This is part of what was written in response to a daughter's request that I write down my story.

This is the "Why I Bother" part: a non-systematic, non-chronological cosmology; a wander through the stuff of life.  I tried hard to avoid being offensive, if I failed in that for you, I regret that.  Please re-read it as an apologetic, not a polemic.

This part is a work in progress as I have yet to stop learning why to care, to love:  to bother.

It is set in poetry to keep me brief and on task.

The Spaceship

I learned  in physics  classes, long  ago,

Of frames  of reference. Non inertial  ones

Were  like  the  Universe;  a  cosmos  ruled

 By  vast, eternal  laws,  enormous  suns

Held captive  by  them  in  a  dance  and us,

Within it  all,  in small  inertial  frames,

Like  spaceships  riding in  the  starry  storm.

Inside  them  we  give  "up" and  "down" their names.

Commonsense  declares, within  the  "ship",

That  certain basic  facts  and acts  are  good

Ideas always:   never walk beneath

A moving bus  and give  your  kiddies  food.

But  these  come  when the  windows  open  up

And universal  light  informs  the  way

We go and do and be;  and it  works  well.

But  when we  close  the  windows  down, we  pay;

Without  that  light  to guide  is  when we  make

A hope, a  thought, an ideal  into Law,

That  binds  the  mind  and heart  in misplaced  zeal

Or fear: among  the  stars  of hope,  a  flaw!

Inside  inertial  frames, inside  our  ship,

We set  our  laws,  our  cause-effect.   And woe

Betide  the  one  who dares  deny  our  scheme,

That  one  must  change  his  mind,  or he  must  go.

 Inside     

 In ancient  times, Job sat  in silent  gloom,

Upon the  ash heap;  symbol  of the  fate

Of all  he  was  and owned and  loved: destroyed

Because  he  sinned;  and,  so, deserved  God's  hate ...

The  aeons  roll. Now, Jonah  sits  in gloom

Inside  the  fish, a  symbol  of the  one

Who turns  and runs  from  God and disobeys.

His  doom;  to be  removed  from  light  and sun ...

Gagarin rode  on high, first  man  in space!

His  doom,  not  Laika's, but  Petrushka's  lot;

The  System  pulls  the  strings  and gives  the  words

That  say,  "I looked and  looked but  saw  no God." ...

Inside, looking out

So, Job was  wicked only  in the  eyes

Of  "friends" whose  cause–effect  declared  his  doom;

A system  without  hope  or use  to Job,

For he  was  given  light  that  cut  the  gloom:

Job  knew  his  own Redeemer was  alive,

Who, on that  day,  on  Earth, with  those  he's  bought,

Will  stand and though Job's  (then) skin be  destroyed,

Yet, in his  flesh,  alive,   he  will  see  God!

Inside  the  fish, three  days;  a  living  death,

With  time  to think, recall;  and then  to pray,

To Him  who could, alone,  restore  the  breath

Of life  to  soul  and body  any  day,

To Jonah  came  the  light  beyond  the  frame;

The  fish had  saved his  life;  was  not  his  tomb,

(As  so the  system  said).  Instead, a  name

To turn to and  find grace  to spite  the  gloom

And,  Jonah was  a sign to later  times;

Another  took  the  doom  and gloom  instead

Of  those  who should have,  and, like  Jonah, walked

Out  from  his  tomb in three  days, like  he  said!

Gagarin knew, too  well, the  system's  rules.

But  carried in  his  heart  another frame

Of reference  that  informed  his  daily  walk:

When asked, the  hope  he  had, he  could  explain.

An Orthodox, he  held an astronaut

Cannot  be  hung in  space  and not  have  God

In mind and heart.  The  other words  ascribed

To him  were  Krushchev's;  bombast,   from  a  fraud!

Outside

Inertial  systems  rule  our lives  quite  well;

But  cause-effect  can  impact  all  we  do

Not  helpfully;   when looking  only  at

The  walls  and lines  and  rules  of those  in  view

Who do not, will  not,  cannot  see  that  all

Is  borne  within  a  non-inertial  frame,

That  lights, reveals, informs  and  guides  our  lives,

Dispelling  gloom  and  doom  by  just  one  name.

Fantasy

 At  bath-time, once,  my  sisters  lifted me

And put  me  in the  tub, where  I could  see ...

(The  tub was  sitting  on the  kitchen  table.

The  door was  open,  therefore  I was  able.) ... 

That  heavy  rain was  falling  on that  night;

Roof gutters  overflowed and  in the  light

 That  shone  I saw some  cats  and dogs  run down

The  water-sheet, as  it  fell  to the  ground!

My sisters, I recall  through  memory's  fogs,

Did say  that  it  was  raining cats  and dogs!      

--------------------------------------------

I lay  upon my  back,  out  on the  grass,

And watched  as  aircraft  coming  in went  past

To Sydney  Airport, flying  under  me!

I did  not  fall  into  the  sky; you see,

The  Earth  sucked  hard and held me  firmly  on,

Or gravity  bit  hard, 'til  they  were  gone.

      --------------------------------------------

Fact     

I wandered,  once, in  London-town, in Spring,

But  lost  my  way;  I could not  find  a  thing,

Or any  place  I wanted;  not  much fun!

I had  no compass, so I used the  Sun

 And maps. It  works  in Oz, but  over  there

 The  Sun is  in the  wrong place, so take  care!  

    -------------------------------------------

"Comment-ca-va?", on dit, peut  etre,  en France,

"Pas  grave." Mais, pas  ici. But  here  you  chance

The  greeting, "How's  it  going,  Mate?" (It's  kind

Of much  the  same,  but  different.) "Never mind."

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I've  queued in traffic  on the  motorways

'Round Sydney  and  I've  sat  in queues;  not  days,

But  certainly  for hours, in Casualty:

The Hospital  was  not, at least for me,

An ideal  place  to be  when in  some  pain.

 And, I will  have  to go there  yet  again;

I'm  in a  queue,  or two, for surgery.

The  problem's  delicate;  it  rhymes  with "p".

 It's  too  much information  to peruse,

It's  just  I have  to  mind my "Ps" in queues.      

--------------------------------------------

Hope      (Also  an  experiment  in  the  use  of  pause.)

 The  noise  I hear is  not  the  world around,

It's  in  my  head,  my  mind;  the  quiet  drowned

As  all  the  fuss  we  people  make  deforms

Perception  of the  thunderous  calm  before

The  coming storm.   The  world, itself,  just  groans

Or, sometimes,  quakes  in pain  as  it  bemoans

The  curse  it  bears  since  Adam  went  astray.

It  waits  to  be  renewed upon that  day,

When all  the  noise  I hear  within my head

 Will  silence.         -          -       I do not  dread

That  day,  for he  who will  restore  all  things,

And will  be  seen  to be  the  King of Kings

 Has  planned adoption to his  family,

For me, time  out  of mind.    -    Come  and see!