Itsmain elements are an awareness of complexity, of the intricate weave of nature, of the stillness at the core of it.You want to praise, revere, thank but youre conscious of the insufficiency of these emotions & it isnt asked for.The central element of the rapture as it takes hold is a loss of self. There is an invasion or implosion as if ofbeauty that leaves very little space for self awareness. In its most acute form you feel an element of danger, evenfear, as happened to me on several occasions at Lake Gairdner (on the trip when I wrote the pieces calledMeditation on Lake Gairdner). The fear is associated with a rush of implosion & the awareness of thepossibility of loss of personality & mind. It may be that in certain circumstances there is no return. It is tempting

to allow yourself to be transfixed. Thats about as well as I can describe it. The first time I was in this state wason a day when I was about 30 & was examining small rock pools on the coast in western victoria somewherenear Apollo Bay. At first it is you that are looking into the pools then they are looking into you. That evening Iwrote a set of short poems which I will include in this piece because there may be echoes in there of theexperience earlier in the day to add to my inadequate description above. (3/3/01 decided to leave them out asthis piece has turned out too long.) I know that those readers who have not been in the same state-of-being willgain no insight into it from my account though they will believe that they recognise something they know. Its alimitation of language that because words have meaning only when they have been jointly forged, if used todescribe rarer experiences, they are appropriated by everyone but understood only by a few. If you have theexperience Ive described once you will certainly be permanently changed. So if I was asked what is the mostimportant gift that I could give to someone who wanted to be changed then this would have to be it. But its not

mine to give. A characteristic of it is that it is not sought but given freely. Other than that on most occasions Ivebeen in a state of amazement at the beauty of my surroundings I dont know what the prerequisites are, if any. Ihave a hunch that to actively search would be counterproductive. Perhaps all that is necessary is to ask in theknowledge that you will receive.

Ive just noticed that Ive got my saints out of order. Sometimes there is more than one for a particularday in the book & Ive been putting them in each for a new day. St. Jane of Valois should have been put in onwednesday & Sts. Faustinus & Jovita on thursday. Also for thursday there is Bl. Claude De La Colombiere(Confessor 1641-1682) but he was one of those precocious high achieving jesuits I am getting sick of so Imgiving him a miss. Yesterdays saint was St. Onesimus (Martyr ?-c90). Onesimus was a pagan slave in thehousehold of the wealthy Philemon. The latter had been converted by St. Paul, presumably during his long stayat Ephesus, and had become his intimate friend. Later on, when Philemon moved to the city of Colossae, his

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new home was chosen as the meeting place where the Christians would assemble for worship. His pagan slaveOnesimus ran away one day, it seems in fear of being punished for some negligence or dishonesty, and made hisway to Rome. There he came under the influence of St. Paul and was converted to Christianity. The greatApostle was at that time suffering his first imprisonment in Rome, but was allowed to live in rented quartersunder guard and to receive visitors. He took a liking to Onesimus and would have kept him as a helper; but asthe slave had first to make restitution to his former master, he was dispatched to Colossae with the famousEpistle to Philemon in which St. Paul, like a father, pleads for his spiritual son and promises personally tomake good any default. Philemon, upon receiving the letter, acceded to the great Apostles request with truly

Christian generosity and charity, and he even surpassed it by not only pardoning but even freeing his formerslave and sending him back to Rome; he is supposed to have assisted St. Paul there for some time, and to havereturned east with him after his release. Tradition also says that Onesimus in later years became Bishop ofBerrhoea in Macedonia, and there suffered martyrdom. Reflection : My son, give Me thy heart; and let thyeyes keep My way (Prov. 23, 26).

Its 10.30 am & I turned on the radio just in time to hear that Collingwood beat St. Kilda in the nightcomp. Down here I can see three boats fishing close to shore. Yesterday I had noticed that there were a lot offish in the breaking waves. Probably migrating mullet or whiting. Im running out of ink in the pen (uni-ball,eye Mitsubishi Pencil Co., LTD.) one down, how many to go? Ive packed two oranges, gloves, goggles &snorkel, flippers, ear plugs, wrist to ankle wet suit. A woman in a swimsuit has driven in (1st person since Ipropped here yesterday evening) with three very large dogs of the boxer crossed with bull mastiff kind each of

which could tear a guy apart. From the way they ran to the gate without giving me a glance I can tell they comehere all the time. They are racing around the beach & in the breaking waves. One is near by where she isswimming & the other two are a kilometre down the beach & are tearing back. Im heading off to investigateunderwater in the rocky coves around nearby Goalen Head.

5.10. Spent about three hours in the water & got about three quarters of the way around the head. This isthe way its done. I wear a full length wet suit because that makes me buoyant enough to sit on the water like acork. Once I used to walk along a rocky coastline in sandshoes carrying only a pair of goggles & inspect everyinteresting pool or crevasse I came to. Now I use a snorkel & flippers. The socks are to stop the flippers rubbingthrough skin & the gloves to allow me to grab onto rocks to peer under shelves without damaging hands. Withthis get up granny could do the same. Im a poor swimmer these days. Conditions in the water, especiallyvisibility, vary enormously & are hardly ever perfect. Today the water was crystal clear (no plankton bloom),

