Tag: Challenge

Leaving a legacy…

I’ve been reading a few blog posts off and on today, and one that caught my eye was about leaving a legacy.

This I presumed to be ‘something to be remembered by’.

I have always suspected that when I pass on, the memory will not linger very long, except when someone, in the years ahead, pulls out a an old photo, and says, “Who’s this old man?”

I’m sure the answer would hover somewhere between “You don’t really want to know,” to “He’s the eccentric side of the family.”

The thing is, I’ve discovered that children in this family seem to have an insatiable appetite for discovering information about their forebears. It also seems to be that the school they go to makes a big deal about the children learning genealogy, and get an assignment either in year 5 or year 6 where they have to trace their forebears back as far as they can.

I have to say I’ve always been curious, but never really did anything about it, except go back a few generations, i.e. those people we could remember, and, yes, we had eccentric aunts and uncles, grandmothers, and grandfathers.

But my older brother, he got the bug, and went into genealogy in a big way, got himself a university degree, and then takes a trip or two overseas every year delving into the murky past of the Heaths and the Auhls.

The Heaths apparently came from Dorset in England, and the Auhls, somewhere in Germany. He told me, but I’ve forgotten, but I do have a file somewhere that tells me.

And being in Australia, it’s like gold if you have a forebear who was a convict, but unfortunately we didn’t, though I recently learned one of our forebears who came out to Tasmania, was a pseudo Luddite (he was arraigned as guilty by association, but he was no Luddite) in the 1860’s.

But finding a legacy somewhere amongst all those relatives is no mean feat, because it seems none of us were famous, and I haven’t broken the mold, or at least not yet. I might still get to be a (famous?) writer or blogger.

So I am sitting here wondering what the real definition of legacy is, if it can’t apply to wealth or fame. Could it be the next generation of Heaths, the grandchildren? Could one call them a legacy? We will no doubt eventually leave them behind to continue, and maybe one of them will be famous.

The youngest has a desire to be an artist, and she is quite good at drawing, The middle granddaughter wants to be a scientist, and is doing well at school. Of course, there are the middle years, where boys are not yet a distraction, so who knows what the future will bring. As for the eldest, being 16 going on 17 is just too hard.

How could you possibly know at 16 or 17 what it is you want to be? When I was that age I had a choice of being academic, ie maths and science, or hand’s on, a carpenter, sheet metal worker or mechanic.

I did work as a builder for a while, but moved to night switchboard operator/postman, shipping clerk, services manager, and then computer programmer, which none of my learning while at school had any bearing on, except perhaps for maths.

So I’m guessing my legacy was my children, and their legacy is their children, and so on.

As for fame, I don’t think it’s all it’s cracked up to be.

From typewriters to computers to distraction

I first started writing by longhand, still do, in fact, then graduated to my mother’s portable typewriter, right down to the sticking keys and overused ribbon, then moved upwards into the electric world having a pair of IBM electric typewriters I bought from one of the places I worked as second-hand cast-offs.

Just remembering those days gives me the shudders, from the tangled ribbons and messy hands to using carbon paper, how many times before they were useless?

Then the age of the electric typewriter went the same way as the manual ones, simply because I could no longer buy ribbons for my IBM Selectric, so it, too, had to go the way of the dinosaurs.

It was a good thing, then, that computers and word processing software started at about the same time.   Word Perfect, to begin with, and then, in the early days of Windows, Word, and others.  Sometimes it was easier just to use the text editor, and for convenience, it’s often by choice to get ideas down, quick and dirty.

This was before the days of the internet, where you physically had to do something about finding inspiration.  And that, sometimes, was more difficult that it seems.  I do not have a writing room with large windows looking out on a rural or urban panorama.  The window looks onto a fence, and the house next door.

So much for my dream of owning a castle and having a writing room on the second or third level, with astonishing views.

Which leads me to today.  Enough with the reminiscing.  I have all the tools I need to get on with the job, but that isn’t enough to switch on the brain and start typing perfect prose.  I have to go in search of some inspiration.

It’s just that in that short distance, from, say, the couch where you were reading the latest blog posts in the WordPress reader, and the writer’s chair, your preparation for writing ends up getting confused at some of the blogger’s points because it’s hard to find anything relevant that backs up their assertions, or how things work for them.

