20230912

2023 Foray No.7 - Coney Island and Queen Maeve


My Free Travel card was burning a hole in my pocket again. It was Sligo this time and, checking the map, I discovered Coney Island and Queen Maeve's cairn. Besides, the hot weather was due to end next week giving me a narrow window of opportunity. Shall I, shan't I? But sometimes you just have to do a thing, however crazy it seems. 

Rumour has it that Coney Island was so named after its proliferation of rabbits, however I didn't see any. The tidal causeway to the island is firm sand under foot and good for vehicles. I think it is natural but, just in case, it is marked with 14 numbered pillars. A local told me I would hardly had been in danger wading across even at high tide. The tides vary in depth of course, and combined with Weather this would not always be the case.

Leaving home by the customary bus at the bottom of our road I got to Dublin Connolly and from there boarded a train to Sligo. Then by local bus route S2: the driver kindly dropped me at the end of the Coney Island access road from which I walked across the causeway, through the little village and thence to my destination, the beach on the far side. Which ticked all the boxes except perhaps for not being totally people free! When I arrived there was only one other person. Having set up camp in a spot apparently designed for the purpose, I asked her (she was reading or sunbathing and wasn't going anywhere) if she would have a problem should I swim naked at the other, far end of the beach. She was fine with that, so I did. 

Later in the day a few more people arrived including a small camper van. You will see from my photos that I loved the place, and can thoroughly recommend it. The access by tidal causeway puts off the hesitant: on the mainland side I had spoken to several vehicle owners and encouraged them to cross but they chickened out.  Which leaves a beautiful beach only to the locals (who apparently are not that interested in swimming) and to folk like me, and thankfully there aren't many of them. 

I walked around the island's perimeter - a bit short of two hours - then ate my meager dinner, listened to the whole of Bruckner No.8 and then slept, waking only once to don an extra layer, until reveille at 06:30. Breakfast was a small bar of CDM (which had completely melted the day before but the new packaging prevented it leaking) washed down with lukewarm water, then striking camp and setting off southwards to Knocknarea and Queen Maeve's burial place. Apparently she was buried upright in full armour, facing her enemy in the north. One should not, and I did not climb the cairn. Thankfully it has not yet been necessary to erect a fence around it.

You can view my photos here.


20230826

2023 Foray No.6 - Kinnagoe Bay

Kinnagoe Bay


After I got home they asked me - did I enjoy it? Enjoy? Is that the right word? Sure I enjoy being on my own, but the walks were hard work and the night a bit cold. Enjoy? - well it was a challenge and that is perhaps my main reason for these jaunts. Certainly the north of Donegal is cooler than home near Blessington. And the midges were Biblical.


I took the 7 am bus from the end of our road to Dublin, crossed the Liffey to Connolly station for the 09:30 Belfast express (no USB charging points), then the Belfast service for Derry to Bellarena (charging points and good wifi). From there a long walk to Magilligan point (8.5km and it rained contrary to yesterday's forecast, enough to drench my raincoat). Then by ferry crossing the border and across to Greencastle where Jack’s convenience store supplied me with fruit cake and Club orange.


Showing outward (grey) and return routes

From Greencastle, another long road walk (8.5km) climbing over the Warren, through Glenagivney and Mossy Glen to finally arrive at Kinnagoe Bay, a bit later than estimated. Having chosen a suitable bit of grass for my tent, albeit a bit on a slant - the midges (actually no-see-ums) were seriously out of control - I erected my tent as quickly as possible whilst fending off swarms, then dived in through the narrowest opening with all my stuff, but regrettably lots of midges decided to come too. I grabbed a handful of fruit cake (for dinner) and magnesium tablets (to ward off cramp, thankfully none came) then dove into my sleeping bag and pulled it shut over my head to ward off further bites, even though the evening was yet young.  Despite this I soon dropped off to sleep, waking in the dark, rather cold, and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. I woke up properly a bit before 6am and, having earlier revised my planned 7am start because of my late arrival, and being still cold any thought of surveying the bay, let alone attempting a swim were abandoned in favour of getting on the road and warming up a.s.a.p, and thus I arrived in Moville almost an hour ahead of schedule.


I was not the only wild camper at Kinnagoe, and there were several RV’s over-nighting in the small car park. Clearly this place is known for not being disturbed by the powers that be.


The walk to Moville was predictably long (11.2km). The bus had been advertised on the web as starting at "Farrens Newsagent" however I now know there is no such place. There were no signs or road markings suggesting a bus stop. The locals directed me and it turns out Farrens is now a coffee shop, so I got tea (nice girl and only 2 euro) and availed of their loo (very clean) and seating (my legs needed it). The bus was immaculately clean, on time and I got me a window seat, and so into Derry. Where it was raining, but very brief shower so no need to dig out my raincoat.


Over the curly Peace Bridge (pedestrian) and so to the train station (1.5km). Here the announced place name is “Derry-Londonderry” all in one mouthful, thus kowtowing rather awkwardly to both sides of the divide. The station has a ticket office but it isn't manned. Apparently you get a ticket from the inspector on the train. But no, you get one at the gate onto the platform. There are no signs to direct newcomers so I and several others were briefly at a loss. I finally boarded the train which was clean, with lots of empty seats, USB charging points, and good wifi. And so to Belfast Lanyon Place where there was a long queue for the Dublin service but despite this we all fitted with space to spare so don't know why they queued us. Strange how different train stations have different methods for boarding, methods which the weary traveller is kind of expected to know.


And so to Dublin with time to spare before the 17:30 bus, so another loo stop and another tea at Connolly station: O'Briens has best price at 2.80 euro which includes a “free” chocolate!