the surface was still, there were no clouds in the sky. Its easy to forget yourself following an interesting rockshelf & before you realize youre a fair way out to sea. The first deep blue water I see over an edge of a drop orat the end of a rock shelf makes me think I should have bought a suit with a lot of orange in it because Imscared of sharks & Konrad Lorenz reckons orange is a warning off colour in fish indicating poison. After anhour or so you forget about sharks. As I got in the water I saw a large abalone next to my foot which made methink this area was not over used but later I went over the top of an ab diver who after his initial surprise wavedto me. His partner in the boat was so absorbed cleaning the abs he hadnt seen me approach. I reckon they wereillegal as they soon left to resume in another cove & when I got round the corner they left again. In spite of allthe clobber I was wearing and the warmth of the water I was getting cold after about 2 hours. I saw all thethings Im used to: wobbegong, sting rays, port jackson & banjo sharks; a large congregation of whiting in aspot no different to any other; the usual clouds of small stripy fish that like to inspect you; on a couple of

occasions I was sussed out at surface level by a passing school of mullet; saw many groper of all sizes includinglarge blue males (all gropers are olive females until the male that rules the territory dies then a large femalechanges into a male). If after a few hours you find you are not making any progress & you think youre gettingtired youre probably wrong. More likely youve got yourself into a current around a headland & its worth takingcare; or the sea is getting choppy & the wind is picking up. After 3 hours with the conditions deterioratingtowards the other side of the head I called it quits. Back at the car at 2.30 I had a snack & went to inspect a trackback of Murrah Beach where I came across a couple by a lagoon where he was fully dressed (including longpants) & she was bottomless but wearing a shirt. Yesterday I had sprung the opposite : a guy in bathers with awoman who was topless just near where Im parked when I went past here on my walk. I have to report thatboth were excellent examples of their kind & when I put the two halves together in my minds eye Ive got onehell of a woman. I spent a while yakking with the couple where the lady was bottomless as I wanted all kinds of

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track directions which they were happy to supply. She had a good looking face & a sweet manner too. Time fora saint. Saint Silvinus (Bishop Confessor ?- c 718). After having served King Childeric I and King Thierry IIIfor some years as a courtier, St. Silvinus felt a call to the religious life and undertook numerous pilgrimages tothe shrines of Saints and even to the Holy Land. Upon his return he was consecrated a regionary Bishop inRome and entered upon a long life of missionary labours among the barbarian tribes who inhabited the regionabout Therouanne near Calais and todays Belgian border. His personal sanctity, mortifications, and self-denialbrought about very numerous conversions. He spent his entire personal fortune in ransoming Christians whohad been carried off into slavery by neighbouring tribes. Towards the poor he was generous in the extreme,

sharing with them even the garments he was wearing, if he had nothing else to give them. For forty years hesubsisted on fruits and vegetables alone. When he knew his end to be near, he retired to the Benedictine abbeyat Aux-les-Monies near Arras, and there concluded his fruitful life as a simple monk. St. Silvinus is the Patronof the diocese of Arras. Reflection : Let all things be done properly and in order (1 Cor. 14, 10)

Sunday 18/2/01. Lets return to the doubles, those very theoretical entities that start their lives as wordswith noble intentions but end up being used by the powerful to simplify & manipulate people. Human nature isanother one. Foucaults criticism of Chomskis argument in their televised discussion was on this basis. But thereare more of them. If clerics own the soul & politicians human nature the mind is surely owned by psychiatrists.Because the laziest way of controlling behaviour is to target specific areas or functions of the brain withchemicals most people probably believe that the mind coincides with the brain. A sort of ghost of the brain. But

we cannot even show that thinking takes place in the brain (see Wittgenstein) let alone that an airy-fairy entitylike the mind sits in there. Lets treat the mind as a shorthand way of denoting a host of different ideas, includingthinking (whatever that is see Wittgenstein), that we are referring to when we say we are conscious beings.That would include feelings, perceptions, awareness of self. Where does it reside? It cant be in the bodybecause if you cut the head off its gone. But it cant be in the head because if you cut the body off its also gone.So at the very least we would have to add the nervous system to the brain as a candidate for the minds place ofresidence. But if you peel away all the body parts from the brain & its nerves there is still no mind so we haveto include the rest of the body as all the nerves are connected to it. But our awareness of self (etc) could notexist without the senses which in turn connect us to the things we hear & see. The connections to what we hear(sound waves) & see (light waves) & the other senses (taste: chemicals) are made of exactly the same things asthe connections within the body between cells. The things we hear, see & eat are the substances of the world

around us so it too has to be included as the home of the mind. The mind is all over the place! The point Immaking is that everything is connected most intimately & intricately by the stuff of the earth. The reason I wasproposing a model of the brain consisting of electrical circuit boards (for want of a better metaphor) was toemphasise it. If we are talking about the body we can talk about inside/outside the dividing boundary being theskin, if we define it that way, but there is no inside/outside when talking about the mind. Personally I dont talkabout the inside/outside of the body either: the skin is very porous and there are large holes in it & heaps of stuffspilling & oozing out & other stuff getting crammed in. (2/3/01. Thomas Henry Huxley puts it differently :The parallel between a whirlpool in a stream and a living being which has often been drawn, is just as it isstriking. The whirlpool is permanent, but the particles of water which constitute it are incessantly changing.)Thats apart from the sensory threads that always keep us tied to & part of the earth. I dont know where this isleading. Maybe Im managing to illustrate Chogyam Trungpas claim that displays of knowledge & experience

are a form of grandstanding. Today I was off at 8.30 & didnt get back till 4.00. Went along a barely discernablepad that takes you from the end of Bunga Beach over the top of Bunga Head to the Aragunna camping area inPt. Mimosa Rocks N.P. Then I clambered over the Mimosa Rock itself & inspecting a few rock holes &crevasses with goggles & snorkel. Got far enough around the head to see back to Bunga Beach. Found a seriousdefect in my state-of-the-art made in the U.S. of A. Five Ten sandals : the velcro tabs come undone when youswim in them. I still havent found anything to beat the old cheapo Dunlop sandshoes before they changed theinsole to the crummy one they have now that collapses in water.

