I was the non-speaking, unseen third tree in our village play

I was the third tree, a nonspeaking part, in the village play. As a child, you’re trying to find your place in the greater scheme of things and when Eva Carson got the role of the first tree and had two whole lines of speech to perform, it felt very unfair to me.  The main actors, who had to memorise quite long dialogues, had already been picked. Obviously, the best looking, most articulate of the children in our village were in these roles. 

There was a pecking order with the stage manager and director along with costume designer and stagehands to change backgrounds between acts.  Lower down still, were the people in the background a waiter, bystanders or crowds.  They didn’t get to speak but they got to move around and mutter, cheer or shout on occasion.  Then, there were the two ushers who showed people to their seats and were much envied as they both had torches and seemed to relish their power over members of the audience arriving in the darkness.  At the very bottom of the pecking order were the three trees. The first tree had a few lines to say. Nothing epic but at least her tree contributed to the story of the play. The second tree was Tim Dicks and he didn’t have to speak but had a card with some words that he held up at the end of the play to close the whole show. Finally, right at the very bottom of the entire social hierarchy was me, the third tree, a non-speaking role with not even a card to hold aloft.  

All three trees were wrapped up in brown painted cardboard with our faces peeking out painted brown like the trunk of a tree. Finally, attached to our heads were green leaves to create the impression of foliage. We were not an impressive sight as we shuffled onto the stage, behind the curtain, for the opening night performance. I’m ashamed to admit I was envious of both Eva and Tim. How dare they get bigger parts than me? I knew enough of my position in the grand scheme of things not to aspire to be a bystander or an usher but I really felt I could’ve managed to be a tree with a few lines. Too late, I felt the deep embarrassment of my lowly position as the curtains were about to be opened and the whole set revealed. A packed audience was watching, as always. Nothing guarantees more bums on seats at a village performance than doting parents wanting to watch their offspring stagger on and off stages in their moment of glory. 

The director, an English lady with a very posh accent, had eloquently introduced the play which bored the entire audience. They didn’t care who wrote the play, what it portrayed, the hidden meaning or the eloquence of the plot. They wanted to see their children perform. So, when the director finally left the stage and the curtains actually opened there was riotous applause and even some stamping of feet in excitement. The show was on!

Unfortunately, the stage curtain had not been pulled completely open the whole way.  So, although tree one and tree two could be clearly seen stage right, I could not.  I stood a bit bewildered, looking straight into a black curtain while the play started on the stage with actors speaking their lines loudly. As a child, you just accept such disasters. First, the humiliation of being a nonspeaking tree then you become an unseen, unspeaking tree. Questions popped into my mind almost metaphysical in nature. If you are a tree, who can’t speak and can’t be seen do you really exist in the play at all?  Perhaps, I had been overly aspirational in trying to be a third nonspeaking tree and the universe was letting me know “No, you don’t even deserve this miserable role!”

Then, there was a flurry of loud footsteps and the curtains were suddenly roughly drawn open by my father who had marched all the way to the front from his seat further back in the auditorium. He beamed at me as he carefully positioned the curtain so that I could be seen by all, before noisily stamping his way back into the darkness. Now, my questions were suddenly answered. Was there anything worse than being a non-speaking, non-seen third tree?  The answer to that question was, yes! Much worse was standing in front of a whole audience with tears running down my face in total humiliation. I’m not sure what the audience thought. If there was any justice there would’ve been a favourable review in the local paper reading something like,

“This production was mesmerising and the show-stealer was the third tree whose deep continuous sobs and distress epitomised the pain, loss and suffering that inflict us all. Her constant tears remind us of our helplessness and total acquiescence in life’s mighty drama!”

But no such report was written and instead yet another deep and abiding humiliation was carved into my adolescent heart. To summarise simply, the first tree had words, the second tree had a card and the third tree was lacerated in public view.

For the information of those of you who inhabit the Internet, such entertainment as these performances used to fill our days in the village. Amateur shows were regular events in between beetle drives (you will have to google that one).  There was a particularly favourite party piece that was used regularly on stage. Two characters, usually old farmers, would appear and the dialogue would be as follows,

First farmer: “My son has joined the RAF”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s good, that’s good, that’s good!”

First farmer: “It’s not so good at all he has to go up very high in a big plane.”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s bad, that’s bad, that’s bad!”

First farmer: “It’s not so bad at all because those planes have two engines.”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s good, that’s good, that’s good!”

