The world is my gym

Lough Ouler, close-by hidden gem #swim #hike #run #cycle #love

They want to purchase more gym equipment. I cannot deny that exercise is good for you especially if your occupation is otherwise sedentary as is so often the case now-a-days, so I'm not exactly against such purchases. But I may have mentioned once or twice that I find and enjoy my exercise principally in jogging or hiking barefoot or cycling. They want to buy another rowing machine, but we have a lake half a mile down the road and it was only a few months back we got rid of a dinghy because no-one could see a use for it. They want another cycling machine, but I have two bicycles and there are others here, and cyclists come to this area from all around because of its beauty and its relatively quiet roads. We have mountains to climb, forests to explore, a lake-side which is often walk-able, smaller mountain lakes that you can swim in, all within walking distance. They want to buy another bar and weights, but we have many outdoor activities that require arm muscles like stacking logs, digging, mucking out.

With all this so close how could anyone want to spend good money on, or use, imitation exercise machines cooped up in a small room, except possibly in the dead of winter and in the unlikely event of a snow storm?

Instrument of torture

Yesterday I made a life changing decision

Electronics?  I love this video's portrayal of the evil of electronics!

Almost 30 years ago I started my Microlite business, this was after a number of years of being totally out of electronics doing stuff like building and driving instruction during which time Bill Gates invented the PC, unknown to me. So I decided to launch out self-employed as an electronics design house: a one-stop-shop from client's vague concept to the reality of pilot production. The name suggesting a shedding of light on micro-electronics with hints of low-cost and providence.

Yesterday I decided to begin to wind down and retire Microlite, specifically to extricate myself from the stress of long drawn-out, complex, firmware-intensive projects, and clients unwilling or unable to pay in a timely fashion. I will continue to support existing clients but be very selective about any new work I take on, and aim to reduce the business to a part-time occupation.

Today I am faced with taunts of "failure", "you gave in to pressure", "you are letting people down" - thoughts of Churchill's never give in, never, never, never, in nothing, great or small, large or petty. But even he follows this with an "except" category into which I fit. I am in fact taking hold of my destiny. I believe it was God's idea to start Microlite and I believe that this is the time for it to end or at least change course. In case you are asking "why?  here are some of the ingredients:

• An increasing gut-feeling that Microlite is past its sell-by date;
• Precipitated by the particular project I was limbering up to which has proved to be more complex than I had bargained for;
• A recent chance remark made by someone here that I might retire from electronics one day;
• Ongoing stress caused by unmanageable clients vis-à-vis their unattainable expectations and unwillingness or inability to pay in a timely fashion;
• The ever-increasing complexity of electronics systems often surpassing what a one-man-team can manage;
• The ever-decreasing scale of electronics component so that my ultimate resolution of my PCB CAD can no longer cope, but to upgrade would be expensive plus a steep learning curve;
• My junior assistant programmer having recently left, on whom I was relying on more and more for software and firmware solutions;
• Increased needs here for my involvement in building maintenance due to other folk being otherwise deployed;
• Our finances being no longer so dependent upon Microlite income now another community business has taken off;
• Recent bad experiences with certain projects taking much longer than expected or clients not being fully satisfied.

Maybe I'll post again when the dust settles and it becomes clearer what all this really means.

The God of Chance

I have previously posted how my paternal grandfather Ginty was infatuated with organs, and some of that has rubbed off on me. Mozart apparently coined the organ the King of Instruments, an accolade many would have a hard time with. The operation of an organ flue pipe is similar to a flute or penny whistle. A stream of air is made to play over a sharp edge or labium which causes chaotic vortices which make a hissing or noise-like sound.  This sound contains a continuous spread of frequencies rather like sunlight is composed of a continuous spread of colours. And certainly not seven! The tube-like body of the flute, whistle or organ pipe acts as a resonator and thus amplifies or selects a particular frequency (i.e. tone or musical pitch) and the result is the familiar flute like sound which includes the background sibilant hiss.

The point I am making is that it is possible to draw order (a pure tone) from chaos. The resonator can be thought of as a filter that only lets through what is desired.

I once read a Sci-Fi story in which it was proposed that all human learning and civilisation was no more than a filtering process and the hiss or noise that it filters is everything that is possible or, as they say, All The Things. And therefore anything is possible, given a suitable tweaking of the filter. In the story the proponent, to prove his theory, arranges a conference of world class scientists at which he announces that a foreign power had invented anti-gravity. This discovery clearly proved it was possible and he instructs the scientists find out how it was done and report back in a year's time. During that year several of the scientists independently discover the answer. It was only after each reports at the second conference that the proponent tells them that he had lied - no foreign power had in fact invented anti-gravity.

