Available Light

A few days ago, on a night I couldn't sleep, I wrote a post. It was not my best work. In particular, I insulted people who had had the courage and vision to allow themselves to be nominated as bishop of our diocese. Of course, I didn't tell you which candidates I had in mind, but I knew and God knew, and that's enough. I was indulging in exactly the behaviour which was so painful to me last electoral synod. It was unnecessary and it was counter to the Gospel and I am sorry for it. So I have removed the post. There's no excuses for bad behaviour but there are reasons and I had my reasons helpfully explained in a book by David Bohm, conversations with Shirley Brunton and Wes Sandle and an email from my sister Val. I am very grateful for all these benefactors, and if I can fit it into a blog post, I'll tell you about it sometime.

The China Study is a book with three parts. Part 1 describes the study upon which the book is based. Part 2 gives some outline advice on structuring a diet. Part 3 describes the encoounters the author, T Colin Campbell, has had with the American Medical system. This third part is quite chilling reading. It outlines in some detail the lengths to which people will go to ignore or even suppress knowledge they find unpalateable. People whose lives are based on the search for objective truth and the scientific method are capable of immense subjectivity when faced with information which counters deeply held preconceptions. I have been thinking a bit about the reasons for this, and particularly as my own church undergoes one of its periodic convulsions over the choosing of a new bishop, and displays its usual intractibility about change or adaption . It's all about systems, and I am indebted to David Bohm's Thought As A System for clarifying my thinking on this. Systems occur natur...

I haven't written much on here lately because I have been busy with all the stuff life offers. I've read an interesting book about extinct species of humans, caught up with my parish, began to develop an idea of what the next decade holds for me and for St. John's, became immersed again in the life dramas of family and friends, and picked up the threads of involvement in my neighbourhood. The last week has been quietly, confidently good. Like a pianist struggling over a difficult new piece I wrestle with my attention every morning, and the wrestling is proving helpful in all sorts of unexpected ways. I haven't much to say today, except that I'm still here, still alive, still healthy and I've been thinking a bit about systems. I'll tell you more later.

I saw the oncologist today. At least, I saw his 14 year old Chinese registrar, which was a good sign right from the start: the fact that he wasn't seeing me himself meant that there was obviously nothing complicated to convey and no hard news to give. The boy in the white coat peered at me through his rimless glasses. He asked how I was doing, and wanted to know if I had trouble with my waterworks or any unusual aches and pains. He smiled and nodded encouragingly at all my answers. He told me that my PSA levels have declined to barely above the detectable level, which means that the cancer has gone. I will go back to the hospital in 6 months just to make sure and after that my GP will keep an eye on developments, or more likely, the lack of them. I felt a bit stunned and I don't think I can have looked appropriately celebratory. I walked back to the car, texted my loved ones and drove home. On Pitt Street both my girls phoned and I pulled over to answer them, then burst...