First farmer: “It’s not so good at all because both engines stopped working.”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s bad, that’s bad, that’s bad!”

First farmer: “It’s not so bad at all because he had a parachute.”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s good, that’s good, that’s good!”

First farmer: “It’s not so good at all because when he jumped out the parachute wouldn’t open.”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s bad, that’s bad, that’s bad!”

First farmer: “It’s not so bad at all because there was a big haystack down beneath him”.

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s good, that’s good, that’s good!”

First farmer: “It’s not so good at all because as he fell he could see the haystack had a pitchfork in it.”

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s bad, that’s bad, that’s bad!”

First farmer: “It’s not so bad at all because he missed the pitchfork”.

Second farmer: “Oh, that’s good, that’s good, that’s good!”

First farmer: “It’s not so good at all because he missed the haystack too!”

For some reason, this was greeted with hilarity each and every time it was related. Its very familiarity made this performance more popular.  Years later, I discovered it’s a genre found the world over and its actual message is quite deep.  Here is one example from the east.

There is a Taoist story of an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbours came to visit. "Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. 

"Maybe," the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbours exclaimed. 

"Maybe," replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbours again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. 

"Maybe," answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbours congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. 

"Maybe," said the farmer.

I have learnt a lot from these tales and consider them valuable lessons in life. Sometimes you feel being the third tree on a stage is a humiliation too much to bear. Then, years pass and you face both worse and better experiences that force you to recalibrate. Eventually, you begin to realise that, whatever life brings, the only thing that really matters is how you deal with it.

Malta - reconstruction, recollections and reflections

 

St Julian’s in Malta is a picturesque spot.  Walking to the love statue along the coast from Sliema is a therapy for mind and body.  The scene of the colourful boats lying at anchor add to the colour and drama of the occasion.   

But if you could have only seen it a couple of centuries ago perhaps you would have been more impressed still.   Before the onslaught of modern hotels, businesses and contemporary apartment blocks there was a beauty that was unique.  However, when you think of the hammering Malta received during the war it is amazing how much still remains to be admired.  The extent of this bombing is difficult to get your head around but some old photos do speak volumes.

So I suspect we should be grateful for the beauty that remains. But some of the slightly older photos of St Julian's show us another side to this familiar spot that deserves remembering.

This aerial view of the approach to St Julian's from Balluta bay is still recognisable despite the age of the photograph.  But other photographs of St Julian's suddenly begin to show the changes that have occurred.

In particular, the lovely old buildings on the other side of the bay look stunning and I suddenly see what this area has lost with time.  There is a simplicity and loveliness in this shot that surprises and the two boys with their bicycle seem from another more innocent age.

Going back a few more years this close up of Spinola Palace shows that it is missing the crown on its facade that had been removed in 1798 during Napoleon's visit to signify the Knights Hospitaller of St John's expulsion from Malta. The palace itself was originally built in 1688 by a certain Fra Paolo Rafel Spinola, Grand Prior of Lombardy, on a piece of land he obtained from his brother Frangisku Nupuljan Spinola de Roccaforte, Marquise of the Holy Roman Empire.  

Fra Paolo Rafel Spinola's nephew was appointed Ambassador of the Order to the Court of King Philip V of Spain, to the King of Sicily and to the Court of Pope Innocent XII. In 1733 the Palace was passed on to him and he enlarged and embellished it. This later construction was designed by Romano Carapecchia, and is considered a masterpiece. We can see his original plans for its construction below.

This building also had at the time of its construction a number of ancillary buildings including two boathouses, a church, a belvedere and a building serving as stables. They still survive today belonging to different private owners, with the palace belonging to the Maltese government. Originally the building had also large extensive gardens, including baroque gardens and vineyards.  Over time these were reduced to an enclosed back garden and a small front public garden. Today the palace is barely visible from the bay, being obscured by apartments and other modern buildings.  Which is a shame as it is still an impressive building.

The original church, across the road, is also still there but has a new facade.

The stables are now inhabited by Pizza hut and have undergone considerable reconstruction.  However, the original belvedere still exists.  I had no clue as to what this was, but have since looked up its definition  "an architectural structure sited to take advantage of a fine or scenic view".  It looks a little neglected but still an impressive building.

Spinola palace's original wine cellar now houses the L-Għonnella Restaurant while the two boathouses, whose structures largely remain, host two other restaurants as well.  The original boathouses can be seen more clearly in the photograph below.