In this morning's meeting we were reminded of how great our God is, for example in being to orchestrate all the ingredients necessary so that at just the right time... Christ died for the ungodly. (NIV). But it's too easy to make a statement like this in retrospect - it is just such logic that the anthropic principle seeks to debunk.

In my diagram 'O' is the origin of the universe - Big Bang or Creation as you will. Everything coloured to the right is All The Things that ever there were, up to the present time.  'B' is the beating wings of a butterfly and the purple area is all that might have been influenced by this butterfly effect. Conversely everything that might have influenced me 'M' is shown in pink. That's a lot of stuff that had to be there at just the right time for me to be me. The anthropic principle says that, although it happened by chance, it had to have turned out as it did else I wouldn't be me. That I exist proves that this particular chance succession of events, unlikely as it may be, actually happened like it did.

Isn't it amazing that we humans, clever clogs that we are (didn't we invent the smart phone and the internet?), don't know why we are here and what happens after death.

Throughout the Bible there are instances of God's will being sought by casting lots, the principle being The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord. (Prov 16:33). At the other end of the spectrum evolutionists ascribe all that we are, know and see to pure chance.

The laws of statistics (aka chance) require there to be a large "population" or number of events before  the drawing of statistical conclusions becomes valid. Whilst the probability that a flipped unbiased coin will land "heads" is 50%, after one such coin lands "heads" it becomes a fact of history and the concept that it could have been otherwise becomes meaningless. So, if I lay out  a fleece to determine God's will and the unlikely outcome occurs and I conclude that God is telling me to do X, is this really a valid use of the term "unlikely"?

If you determine your fate by casting lots you may believe that in fact God is determining the outcome, or you may put it down to chance. What difference would it make to an outcome whether or not God was there in the background somehow pulling the strings? After all, we are taught again and again (and here is my difficulty) that Christianity is "all by faith" and thus it is by definition impossible to demonstrate. But I see a flaw here, some circular reasoning, and I don't subscribe to this kind of "faith". Personally I reckon faith must be more than blind belief, that faith must have substance as its goal. The well known By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible can of course be read either that creation was a result of faith, or that we believe that God created.

I may take this line on faith, and I do, but I haven't seen much evidence of it working. But that's also provided for in the creed: And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect. Where does that leave me? Often I want to run away from It All - I hate the hypocrisy, religiosity, rote, expectations, language - none of which I see in the stories we have of Jesus' life. But I cannot deny those stories and What He Did makes me hold on... For the time being anyway.

We humans survive because some of us are prepared to doggedly believe the impossible, against all odds. Indeed I think all true Christians have to do this - it is what true faith does. Maybe this is why that something which we might call "good" wells up inside when for instance the Von Trap family make it over the mountains, or Ellis (in Mud) finds love in the place he least expected it or Hugo finds meaning after the devastating death of his father. These stories are tear-jerkers because they touch that very tender place even the hardest if us have inside. Stories like the one that Lucy couldn't remember about a cup and a sword and a tree and a green hill. Or the truth in the well known hymn:

There is a green hill far away,

Without a city wall,

Where the dear Lord was crucified,

Who died to save us all.

We may not know, we cannot tell,

What pains he had to bear,

But we believe it was for us

He hung and suffered there.

There was no other good enough

To pay the price of sin.

He only could unlock the gate

Of heaven and let us in.

Oh, dearly, dearly has he loved!

And we must love him too,

And trust in his redeeming blood,

And try his works to do.

How to start your day

There's nothing quite so refreshing as an early morning run along the lake shore and a swim in the rain. Follow that with a hot shower and breakfast of muesli with milk and a touch of cream and a large, hot mug of tea, and you're all set for the day!

Tonelagee

Yesterday I joined The Others driving to the Wicklow Gap (471m) and climbing Tonelagee (817m), not barefoot because the previous Sunday I had dinged my big toe and and was thus being nice to it. The Others descended to Lough Ouler where two of them swam (the others had rather lame excuses), whilst I retraced my steps so that I could drive to meet them someplace beyond Lough Ouler, this arrangement to avoid The Others having to climb Tonelagee again on the way back.

