BOOK THREE

ON PHOTOGRAPHY
A photograph records the visual facts of one moment in time. It has in effect frozen time.
An internal correlation is formed between a particular photo and the the mind of the
photographer. A visual memory has been produced which preserves the essence of a scene. It
may not only be the photographers impressions that have been preserved indefinitely, anyone
else connected with its contents may find that a photo sparks off memories for them. Thus
when looking through old photographs we may find many memories returning to us, memories
which would otherwise have been lost to time. An old armchair looks familiar, how young our
parents look, how bright was the sky that chilly Christmas morning.
The photograph is in effect an objective, external memory which sparks off our own subjective,
internal memories. We may look at a photo and recall a long forgotten emotion relating to its
contents. The photo itself does not contain such impressions, but it has become an aid to us
recalling these from within ourselves. The memories are obviously there somewhere, but such
an aid is necessary for us to manifest them in the present.
One photographer may be very skilled in the art of photography. Each of his/her images may be
well composed and carefully lit. A true work of art is the result of their efforts. Another
photographer may obtain equally striking results, though being less technically and artistically
skilled, simply by ensuring that his subject matter is of great interest. A volcano explodes in the
night. A large, familiar building is demolished. The striking nature of the image shines through
such a photo by its own merit.
ON THE MAGIC OF TECHNOLOGY
Magic is the art of concealing the mechanism.
An action produces a desired result, while the mechanism involved is disguised. In witnessing
this or that feat of magic we become fascinated with it. Our minds naturally try and solve the
enigma by considering many possibilities as to how a trick may have been done. We are
fascinated by the playing card disappearing and reappearing elsewhere until the method
employed is revealed, at which point the fascination involved is instantly lost.
An explanation that satisfies us eliminates all other possibilities, hence our sense of wonder is
dissipated.
High technology seems to us magical today as we have no idea of the processes involved in, for
example, pressing a microwave button and two minutes later having hot food despite there

being no actual heat involved. A theory is presented to us involving invisible radiation and
water molecules vibrating but this leaves us largely unsatisfied. It is simply a miracle in the
kitchen to the untrained observer.
And so with all such technology we must have an abstract acceptance of the various theories
presented to us as to the mechanisms involved. These explanations are simplified for us and
dont quite satisfy the inquiring mind but do so just enough to quell our sense of wonder.
Certain tribal people are known to retain such fascination, and thereby fear, of modern
technology. It is to be regarded as both mysterious and dangerous. A photograph may capture
part of the subjects soul, for example.
Electricity seems to be the key to this mystery. We can understand that it is governed by fixed
laws, and that it is necessarily present in order for our gadgetry to work. As we have blood
flowing through our bodies as a prerequisite to living, so too these magical items in our home
must have electricity flowing through them in order to work their magic.
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Arthur C. Clarke
ON BELIEF SYSTEMS
Where do I come from? Eternity stretches both ways, back into the past and far into the future.
So where have I been for eternity?
It is a common misconception that life and death are opposites. No, birth and death are
opposites for life is a self perpetuating constant. The only other constant that we know of is
change. Everything is in a state of flux, evolving, diminishing, reorganising once again.
I appear one day, seemingly out of the blue, and likewise I will disappear at an unknown time.
Yes, one day my physical existence will come to an end a sobering thought. Fear is attached
to this unknown certainty; will I continue to exist in some spiritual form or will all traces of me
be extinguished as time marches onwards relentlessly?
Many great spiritual systems have been devised by mankind which seek to address such a fear
and provide clear answers. But which one to choose? Each seems reasonable enough when
judged by its own parameters. I have been born into such a spiritual system so should I just go
with what has been given, or should I seek further afield for ultimate truth?
Such questions defy simple solutions. The unknown is the unknown, though I may develop
beliefs relating to it. Still these will remain beliefs as opposed to facts. The fact of my future
physical demise still remains despite any amount of philosophical or spiritual speculation. The
fear that seems inevitable in regards to this is not easily quelled. It is a survival anxiety, a
bodily reaction to the prospect of my termination as a human being.
One thing I am convinced of is that metaphysical truth needs to be sought out. So many people

lose this will to seek as they marry and are burdened under the responsibility of raising
children. It doesnt have to be this way if one desires to experience new phenomenon. Seek
them out. Learn from them. Watch as your beliefs are modified or updated by your new
experiences.
The path to truth is a path, not a destination. We all have infinitely more to learn. Everyones
belief systems can become modified to some extent if such a process of continual revision is
employed.
ON WRITING
I sit here writing, transmuting thoughts into words then typing these same words into the tired,
old laptop. It is an alchemy or sorts, dross into gold.
All manner of themes bubble up from the subconscious. I am fishing in a deep, turquoise ocean
and who knows what marvel may be pulled up next. Could this writing be considered a
process of self inquiry or self discovery? Sometimes I am genuinely surprised at the contents of
my mind. Memories, dreams, reflections, opinions all seek a fair hearing. The personal
contents of my mind blend with the impersonal and the practical. Nothing seems to be off
limits in this bubbling stream of consciousness. I am meditating unintentionally.
Writing requires me to order these thoughts into coherent paragraphs. It is a selective process,
some thoughts pass through my inner filter and are then translated into sentences. Others are
simply discarded.
A narrative of sorts is sought, each approved thought linking in some way to the previous.
Suddenly a theme emerges, multifaceted and shimmering. The subconscious, from which I
draw my sentences, is pregnant. I am birthing a coherent collection of words. I am giving life to
ideas and themes hitherto wallowing amongst the chaotic inner environment.
Each final work has been granted a life of its own. To read of my thoughts is to think my
thoughts. Ideas truly are infectious. These ideas may live on long after the typing has ceased.