The saint. St. Simeon (Bishop Martyr c8BC c112AD). St. Simeon, the son of Clephas, is called abrother of our Lord in the Gospels of St. Matthew and St. Mark, that is, a first cousin, for his mother was asister of the Blessed Virgin. As one of the 72 disciples he was present at Christs Ascension and at the Descentof the Holy Ghost at Pentecost; he is also thought to have been one of the two men whom the risen Christ joined

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on the road to Emmaus after His Resurrection. At Easter in the year 62, St. Simeons brother St. James the Less,the first Bishop of Jerusalem, was killed by the Jews, and St. Simeon, who had not hesitated to reproachfearlessly the Jews for their action, was thereupon elected to succeed him. During his episcopate a number ofheretical sects sprang up, which denied the divinity of Christ and other fundamental truths, and so troubled theunity of the young Church. In the year 66 God warned St. Simeon of the impending destruction of Jerusalem,and the Bishop accordingly moved his faithful to Pella 65 miles away, on the opposite shore of Jordan. Fouryears later, Titus army entered Judea in order to suppress the Jewish uprisings and laid siege to Jerusalem forfive months before taking and destroying it in the year 70. At that time 600,000 Jews lost their lives; but the

Conacle, which had been the scene of the Last Supper and the Descent of the Holy Ghost, providentiallyescaped the general destruction and later became dedicated as a church. The Christian community and theirBishop are believed to have returned to the ruined city and to have lived there until Hadrian in 134 razed itcompletely to the ground. St. Simeon was able to survive the persecutions of Vespasian and Domitian, whenevery descendant of the House of David was supposed to have been put to death, but in the year 112 whenTrajan took up the persecution of the Church, some Jewish heretics denounced St. Simeon as a relative of ourLord and a Christian. As a result he was imprisoned, most atrociously tortured for several days and in the endcrucified. He had attained the venerable old age of about 120 years. With his death we arrive at the close of theso-called Apostolic Age, for he is believed to have been the last survivor of the disciples who had actually seenand conversed with our Lord. Reflection : When the enemy has been cast out of your hearts, renounce him, notonly in word, but in work; not only by the sound of the lips, but in every act of your life. (St. Augustine)

Monday 19/2/01. 7.30am. If I thought that the picture I was drawing led to an understanding or capacityto control then I could be accused of grandstanding. I know that the opposite is the case. I am trying to sharesome of my wonder at what I see. I am saying that a doctor of medicine contributes more to my respect for thecreature man than a doctor of divinity. I wander about agape with amazement at the beauty of solid things. Iimagine some doctors of medicine share it & feel equally humbled. Oh, What A Piece of Work is Man as thesong goes. No thanks to the doctors of divinity, specialists in metaphysical doubles, who prefer to see men asghosts needing to maintain their health with bookful of observances & obediences.

There are two saints today, here is the first. St. Conrad of Piacenza (Confessor 1290-1351). A member ofone of the first families of Piacenza in northern Italy, he married young and embarked on a military career. Hewas passionately fond of the chase and when one day, his quarry escaped into a thicket, he ordered it to be set

on fire. But a sudden strong wind caused the flames to spread quickly over all the nearby fields and forests andcaused widespread damage. For this a poor woodcutter who happened to be found in the neighbourhood, wasblamed, tried and condemned to death on circumstantial evidence. Upon hearing of this turn of events, St.Conrad acknowledged his own guilt and promised to make amends as far as lay in his power by selling all hispossessions. He and his wife then took up the religious life; she became a Poor Clare and he joined the ThirdOrder of St. Francis and lived thereafter as a hermit in a solitary cave near Noto in Sicily. Each Friday for thenext 30 years, he visited the celebrated Crucifix at Noto, and here he was found dead on his knees in February19th, 1351. St. Conrad was vouschafed the gift of miracles. His intercession is invoked in cases of hernia.Reflection : for the beginning of (Wisdom) is the most true desire of discipline. And the care of discipline islove : and love is the keeping of her laws. (Wisdom 6, 18-19).

In case anyone still thinks that what Im doing in making man tangible is taking away his magic & that

what is needed if he is to be interesting (& mysterious) is a ghost (or few) in the machine let me remind themthat what Ive sketched is done in a language where every word before it is laid down in our neural networkthrough infanthood & childhood as a noun or a thing is an enormously complicated set of instructions which tohave meaning has had to be coordinated with others (danced together, led, the hand held, eye contact made, thevoice raised or hushed, the brow stroked, the tears wiped, hands raised or clapped), forged. Since it is obviousthat a word spoken by only one man can have no meaning it may be that the more people share in the forging ofa word the greater its capacity to coordinate behaviour the greater its meaning. It may be that language isbetween people what chemicals & electrical signals are between cells. I hope that my explanation makes it clearthat at its source language is just as tangible as the language of the cells. It is made from the same stuff. But thewhole is more than the sum of the parts and cannot be explained or predicted by them. (2/3/01. Life can be

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only understood backwards but it must be lived forwards. Soren Kierkegaard) Whats more language is onlyone of the ways that people are in contact.