My pictures


Irish and NI rail network


20230709

2023 Foray No.5 Limerick Greenway

 

My track from Limerick to Tralee

Total track statistics over two days whilst cycling: 117.7 miles, average speed 11.1mph, elevation gain 1062m, maximum altitude (at Barnagh) 247m.

Home to Heuston station 24.6 miles, Limerick to Banna 69 miles, Banna to Tralee 8.6 miles, Sallins to home 15.5 miles 

It will be clear by now that these "forays" I describe are going to be mostly about railways and the recent spate of "greenways" that have sprung up around the island of Ireland. The amount of money that is being spent on these is insane and I am riding (literally) on this generosity as there are no entrance fees and even the train fare is free with my free-travel pass. The Limerick Greenway follows the path of the former Limerick to Tralee railway line, and has been paved in smooth tarmac the whole way.

My plan was twofold: to ride the Limerick to Ballybrophy branch line, and to "do" the Limerick Greenway. Within this plan the major challenge was biking from Limerick to Tralee via the Greenway, overnighting in the dunes at Banna Strand. I had been planning it for several weeks and circumstances meant that it had to be this week or else delay for at least a month. But the weather forecast was disturbing and so I vacillated like the Mock Turtle's will you, won't you? with every change of the forecast. I made my final decision to go ahead the day before departure and once I had done so I had better (though it turned out to be largely unfounded) peace of mind. Lewis describes this act of making a decision rather well in Perelandra:

The thing still seemed impossible. But gradually something happened to him which had happened to him only twice before in his life. It had happened once while he was trying to make up his mind to do a very dangerous job in the last war. It had happened again while he was screwing his resolution to go and see a certain man in London and make to him an excessively embarrassing confession which justice demanded. In both cases the thing had seemed a sheer impossibility: he had not thought but known that, being what he was, he was psychologically incapable of doing it; and then, without any apparent movement of the will, as objective and unemotional. as the reading on a dial, there had arisen before him, with perfect certitude, the knowledge 'about this time tomorrow you will have done the impossible'. The same thing happened now. 

I remind myself of the principle every time I go to the dentist.

I knew, without much doubt, that I would encounter rain and wind, even though the total daily amount of precipitation looked reasonably low in the forecasts. And rain and wind are the enemies of biking.  

It was deceptively dry on all but the last half hour of my journey to Limerick. To catch the one and only morning train from Ballybrophy to Limerick I had to take the 08:00 inter-city from Heuston heading to Cork, and this in turn implied biking to Heuston (Dublin), and leaving home no later than 05:30. In the event, and due to my habitual nervousness about missing boats, I left shortly after 05:00 giving me plenty of time for the loo and to purchase some Club Orange.

At Ballybrophy (the first stop) I transferred to the awaiting branch line two-coach train.  Although all Iarnród Éireann (Irish Rail) trains are to a high standard, this service is like another world. It pootles along at between 30 and 45mph, repeatedly sounding its horn before frequent farm crossings. There are still semaphore signals (see my pictures below) although I am not sure whether they are in use - after all with only two services in each direction per day the line hardly needs signals.  Although passenger numbers may be low and the service is slow (it takes almost an hour longer than travelling from Limerick to Dublin via Limerick Junction), the line was recently upgraded to CWR (welded rail - see video) so it looks like there are no plans to terminate the service. I hope not anyway: I enjoyed every minute and I'm hoping some enterprising driver will make a cab view video.

Upgrading the line to CWR

As the train neared Limerick it started to rain so I donned my rain jacket before venturing from the station. And so started the real challenge: getting on for 8 hours with long periods of persistent though not heavy rain. But heavy enough to saturate the jacket. And a head-wind to boot.

The Greenway does not disappoint (apart from the weather). It is paved all the way in smooth tarmac (why are these cycle ways called green?) and, speaking of ways, it is advertised as "starting in Rathkeale, on through Ardagh, Newcastle West, Barnagh, Templeglantine and finishing in Abbeyfeale" but in fact it continues past Abbeyfeale "to the Limerick / Kerry border". I cycled on wondering what might await me at the border. To my delight and some amusement the greenway continued on, only now under the name of "Kingdom of Kerry Greenway". The Kerry website purports this goes "from Listowel to the Limerick border" with not a suggestion that it in fact seamlessly connects with the Limerick Greenway! Likewise the Limerick website has no mention of the Kerry Greenway. 

There's an old railway tunnel to explore at Barnagh. Incorporating it into the greenway (where strictly it belongs) appeared to have been an afterthought, with the original greenway running parallel to the tunnel section. Coming from the Limerick direction it is necessary to cross the busy N21, but a fence bars the way and there is no formal crossing. Even after risking one's life to get across it is not immediately obvious how to reach the tunnel. But after traversing the tunnel to its west end a purpose built underpass under the N21 returns the rider to the greenway proper.

Barnagh tunnel diversion

Since the internet was strangely silent on the subject, I provide the map above (OpenTopoMap excerpt annotated in blue for the original greenway, and in purple for the necessary diversion to the tunnel). Note - it is necessary to overshoot in order to avoid climbing over the fence between greenway and N21. Click on the image to enlarge it. The black rectangle is the Barnagh Greenway Hub which might have served me tea and buns had I the inclination (literally) to climb the very steep access from the tunnel greenway after already climbed the incline to Barnagh.

After Barnagh there is a well earned downhill section down to Abbeyfeale. And thence to Listowel where the now Kingdom of Kerry Greenway deposited me in Listowel within a few hundred yards of an Aldi and a Lidl. The latter provided me with fodder (scones, fruit cake and orange juice). 

