Game Screen Shots

A small "stealth" bomber seen here in front of a jump gate. I like the cool blue on the left with the red sun on the right.

Fun captures of my favorite games.

Grammatolotry

Grammatolotry: The worship of words: regard for the letter while ignoring the spirit of something.

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Students of faith must be aware of grammatolotry.  This one concept might just be responsible for all human conflict over religion.  We get hung up on the words and miss the message.  Words are just symbols of meaning.  Despite our intense ability to document, archive and record, we just can not quite keep our world from changing.  We change, society changes, the world changes and so then our symbols change. 

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We look back to the ancient records of wisdom like the Bible, the Qu’ran, the Torah and many other books of Truth and we assign them higher status.  The authors were undeniably wise and we should remember what they said.  But even the wise will tell you that the path of all people is not singular.  Enlightenment is universal, but the paths are many.  We suffer from grammatolotry.  The words give us some guidance.  But the truth is in our heart.  You know the truth as you know yourself.  When you know this, the words seem as quaint as a children’s primer.  While the words may be beautiful, poetic and spiritual, they are yet only symbols of the Truth--not the Truth itself. 

Kid Quote of the Week

As for for turning 9, Gabe just told me, "I don't really feel that different but I see things as a bit shorter.   I can now reach the coat hanger." ~My son commenting on turning 9

E haere ra, Pop pop!

Yesterday my father-in-law, Don, started the journey back to the US.  I think he is probably not quite home yet.  Despite the stories about “in-laws”, Don is great and having him with us for the whole month of July was not only good, it was poignant.  For as long as I have known my son he has been completely in love with his grandpa, Pop pop.  It was so, so good to have him here with us and Gabe.

 

He was our first visitor from home.  The first person we have been able to share all our new discoveries with.  We went to Staglands, Kaitoke and Turakirae.  We saw the Te Papa museum, the Wellington Botanical Gardens, Mt. Victoria and drove out to Breaker Bay where the ferry Wahine sank in 1968.  We drove out to Featherston and Whitby.  He took Gabe on the farthest road trip yet—all the way to Napier to see the Marine World and National Aquarium.

 

I can not believe how fast the time has gone.  I am sure Don loved the trip, but probably at the same time felt the tug to go home.  From my point of view, he could have stayed forever.  I hope now that he knows the way that more trips will become not so daunting.  I know, at first look, a trip of 10,000 miles looks like so much.  All those questions about airports, flights, security, passports and exactly “what is a 12 hour plane ride like” are now answered.  The quantity of effort is now understood.  I bet Don would say it was all worth the trip.

 

While we were excited to show him New Zealand, the best part was just the quiet--or the goofy and very not quiet--play time with Pop pop.  We have made a great many friends here, but it has been a great gift to have family here.  I knew, after my trip home in June, that seeing family again is made more joyous with the knowledge that this time is special and finite.  What is less obvious is that even time spent living close is finite.  Our distance now makes this reality obvious.  It forces us to take advantage of the time given to us.  I knew that when the time came for the visit to end that we would all be sad to see him go.  I try to remember that while we don’t know exactly when we’ll be together again, that we will see each other again soon--perhaps not as soon as we would like.  But still soon.

 

Time goes by.  The Universe teaches us that things are always changing—that often the question is not “if” but rather “when”.  Our human ability to predict future outcomes makes us uncomfortable when we are left with uncertainties like “someday.”  But impassable mountains have a way of becoming merely mountains over time and tenacity.  Don crossed the mountains, the deserts, and the ocean.  I have faith that the way home will often present itself.  Exactly when and how I can not say, but we will be watching for opportune moments.

 

Thanks, Don, for making the trip.  I can not quite say how much it meant to all of us.  Tell everyone how great it was and send them our way.  In Maori you say goodbye with “E haere rā” when you are the ones staying.  You say, “E noho rā” when you are the one leaving.

 

E haere rā, Pop pop!

 

The South Island, A Ferry Tale

Well… It was an unofficial long weekend in New Zealand for me and Amy.  We decided to hop the ferry to South Island for our first out of Wellington excursion.  There are two large ferries that run continuously between Welly and Picton.  The Interislander is owned by the state and the Bluebridge is the upstart competitor.  Walk on fares are pretty cheap at about $78 for two each way.

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The route to Picton is about 1 and half hours just getting out of Wellington harbour and then about 1 and half hours navigating the long Marlborough Sounds with about 20 minutes of open water between the two.  It is beautiful throughout the trip even on overcast cool days.  I suspect it would be absolutely miserable on stormy days.  But our particular trip was partly cloudy with startlingly gusty winds.

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I am fascinated by large machines like ships.  I see each voyage as a marvel when you consider each bolt and seam had to be planned, each small task that must be attended before disembark, the sheer power of the massive engines, and yet the fragility of these immense steal constructions on the water.  I know it is just a ferry.  I know it sails about 4 times a day.  But I still say that each trip is something of a miracle.