The second saint is St. Eleutherius of Tournai (Bishop Martyr ? 532). St. Eleutherius (or Eloy) becamethe first Bishop of the diocese of Tournai (near todays Franco-Belgian border) at the time when St. Remigiuswas organizing the Church in northern Gaul after the conversion of King Clovis and his 3000 Franks in 496. Hewas united in lifelong friendship with St. Medard, the Bishop of Noyon, both of them having lived at courtbefore entering the episcopate. St.Eleutherius was waylaid and so severely beaten by some Arian heretics thathe never regained his former health and finally succumbed in 532. St Medard took over the diocese at his

death.7.10 am. Left the Murrah Beach spot with some regrets. If the private road gets any worse only four

wheel drives will be able to get in so it may have been my first & last time there. But Im in another terrific spotin a small national park south of Bermagui which is even more private. The track into here is probably illegal asit goes around some bollards put in by parks to stop entry. I sussed this spot out when I was nearby last year.There are 3 lounge chairs round a fire place in the ti-trees nearby which look great. (12/3/01. see backcover).(14/3/01. which wasnt done by Russel, the local Kodak franchise holder, as all my photos normally are(eg. the front cover which is from the Meditation on Lake Gairdner album), because he was shifting shop thatday. Incidentally, Russels motto is : if you dont like em just bring em back & Ill do em again for nix.) If Helenwas here Id get her to take some photos. I cant do it as I cant work out how the time lapse function works onmy camera. The beach is close by and a very discreet track winds through banksia (integrifolia) and bangalay

gum. Earlier I went into Bermagui because I wanted to ring H. and had to buy some pens. There was onemessage on my mobile left last wednesday. She says shes met Dan and talked to Joe & Ben & all are fine. Shesabout to catch up with Michael & Kate. She sent a valentines day message. When I rang the school I discoveredit was closed for two days while the staff were off on a conference, so shell have to make do with the message Ileft on her mobile. Later I spent a few hours in the Horseshoe Bay Hotel slowly working my way through 4schooners of beer. Long time since Ive done that. The bar looks across the bay to Mt. Dromedary which Isuppose Ill have to climb before I leave the area. It must be a great view from up there. Talked to a couple ofprofessional fishermen both of whom were originally from Victoria. One still has a house in Loch Sport, theother was born and grew up in a small town near Port Fairy. The second guy owns a fishing trawler. When I saidI thought I could get permission to go onto Bunga Beach he said that some of the landholders are meanbastards. He had it in for greenies too and when I told him that on the labour day weekend I was going to a folk

festival at Port Fairy (15/3/01. where I saw Dr. Doig walk past in the distance as I do most years but this timewithout his kids) as me and H. have been doing for years he said it was a shit hole of a place. (12/3/01. We cameback yesterday, a day early, because Ben has been having a hard time & we were worried) (12/3/01. We weretold to move on & fined $100 by the cops on friday night for being illegally camped in the same spot by theMoyne river weve stopped at every time weve been there. That was at 1.30 am.) After lunch nearly all thetourists left and nearly everyone who came in was a pro fisherman. It was interesting listening to their talk.Later had a look at the blue pool, a tide fed swimming pool, & the rock holes around it. They look great & Idecided were worth snorkelling tomorrow but then I checked out the very dramatic rocky shoreline under theMichael Lerner Lookout & the pools there are even better. How good is good! Time for a stroll on the beach.

I notice there is a third saint today. Its St. Leo of Catania (Bishop Confessor 703-787). A native ofRavenna, Leo laboured as a Priest in southern Italy before being appointed to the Bishopric of Catania in Sicily.

There he was able to eradicate the last vestiges of paganism. He became famed for his great learning as well asfor his unlimited charity towards the poor and the orphans of his diocese. The Greek Emperor held him in suchhigh esteem that he invited him to live at the court in Constantinople. On account of a number of remarkablemiracles which God permitted him to work, he is known as the Wonder-worker. Reflection : People in theworld say : Oh! The Saints were simpletons! Yes, they were simpletons in worldly things; but in the things ofGod they were very wise. (St. John M. Vianney.)

Tuesday 20/2/01. In the popular imagination the sub-conscious (& to a lesser extent the commonsubconscious) has become as real as the soul was to the medieval christian or the spirit world to jungle dwellers.It may be that it has replaced them & serves similar purposes. It is almost as tangible. I saw a sci-fi movie wherethe entry to it was through a tunnel. More commonly it is depicted as a sort of dark space where bits of ideas,