My legs being now weary, the rain persistent, and the wind in my face, it seemed like an eternity until I at last found the first sign for Banna Strand. I prayed for a remission in the rain and thankfully one came, just long enough for me to erect my tent, climb inside and strip off to dry. I did not read, watch a video or listen to music. I ate my fodder with due thankfulness, then fought cramp (took some magnesium tablets, drank, consumed chocolate for its sugar content and did leg exercises), then climbed into my sleeping bag and slept the sleep of the just.

My camp site

Morning came and it was still raining. I had planned to explore the beach, maybe even swim, but the wind was cold, the rain wet. I snuggled in my bag a little longer then took my breakfast (more of the same) and prayed for remission and, when it came, hurriedly struck camp and set off for Tralee. It started to rain again, heavily enough. The number of heavy goods vehicles on that road is biblical, and there is no hard shoulder. One wonder where in Kerry can all that traffic be going?

And thus I arrived at Tralee Casement train station and settled down in its waiting room with a hot mug of tea and a book from the station "library" (there were only three books to choose from).

And the rest is history - the Tralee Mallow line (see my photo at the level crossing which I had photographed from the road in my last post), the intercity to Portlaoise, the commuter service to Sallins and Naas, thence the final bike from there to home.

My pictures can be seen here.






20230702

2023 Foray No.4 Carrauntoohil

 or... Carrauntoohil with JR and M


Our track: 7.08 miles, elevation gain 874m, highest elevation 1041m, average speed 1.82mph.

Invited by JR to join his expedition, we parked in the municipal Carrauntoohil car park and set off, the weather forecast suggesting some cloud, some sun, no rain all of which turned out to be true.  The intent had been to climb via Brother O'Sheas gulley, past Lough Cummeenoughter the highest (and maybe coldest) lake in Ireland to the saddle then left towards Carrauntoohil. We got that far but the summit was windy, cold and in cloud cover. The intent was to retrace back the the saddle then beyond to The Bones and along the ridge to Beenkeragh (the second highest in Ireland) then descend via Hag's Tooth. We waited (whilst luncheoning) for the cloud to disperse but as it showed no signs of doing so we chickened out and reverted to Plan B, the easier descent via the Devil's Ladder. At which point the cloud cleared.

Here are my photos.


20230622

2023 Foray No.3 Old Rail Trail

The purpose of this trip, beyond the all consuming desire to explore nature and railways and make good use of my Free Travel card, bicycle, sometime tent and other paraphernalia, was to suss out the Old Rail Trail Greenway which follows a former railway linking Athlone and Mullingar, and the Phoenix Park tunnel.

The Old Rail Trail Greenway - 42km

This was a day trip, so I travelled light, cycling to Sallins (Naas) to catch the 10:50am (bikes not allowed on commuter services before 10am) service to Portarlington where I would change for Athlone.

When travelling by train with my trusty Trek 1.2, I look out for other bikers supposing that they are more likely to know the spot along the platform which will match the only carriage bike door. There was a boy with a heavy looking bike at Sallins. I urgently needed the loo and, figuring he was a local, asked him where I might find one. He told me, somewhat nervously, that there were none at the station but there would be one in the train. This, and his propensity to take pictures of passing trains, identified him as a fellow ferroequinologist or siderodromomaniac. After this brief exchange he wandered away with his bike. I reckoned he didn't want my company. But as there was only one bike compartment the two of us ended up together again, but an electric scooter-er preceded us and plonked his machine in bicycle slot one. Our friend used the only other slot but, not having the necessary dorsal muscles, he needed help to lift the bike in. It remained for me to stand with my machine in the lobby. Our friend was disembarking at the next station and again needed my help to first lift the bike from the slot and then over the top of mine which was fouling the lobby, and we had to do this before the door could be opened to secure his retreat. He was duly appreciative and I figured I had made a friend. But then (I mused) the likelihood that I would ever meet him again, or even recognise him if I did, was sadly remote. 


At Portarlington I had a half-hour wait for the service to Athlone. During that time I ventured out to nearby Carrick Woods and its curious folly nicknamed "the spire" which of course had to be found and duly photographed for the album. The picture above was taken by William Forster back in 1852 and the spire may have been part of an old windmill on the hill which was converted into a landscape folly as part of the estate for Viscount Carlow at Emo Court. Climbing a small hill through a beautiful broadleaf wood to find a ancient folly is something that one just has to do in an odd half hour. Especially as there is a waymarked trail to the Spire (1.5km, 40mins, moderate) that will bring you to the entrance of this wonderful folly and my challenge included getting there and back (less than a mile) in the available time, cognisant that Iarnród Éireann waits for no man.


Once ensconced in Athlone I had to find the beginning of the trail (end of green trail bottom left in the aerial view above) which was curiously lacking in signage. I ended up crossing the mighty river Shannon by accident in this pursuit but, once found, there was no chance of loosing it given its straight course and the still extant old track alongside complete with rails. Did they intend at some point to resurrect the line (the rotting wooden sleepers would need to be replaced), or is it just not worth the bother to salvage the rails?    

Whilst motoring along the greenway it seemed like I was being followed by an electric storm - one clap of thunder seemed right overhead. Thunderstorms had been forecast and for this reason I had packed my waterproof. But I managed to avoid the rain until I reached Mullingar but even there it was insufficient to wet me. To use up spare time before my 5pm train to Dublin I explored the Royal Canal Way and found it sort of paved - dressed with loose small grit which my narrow tires accepted without too much complaint. 