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I have always loved the ocean.  There is nothing that compares to the wind on the waves.  You can feel the motion of the planet in the wind across the unobstructed seas.  The view from the top of the observation decks of the ferry is both commanding and humbling.  The ship is surprisingly tall and the view is amazing.  But at the same time you can’t help but notice how you are a tiny monkey that doesn’t swim all that well on a very big ocean.  It becomes easier for me to appreciate things on a planetary scale and remember I am just a human.  In much the same way that cat who has just been unceremoniously swept from warm couch to floor must think, “Ah, yes.  I guess I am just a cat.”

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For a while I stood at the front of the ship face in to the wind.  I had to hold on to the rail with both hands as the wind whipped my jacket and jeans.  The wind so powerful it can never be ignored.  Fully braced, I tried to burn the colour of the waves in to my memory--a deep blue green… so completely inadequate to describe it.  It is a colour of thousands of metres of water, of eons of erosion, of millions of years of living things, of endless motion—a colour representing time without end.  Today it was dark in the shadow of grey clouds.  Here and there it turned slightly green in contrast as the sun would strike the surface.  Occasionally, gulls would race the ship and skim the water although they remained uncharacteristically silent—perhaps unable to complain in the face of the unyielding wind.

 

The ocean is awe inspiring all on its own, but it is made majestic by the sun.  I have attempted to describe the sun on the water many times.  Today the sun was half veiled, but still it managed to touch each wave tip and granting each with its magic light.  I imagine there is a struggle fought each day on the surface between the fury of the sun and cool dark depths of the ocean.  Each remains the master of its domain.

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The sounds themselves are beautiful.  Rounded peaks rise from the ocean.  Inside the sound the waves calm to indistinct ripples from the vantage of the tall ship.  The wind is deflected off the tree covered hills and the sun becomes warm again.  I was surprised to see houses all along the shore.  There were no roads behind them.  Each of these homes was only accessible from the water.  Most had visible power lines strung to them.  They dropped down off the mountain crests at impossible angles—but many cabins had none.  I wondered what it would be like to live in a house with no power and no access to the world.  How strange it would be to see the giant ferries as great moving islands of modern existence only a few hundred metres from my shore of isolation.

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Picton is a small township.  You can see all of it from the deck of the ferry.  Indeed I suspect that virtually the entire town is required to support the ferries in some way.  Certainly the town survives on them.  The homes drape from one hillside to the other like a blanket laid over rough ground.  It is less patchy than Wellington.  It appears more well defined and as if it has been comfortable with its boundaries for many years whereas Wellington seems to still be crashing over each valley.  

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One can clearly see Picton’s singular great visible historic claim to fame in the giant dry dock of the “Edwin Fox” on the shore between the large marina and the massive docks of the ferries.  We visited the Edwin Fox museum on our stay.  She is a wooden merchant ship built in 1853 making her the 9^th oldest ship (still capable of floating) in the world.  She is little more than a massive empty hull now, but what remains is still quite impressive.  You can actually walk on to it and put your feet directly on her teak timbers.  You can touch the support beams and hear the wood creak under your feet.  While she has a long and well travelled history, I was amazed to just feel a real wooden sailing ship.

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All of New Zealand is awash in food from the sea, but for some reason we felt extra close to seafood in Picton.  We tried a small restaurant near the water edge (realizing that every structure in Picton is in full view of the water edge).  We ordered some massive platter sampling everything they offered.  There were mussels, oysters, grilled oysters, giant crawfish (more like lobster than crawdads), garlic prawns, calamari and 3 kinds of fish.  It was delicious.  We also tried some local Marlborough Sound wine—a Sauvignon Blanc by Stoneleigh.  It was also excellent.

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The town centre was full of cute shops like any tourist town should be.  The prices were much better than we’ve seen in Wellington.  While it was obvious they catered to tourists, the whole affair seemed to close down at 7:30—even on a Friday night.

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It rained a bit, but not too much.  Amy and I walked all over the town.  In fact the whole getaway was by foot.  We took the train from our house to downtown Wellington, walked to the ferry terminal (barely a block), and walked off the ferry to our motel, the Ferry Link Motel.  We slept in and watched some DVDs on our portable player (Arrested Development).  A prominent feature of our walks was this huge yucca plant… It looked wildly out of place.

We had a great time.  It was very peaceful.  We can’t wait to do it again and range about a bit farther—perhaps to Blenhiem for more wines or down the coast to whale watching Kaikoura or farther still to Christchurch.

Mobile Pics II

I took a shot at capturing the setting sun off the forward deck of the ferry. It was much more amazing in real life!

Each photo album get a bit too large at 80 pictures so I'll break it up in to many.

love-you-mum.mpg

This is one of the NZ Navy recruitment ads that I've blogged about before. I especially like the "hello mum" right before the attack helicopter volley. I just thought it was very different from the US military ads which seem to showcase everything except the actual live shooting aspect. In NZ the message is a bit more clear... talk to your mother before you join cuz you gonna see some action!