I guess success form anyone’s standpoint, is what worked for them.  In relaying that to others, two things come to mind.  It worked for them, but in telling a million others, and they all take the same approach, no, sorry, it ain’t going to work no how.  The other, there’s usually a fee attached to gain the knowledge, and, yes, the same proviso applies.  If everyone does it, it ain’t going to work no how.

But, there you are, my attention has been distracted, and unless I’m about to indulge in writing a version of how to achieve success myself, which I haven’t so I’m not, I’m off track, with an out of balance mindset, and therefore unable to write.

Perhaps I should not read blog posts, but the newspapers.

Or not, because they all have an editorial policy that leans either and one way or another, which means their views are not necessarily unbiased.

I was a journalist once and hated the idea of having to toe the editorial line.  Or as luck would have it, never let the truth get in the way of a good story.  It lends to the theory that you can never quite believe anything the media tells you, which is a very sorry place to be when there are no external influences you can trust.

I’m coming around to thinking that it’s probably best left to the dark hours of the night when you would think all the distractions are behind you.  After all, isn’t that what daytime is for?

Except that’s when the ghosts come out to play.

I think.

Was that the lounge room door opening?

Another photo from the archives

I thought since it is Spring here, we could do with a breath of fresh air and colour that comes with the change if season

Living in Queensland, Winter never quite seems to be as cold as it is in the southern states, which are closer to Antarctica.

We have had a relatively mild winter this year and I didn’t have to light the fire once, though we did use the reverse cycle sir conditioning.

But, from now the temperature will be rising as well as the humidity and will hang around until April next year.

Normally this would mean that a large proportion of the population would be planning their summer holidays, but with Covid restrictions, we may not be allowed to leave our state, or only visit states that have no or few cases like us, and definitely no overseas travel.

For people who like to travel, this is a bitter pill to swallow, and especially so for all those retirees who have worked all their lives, and decided to wait until retirement to see their own country and the world at large.

To me, the adage ‘don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today’ seemed appropriate and we decided once the kids were old enough, we would travel far and wide while we could.  It was a wise decision because neither of us are as agile as we used to be.

Seems we were the lucky ones.

Now we are content to see our own country which no doubt will be able to manage Covid to the extent that life might return to a form if normal sooner rather that later.

And if it doesn’t, then I have enough to amuse myself at home. I’m sure we are all familiar with the expression ‘spring cleaning’. We have decided to clean house, and do some renovating.

And it’s a surprise when cleaning out those cupboards, drawers, and boxes, the stuff you’ve accumulated over many, many years. Last I heard, we were taking about getting a large skip, so I suspect this culling is going to be savage.

But, just to be clear, no books will be thrown out!

Are we in the midst of an apocalypse?

I never thought I’d be sitting down and thinking about mortality.

It comes up, of course, every time you go to a funeral, but it’s not like this, not when anyone you know can get a disease that has no cure, and it can kill you.

I’m looking at a continuous update of the destruction it’s doing to human life all over the planet, some 27,115,490 people have contracted the virus, and 885,600 people have died.

As a proportion of the earth’s population, it’s probably nothing, but to each and every family member of those who contract it and who eventually die, they are not a statistic, they are someone loved and cherished.

It horrifies me that some people can make light of it.

If doubly horrifies me when they start talking about acceptable losses, or worse, it didn’t kill as many people we thought it would.

The thing is, this virus hasn’t finished with us yet.  It’s still out there, there are people with it, and don’t know they’ve got it and they can spread it as easily as spreading soft butter on a slice of bread.

And yet, there are people out there who claim their freedom is more important than dying,  Tell that to those who have lost loved ones.  Tell that to a child who has lost a father, a mother, a bother, a sister, a friend, or as the virus is more selective, a grandparent, or someone whose health was tenuous for a variety of reasons.

They just don’t get it.

I’m guessing that in some countries where guns are a way of life, and the population is inured to the countless deaths caused by those guns, a virus doesn’t impact them.  They say they are more likely to be killed by the flu, or a cow falling out of the sky on them.

Perhaps the saner of us could pray for a rainstorm of cows when they gather to protest against gun control.  It would make a better headline that we see each morning, the ever-increasing infections, and worse, deaths.

There is no cure, despite what some people will say.  There won’t be a cure, because it’s not the virus we have to remove, it’s the practices that cause those viruses.  We have to find and remove the cause, whether it’s bats, exotic animals, of countries creating biological warfare weapons.