And so to Drumcondra (north Dublin). My service was running 10 minutes late and I feared I would miss my connection, but in fact I had 5 minutes in hand, enough to cross to the other platform for the Phoenix Tunnel service to Sallins. 

Built in 1877, the Tunnel was opened for passenger traffic on 21 Nov 2016 to link the rail network emanating from Heuston station serving the West to that from Connolly serving North-East and South-East.

Trip stats: 33.3 miles, average speed 12.6 mph, elevation gain 146m. This does not include from home to Sallins and back again in the evening.

Here are my photos.


 

20230504

2023 Foray No.2 Waterford Greenway

 Waterford Greenway


It’s always good to have a goal. In this case the goal was to cycle the Waterford Greenway (46km of free-for-use, dedicated, paved cycleway / footpath on the bed of a former railway line - more on that later), which implied an overnight stay. The Greenway boasts three original viaducts and a tunnel, and numerous other bridges including a new bridge over the N25. The details included balancing tent and sleeping bag on my bike, with backpack for the rest of the stuff even we minimalistic humans require to exist, cycling from home to Sallins (Naas), then train (using my free travel pass) with bike to Waterford (I had to change at Kildare), thence following the Greenway to its terminus at Dungarvan. Potter about a while, visit Lidl and finally to succumb to fish and chips, and after consumption thereof setting off for Trá na mBó on Ireland’s majestic Copper Coast, where I made camp on a grassy promontory. 


Without doubt Trá na mBó is an idyllic spot and A1 for wild camping. The name translates disappointedly to “Strand of the Cows”. The Irish is more charming. In old Irish translates as ‘cow’. The prefix ‘m’ is a mutation (i.e. modification of the initial consonant of a word) so that a mBó translates as ‘their cow’. Or ‘cows’. Leastways I think so.


The night was fitful, not warm and with the leg cramps I always get after arduous cycling, but I survived. I got up at around 7am with the original intent of frying bacon. But Trá na mBó had lost its charm - it was overcast, cold and windy and all I wanted to do was to hasten to warmer climes, so I struck camp without breakfast, travelling north to Kilmacthomas where I rejoined the Greenway and found myself a bit of grass on which to stand my new camping stove and cook my bacon.

Track statistics

  1. Tuesday: Home to Sallins (Naas) 13.2 miles average speed moving 11.65mph

  2. Waterford to Lidl Dungarvan 30.4 miles (48.7km)

  3. Dungarvan to Trá na mBó 13.1 miles, average speed moving 8.95mph, elevation gain 274m

  4. Wednesday Trá na mBó to Waterford 23.7 miles average speed 8.1mph elevation gain 243m 

  5. Newbridge to home 15.2 miles average speed moving 8.7mph elevation gain 250m

Grand total distance on bike 95.6 miles


My pictures can be found here.


Check out the Suir Valley narrow gauge railway here where can also be found:

The Waterford, Dungarvan and Lismore Line was still not linked to the main network of rail lines, to overcome this problem, the Red Iron Bridge was built in 1906 and after this passengers could travel directly to Rosslare. Many wealthy families living in London bought summer houses in Killarney and could leave Paddington by the evening express train to Fishguard complete with children and domestic staff. On arriving at Fishguard the train ran alongside the ship and passengers were able to transfer, thus allowing immediate departure. The ship journey was at least half an hour faster than nowadays, and the train was waiting on the pier at Rosslare when the boat arrived alongside, facilitating another prompt departure. There were of course no customs delays in those days. The train stopped at Waterford around breakfast time, breakfast being served in the dining car of the train. On arrival in Mallow the train took the Kerry line from Mallow, arriving at Killarney around lunchtime.


Sadly so many of these branch lines have now been closed. Thankfully the branch to Killarney and Tralee is still operational.


Kilmacthomas viaduct drone video courtesy of JJ's World Tour:





20230415

2023 Foray No.1 Tralee

Now that Covid has (or the official rules concerning Covid have) retreated somewhat, my Free Travel pass is burning a hole in my wallet. So I decided on a leisurely beginning. The rule of the game is that the trip must cost nothing, or at least very little. That rules out using a car or a B&B or purchasing much in the way of kit.

I took the 07:10 bus from the end of our road not yet fully decided on a destination, and ended up getting off at the Square, Tallaght and taking the Luas tram to Dublin Heuston station and boarding the train for Cork. At Mallow I changed to the single-track Killarney line and rode all the way to its terminus at Tralee. Here I disembarked somewhat perfunctorily - to convince myself and any interested railway staff that I had arrived at my final destination (they were not interested) - and then re-boarded. I guess I was at my final destination there for less than 10 minutes before the train retraced its wheels back to Mallow, thence to Heuston, the Square, and finally back home. This must be the furthest you can go from my home in one day using public transport. The total cost (to me) of this trip was the €3.80 I rashly spent for an overpriced and underrated coffee on the train.


On my last foray at Killarney station I pointed out the strange track alignment indicated above. To depart from Killarney towards Tralee the train has to reverse and come to a halt in a siding. The driver then switches ends (he walks through the train corridor to do this) and the points are set so that the train, going forward, now branches to the right and thus towards Tralee. With a reverse procedure on the return journey. Which process takes time and must be a trial for the driver.


Sun rise over our lake, from the bus stop

Loughmore Castle

Carrauntoohil over there somewhere



20230329

Is speaking in tongues a thing?

There is not much doubt about it being a "thing": more to the point what kind of a thing is it? The Bible accounts may be referring to a genuine experience but my own contribution, which I took to be from God, I now consider to be fake. Please - I am talking about my own experience. If you claim to speak in tongues and are edified by so doing, so be it.