The Palace has had a colourful history passing to the church and then in the 1830s, it was used as a residence by the artist Charles Allingham (c.1778-1850).  The British military rented it for £20 a year as a hospital and during the 1860's it became known as Forrest Hospital.

It was after named Dr John Forrest who was the Inspector for Hospitals of the period and it served soldiers and was divided into nine wards on different floors. Following the cholera epidemic of 1865, when three patients there died, a sanitary report pointed out that the building was not suitable as a hospital as the building had serious issues related to a bad drainage system and poor ventilation. The following photograph shows the building with its extensive gardens still in existence.

In the 1940s, the Palace was used as a shelter for people whose homes had been destroyed by aerial bombardment in World War II.  Following its restoration between 1984 and 1986, it was used to host the Museum of Modern Art rather unsuccessfully and then by the Ministry for Tourism for a period. Spinola Palace was restored once again between 2006 and 2007 and this time the crown on the clock, which had been missing since 1798, and the expulsion of the Order was reconstructed in 2012.  The following photograph is not a very old one but shows the Palace still clearly visible in St Julians before it became largely hidden by new buildings.  The two boathouses can also be clearly seen here at the waterside along with the traditional buses in the foreground.

I find it a little sad that Spinola Palace is not really visible from this perspective today and it is perhaps reflective of much that has been knocked down, built on and obscured in the rush to commercialise. When Malta's heritage was demolished by bombs during World War 2 there was a need to rebuild and reclaim in a tangible way what had been lost.  But in modern Malta, the pace of change seems so very fast that there is almost no time to appreciate what we have before it is cemented over and lost.  The beauty and bravery of Malta and the Maltese deserves to be remembered and respected.  Sometimes it is by looking back we find the things we value and also the parts of ourselves that need preserving in order to create the future we truly deserve.  In these odd, unpredictable days of a pandemic perhaps we all need to dig deep and reflect on the individuals, communities and institutions that Malta needs now.

"Therefore strive that your actions day by day may be beautiful prayers."

Bahá’í Writings

The Trip of a lifetime by hot air balloon - London to Constantinople via Malta

It seems an excellent offer, a wonderful adventure which would start at Charing Cross in London and then you would travel by air balloon to Lisbon for a stopover, followed by a quick balloon trip to Gibraltar, then the balloon will continue its flight first to Malta to dine and finally, the last league of this entrancing balloon adventure would be to Constantinople.  Then, the whole journey will be repeated in reverse. Imagine being able to float above the countryside and over the sea exploring countries at your leisure, all spread out beneath you stopping to dine at such extraordinary venues.  

Even now it makes the mouth water and seems an exciting idea.  Unfortunately, this offer has expired. I hasten to explain before the online booking begins in earnest.  It is an offer from The Times dated April 6, 1785.  So, it actually expired well over two hundred years ago.  Seems incredible, doesn’t it?  I actually spend a large part of my free time combing through the archives of this newspaper as they have past editions from 1785 all available online.   I know it is an odd habit for which I can only apologize but the joy of it is that occasionally it turns up interesting little snippets that surprise and delight.

Here is the advertisement in case you doubt me.

 

The article is tricky to read so I will give a text version below.

INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY.

To Travellers

A new real Air Balloon Poft Chariot, to carry- four passengers in two days to Constantinople, is to set off, at six o’clock precisely, on Monday evening, from Charing-cross, and to breakfast next morning at Lisbon, dine at Gibraltar, and sup and lie at Malta; to set out from thence time enough on Wednesday morning, so-as-to arrive at four in the afternoon at Constantinople – from whence it-is-to return exactly at six on Thursday evening, breakfast on Friday morning at Malta,: dine at Gibraltar, and sleep at Lisbon; to depart next morning soon enough to arrive at the Hotel Dieu in Covent-Garden, at four in the afternoon. To be performed (if God permit) by Signor Zampango and Co. 

N. B Each passenger will be allowed to carry fourteen pounds weight as luggage. 

This seems an incredible journey considering air balloons were only discovered fairly early in the 1700s.  The earliest mention of a very small balloon lifting is on August 8, 1709, in Lisbon, Bartolomeu de Gusmão when a paper balloon full of hot air rose a mere four meters in front of King John V and the Portuguese court.