Their route in nred

I duly parked along the Military Road and, whilst waiting, walked down to the stream that feeds the Glenmacnass waterfall and found my own place to swim.

This morning I woke as usual for this time of the year just before 06:00, enjoyed a lay-in for an hour (it being Sunday), then went for a run along the lakeside, having first bandaged my toe with red insulation tape. There is rarely any sign of All The People here at such hours, thankfully - because I like to be on my own at least some of the time. Although it was drizzling and a tad chilly the water was gloriously warm in comparison.

Now back, a hot shower and, afterwards, a mug of hot tea and a freshly baked blueberry muffin donated by my wonderful daughter in law!

Timothy

Timothy was re-admitted to hospital as a precautionary measure after "spiking a temperature". This is not totally unexpected especially in the first "100 days" but just to say that dear boy continues to need our prayers or, put more accurately, needs the grace of God working in his life.

Thou shalt not nine

Timothy, yes I think there is no further need to hide his name, is discharged and back home. True I had hoped he would not have had to endure this treatment but, who knows, he may end up stronger for it. Tribulation works character. I certainly hope and pray so, else what was it all about? Perhaps I did not tempt God. Perhaps I did not fully understand. And it is still not the end of the road but I am so thankful he has made it this far. Here are some quotes from his parents' last news letter:

After two months living in Bristol while Timothy received a bone marrow transplant at the Bristol Royal Hospital for Children, we're back home. Timothy is in good form despite a low level of stamina and a bit of sickness...

He was diagnosed with a one/two-in-a-million condition with bleak prognosis unless he received a bone marrow transplant in Bristol. The search for a bone marrow donor ultimately led to a young German who matched perfectly: 57mls of life, delivered fresh by a volunteer courier! Timothy would have life-threatening leukaemia today if it wasn't for that bone marrow donor...

This guy is our hero. He's gone through so much so far [you can see a short video of him ringing the 'End of Treatment' Bell on the ward the other day here. He'll need patience and protection in the restoration to come. Forgive us when we avoid you if you're sniffling! God is good. So please keep praying for Timothy's protection and complete restoration - he could take months to fully recover, and simple illnesses can still be dangerous to him. Pray for God's glory in the story.

Through all of this, hundreds if not thousands of people like you have been praying for our son and family. Thank you. God's peace, hope, love and joy are real.

Father's day

Today is Father's Day which makes me particularly want to honour each of my wonderful children. "My" is undeniably true and yet my part was minuscule. To be a father must be the greatest honour a man can achieve and children must be the greatest investment in this life. By it we understand in some small part what God is like. Thank you Jonathan, Christopher, Sarah, Kate for being who you are, for your love, for your belief. My heart is saying much more but how to write it I know not. I want to include Ali in this list but cannot as it is not Husband's Day.

Sometimes I am aware that I have not posted for ages but have nothing to say. Today my mind is teeming with stuff. Not that it takes many thoughts to count as teeming for me. It's all mixed up with A and T's plights (BTW T's course of hospital treatment has been completed and A's hands are healing well albeit with only two and a half fingers on one hand) and a preface to MacDonald's Phantastes in which Lewis remarks that "the relation of Father and Son is of all relations the most central" and this morning's sermon about the glory of tribulation (as opposed to whingeing about it), patience and perseverance and wot not, and my general malaise. As usual I am finding it hard to even figure what I am feeling myself, let alone try to communicate it to anyone else. It would require a listener with remarkable empathy for me to convey it verbally. Thus is the raison d’être for this blog. That few read it is neither here nor there. The case of the cardboard cut-out engineer comes to mind (see note below).

Why did I cycle 48 miles over mountains yesterday? I suppose that people here think I do it for pure enjoyment. I sometimes wonder about people. In fact the idea occurred to me after lunch, realising that I had no further duties and no set time for an evening meal, but it took me at least 15 minutes to pluck up enough courage - thoughts of all those hills, and of others here who spend their free time lying in the sun doing absolutely nothing, were putting me off.

I finally set off. The incline to the Sally Gap is gentle enough to start with but gradually gets more and more intense - struggling up that last stretch I wondered whether I would make it before feinting or something worse. I told myself I could always turn around. But I didn't. I persevered.

The prize was of course the generally downhill stretch to Laragh with its wonderful wide scenery. Then followed the ascent to the Wicklow Gap, a climb I know well but is still so hard. I purchased 500ml of Club Orange in Laragh for an outrageous €1.60, set myself for the one hour climb, habitually stopped to consume the drink half way at the rocks. Once again I wondered if I would make it. I could hardly turn back now! But here I am to tell the tale.