In the précis of my spiritual life posted elsewhere I alluded to this spiritual gift of speaking in tongues, hereafter "Tongues". In our church, as is common in Pentecostal and charismatic circles, Tongues is considered a confirmation or indication that one has received the baptism in the Holy Spirit, or "The Baptism". Many years ago, wanting to "go on" with God, and encouraged to do so by the Christians I respected and looked up to, I earnestly sought The Baptism. I was counselled to ask God for this it and then accept its receipt in faith on the basis of Matthew 7:11. And similarly with Tongues, only here some tangible action was required, so I started (as I had been taught) by voicing nonsense syllables. With practice I became better at doing this. But both then and now it was totally under my control and thus did not seem to be supernatural as one might expect a gift of the Holy Spirit would be. All this I now know is familiar ground to many, for example per the links I give below.

But not to all. I knew someone who had had much more "miraculous" experience of receiving The Baptism in which they suddenly and spontaneously erupted into Tongues accompanied by feelings of ecstasy. I cannot comment further on such experiences other than it did not happen to me in this way. Perhaps, you will say, was I not earnest enough, or did I not have sufficient faith? Such criticisms are common but not helpful.

From then until recently I spoke in Tongues when it seemed appropriate and I naively assumed I was on course, although I did have recurring doubts. True, in private prayer, Tongues could be handy if one just did not know how else to pray, perhaps because of the feeling it gave of having accomplished something.

What has made me particularly sceptical was when a preacher invited anyone in the congregation who wanted to receive The Baptism to come forward. Older believers would then be asked to gather around and lay hands on the candidate - let's call him John. The preacher would then claim The Baptism for John whilst the others gabbled away in Tongues. At this point John was himself expected to erupt into Tongues. More often than not he would not, so then the preacher would tell him to open his mouth and make noises: almost anything would do initially. Meanwhile he would press more heavily on and shake John's forehead amid even more fervent prayers from the others. The process became very stressful and would go on for what seemed ages until John either gave in and made up suitable noises or the preacher would cop out, explaining that not everyone spoke in Tongues immediately, telling John that he should spend time privately on his knees... The palaver was intensely emotional and very pressurised and I hated it. Surely if Tongues was a gift of God it ought to be more given more graciously: spontaneously and obviously.

This procedure is doubtless based on Acts 19:6, except that in that case there is no suggestion that the men were pressurised by Paul. 

There's a lot on the internet on the subject: much of it from advocates proselytising and non-believers or cessationists debunking. Finding a fair treatment is more of a challenge. Here are a few more level-headed articles that align in some way with my own thinking:

An atheist speaking in tongues

Paper on spontaneous and context-dependent Tongues

History and origin?

Mentioning effect of peer pressure

Is Tongues nowadays fake?

But the bottom line (for me) is my own experience. Since I choose each syllable that I utter I conclude it is not Holy Spirit inspired and thus it is fake. Perhaps real Tongues is a thing but I regret that it is outside my own experience. And this in turn makes me doubt whether I ever received The Baptism. Which reduces me to being just an "ordinary, first-feast Christian" and I suppose with this I must remain content: but so saying another nail has pierced the coffin of my disillusionment. 

PS. However... on re-reading this I figure I have not explained myself very well and I can predict all manner of counter arguments and comments, like "where is your faith, brother?" But I've said elsewhere that faith is not a ethereal concept - faith without works is dead. 


20230228

How God becomes real


This post has been in draft for several months. The problem is that I do not want to misrepresent others or myself or, if you like, I am not yet 100% convinced, and there does not even seem the possibility of ever becoming fully sure, about my subject. Which is: how and when and whether God speaks to us.

Since my previous post Hearing God speak I have been somewhat surprised to find serious investigation into this phenomenon. My title comes from the book by Tanya M. Luhrmann. You can listen to her 2015 TEDx talk. I challenge you to read her books and judge for yourself. In her Preface, and, as a taster, she writes: People don't (easily) have faith in gods and spirits. People do not, in fact, behave as if gods and spirits are real in the way that everyday objects are real... To have a sustained commitment to the reality of invisible agents... [e.g. God] someone must interpret the world through a special way of thinking, expecting, and remembering. I will call this a faith frame. That faith frame coexists alongside the ordinary ways people make sense of the world, and sometimes contradicts them. The priest says: this is my body, but it looks like a dry cracker. The sermon insists: my God can do anything, but God didn't stop the divorce. And so faith is hard - particularly when an invisible other is supposed to love you, care for you, and keep you safe. 

She goes on with six further points which form a roadmap to the following chapters, and then assures us that Nothing I say here speaks for or against the genuine reality of gods and spirits.

Luhrmann has done her homework. In her prequel "When God talks back" she writes: I found the church in my own backyard, a few blocks from where I lived in Chicago... I went in looking for a nondenominational church that taught people to hear God speak back, but I didn't go back for months after my first visit because nobody did anything to suggest they were much different from the people in the liberal mainstream churches I'd known as a child. Nobody spoke in tongues or fell over in spiritual bliss. The pastor... explained a book of the Bible chapter by chapter, as if he were lecturing to an undergraduate class... People were taking notes. Many of them had their Bibles out, and they were staring at the text as if they were trying to analyze a difficult poem

I finally went back for a second visit because I had done enough reading to figure out that this was in fact exactly the kind of church in which God was not a distant, abstract, principle but a person among persons. I stayed for two years. On a Sunday, the service in this church begins with music... at a church like the Vineyard, music is prayer. The church sets aside a full thirty minutes for the music at the beginning of the service, and they call this section of the service "worship?' There are no hymnals, just PowerPoint-projected lyrics of songs people know so well that many sing them with their eyes shut... The techies dim the lights. Some people stand, eyes closed, palms out and upward, swaying slightly, their cheeks sometimes wet with tears. Some sit and rest their foreheads on clasped hands. Some kneel in prayer. Occasionally someone lies prostrate or dances in the open space to the side of the seating area...