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grins, screaming heads, snatches of memories (esp. of first love) fly about in a haphazard manner. Otherversions have them pressing forward out of the dark as a crowd & then receding back into it. Whereas the soulwas often depicted as glowing or radiating brilliant beams of light the subconscious is almost always a darkplace. Partly thats because some of the things that live there happened in the dark. In movies naturally there isan over representation of murderers, prowlers and other things that go bump in the night, not to speak of earlyexperiences in bedrooms of incest, abusive uncles & mothers de factos. Our capacity to expunge (or disguise )horrible memories fits in with the idea of pushing them back from the half light into the total darkness. A moreserious reason is the belief we hold (subconsciously?!) that it is deep down somewhere near the centre of the

head where no light can penetrate through the overlying layers of the conscious brain. The soul was brightbecause it was the natural dwelling place of god and goodness (though I have seen paintings of penitent soulsthat were smudgy) and also because its outer surface coincided with the skin which is the part of us mostexposed to the sun. (its warming up & Ive moved to one of the lounge chairs among the ti-trees). The mainreason however is the almost universal belief (or habit of depicting or imagining) that dreams come from thesubconscious & since we dream in the dark of night it is natural to conclude that they emerge from a dark place.My own dreams on the rare occasions that I have them are very bright & I believe they happen at the moment Iam waking or going to sleep or in a half state between the two. Those states might only last moments (how doyou measure dreams) but if Ive been in half a dozen of them during the night it can feel as if Ive beendreaming on & off all night. It would be pretentious of me to nominate where they come from : the humidity orother vapours in the air; Helen putting her arm (or leg) over me; a disturbance of the electronic circuit boards by

me turning over or catching my breath; residual muscular tensions (particularly in the gut) from things that havehappened or Ive seen during the day; disturbance caused by loud digestion or acid in the stomach (ie what Iveeaten); all kinds of imbalances that take place in the body when things are not fitting together properly in thesurroundings; from sleeping with my feet higher than me head; from the knowledge that all is not right outthere?? Borges believed that nightmares were visiting demons. I am inclined to agree. If you are being visitedby them I suggest a change of location may be the answer; they tend to be territorial. Avoid cemeteries & placesof murder especially where children have been murdered. If necessary relocate to the countryside. Even smallchanges of location can help as some of them operate in tiny spaces. Try sleeping with your head higher thanyour feet or best of all in your partners arms. I go further than Borges & am prepared to claim that all dreamsare visitors except I dont know who or from where. Why at night? Well it may be that we are more receptivethen, that weve let go a bit, that we are not being assaulted by the demands of work, hustle & bustle of city

traffic, deafeningly loud music, social & domestic chores. As Ive said I cant tell if I dream a lot or hardly ever.Scientists who study sleep say that dreaming takes place during the entire period of what they call rapid-eye-movement which is during a minor fraction of the night. They make the claim without a skerrick of evidence.They wake people up during times of rapid-eye-movement (when also electrical activity in the brain can beshown to be more like it is during waking hours) & people say they have been dreaming. But if people arewoken up during the time of regular rhythmic electrical activity which scientists call deep sleep & occupiesmost of the night they dont say they have been dreaming. All this procedure shows is that people dream duringthe moments they are being disturbed when it takes place during time of rapid-eye-movement. It is anunwarranted inference to say they dream when they are not being disturbed (woken, shaken) during REM.(strictly speaking it doesnt even show that, for the states of dreaming & saying you are dreaming may be veryclose to each other). It would be more accurate to say in these cases that the dream has been caused by the

scientist or from the disturbance caused by the scientist, or at any rate, has come from the outside. If dreams arevisitors then here the visitors are scientists. It is not significant that they arent in the dreams of the subjectsbeing tested : the world of dreams has a different relationship to perceptions than waking life (interprets themdifferently?). Coleridge is said to have dreamt an entire epic poem (Kublai Khan I think) & written it down assoon as he woke up but by the time he got to it had forgotten the ending. (I think he experimented with opiumtoo). I have also got out of bed to write down in entirety poems I had just dreamt. In my case always shortones. It is a common experience among writers. It does not provide circumstantial evidence for thesubconscious. I dont know where the poems come from. The ancient greeks said it was from one of the 9 museswhich is just as plausible but for me, for reasons I may try to explain some day, more plausible. If I am to stickstrictly to the facts Id have to say I dont know though I suspect more from the outside than the inside if arequirement is placed on me to make such a distinction. At any rate I am inclined to believe that they come

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together in the instant before getting out of bed, in a state of heightened awareness. I suspect that to be the casefor a long poem like the Kublai Khan also because there is no reason why we should apply notions of lineartime to these moments. I also find it far more credible to view the eureka-Ive-got-it experience of scientistsand particularly of mathematicians in this way rather than to call on the services of the subconscious byclaiming that efforts to solve the problem have been bubbling away in its shadowy recesses all along. I knowfrom personal experience that there are times (and not just moments) when those electronic circuit boards buzzalong not once or twice (2nd pen has just run out) as fast as normal but 1000 times faster much too fast forwriting or dictation, so its lost, what a pity.

Time for the daily saint (I dont want to leave it till the evening because low tide is late in the arvo & Iwant to be in the water then under the Michael Lerner Lookout & I like to hit the sack when the sun sets.) I haveto comment because I cant help being aware of it but have you noticed how big a part sex plays in the lives ofthe saints. I mean in a sort of reverse way ie, they either had none, or didnt admit to it, or flogged themselves (tomortify the flesh), or renounced it, or only started becoming saintly when they left it behind, or were virginsfrom the word go. I cant help thinking that the healthy young males among them who sometimes joined orwere put in orders almost in childhood & who we must presume woke up with normal bladder induced erectionsmost mornings must have spent a good part of their waking life thinking about it or countering its evil effects.(13/3/01. & what about wet dreams & the visits from the lovely Eros that usually precede them; they probablythought she was a manifestation of the devil; wonder if in their celibate imaginations she had exaggeratedsexual parts?) Maybe thats what mortifying the flesh was all about countering guilt. Could it be that over a