A more effective balloon was the world’s first hydrogen balloon launched by Jacques Charles and the Robert brothers on 23rd of August 1783, in the Place des Victoires, Paris. This balloon was still quite small, a 35-cubic-metre sphere of rubberised silk (about 13 feet in diameter), and could only lift around 9 kg.  So obviously no passengers allowed!

The exciting news of this startling attraction drew such a huge crowd that on the 26th the balloon was moved secretly by night to the Champ de Mars, now the site of the Eiffel Tower some four kilometres away. On August 27, 1783, the balloon was released; Interestingly Benjamin Franklin (Founding Father of the United States) was among the crowd of onlookers. 

The balloon flew northwards for 45 minutes, chased by excited spectators on horseback, and landed 21 kilometres away in the village of Gonesse.  Here the presence of the balloon created a huge amount of fear and the terrified local peasants attacked the ‘floating demon’ with pitchforks and knives, and destroyed it. A successful first flight with a rather deflated, disappointing ending.

On 5 June 1783, the Montgolfier brothers demonstrated an unmanned hot-air balloon 35 feet (11 m) in diameter. On 19 September 1783, their balloon ‘Aerostat Réveillon’ was flown with the first (non-human) living creatures in a basket attached to the balloon: a sheep, a duck and a rooster. This remarkable demonstration was performed before a considerable crowd at the royal palace in Versailles, in front of King Louis XVI of France and Queen Marie Antoinette. The flight only lasted around eight minutes and travelled only two miles (3 km), but reached an altitude of about 1,500 feet (460 m). Thankfully the craft plus its three reluctant animal passengers landed safely after flying. 

The first untethered flight with human passengers was on 21 November 1783. Jean-François Pilâtre de Rozier, along with the Marquis François d'Arlandes, piloted the balloon. In 25 minutes the two men travelled just over five miles. Jean-François Pilâtre de Rozier, would later also try to fly across the English Channel in June 1785 but died in the attempt the very first casualty in balloon flight.

The challenge to fly across the English Channel was accomplished on January 7, 1785 by Jean-Pierre Blanchard.  However, these early trips were full of challenges and the two balloonists who successfully crossed the English Channel ended up almost naked trying to keep their balloon aloft.  Here is an interesting account of their trip.

The technology of these early balloons, as you have seen, was not sophisticated, and many things did go wrong. Tullamore, Ireland was the scene of a balloon disaster on 10 May 1785 when a hot air balloon took off from the centre of the rural town and got snagged on a chimney. This collision brought the balloon down, which crashed and set a hundred homes alight.

By now like me you are probably wondering if these firsts were being achieved in terms of managing to cross the English Channel in 1785, how on earth does this advertised flight appear in The Times, from London to Lisbon to Gibraltar, Malta and finally Constantinople and back, seem possible in 1785?  Something doesn’t seem right about the timeline.  I am still scratching my head but am wondering if this article is an early scam by someone attempting to get money from naïve passengers excited by the thought of balloon flight.  If the flight occurred, then surely there would be more mention of it and secondly, in 1785 the direction of flight was still difficult to control.  In these early days, balloons generally went whatever direction the wind blew so how could the pilot achieve five cities in different countries in so short a time?  Perhaps the exciting experience mentioned was simply being swindled by Signor Zampango?  I would love to know the truth and if there is some detective out there willing to examine a 235-year-old case please feel free give it a go.

 

Lise Meitner, a physicist who never lost her humanity

 

In 1963, at the age of nearly 85, Lise Meitner gave a talk in Vienna entitled “Memories of Fifty Years in Physics”. She looked back on her memories of her experiences as a scientist. She started by expressing her gratitude to the field of physics and the many wonderful characters she had been able to work with and learn from. 

Her scientific work was key to the growth of atomic physics and so many famous names were part of that world and included her professor, the theoretical physicist Ludwig Boltzmann, Max Planck and Albert Einstein who referred to her as Germany’s Marie Curie.  It is frankly surprising that she is so little mentioned or known nowadays.  She was the first woman to become a professor of physics in Germany. Her research involved the early years of radioactivity the discovery of nuclear fission and beyond. Meitner spent most of her scientific career in Berlin, Germany, where she was a physics professor and a department head at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute.

