A Bonnetful of Bees

I was last night entertaining that scripture from John about perfect love casting out all fear, when it occurred to me that “fearless” behaviour, far from being the cinema-style heroics of the big screen, might be better characterised as the finest expression of love. Turned my head around….

Scene: On Monaro.
Dramatis Personae
Shock-headed blackfellow,
Boy, (on a pony).
Snowflakes are falling
Gentle and slow.
Youngster says, “Frying Pan,
What makes it snow?”
Frying Pan, confident,
makes the reply–
“Shake ‘im big flour bag
Up in the sky!”
“What! When there’s miles of it?
Surely that’s brag.
Who is there strong enough
Shake such a bag?”
“What parson tellin’ you,
Ole Mr Dodd,
Tell you in Sunday School?
Big pfeller God!
Him drive ‘im bullock dray,
Then thunder go;
Him shake ‘im flour bag–
Tumble down snow!”

(A.B. Patterson)

Even when the above was written, there was an emerging awareness of the sophistication of aboriginal theology, though there were few white Australians ever admitted to its secrets. Even so, it pleased Patterson’s audience to read of this simple and ignorant “shock headed blackfellow.”

I preface these notes with the poem because in a number of ways I relate to Frying Pan. I am setting out to forge a systematic personal theology and I am arrogant enough to attempt it without formal training, or even an understanding of what many fine intellects and spirits have achieved before me.

What is more, I am writing of my own spiritual experience. I am writing about phenomena that are personal and real to me. It seems to me pointless to speculate on matters that I cannot yet relate to my own experience. Like the notional Frying Pan, the limits of my experience will be obvious.

-o0o- (more…)

In the development of language, logic, law, science and ethics, etc man has evolved for himself tools which enable him to describe, locate, and organise the various elements of his world and thereby take charge of that environment, and to organise his relationships with the world around him to his advantage, but these tools reflect and work only in a perceived world of separate objects, a multiplicity. That is what language, logic, law etc have evolved to do: organise discrete objects and events.

Knowledge of a unitive existence eludes him while he persists in trying to access or formulate it using language, logic, etc. There are no separate elements to organise. Knowledge arrives and is contained non-verbally, preverbally, and one must learn to access it and store it in ways that are totally unprecedented in the rest of our experience.

We must give away pretty much our entire experience of the world as we have it, and of ourselves in that separate world—we must, perhaps, be born again—if we are to grow in mystical knowledge as we have previously grown in knowledge of our world of multiplicity. And as with “ordinary” language, the more use we make of it, the more subtle becomes the quality of the information available.

Over the last year or two, I have been reading extensively in the work of Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and others who have built the public profile of atheism considerably. Harris is especially interesting because, while he is strongly opposed to orthodox forms of religion, he is respectful of mystical experience, especially as it is exemplified in Buddhism. Dawkins made his name with “The Selfish Gene” and has since gone from strength to strength in his writing on evolution.

I see Darwin’s Theory of Evolution as essentially unassailable, despite the continuing howls of protest from the religious right who refuse to believe we are “descended from” monkeys, or share a common ancestor with them. Discoveries in genetics not available to Darwin in his time have borne out his insights in ways he could not have anticipated. (more…)

Atta is a fineground Indian wholewheat flour used for making many Indian flatbreads—roti, etc.

I became interested in atta (1) because  it costs considerably less when you buy it from an Indian grocer than does ordinary wholemeal flour bought from a supermarket; and (2) because I use a good deal of wholemeal flour making my own bread.

Unfortunately, it seems to inhibit yeast activity.   The bread dough did not rise as much and it did not rise as fast as it did when I used supermarket wholemeal.  Over several different recipes and styles of bread, the crumb was denser, and while quite edible, was clearly not what I wanted.  What to do with the 5kg bag of atta in the cupboard.

Well, ANZAC Day was nearly upon us, and there were biscuits—real ANZAC biscuits—to be baked.  After years of tradition, deviating not one iota from the official recipe, I decided, so to speak, to put my head above the trenches, and see what was to be seen.  I used atta instead of the prescribed white flour.

To be short, I got the best damned batch of ANZAC biscuits I’ve ever baked.  Dunking quality, in fact.

For those who want to try it, here’s the official recipe with atta substituted for white flour:  (PS  You don’t have to buy 5 kg.  You can get smaller quantities from the bins.)

• 1 cup medium rolled oats
• 1 cup desiccated coconut
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup atta
• 1 tablespoon golden syrup
• 125g butter
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 tablespoons water

1. Preheat oven to 160C
2. Combine the dry ingredients well in a large bowl.
3. Melt the butter, golden syrup and water together in a small saucepan.
4. Combine wet and dry ingredients and mix well.
5. Roll mix in your hands into balls about 2.5cm (1 inch) across and place on lightly greased oven tray, about 20 to a standard oven tray.  (Makes about 30-40 depending on size of the balls.)
6. Flatten somewhat with a fork.
7. Bake at 160C for 18 minutes in the centre of the oven. (People with fan ovens need to adjust appropriately.)
8. Allow to cool on a rack, before storing in appropriate container.

Next up for a try is shortbread.

In 1948 Dad bought a section on the beach at Big Bay on the northern tip of the Awhitu Peninsula, and using army surplus materials which were freely available at the time built a bach for the family.

Shortly after that he bought a  runabout which was powered by the engine from an old Bren Gun Carrier, and had a rooster tale about 6 foot high, but for a start we had a couple of dinghies, the first 8 feet long and the second 12 feet.

(more…)

The name of this rose is something of a contradiction in terms, but no matter.  It’s making a fine display on the side of the garage right now. I acquired my first cutting—from which this plant is descended—in 1971 from the vicarage garden at Puketapu in the Hawkes Bay, where my cousin was vicar, and it has travelled with me since.

This one is about 5 inches across. (more…)

Elizabeth David in one of her books delivers a blistering comment about cooks who attach the names of famous traditional dishes to their own grotesque formulations.

(more…)

We are a day or so out from Christmas, and as I pass yet another shopping mall nativity scene, I reckon it’s a good time to revisit the gospel accounts of the birth of Jesus, in Matthew and Luke, and remind ourselves, that, as it was for the writers of the gospels, Christmas is pretty much what we decide it is.

(more…)

November and time again to check out what Gillian has been up to since last years exhibition.  Here’s the link