thousand years of this imbalance sex became coupled with self-flagellation? Some proud post-modern queerswho keep me well informed of modern practice tell me that there are people who cannot have an orgasm unlessthey are being whipped (they also inform me of all kinds of practices they call sex but which I would namedifferently.) Is it conceivable that B & D (which I used to think stood for bums & dicks) is a relic, a flotsam thatis inherited from the celibate rulers of the christian church. Apparently Fr. Pio belonged to an order that carrieda symbolic scourge & there is reason to believe that he spent a lot of time in self flagellation. I am anxious thatmy observations arent misunderstood. That these intense men & women functioned within a world where theywere taught to believe from childhood that sex and the body were the horrible seats of evil & still achieved whatthey did only adds to their stature. But I cant help but feel sorry for them because I see them as the victims aswell as the heroes of the church they swore obedience to which later accredited them with official sainthood. Itseems to me that the celibacy of the church hierarchy must have led (& does) to a huge distortion & perversion

in matters relating to sex which would only be intensified by the fact that over all that time it was (& continuesto be) hidden from view. Things that are hidden dont disappear, they grow larger, change shape, and continue avigorous life in disguise. Now its really time for the saint, its nearly lunchtime. St. Margaret of Cortona(Penitent 1247-1297). A Tuscan peasant girl of exceptional beauty, Margaret was seduced by a nobleman whopromised her marriage, and lived with him for nine years until his sudden and violent death shocked her into arealization of her scandalous life. She resolved to make amends by life-long penance and mortification. After athree year probation the Franciscans admitted her to theThird Order, and her little son was brought up bycharitable women and later became a Franciscan friar. Under her confessors guidance Margaret advanced inholiness and cared for the poor and the sick throughout the 24 remaining years of her life. Our Lord repeatedlygranted her revelations and mystical favours. I have made you to be a mirror for sinners, He told her on oneoccasion :You are the way for those in despair; the most hardened will learn from you how willing I always am

to show mercy and save them! (punctuation is by Mausolff & Mausolff az @ ). St Margaret founded aconvent of Poor Clares, a confraternity of our Lady of Mercy, and a hospital for the poor at Cortona. Shebecame especially famed for her ability to make peace between enemies, and for converting hardened sinners.So numerous were the latter that her confessor once complained that he could not clean out so many stables;but Christ instructed St. Margaret to remind him that he was rather preparing suitable dwelling places for Himin penitent souls. After 29 years of penance, of trials and temptations, she was assured by our Lord, Who calledher My daughter, that all her sins were forgiven. As the morning of February 22, 1297, dawned the soul ofMargaret passed into the unveiled presence of God to receive the reward which she had so earnestly striven togain by her life of penance. She died, as her biographer states, with a jubilant heart and an angel-likecountenance, and to this day her body has remained incorrupt. The Feast of St. Margaret is celebrated on

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February 22nd. Reflection : Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits; who forgiveth all thyiniquities, who healeth all thy diseases. (Psalm 102, 2-3).

6.40. The diving was ok though the water wasnt nearly as clear as at Goalen Head. The underwaterscenery was beautiful as you would expect on such a rocky coastline. But there was something wrong. From thebeginning I could tell how heavily that stretch of coast was impacted by people from the absence of abalone. Isuspect that the proliferation of the purple sea urchins is caused by them moving into the vacated ecologicalniche. I saw none of the large fish I normally take for granted in my favourite diving spots. Then I realized whatit was that disturbed me I hadnt seen a single blue groper, not even a juvenile one. That means spear

fishermen, heaps & heaps of them over many years. It was dead water. I did something Ive never done before.My normal practice after exploring a patch of water is to put on my sandals & pack & carry the flippers &goggles in my hand while I walk to the next spot in my wet suit where I take off the pack, put on the gear &dive in again. At one pool I dived in flippering hard to get past the shore swell when I realized I still had mepack on with the two oranges, car keys, wallet, watch etc. inside. It may prove that Janet Le Good & Adrianaare right to call me a philosopher though I prefer to consider myself a reporter. From ancient times philosophersare known to be the sort of people who walk about so deep in thought that they bump into things or step intoditches (Peter Murphy is a philosopher) & I think quite seriously that the best definition of a philosopher is thathe is that kind of person . & I was deep in conversation with myself. Ill give a report on it in tomorrows entry.

Wednesday 21/2/01. Im checking the saint book & Ive still got the dates ballsed up. St. Eloy and St.

Leo are both on the 20th and St. Margaret of Cortona is todays. I was ahead of myself, it saves me putting one innow. Taking up from where I left off yesterday. Can you imagine all over europe for a thousand years healthyyoung men listening to women in the confessional giving accounts of who had & who might almost haveploughed their patch & to what temptations of thought they had succumbed for which they sought forgiveness.Its not a healthy situation. They were the same men who had an input into the churches pronouncements onwhat constituted sound sexual morality. It may appear that I am flogging a dead horse as most young peopletoday wouldnt give two figs for the churches and are barely aware of their existence but christian attitudes areembedded in our culture. They are our main legacy from the past. Nothing is ever lost, it only gets overlain orchanged. In the world of doubles, the soul / body distinction was the main frame through which people viewedthemselves & at the base of all moral discourse. The discourse was primarily owned by churchmen . The soulrepresented what was important about us & the body was the seat of evil. Make no mistake the church

