There is too much to know. You can dig just a little in one bed, only to find a vast field stretching before you. Choose any disciple you like and the amount that you can know is overwhelming. A whole life might be spent in one small corner, a space that expands with every enquiry, every investigation. Fortunately, you can choose where to start and how to proceed. Unfortunately, if you have a thirst for understanding, one place is never enough.

My friend John Hawkins said to me twenty-five years ago that the time was short and there was much to learn. He had a sense of urgency about him, his living room piled with thick texts. Recently he gained his Doctorate, a measure of his progress, though he is unlikely to rest from his lifelong project.

I dip in a lot of places, not quite knowing where it will end, or whether it will even start.

The posting of my pedometer comparisons in the last post may have spurred a wicked response from the Fates. For the following day, I fell ill and have been so since. Bringing to mind, at its worst, my experience with pneumonia 13 years ago, I have largely been confined to bed with a high fever. Even though the fever has now come down to a more moderate level, my body feels like wrung-out and much-abused sponge. Everything appears other-earthly.

My son Tom flies with his mum to New Zealand today for a two-week holiday. Originally she had planned to go to Japan, then Vietnam, but settled upon the pretty place across the ditch out of convenience, I suspect. I hope that he has a good time there. Travel can have such benefits upon the mind and I hope he comes back safely, of course, but also a little more mature for his experience.

Ann has been using a pedometer app on her phone at work for a while now and she encouraged me to do the same. Every day I walk once or twice whilst listening to podcasts, so it seemed like a harmless enough thing to do. But I was a little sceptical about how accurate these kinds of measures are and not wanting to be deceived, put my newly downloaded app to the test. Yes, this is an exceedingly nerdy and quite boring thing to do, but my mind is usually restless until some kind of measurement of some thing is done.

So I dragged out my old pedometer, the one that Anglicare had encouraged us to buy and use. I replaced the battery and clipped it to my side this morning. In my pocket was my iPod, with both the app and the device set to zero. Off I went on one of my regular walks, the one that takes me past the local Steiner School and a short way into the National Park. When I got home I compared the two readings and here is the result.



I have to say, I was a little impressed. The 11 steps difference was well within the margin of error. In addition, the older style pedometer tended to click over every time it was moved, being somewhat trigger-happy. So, sitting down to tie my laces and then getting up again would register two steps. Just clipping it on and off my belt was another two steps, making the results almost dead even.

Boy, I must get a life someday!

Many people struggle with anxiety and a fair percentage of the population carry it with them every day. Anxiety can become a problem when it is chronic or when it comes on in such a way that it can lead to panic. I simplify the matter here but the gist is true. It is particularly devastating for the seriously afflicted because it appears, to others, as an invisible illness for which the remedy is simple. How often have people been told to pull up their socks and get on with it or any number of similar formulations? This is, of course, exactly what those with anxiety disorders would dearly love to do, but the bewilderment and fear that can take hold of a person preclude any such course of action. Anxiety of this magnitude freezes a person in time and space. They are stuck, wondering where their old self has gone and counting the days since their descent into the maelstrom.

I had an anxiety disorder in the 1980's and it took me a few years to work out what was happening. Doctors appeared to have no idea what was wrong with me and the only psychiatrist I saw wanted to offer psychoanalysis (wholly ineffectual) and valium. Finally I ran into a GP who, after interviewing me about my condition, gave me a copy of Self-Help For Your Nerves by the late Dr Claire Weekes. I read this book over many times and it spoke directly to me. I understood what was wrong and how I could fix it. I have read elsewhere and often that this precious tome saved lives as I know it saved mine. There was a time when I thought I would not make thirty, so I have Dr Weekes to thank for every day and every year since. Just the mention of her name brings a sense of deep gratitude to my heart.

This is not to say that I am cured of anxiety. It still plays a part in my life and causes me significant trouble at times. I pull out Self-Help every so often and reread the important chapters. But I am never so afflicted as I was some thirty years ago and I know where help lies, should I need it. If you are an anxiety sufferer, and your anxiety is disrupting your life, then please read this book.

The Autumn Grand Sumo Basho has finally begun, the venue Tokyo. For the first time in a long while, there will be only one Yokozuna in action, the others being absent through injury. Luckily the one still standing is my favourite, Harumafuji, though I read that even he is carrying an injury. He may have his hands full if Ozeki Takayasu gets a good start and practises his impressive brand of sumo. A Mongolian vs a Japanese matchup is the kind of thing the sports needs and it is pleasing to see how full the kokugikan are. Both rikishi are 1-0 after the first day.

If you are befuddled by my use of Japanese terminology, here is an excellent demystifier.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_sumo_terms

Meanwhile, two of the potential contenders for the title in a previous encounter, the Yokozuna victorious. Hakkeyoi!

A year ago to this day, Ann and I were married. We had a simple ceremony in the backyard of a friend, then a decent lunch at the local Thai restaurant. For once, I wore a suit with my shirt tucked in. Ann looked beautiful in a traditional Thai wedding dress.

A year later and we are happily married. This is not to say that we don't disagree or that at times there are some very odd cultural misunderstandings. I do my best to unravel these and keep the peace, but it is difficult. I feel like an explorer in a world of objects and symbols that I cannot recognise. A day or two later, it all blows over and we are back to normal again.

Some things don't change, strangely enough. Accepting what is part of one's lot is a journey in which the smooth sailing of our hopes is constantly dashed by the reality of our days.

But I am nevertheless, a lucky man, to have found such a woman as Ann.

My last post might have seemed a little pessimistic. That may be the result of listening to too many cosmology podcasts in which end-of-the-universe scenarios are postulated. It's true enough though, for unless you believe in an active Divine being, or salvation from an advanced race of super-smart aliens, there is only doom and gloom in the far distant future. You can check it out for yourself in any decent book on the Universe. Whether this matter is a cause for alarm now is largely moot for we have our own real human-generated challenges that need urgent attention.

We are in Spring, and all the plums in the garden have bloomed. Some of the more advanced trees, those that get a greater share of sunshine, are now in leaf. It has been very windy and the time is a bad one for hay fever. People are sneezing at all quarters as pollen and dust are generated by the unceasing gusts. It is also very dry and bush fire warnings are already apparent in the media. The Blue Mountains may be due for another visitation, though let's hope it is not as bad as the last time. If you live in a National Park, this is the price. We all know it.

Tom starts high school next year and we are undecided about which school. He wants to follow his friends to Winmalee HS but that door is shut. I am happy with the local choice in Springwood, though the boy is now talking about St Columbas. It's a good school too. I suppose we shall see.

In the event that a future civilisation decides to excavate the earth, perhaps millions of year from now, they will find a unique layer where humans once were. They might find the signs of hardy industrial processes, such as plastics. They will doubtless find other manufactured remains, or the ghosts of those manufactures. They will also find radioactive products from the man-made nuclear era. It will be a very different stratum to those that preceded it, one in which the Earth was changed over a brief period and by quite artificial means, all at the hands of humans.

Not to be a pessimist but I think it's doubtful that the descendants of humans will be amongst those future explorers and scientists, our time having run its course, the evidence all too apparent in the stratum.