Why did I submit myself to such agony - was the prize really worth those two climbs? I don't have a clear answer, except that exercise generally is good for one and it's a bit of a challenge. It is sort of mixed up with this glory of tribulation (is this a euphemism for masochism?)

---------

The cardboard cutout engineer.

Working on some engineering issue at the BBC Research Department there were times when one needed input from another engineer. It was a common experience that, after you had made the effort to find someone and then had conveyed the problem in words, the answer came to you before the other person had had a chance to chip in. And so we reckoned it would do just as well to have a room containing a cardboard cut-out engineer to whom we could share our problems.

The hottest day so far

Yesterday was the hottest day of the year both here in Ireland and in the UK. I celebrated this with a gruelling bike ride over the Sally and Wicklow gaps.  Stats: 47.9 miles, 11.6mph average moving, maximum elevation 498m (Sally Gap), total duration 04:31, one litre liquid, very hot but very beautiful especially the Old Military Road segment from Sally Gap to Laragh.

Mud

Last night I watched a film called Mud. Like most fiction the plot is full of holes and the end is I suppose intentionally ambiguous. But one thing the film does well is in defining those two much bandied and ill-used words "good" and "love". Towards the end Mud tells protagonist Ellis that he is good and without doubt this is true; immature and mixed up though he is. Ellis returns the compliment but Mud and the viewer are not so sure. The briefly but oft spoken leitmotif "I love you" that starts as a platitude, grows to a hope, but becomes reality when Ellis wakes, after being treated for a snake bite, in the company of his dysfunctional parents.

It seems to me that "good" is by very nature one sided - it does not demand and often fails to be acknowledged. But "love", despite what we are taught, is not really love until it is returned.  It is like conception: unless the sperm and the egg come together and unite, no fruit can follow.  One can be good (and One is) but it takes two to love.

And I am not alone in ranking this film highly, i.e. one that I could gladly watch again.

This morning I read of one Bhupinder Singh, a volunteer handling donations, said [of survivors of the disastrous fire at Grenfell Tower]: "It is times like this that the best of our community comes out. This is where you find out how good it is to live in England and how good it is to be a Londoner." Doubtless London is not unique in this way and, living in Ireland, I no longer think the British are the bee's knees, and being British (or at least English) I may be biased, but there is something in me that concurs with Bhupinder's sentiment, ethnic minority though he or she may be from the name!

Thou shalt not nine

No more news about T, but here's what the mother of the boy who was electrocuted has just posted on her FB page:

Brothers

It's been a super rough day for my baby. He's had some fingers amputated, developed a cough, fevers, had to have an x ray and blood test. Things have to get better from here. #ashercraig You are the strongest little man ever and God has HUGE plans for you despite all these troubles. So proud of my entire family and support network. We'd be so broken without family and God in this.

Now if that don't tug at your heartstrings but at the same time bring admiration for that mother, I don't know what will.

Historic thunderstorm hits

Historic because in the 35 years I have lived here this is only the second overhead thunderstorm that I can recall. The first was ages ago and it was particularly memorable because it sort of circled us so lasted quite a long time, long enough for me to go running in it. I stood in the forestry area with rain sluicing over me Mowgli style, lightning all around.

But this one, which occurred yesterday evening, chose as its debut our Thursday meeting of all times. How can one properly enjoy a thunderstorm when one is meant to be in a meeting? It turned out that I missed a bit of it anyway because I noticed Meg (the dog) wandering past the window in the pouring rain, and then wandering back somewhat desultorily. Meg is also historic - not only virtually deaf but also quite arthritic and has just had a stroke - so a bit decrepit.  I look at her and wonder which of us is the more decrepit: I think, I hope for my sake, she has overtaken me (dog years passing somewhat faster than man years).

So I left the meeting to go and rescue Meg. She often ensconces herself in the porch of my office so that where I initially took her. The entrance to my office is at the lowest corner of the courtyard so is subject to flash flooding: the porch floor being not much higher than the outside. You then step up from the porch to the office proper. This corner of the courtyard was starting to flood by this time and I soon realised that the porch was in jeopardy too so I transferred said bedraggled and somewhat senile dog into my office. By this time she was shivering with wet and cold.

It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old--three, was it, or four?--never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days. Until the water rose above the threshold and started flooding the porch. At its zenith I suppose there was 3 or 4 cm of water over the porch floor - thankfully a ways to go before gaining my office!