All this seems very familiar to me. Luhrmann goes on to say that what some claim as God speaking is in fact an artefact of the human brain - voices in the head or "self-talk" as described in Kahneman's book "Thinking Fast and Slow". But so saying she does not rule out the existence of God.

And neither do I. I am not an atheist. Yet. Indeed, how dare you or I question out of hand (as some do), and on not much more than a whim, the experience of others or even the Biblical record? But I do question the evidence I see (or fail to see) in myself; my lack of the calibre of faith that says "All things are possible for one who believes".  For I too have in the past reckoned that I have heard God speak only to become disillusioned by lack of corresponding action. Or maybe it is that action is on its way but I am just not patient enough.

I realise that I am repeating things I have alluded to in previous posts, like Orual's belligerent mantra: Did you ever remember whose the girl was? She was mine. Mine. Do you not know what the word means? Mine! You're thieves, seducers. That's my wrong. I'll not complain (not now) that you're blood-drinkers and man-eaters. I'm past that..."

"Enough," said the judge. 

There was utter silence all round me. And now for the first time I knew what I had been doing. While I was reading, it had, once and again, seemed strange to me that the reading took so long; for the book was a small one. Now I knew that I had been reading it over and over — perhaps a dozen times. I would have read it forever, quick as I could, starting the first word again almost before the last was out of my mouth, if the judge had not stopped me. And the voice I read it in was strange to my ears. There was given to me a certainty that this, at last, was my real voice. There was silence in the dark assembly long enough for me to have read my book out yet again. At last the judge spoke. 

"Are you answered?" he said. 

"Yes," said I.  [Lewis "Till we have faces"]

My own mantra is relevant because (as I once intimated) upon it hangs, to a large degree, my ability to hear from God.  In that instance, looking back, I thought I had heard God; now I find that my judgment has shifted, that I am more inclined to admit that I may have deluded myself. And, oh, what freedom, what release comes with such acknowledgment!  And yet, and yet... there definitely was a need that my deluded self had cared so much about. Any freedom I gained was entirely selfish. The whole episode remains one of my most intense and poignant personal battles and contributes to my views expressed in this post. Perhaps one day in looking back it will all make more sense.

---oOo---

You'll find plenty of other material on the internet dealing with "how to hear God" from slushy evangelical advice-columnists to die-hard atheist denial. I prefer to try to analyse what goes on inside me and what I reckon goes in inside those I interact with. Or to check out the Biblical record (for examples see here) where I find the Voice was often external to the subject. Whilst undeniably miraculous, it is hard to explain such accounts solely in terms of imagination. In some accounts the Voice was in a dream which, I grant, could be imagination. Even when the channel was not specified like "the word of the LORD came to the prophet Zechariah...", in this case what follows is 14 chapters of verbiage plus a few visions which do not sound to me like self-talk. So I reckon that, should God actually speak to you, you ought not to be in any doubt. Gideon doubted his ability to fulfill what the angel said, but there is no suggestion that he doubted that he had heard.

The prevalence in evangelical or charismatic folk to expect God to speak inside their heads colours their concept of a "personal relationship" with God or Jesus. I can, if I choose, carry out a dialogue in my head. If I then associate one side with God speaking, my perceived relationship with God becomes more pally. Which sucks. For if God exists at all, He surely is all powerful, all knowing, far above anything my puny mind can imagine. Whereas inside my head I can dictate what this perceived "other" should say. If you don't believe me, try it!

I've already noted that Google and God not only start with the same letter. What if, when AI has reached maturity and has become ubiquitous, God is supplanted by something akin to Jane (who speaks to Ender via a jewel in his ear) who first found herself between the stars, her thoughts playing among the vibrations of the philotic strands of the ansible net. The computers of the Hundred Worlds were hands and feet, eyes and ears to her. She spoke every language that had ever been committed to computers and read every book in every library on every world [Orson Scott Card: Speaker for the Dead]?

Here's another web-identity "thoughtcontrol777" who questions how God is perceived to speak and writes: ...I began “searching” and became a born again Christian shortly thereafter. I remained in the church for twenty years, and it dramatically shaped who I was. There were many times as a Christian that I did not feel that I was myself, but rather just a poor version of trying to be someone else. But I was a fully committed and indoctrinated Christian: I was baptised in water, I spoke in tongues and I performed what I considered at the time to be the gifts of the spirit... I studied the Bible... Since leaving the church I have not missed it. I feel like I am me again and can attest that there is freedom outside of Christ Jesus. I am regretful of how much of my life was wasted in pointless church services, prayer meetings and administrative meetings for the church. 

And in their web page "The Voice of God" writes:

One of the most confusing aspects about living as a modern day Evangelical/Charismatic Christian is dealing with the issue of the voice of God. Many Evangelicals and basically all Pentecostals or Charismatics believe that God actually speaks to people personally. However, God does not typically speak in an audible voice but rather as a “still small voice” that a person hears only inside themselves. Literally, it is a voice inside their head. Many Christians claim to hear this voice, indeed I myself believed that I was hearing it for a number of years during my Christian life. But likewise other Christians, perhaps more discerning, acknowledge that they do not hear the voice of God.