despised & hated the body & its influence was to make people think of the body & of sex in particular as dirty. Ican think of some very cynical explanations of how these attitudes are a direct consequence of church structures& the need of sexually deprived men to compensate by encouraging their flock to view physical intimacybetween men & women as grubby, abhorrent, dangerous, to be engaged in only as a last resort if you cant getkids any other more savoury way, on no account to be engaged in for pleasure alone, a certain way to eternalperdition if done incorrectly. (Ive just swatted a march fly that had a good drink theres blood spattered overmy foot & hand & fingers.) Why make such a to do about the virginity of female saints? (I know the theory).There must have been countless peasant girls married to abusive husbands who spent their lives in virtualslavery in total devotion to the welfare of their children. Many died in childbirth. Were they any less holy by notbeing virgins? What kind of subliminal message was being preached to them & to honest fathers who spenttheir lives in toil bringing up families by coupling saintliness with celibacy & virginity? I suppose the

insensitivity was not intentional. The people the church accredited as saints had to be from its own hierarchy inorder to promote its image & all the hierarchy were supposed to be celibate men (from the 4 th century onwards)and the female members were mostly virgins (have there been female saints of lay orders?). I wonder if the self-consciousness & awkwardness that so many of us have over sexual contact, to the extent that there are people inthe community whose sexual lives are blighted or who are unable to engage in sexual intimacy is not partly theresult of the christian legacy. Can the fact that in most european languages swear words have a sexualconnotation be traced back to the obsessions & distorted imaginations of a celibate priesthood? Incidentallylithuania was the last country in europe (14th century) to become christian & there are no sexual swear words inits vocab.; when a litho wants to swear sexually he has to use russian or polish words. The everyday languageabout sexual intimacy, especially among men, is often derogatory of women, especially of their sexual parts.Can this too be traced back to the clerics & the soul / body world view? There are several people who regularly

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ask me why I persist in writing. One does it with an accusatory note in his voice. I think he is implying that Imgrandstanding. I ask the question myself. The most honest answer I can give is that I dont know, its as if I ammeant to, I feel a sense of job satisfaction when I finish a piece. (the biggest bull-ant Ive ever seen , over 3 cm,has just walked past the saint book). But here is another reason. If we hand over discourse on important areas ofour lives to people who represent institutional interests (priests, experts, educators, journos, scientists, (BettinaArndt owns male sexuality) medicos, social workers, theologians, politician etc. etc.) they will forge thelanguage of that discourse & ultimately own it. They view things through their particular perspectives which areoften determined by who pays them. Ordinary people benefit from sharing with each other directly on difficult

topics such as the ones I write about. We may discover that our knowledge differs from the paid experts. Atsource words are forged by being acted out together (practiced, Wittgenstein would say, even in a case like that10 x10 = 100). If the experts control the language they also end up owning the meanings. They charge rental.They can make you pay through the nose. As the world gets more populated & people buzz about faster thepressure on us to leave difficult issues to the experts who work for the institutions is increasing. The institutionsare getting larger & more interdependent & more dependent on huge financial structures & more anonymous &less accountable. The laws that govern the growth of institutions (& they always want to grow) may notcoincide with the interests of individuals. It may be in the interests of institutions that we change or suppresscertain of our habits, beliefs, knowledge. Life might be easier for financial institutions if we are preciselymeasured & regulated so they can reward with exact quantities of money those parts of our behaviour they wishto encourage, and since they are hand in glove with states, punish us precisely (with fines or jail) for those

habits they wish to eradicate. The voice of individuals is getting harder to hear I take my hat off to RalphNader and Noam Chomsky. If the meanings of words in areas such as religion, god, sanity, sex are owned byothers we will stop talking sensibly about them to each other because the language will sound foreign to us or asif it doesnt quite apply. Couples will stop being able to tell each other what gives them pleasure in bed. Then wewill stop our individual private conversations that we have in our head for the same reason. There is a dangerthat in this way we will lose access to large areas of our behaviour & our ability to explore new capacities. Thehabits & knowledge that we lose may not be recoverable. The potential habits & capacities that we fail toexplore may also be lost. The areas of self knowledge that we lose become gaps that separate us from each otherstill further. These gaps are then exploited & widened by middle-men, brokers, servants of institutions. It couldhappen that we lose the knowledge to have the pleasure of each others intimate company in exchange for beingable to buy virtual reality sex beamed to us in packaged doses according to capacity to pay from satellites

owned by supranational banks. Thats why Im writing.6.40. A few snapshots. Yesterday evening after I finished writing I went to the beach for a stroll. There

was a half full bottle of Jim Beam Black Bourbon Whiskey standing in the sand. A fisherman must have left itduring the previous night as it hadnt been there the day before & there were no fresh footprints about. I walkedalong the empty beach taking swigs from the bottle thinking yair, it feels good. On the bottle it said 43% proofbut what I was drinking was very weak: must have been cut down with coke or cola. Early arvo today I wassitting at a table on the veranda of Horseshoe Bay Hotel looking at a school of porpoises crossing the bay, thenlike a hardened yuppy I pulled my mobile out of the pack & rang Helen at school. Late in the afternoon I didanother of those philosopher type things. After exploring a crevasse which was so deep I couldnt see the bottomI climbed back up the cliff in my wetsuit carrying the goggles & flippers in me hand. When I got to the top Irealised I had left the backpack behind so I put down the goggles & flippers & went down to the bottom again

only to discover the pack was gone. Had it been washed into the sea? Then I noticed I had it on my back it hadbeen there all along. Tonight Im back in the same spot for the third night. This patch of bush is part ofBiamanga National Park about 5ks south of Bermagui.