Meitner achieved so much and was one of the few women to excel in this field.  It was unusual in those days for a woman to even attend lectures at university.  Max Planck when they first met did not favour higher education for women at all. He became so impressed by her that he would make her his assistant five years later.  Another colleague, Emil Fischer, did not allow women to even enter his chemistry institute as he feared they would set fire to their hair!  Fisher would eventually appoint Meitner as head of the Physics Department of his institute. 

Lise Meitner in her talk, in 1963, looking back on her life, was grateful for all those who gave her opportunities and did not mention her struggles or that for many of those early years she worked without position or pay.  During one period as a younger scientist, she was only allowed to work in the woodshop within the Institute, which had its own external entrance and was not permitted to set foot in the rest of the building or even the laboratory space upstairs. If she needed to go to the toilet, Meitner had to use a toilet in the restaurant down the street.  None of this was mentioned by Lise Meitner in her reflections of her life in physics. Neither did she mention the even worse treatment she had to endure as a professor of physics when she was forced out of all her academic positions in the 1930s because of the anti-Jewish Nuremberg Laws of Nazi Germany.  Things reached such a pitch that in 1938 two Dutch friends, the physicists Dirk Coster and Adriaan Fokker helped her to flee to Sweden. 

The timing of this was unfortunate as in mid-1938, Meitner with chemists Otto Hahn and Fritz Strassmann at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute had discovered that bombarding thorium with neutrons produced different isotopes.   Meitner managed to continue her research in Stockham and in late December, Meitner and Frisch (her nephew) determined how this splitting of the atom occurred and were the first to name the process "fission" in their paper in the February issue of Nature in 1939. This principle would eventually lead to the development of the first atomic bomb during World War II, and ultimately other nuclear weapons and nuclear reactors.  However, when Meitner was asked to join Frisch on the British mission to the famous Manhattan Project at the Los Alamos Laboratory, she declared 

"I will have nothing to do with a bomb!" 

Meitner received many awards and honours late in her life but did not obtain the 1944 Nobel Prize in Chemistry for nuclear fission, which was awarded exclusively to her long-time collaborator Otto Hahn. Several scientists and journalists have called her exclusion "unjust". According to the Nobel Prize archive, she was nominated 19 times for the Nobel Prize in Chemistry between 1924 and 1948, and 29 times for Nobel Prize in Physics between 1937 and 1965. 

Max Perutz, the 1962 Nobel prizewinner in chemistry commented on Hahn’s being given the Noble prize without due recognition of Meitner’s contribution, "Having been locked up in the Nobel Committee's files these fifty years, the documents leading to this unjust award now reveal that the protracted deliberations by the Nobel jury were hampered by lack of appreciation both of the joint work that had preceded the discovery and of Meitner's written and verbal contributions after her flight from Berlin." 

It spoke volumes about how fellow scientists viewed Meitner in that they made a point of inviting her to attend the Lindau Nobel Laureate Physics Meeting in 1962.

To make amends for being overlooked for so long it was fitting that in September 1966 the United States Atomic Energy Commission jointly awarded the Enrico Fermi Prize to Hahn, Strassmann and Meitner for their discovery of fission. Unfortunately, Meitner was by that stage too ill to attend the ceremony.  She died on 27 October 1968 at the age of 89. Her nephew Frisch, with whom she had collaborated so well, composed the inscription on her headstone. It reads:

Lise Meitner: a physicist who never lost her humanity. 

“Excellence is never an accident. It is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, and intelligent execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives - choice, not chance, determines your destiny.”     

Aristotle

Transmutation, reactors and reactions - amazing stuff

 

In 1956 Paul Kazuo, in a published academic paper, proposed that it was possible for the Earth itself to create a natural nuclear reactor and to sustain its reactions. Given that humans had only discovered nuclear fission was possible in 1939 and then managed to design the very first nuclear reactor in 1942 that claim must have seemed downright outrageous.  How could the earth manage the required conditions to make a running nuclear reactor?    Well, surprisingly it did.  A French physicist Francis Perrin in 1972 found 17 sites at the Oklo mines in Gabon, West Africa where the earth made its own nuclear reactor.  It happened 1.7 billion years ago and the reactor ran for 300,000 years.  Mind-blowing isn’t it?