And here’s a tip from a thriller writer who’s been trying to wrap his head around all of the available conspiracy theories, the one I like the most is; the country that magically finding a cure in less than the accepted time-frame is more than likely the country was the one who created it.

It’s been a long day…

I wonder what secret agents do when the the jobs done and they go home,

No doubt they are aching from head to foot, and every step it takes from the car dropping them off to the front door is like a mile and a half.

And, inside the door, do they drop the bag/case/duffel on the floor and just lean against it, and look at what is their ‘other’ world’, that one that doesn’t include luxuripous hotel rooms, the finest dining, and fastest cars, and weaponry.

You feel the inside of your jacket, and, yes, the gun’s not there because it had to be handed back, and for a moment you feel just a little unsafe.

You think, what if an enemy agent had been waiting for me, how would I defend myself. But there isn’t and you don’t have to.

The place has that slight musty smell about it, like you have been there for a month or so, because you haven’t, and your first inclination is to open the blinds and let the light in.

And then you think, no. I just need a rest,

Perhaps a drink first, check the pile of mail that had accumulated inside the door, perhaps a postcard from an acquaintance made.

There isn’t. And then you remember you were going to restock the bar, but that call came and you didn’t have time.

You stretch, and, yes, there it is, a strained muscle from that fall off the roof, that tug of a tendon that you pulled chasing a villain down the road, and then beiong chased by a car, didn’t thin you could outrun an Audi did you?

No, nothing to do but rest.

A slow shuffle to the lounge, use the remote to switch on the TV, change the channel to the news, what’s going on in the world.

An election. Damn.

How far away is that liquor store?

A photo from the archives

I was poking around on the gallery on my phone and found this

It was the rear of the club house for a golf course that was adjacent to the resort we were staying at before COVID shut down the country and all travel.

It was a bleak day with rain falling from drizzle to a heavy shower, and I had to wonder what it would be like on a fine summer’s day.

The club house also had space for conventions and weddings, and I could imaging having the wedding in the rotunda as the the sun departed leaving behind shades of yellow, orange and red.

Having a fountain in the wedding photo would be so hard to take either.

Perhaps we could renew our vows one day in just such a location.

It’s a thought.

Searching for locations: The Shaolin Temple, near Zhengzhou City, Henan Province, China

The Shaolin Temple

Where is the Shaolin Temple?

Dengfeng Maps, Map of Shaolin Temple & Mount Song

It is located in Dengfeng Ave, Dengfeng, Zhengzhou, Henan, China, at the southern foot of Mount Song, 13 km northwest of Dengfeng City, Zhengzhou City, Henan Province.

A map of the Temple grounds, which would come in handy before you enter the grounds, so that you have some idea of what there is to see:

The structures and architecture of Shaolin Temple | Kung fu ...

A bit of history:

The Shaolin Temple was originally built in 495 during the Northern Wei Dynasty (368-534).  For over 1500 years, Shaolin Temple has developed through good and bad times.  The temple was firstly destroyed in the Northern Zhou Dynasty (557-581), then rebuilt much later as the Zhihu Temple.  In the Sui Dynasty (581-618) the temple was renamed Shaolin and became one of the largest Buddhism monasteries in North China.

Good fortune in the early Tang Dynasty (618-907) was followed by bad fortune in the later of Tang Dynasty, it improved during the Song Dynasty (960-1279) until 1312 in Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) where it returned to its former glory.  The Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) also made contributions to the development of Shaolin Temple.

Due to the wars of the modern era much of the Temple was destroyed.

The Shaolin Temple, nestled in the forested mountains of Henan, its the birthplace of Kung Fu and Zen Buddhism. The Shaolin Temple embraces many exciting attractions, such as the Hall of Heavenly Kings (Tianwangdian), and the Mahavira Hall (Daxiongbaodian)

This is not a single building, that’s not how the Chinese work.  It’s a whole host of buildings, the first of which is up some steps, through a gate, then along a tree-lined avenue with monument stones to some more steps, past a cauldron burning incense, and then to the temple.  There are several monks inside.