Meg ensconced

The flood waters rising

The zenith

What it looked like outside

Only later did we realise that the storm had taken out our PBX (local telephone exchange). On opening it this morning there was evidence of a discharge and the whole thing was dead. I have ordered a replacement. In retrospect if I had unplugged the incoming lines the unit might have been saved. Retrospect is not all that helpful.

Moreover, this afternoon I was called to a neighbour's house where the storm had destroyed a plug-top adaptor supplying their cordless 'phone, had fused a couple of outside lights, and had exploded the fuse inside their automatic gate controller.

I don't think any of these artefacts were due to direct hits: a direct lighting hit would surely be much more destructive. Rather it is just static "in the air" but a bit scary how susceptible electronic gadgetry is to an EMP. How fragile we are when faced with an Act Of God.

Trees

Trees, along with many other natural features, are so beautiful. I took these pictures on our property a few weeks ago after it had rained and whilst the leaves were still fresh.  You can of course click on the images to increase their size.

Strictly this last photo is not a tree but it somehow found its way in.  But it is our land.

Moreton Bay Rail Link

This post emanates from our recent trip to Mango Hill to visit our daughter K. Mainly for the purposes of running (barefoot) I had in advance prepared a map for my OruxMaps app using MOBAC and there are screenshots of some of the resulting tracks in my recent post where I draw attention to the cycle/pedestrian way that accompanies the rail link.

Coming from Ireland where such infrastructure is sadly lacking, I remain pleasantly gobsmacked by the proliferation of cycle/pedestrian ways throughout Brisbane.  This one that follows the railway is great but leaves me wondering - why would I cycle, run or walk when I could take a train or, alternatively, why would I pay to take a train when I could cycle, run or walk?

The housing estate K's house is on is still being built but I had not realised until today that the nearby rail link joining Petrie to Kippa Ring is also new, being first opened in October 2016.  Doubtless this has in turn spawned the housing developments. The YouTube clip below is a time lapse of the construction of Mango Hill station.

The track is of course the usual Queensland narrow gauge 1,067 mm (3 ft 6 in) as is evident from my picture below.  Traction is obtained from the overhead catenary at 25kV. As I could not figure where the rail-side transformers get their power from I took a picture of one so that I could research later. But although I found the manufacturer I am still in the dark about how the units are connected.

Thou shalt not eight

In science we consider a theory to be ratified if observation of its effects are repeatable. In contrast J reminded us in church yesterday that miracles are not "repeatable".  Just because a particular miraculous healing has been witnessed does not necessarily imply that all such sufferers can expect healing. Thus miracles cannot, by definition, be proven to have occurred.

The boy T with leukemia whose progress I have been following has now been discharged from hospital and will from now on be seen in "Day Beds".  The consultant is really pleased with his progress and the parents are calling this an ongoing miracle, a notion I am prepared to subscribe to, and have asked for continued prayer. But he's not out of the woods yet.

Meanwhile I have become involved with another case that needs ongoing prayer. Two year old A sustained "full thickness burns to both his hands, has had three surgeries already and has a lot more ahead of him" after being electrocuted when grasping a broken power socket board. The prognosis is another three weeks or so in hospital, skin grafts, and maybe hospital visits and ongoing surgeries for the next 14 years of his life. If you, my reader, have any faith please add A to your prayer list.

Barefoot running Mango Hill

Some of the longer barefoot runs I did in Mango Hill, Brisbane. The existence of a track does not imply a recommended right of way as I cheated a few times but generally I followed paved cycle or pedestrian routes.

5.63 miles on 18th May

10.7 miles on 21st May

4.95 miles on 26th May

9.16 miles om 28th May

6.97 miles on 30th May

8.42 miles om 1st June

Most of the pavements are concrete and the concrete is made from the local, very abrasive sand, which eroded the soles of my feet so badly that after my last run my foot was bleeding. The photo shows my foot after the penultimate run - but it is amazing how the human body copes.

Poor foot

Maryvale Rd

Petrie - Kippa Ring line

Morning Dew, North Lakes golf course

Cycle-way crossing Freshwater Creek 

Path alongside Freshwater Creek

Close to K's residence

One of the North Lakes

Balstrup Road South

Kippa Ring service leaving Murrumba Station

 

Cycle-way crossing Bruce Highway

Petrie and Kippa Ring yet to be explored!