In order to have the conditions for a nuclear reactor to take place you need a concentration of uranium U235 of more than 3%.  The average amount of this isotope found today in the environment is usually 0.72% so those conditions are very rare.  But 1.7 billion years ago, the perfect conditions were found in Oklo, West Africa to produce a concentration of 3.1%.  A moderator to slow down neutrons produced was required and fortunately there was a water source present.  If there had been boron or lithium they would have stopped the reaction but fortunately they were both absent from this particular geographical area.  It is thought that oxygen, which was required, was contributed by aerobic oxygen from bacteria. There needed to be a uranium layer 1 metre thick, which Oklo had and as the fission reaction took place it generated heat.  This heat gradually boiled away the available water which stopped the reaction.  Then after cooling, water would return and the reaction started again. In three hours, one whole cycle would be completed but imagine this cycle successfully repeating itself for 300,000 years!  Eventually with time the fissile material concentration was reduced so that it could no longer sustain a chain reaction.  

All of this is pretty amazing and Paul Kazuo’s predictions turned out to be completely verified.  It helps to understand a bit of the chemistry and physics behind this world we live in.  The periodic table contains all the elements or atoms that exist.  From the lightest Hydrogen which has just one proton and one electron to very heavy atoms like one of the heaviest uranium with 92 protons, 92 electrons and 143 neutrons.  As you go up the periodic table the atoms get fatter!  They gain neutrons and protons deep inside the nucleus. The neutrons have no charge but they do add weight. Radioactive decay comes from deep inside the nucleus and involves a change in the number of neutrons or protons due to instability in their neutron/proton ratio.  This instability means they will decay. All elements with atomic numbers greater than 83 have unstable nuclei and are radioactive. As a radioactive element tries to stabilize, it may transform into a new element in a process called transmutation. I just want to emphasis here that nuclear reactions involve changing the fundamental nature of the element you started with.  This transformation happens right at the heart of the atom and when you have nuclear fission you divide the atom nucleus creating two smaller lighter nuclei along with a lot of neutrons, alpha particles, gamma radiation and electrons from deep inside the nucleus.

The story could end there but this planet is more mysterious than we suspected.  It keeps surprising scientists regularly.  It has now been proposed that georeactors could (earth’s natural reactors) exist deep beneath us where the earth’s mantle meets its metalcore.  It is thought such reactors burn uranium and produce plutonium with other products such as helium and xenon.  This would explain the confusing ratios of such gases found in volcanic magma.  

Radioactive decay of unstable isotopes of heavy metals such as uranium contribute to the heat of the earth’s mantle and help to create convection currents in the mantle rock that power the drift of the tectonic plates at the surface of the earth causing mountain ranges and earthquakes.  Nuclear fission reactors deep below us could release an immense amount of heat and it is thought that radioactive decay provides over 50% of the earth's total heat.  It has long been known that the earth is radiating much more heat than it should (45TW, where a TW is unit of power equal to one million million (1012) watts).

But how do we find out if this proposed explanation is true?  Well, fortunately when nuclear reactions take place neutrinos and antineutrinos are released.  These particles pass right through the earth easily.  In Japan there is Kamioka Liquid Scintillator Antineutrino Detector (KamLAND).  It is an underground neutrino detection facility situated in a drift mine shaft in the Japanese Alps. Kamland is surrounded by Japanese commercial nuclear reactors and is, therefore, able to measure antineutrinos from these reactors.  When The Kashiwazaki-Kariwa Nuclear Power Plant, the largest single nuclear power station in the world, was completely shut down for 21 months following an earthquake in 2007 it allowed the KamLAND to monitor antineutrinos that might be coming from deep beneath the earth’s mantle.  It did find evidence of antineutrinos from deep in the earth’s mantle.  

The jury is still out on exactly what is going on but this earth is an amazing place that we need to have so much respect for.  It somehow strikes me as an important metaphor that transmutation (the change in the nucleus of the atom) powers the earth's tectonic plates producing earthquakes and volcanoes that shape our physical world.  Perhaps our inner spiritual transmutation should achieve changes in our world’s society of equally epic dimensions.

“..every atom in the universe possesses or reflects all the virtues of life”

Abdu’l Bahá

I fear I may become the dog that bites

Shall I tell it as it is? 

Shall I hold it close and be silent? 

Shall I brood and hug misery in the dark hours?

Hypocrisy to pretend the barbs did not land or that your intent to cause pain is an imaginary thing. 

I see you, I hear you. I understand the point as it passes between the ribs deep, low and unexpected.  

Using my trust and your closeness to draw blood. 

More than the pain I feel the loss of blood and innocence. 