The front entrance:

Inside the entrance building, there are some large statues that I’m guessing are there to scare away the wrong sort of people

Once past these characters, you are on a walkway between pagodas where there are trees, and sculptures

and through the next pagoda brings you to the first of the temples.  There are three doors and three buddas.  This is through the middle door

And no you can’t go inside, you just stand on the outside looking in.

In one part of the temple there were three monks, and, believe it or not, they were all on their mobile phones.

This is certainly not ancient times, so what did the monks do before mobile communications?

Up some more stairs to the next building,

And so on till we reach the one at the top.  Outside each is a cauldron burning incense, and that aroma hangs on the air everywhere you go in the compound.

Then it’s a case of what goes up must come down, and strangely enough, it doesn’t take as long to go back down, and in doing so we got to see and hear a bit of singing by the monks.

There was a story to go with the various buildings and other aspects but I didn’t hear half of it, and couldn’t understand our guide for the rest.

All in all, it was an interesting place, but still not worth the money we paid.

Past conversations with my cat – 96

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This is Chester

Once again, it’s Sunday night, and he’s looking for a philosophical discussion.   COVID 19 is off the topic list.

He’s suitably disappointed that the Trump Show is over, as far as we are aware, though he’s not surprised.

But he is worried that two cats have tested positive.

I try to tell him that it is in New York, about 18,000 miles away, where there are over 200,000 cases. We have just over 1,000 and they are all isolated so we cannot be harmed.

I guess it’s hard to convince a cat when his mind is made up.

We’ve also taken the grandchildren off the list of topics too,

They arrive a few hours ago, and studiously ignored him when they arrived. I tried to point out that he was in hiding when they arrived, but again, the stubbornness of opinion is amazing, or normal.

I should be used to this sort of contrariness.

So, what is on the discussion list?

Outlander, Season 5 Episode 10. Well, I say, we haven’t seen it yet, so don’t tell me what the plots is.

He looks at me as if I’m mad. I only get to see it when you do, he says. How should I know what the plot is?  In fact, what is the plot?

Time travel, I say.

Pity we can’t do some of that, he says.

Why I asked, and really, I should know better.

Because I could go back to the day you came to the pet shop and hide. I have given you 18 years to improve, and you’re still the same as you were then.

Discussion over.

Not his favorite food for dinner tonight.

Another night of stargazing…

And this is what I found:

Neptune.

It got me thinking.

Why did we name the planets after mythological gods?

I did a little digging and found that the Romans named the five closest planets to the sun after their most important gods, this one, named after the god of the sea, which to the Romans was Poseidon, but in translation, Neptune, and matbe because it was ‘blue’.

Of course, we all know about King Neptune.

We also know about Poseidon, which was the fictional ship that got hit by a tidal wave, and was turned into a blockbuster movie.

But in terms of science fiction, which is not what I write, but I seem to spend a lot of time watching, it strikes me that seeing the moon, we could assume that the moon could be a stopping off point on a trip to the pouter planets.

I’m always surprised at the ingenuity of ‘Sci Fi’ writers in how they can turn what is scientifically impossible to live on but not necessarily impossible to get there (after a long sleep), into a place where we can destroy with equal rapaciousness as our own planet.

If I was going to write something, perhaps it would be about turning the planet into a holiday resort, staffed by robots…

Uh oh, that’s reminiscent of another ‘Sci Fi’ series. I’ll let you guess what it is.

Yes, spring is upon us, and the flowers will be blooming!

At the time, I took this at a flower show, and usually it is quite colourful, but this time, whilst there were a lot of flowers, it didn’t seem as vibrant as in years past.

But, on the other hand, my green thumb does not run to such displays.

For years, the front and back yards were roughly the equivalent of dustbowls, with rampant weeds for lawn, and a few pots.

Recently we had the house rendered, and at the same time had some paths and proper steps built leading up the the front door, and on eithger side running the length of the house, staggered height flower beds.

In these we put succulents, mainly for the fact they need very little maintenance other than thinning out twice or so a year.

Around the fence line we planted a hedge which after six or so months we finally got the first trim, and it’s looking quite good.

The most recent enhancement is the last layer, a row of contrasting colourful native plants, which also need very little maintenance.

But, the point, it’s the second day of spring on this side of the world, and gardens everywhere are about to bloom, skies are going to be bluer, and the temperatures rising.

You know the saying, ‘ah, spring is in the air’. For all those who do not suffer from hay-fever.