During the latter part of my Christian experience I noticed that whenever I would ask God for advice on something important I would never get an answer. But I would hear “what I thought was” the voice of God in regards to other random unimportant things. This was baffling... So I began to put the voice to the test asking God to reveal certain things to me so that I knew that it was him who was actually speaking. Or, to show me signs. There were no occurrences in which the still small voice was able to accurately tell me anything about the future. And the signs were a no-show. This process took a number of years but at the end of it I stopped listening. If God was not going to accurately talk to me then why should I listen?

A sad conclusion. 

So, whilst I am done with the voice in my head being divine, I hope to remain open minded and unbiased enough to acknowledge God should He manifest, cognisant of those religious leaders who failed to recognise Jesus despite the miracles.


20230205

Three little bones

Shortly after Elizabeth's ascension to the throne, and paralleling the development of the transistor as I have outlined before, a boy was born, a boy who loved mud, dirt and making things.


Aided by a trip to Woolworths where his father purchased battery, flashlight bulb, switch and wire, he became infatuated with all things electricity. Meanwhile, out in the world, Moore's law was making its interminable progress

As a boy he loved to take things apart to "see how they worked". Regrettably he was not equally good at reassembling them, so in consequence he amassed (and probably still does) a vast stock of bits and pieces. On one, well-remembered occasion he attempted to build a radio using these parts. The chassis was made of Meccano and there was an ear phone and a volume control somewhere in the mix, but these and many other pieces he joined together without much understanding and somewhat randomly. He reasoned that the stuff had once constituted a working radio so why not again? To his upmost disappointment it did not work. He got better at this sort of thing over time although probably still reveres the age old method of trial and error mixed with a good portion of hope which gave Edison the light bulb.

Later he was taken to an amateur showing  see the Moody Science Institute Faith and Faith film "Dust or Destiny" which explored the wonders of the human body. He was, of course, fascinated, hooked, even infatuated. Then it was in 16mm acetate medium and the projector interested him almost as much as the content. Now-a-days you can watch these films on Youtube

At that time in school biology he happened to be studying the five senses and recalls handing in some homework in which he had reproduced material from the film in graphic detail: he got full marks but also a caution about keeping to the question...

But the workings of the ear (to take one example) are indeed amazing. Here's a picture of the three bones of the inner ear, which carry out impedance matching to maximise the transfer of energy from airborne sound to vibrations in the inner ear fluid.  Striking a tuning fork and then pressing its foot onto a wooden surface amplifies the sound in a similar way. All fine and dandy in theory, but if I were to design a microphone with inner workings that looked this messy I can be pretty sure it would fall on deaf ears so to speak.

Three tiny bones in the middle ear

Quote: The malleus and incus are suspended by two ligaments that provide an axis of rotation so that the middle ear bones pivot when the tympanic membrane vibrates. The footplate of the stapes inserts into the oval window of the inner ear whence nerve endings detect what we perceive as sound.

And then there's the cochlea or organ of Corti, the inner ear which transfers these vibrations into nerve impulses. All told, the ear surpasses most if not all man-made microphones in terms of sensitivity (quote the sensitivity of the ear is close to the ultimate limit at which it would begin to detect the noise fluctuations in the air) and dynamic range (around 120dB).

QuoteThe inner ear is divided into two fluid filled chambers... The fluid in the two chambers differs on the basis of the kind of salt that each contains. The fluid in the outer or bony chamber is filled with a sodium salt solution (called perilymph) that resembles the salt composition in the blood or the fluids found in the brain. The inner or membranous chamber is filled with a potassium salt solution (endolymph) that resembles the fluid that is normally found inside the cells of the body. Specialized cells that line parts of the membranous chamber and “pump” potassium into the membranous chamber maintain the difference in concentration between the two chambers. The difference in the chemical composition of these two fluids provides chemical energy (like a battery) that powers the activities of the sensory cells. 

The inner ear organs must be small because any increase in their size would increase their mass... [which would] decrease the sensitivity... The mass of the cochlear sensory epithelium is further reduced because it has only a small number of blood vessels... reduced by a unique system for converting the metabolic energy from sugar and oxygen in the blood into an electrical potential... the auditory system is sensitive enough to “hear” the vibrations associated with blood moving through blood vessels. It is fortunate they are located away from the organ of Corti.

There's much more detail freely available on the internet. You can find papers that purport to explain such workings of the human body and the implied evolutionary process but they often seem to me to use highly specialised terms only to obfuscate, for example (my emphasis):

All reptiles and birds have only one middle ear ossicle [bone], the stapes or columella. How these two additional ossicles came to reside and function in the middle ear of mammals has been studied for the last 200 years and represents one of the classic example of how structures can change during evolution to function in new and novel ways. From fossil data, comparative anatomy and developmental biology it is now clear that the two new bones in the mammalian middle ear, the malleus and incus, are homologous to the quadrate and articular, which form the articulation for the upper and lower jaws in non-mammalian jawed vertebrates. The incorporation of the primary jaw joint into the mammalian middle ear was only possible due to the evolution of a new way to articulate the upper and lower jaws, with the formation of the dentary-squamosal joint, or TMJ in humans. The evolution of the three-ossicle ear in mammals is thus intricately connected with the evolution of a novel jaw joint, the two structures evolving together to create the distinctive mammalian skull. 

