ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Sometimes I wake up with a desperate urgency that it must be resolved immediately. Other times, though, this glorious mood of acceptance washes over me, and I feel it really doesn't matter if it is never solved at all.

There are times when I feel it is my responsibility to solve it entirely on my own, yet other times I really feel it should be a team effort, that we should strive for a consensus.

Sometimes it feels like a black problem. Sometimes it feels like a white problem. Other times, I'm sure it's grey, but I can't decide what shade.

Sometimes I feel it can only be solved by a huge injection of funds, yet other times I feel it is not really a financial problem at all.

I'm often grateful for the internet age, believing that cyberspace will come to our rescue, but then I think we'd probably manage just as well with a lump of charcoal and a sheet of bark.

Billy or kettle? Microwave or campfire? Central heating or extra blankets? There are no easy answers.

Will our descendants judge us harshly or kindly? Have we done too little, or too much? Or too little in the wrong direction and too much in the right direction? But how can that be?

And who are our descendants, anyway? Those that come ten years after? Or those that come a hundred? Or a thousand, even?

Perhaps the next generation will judge us harshly, but the following generation will reverse that judgement?

And what is a generation anyway? If I have my kids at 20, and they have kids at 20, and you have kids at 40, have my kids skipped a generation?

Sometimes I think it's absolutely critical, but other times I think it really doesn't matter at all.

Am I the only person that thinks this way?

I think you think too much

Too much analysing Stephen-just get out and enjoy life before it slips on by. No use worrying about yesterday, we can't change it and as for tomorrow....well who knows what it will bring.
Hope the sun is shining in your neck of the woods today because it is here and life looks good.YELLOW what a beautiful bright color.


Cheers
Sue

Sunshine worries me like crazy, Sue. All that skin cancer!

Anyway, there's nothing wrong with rainy days. That means I can stay inside and play all my John Denver records without feeling guilty.

Besides, there's nothing wrong with being outside in the rain, providing you're wearing the right gear.

Of course, one day the sun will stop shining altogether, but hopefully we will all have new homes - and suns - by then, or at least our descendants will, whoever they might be.

Maybe we will cope with the failing sun by burrowing deep within the planet's core instead of flying away. Or maybe we will find a way to re-engineer ourselves so that we are only a millionth of our current size. That would certainly solve the world food shortage, but we've have to design new tractors.

Maybe we could design robot tractors that were a million times larger than they are now, as we become a million times smaller.

You think tractor tyres look big now? Wow!

Stephen don't let the girls talk you out of the way you feel right now because I totally understand.

I wake up in the morning and think will I get up or will I stay in bed???

It's a worry.

Do I say TTFN or perhaps Too-roo.

Now my head aches.

Oh dear, Oh dear.

Stephen Whiteside wrote:Thinking about whether or not to solve the problem

A wise person once told me " every need is not a calling "

A wise man . . . once picked up a grain of sand and envisaged the whole of the universe.


A not quite so wise man just rolled around in some seaweed then got up and said "Hey I'm VineMan!"

Marty !!!!! Posted by the fight like a girl club !!!!!!


Just what pages have you been visiting ?



Bob

and the 5th was a female who sat on a headland filing her fingernails and admiring the beauty of the world around her, basking in the sunlinght and breathing in the soft air watching the 4 blokes playing silly buggers and she said 'whatever!' and went back to doing the things in life that really mattered.

How could the fifth man be a female ???


Marty P, that was William Blake in his poem,

From Auguries of Innocence

To see the world in a grain of sand
And a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.


He wouldn't pass the consistent metre and rhyme requirements but he is still revered and quoted after 200 years.