Knowing that from this point I shall ever search for the hilt of future blades in the hands of strangers and friends. 

I will watch for the gleam of cruelness, the glint of coldness in the eye of a possible predator. 

Once, I looked at every face as if hunting for a trace of the friend. 

A puppy over eager to play with all. 

Now, I suspect your intent. 

I brace and make ready to block the expected blow. 

The sadness is, life can be full of kind friends but such blows change the landscape.  

Defences rise, trust drains away and I see this world through a dark hood placed by a hurtful hand.  

This puppy has learned to be wary 

and I fear may become 

the dog that bites in order to survive.

Life teaches many things

that I wish I could unlearn.

Keep your dirty feet out off my mind!

It began with a metallic watch strap. I noticed mine had begun to look tarnished. Even mottled in places. I had worn it every day, everywhere for years. The idea occurred to me to replace the strap as the watch itself works perfectly. Then, one night as I brushed my teeth I wondered if I used a little nailbrush and a bit of soap on the strap would it make a difference? I began cautiously as the watch itself was not waterproof after all. Within a few seconds, I was appalled at the black gunge in the hand basin. I had been wearing the watch for years and it had obviously accumulated all the dirt and grease from my arms and everything I had ever touched. It was disgusting and as I scrubbed and more dirt emerged the original metallic colour of the strap began to be restored. All that time, all that dirt carried by me unknowingly.

It made me think about all the other dirt we unwittingly carry from place to place and people to people without registering. That same evening, I took a long hard look at my sandals. The roads here are dirty. The pavements are even worse with dogs’ poo. I cheated and put them in a basin in hot water and a dishwashing tablet.  Not the way to go as I later discovered.  Apparently, proper cleaning involves baking soda and being placed in a plastic bag in the freezer overnight to kill bacteria. For those who want to know more check this link out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6-rbLF_F54

I decided I had a mission it was time I tackled dirty areas of my life. This is but the beginning of the journey!  However, I decided to focus on cleaning one’s own body as a proper place to begin this whole business. Perhaps it is the parts we all ignore that are the places we need to focus on.  

I suspected that the dirtiest part of the foot would be the ankle. But on second thoughts perhaps between the toes. These are damp places and without cleaning could really stink.  Another place that can be forgotten is the bellybutton. How often does that crevice see the light of day? How much fluff and gunge can hide in this tiny cave? A 2012 study found 2,368 species of bacteria nestled into the navel.  Disturbing right?

When I breastfed my first son I was unaware of milk running down behind the back of his ear and drying there. As he didn’t like getting his head wet, in his daily bath, I had taken to just mopping his face and neck quickly with a wet face cloth. Eventually, It was the stench of rotting milk that raised alarm bells. When I pulled back his ear there was a huge curdle of dried milk behind it like crusty old bird poo. I was horrified but it taught me something about cleanliness.  Just because you cannot see the dirt does not mean it is not there.

Another cavity requiring careful cleaning is the bottom. My attention was drawn to this by a tattoo artist. When asked what was his pet hate he responded that those who came in to get a tattoo without washing their asses.  He pointed out that hours of working on an upper thigh, lower back or stomach frequently had him gagging over the smell drifting from an unclean posterior. Obviously, one needs to get to the bottom of things.

Of course, cleaning the exterior is one thing but even interior cavities are sometimes targeted. This can sometimes feel a step too far. However, a mouthwash makes sense, right? In 1AD the Romans used human or animal urine as a mouth wash. Apparently, the urine when stored long enough turns into ammonia which helped freshen the breath and whiten the teeth. Just in case this freaks you out it is also true that one of the most popular mouthwashes Listerine was originally invented for surgical procedures and for cleaning floors.

But, apart from the mouth, messing about with a delicate balance of other inner functioning cavities seems invasive and unnecessary. Spraying chemicals into your orifices may not serve to help their functioning at all and may even disrupt the fauna necessary for good health.  But this business of cleanliness is important in so many other ways other than just the physical aspect.  I suspect our minds are impacted by cleanliness just as much.

Cleanliness and order are not matters of instinct; they are matters of education, and like most great things, you must cultivate a taste for them.

Benjamin Disraeli

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.

Mahatma Gandhi

That last quote speaks of how important keeping cleanness of mind and spirit is.  I have long suspected that such cleanliness makes for a happy and contented life.  I unexpectedly loved this group of over one-hundred-year-olds because of their optimism and hope.