Suffice it to say the design of the human ear is remarkable. Some would see this as evidence for an Intelligent Creator but then what or who designed the creator? By introducing God the need for intelligent design has simply been shifted. That all reptiles and birds have only one middle ear bone whilst we have three implies an evolutionary step which creationists contest. I am not endorsing either view (frankly I do not know) but I do marvel at how a bunch of bones, tissues, blood and gore could possibly detect sound with a sensitivity sensitivity close to the theoretical limit and enable us to communicate and to enjoy the emotional depths and artistry of music. Could a random assembly of electronic components ever become a first class radio receiver?


20230123

How our kids will change the world


I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They'll learn much more
Than I'll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world




I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

Extravert or introvert, leader or led, consumer or producer: dreamer, author, creator, inventor, artist, engineer, scientist - what will today's kids become or see or use in their lifetime? Consider how the world has changed in mine, given my particular interest in electronics: the transistor was invented around the time of my birth in 1952. Without it none of modern electronics could exist. Since then Moore's Law has faithfully mapped the exponential increase in complexity and corresponding decrease in size and cost of all things electronic so that today the Cerebras WSE-2 is the largest computer chip ever built and the fastest AI processor on Earth boasting 2.6 trillion transistors, 850,000 AI-optimized cores, and 40 gigabytes of high performance on-wafer memory. 

Laptops, tablets, smart phones, the pocket calculator... I remember my father using a Ready Reckoner to laboriously calculate the cost of items sold in his DIY shop. Later he invested in a mechanical calculator. The first electronic pocket calculators only became available when I was in college: Sinclair and HP leading the way. Today every high-school kid has one.

Children today have from infancy taken the smart phone for granted. They navigate through its myriad features probably more quickly even than those who designed them. A far cry from the monochrome text-only displays or the teletype interface of computers when I was at college.

---oOo---

It used to be said that the PSTN (global telephone network) was man's most complex invention with its  972 million fixed-line telephone subscriptions currently in use worldwide. Its inventor Graham Bell and his partners, Hubbard and Sanders, offered to sell the patent for the telephone outright to Western Union for $100,000, equal to $2.5 million today. The president of Western Union balked, countering that the telephone was nothing but a toy

That accolade has been eclipsed by other contenders e.g. the internet, or the nuclear fusion reactor in France that promises to 'solve the world’s energy problems for the next 30 million years' with a cost so far of $20bn. Meanwhile the PSTN, or more accurately the POTS, is due for retirement - in 2025 in the UK - ousted by VoIP. Then, with so much relying on it, what if the internet falls over?

In 1943 Thomas Watson, president of IBM, is credited with saying "I think there is a world market for maybe five computers." To be fair, he was referring to the mammoth machines of his day, but still... And now the microprocessor (a computer on a chip), touted by some as man's most complex invention, is ubiquitous. Your average cell-phone's microprocessor has 'over 100,000 times the processing power of the computer that landed man on the moon 50 years ago'. 

Or is Dutch company ASML's 'extreme ultraviolet lithography machine' the most complex machine in the world, as required to manufacture today's silicon chips like Cerebras WSE-2? One arrived in Ireland in April 2022 at a cost of around $120m. 

Previously unbelievable inventions now enter stage often enough to avoid much fanfare. Did anyone notice exactly when the internet search engine came of age, or question how exactly does e.g. Google find results so quickly or can even predict what you want to look for?

Did anyone notice voice synthesis and recognition (as in Alexa, Siri, Hey Google, Cortana) making its debut and quickly becoming ubiquitous? Its adoption by the man-in-the-street seemed to happen overnight although it had been in development throughout my lifetime. Or what about the wonder of GPS navigation?

Here is a good summary of the history of human technology.

---oOo---

What new technologies will come to fruition during the next generation?  Has AI already passed the Turing Test?  Will robots ever pass as human? Who knows what horrors human genetic engineering will come up with? Will nuclear fusion be tamed and become the major source of energy? Already it looks like self-driving vehicles will become the norm. Will space travel become accessible to the ordinary person? And what of the global warming and climate change scare; and all those many conspiracy theories that abound: will any actually pan out? Or the invention of anti-gravity where the story poses that pure noise—a completely random sequences of pulses—contains all possible messages and information, and that our ability to understand it depends on the mental filters that we’ve set up. Give a team of geniuses a source of raw noise and loosen up their filters, the story argues, and they can figure out just about anything, as long as they’re convinced that it’s possible.

Or will all these bricks, man's accomplishments, come tumbling down, Babel fashion, as hubris soars, pandemics scourge, or wars devastate? 

I yearn for these young lives and their futures. So fragile, vulnerable, impressionable, innocent, credulous. And yet the future depends wholly on how they will perform. But if, through it all, anyone were to put their lives in jeopardy... it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.

Add to that globally declining population and its effect on society.

And quantum computing: https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-64492456

20221211

Now we are seventy


I crossed the round number age of 64 without any fuss despite the Beatles' rendition, because few are familiar with binary. But on having passed my 70th birthday (and Ali is just passed 71) a special brunch was put on for us this morning and accolades were read out. I found the experience quite overwhelming, humbling, that so many folk genuinely cared for, indeed love us.

Early in the morning I had discovered the arrangement in my photo and that was enough to make strong emotions rise in me, bringing to my remembrance:

"Ah!" roared Aslan. "You have conquered me. You have great hearts. Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the Stone Table (and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be Talking Mice), you shall have your tail again.

There are a several resonances with my experience in this passage: one only will I draw attention to here, that it should be possible by our love for each other to conquer Aslan. 

That said, I find it a strange thing that I am now in my 70's. When I was younger I associated this age with decrepit, doddering, forgetful... The last one sticks but I'm still me inside.