Thursday 22/2/01. Instead of a saint the book has a feast for today. St. Peters Chair At Rome. This feastof the Cathedra Petri seems to have been celebrated from the very earliest times and commemorated the daywhen St. Peter held the first religious ceremony after his arrival in the capital of the ancient world, some elevenyears after our Lords Ascension. There used to be two Chairs in the ancient Vatican Basilica : a marble onewhich was built into the apse and where the Popes sat, surrounded by their clergy and a sedes gestatoria,such as became fashionable in Rome about the middle of the first century. It is this latter one which is stillpreserved today, enclosed in a huge bronze casing designed by Bernini, and set high up in the wall of St. Peters

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apse. It is a plain arm-chair of worm-eaten oak, which in later ages was embellished with ivory panels. It waslast exposed for the veneration of the faithful in 1867 to commemorate the eighteenth centenary of the greatApostles martyrdom. Reflection : Be prudent, therefore, and watch in prayer. But before all things have aconstant mutual charity among yourselves : for charity covereth a multitude of sins. (I Peter 4, 7-8)

A friend once told me that no one has ever read all of Jung but Ive done better I havent read any. Thatdoesnt prevent me from passing some comments on the common subconscious, another one of the classicdoubles & a close relative of the individual subconscious. I am interested in the contemporary popular form ofthe idea rather than his original one. It is seen to be a wellspring of primary ideas & fears that are said to be

common across all cultures to all mankind. Fear of spiders & snakes is said to come from there as do themythological archetypes. It is used to explain mysterious things that we share in common. Some say that theindividual subconscious is connected to the common one & thats where dreams come from. Others explaintelepathy as a kind of connection between people via the medium of the common subconscious. (note that St.Catherine de Ricci (feb. 13) was supposed to be able to be in more than one place at a time, an ability the mostrecent saint, Fr. Pio, is also credited with.) I cant think of a more ridiculous idea than telepathy when surely itseasier to pop in for a visit or call on the phone but I dont dismiss it out of hand for not having experienced it.For some people anything mysterious that is shared by mankind is seen as evidence for the common soulwhich is very handy for them as it takes away the need for close observation in search of explanations that makemore sense (sensible, tangible.) My main objection to it is that it turns the gaze away from the amazing world ofpeople & their carnival of practices to the shadowy regions of king Mumbo Jumbo. I dont need it to convince

me that man is a single creature because I already find confirmation of that in everything I see about me. If itsnot obvious to you you must be a navel gazer or something similar; or very busy. I am not surprised that oxygenwas discovered by two different people in different countries at the same time or that Newton & Liebnitzdiscovered differential calculus independently. I am surprised that 100 people didnt make the discoveries at thesame time. No sooner do I get an idea that I think is a bit original than I start finding articles about it in thepress, discover societies devoted to spreading it, or that someones written a 500 page tome about it fifty yearsago. Then I read Borges & find that it was discussed by Plotinus or an arab over a thousand years ago. Studentslooking for an original idea for their Ph. D. know the problem. You dont need to understand Wittgenstein onhow the bedrock of meaning in language is mimed or join Borges in tracing the contributions of an idea backinto antiquity, Bill Brysons entertaining booklet on the english language will do as a primer. Yet language isonly one of the ways we are connected. Like those beetles that send messages to each other by waving brightly

coloured forelegs & striped antennae we are constantly engaged in a language, a semaphore, of visual signallingwith the clothes we wear. Some people are so aware of the messages projected this way they can probably tellyou what job you do, your nationality, your character type, sexual preferences, what programs you watch ontelly, what you had for breakfast. Travelling helps sharpen observation. I would like to set up as a mind readerin sunday markets of country towns except the business has been cornered by other gypsies. Its amusing to hearpeople claim they dont pay the slightest attention to how they dress then find that they are strictly in uniformwith all the other people who make the same claim. But there are other languages besides the spoken & thevisual. I wont comment on body language because enough has been written on it. Less noticed is the languageinherent in where we position ourselves in a room of people or round a table; how we make claims for differentamounts of space to reflect our importance; how those spaces can be joined or traded. Chairmen of boardsprobably have a good grasp of it. More basic again is the language of imitations & counter-imitations. Guys

dont spend a fortune on fishing gear because they have a craving for fish : they do it so that they would looklike fishermen; its a deep thing. Young things dont spend their time in sidewalk cafes because they are addictedto coffee or in search of conversation : they do it to look like the people in the films theyve seen. And there aremany other languages (ways of connecting, toing & froing, communications, reflections) besides the existenceof what I suspect are such pervasive ones that like fish who are unaware of water we dont notice them at all.There is a language of decisions that we make in everything we do. Sooner or later all of us are called on toclearly show others (or we are given the opportunity to show) where we draw the line; where we stand. It maywell be the most telling of our languages because it is the most concrete, the most spatial. It is the languageof the whole body that sends the clearest message & is most clearly seen yet is so pervasive that we are hardlyaware of it. I hope Ive managed to explain why I dont need the notion of the common subconscious toconvince me that we are only a single creature. Anyone with eyes & ears must know. Anyone who moves about

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must know. It may be that Jung spent so much time reading & writing locked away in his stu