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Whales, pigs and me

Richard Dawkins “The Ancestor’s Tale” audio book traces our ancestry back through the ages, recapping the tales of various animals as they join our “pilgrimage” all the way back to the dawn of evolution.

At one particular rendezvous we meet the Artiodactyls – the even-toed mammals i.e. mammals with hoofs like pigs and hippos. Here Dawkins tells the tale of whales.

What? Whales don’t have hoofs!!! No, but their closest ancestor does. Hippos are in fact closer to whales then they are pigs!

Apparently the hippo and whale had a common ancestor – a semi-aquatic deer-like ungulate – that is a now extinct. This particular ungulate had diverged from their common ancestor with the pig around 60 million years ago.


Around five million years later this creature split into slightly different versions of the same animal – adapting to two different environments.

Four million years after that one of these adaptations entered the water, and in the new zero-gravity world blew up to become the largest animals to inhabit our planet.

The story of the whale is, for me, is one of the most pertinent examples of life’s constant flux and the unexpected beauties and absurdities that can result.

All animals, including us, are in a constant state of evolution. As the environment changes we adapt with it. Those that are most suited to the survive.

What changes will occur in another few million years? Will we be the ancestor to another human-like animal? Giants, midgets or mermaids? Or will the lineage of mammals be extinct thanks to our reckless use of nature’s stones? Will some kind of fish come back out of the ocean after mammals are wiped out? Or might rats take over the world, dig up our artifacts and interpret the stars?

I suppose only time will tell.

Picture credits:

Jean-Renaud Boisserie/UC Berkeley

Sources: Reuters, BBC News, University of California, Berkeley

“Throwness” into many worlds

Stepping off an airplane we throw ourselves into completely different worlds. Like when we are born, except that when travelling we have a choice. It can be a shock to the system, forcing us to constantly adapt — to different temperatures, people, and ways of life.

Throwing myself from the small-town world of Hickory, North Carolina, via the buzz of New York, into the fast-paced mountain-view winter world of Vancouver for three weeks; directly into the hot humid horse-cart raw world of Nicaragua for three weeks; then back home to be whooshed into the world of family and close friends, where I’ve now been for three weeks… has led my mind down a rabbit hole of thought about the many worlds in which we dwell.

Heidegger writes about the situation of “thrownness” in which we find ourselves — born into a world that is always already there. Whether we like it or not, since the moment of conception we are growing into particular ways of relating to each other and particular ways of interpreting the things that surround us. Our essence, our identity, is inseparable from the matrix of relationships that comprise the many worlds we are absorbed in — even if we don’t know it.

“My Scene”, by Aussie hip hop artist Seth Sentry, made me think about the worlds within worlds within worlds within worlds in which we (by choice or default) have our being:


What’s my scene? At this very moment, my scene is this:

Well, that’s the scene from my new balcony… talk about urban living! Inside the house is a little paradise, but more about that some other time.

My present task, now back in Oz, is to re-create my world to be the one in which I want to live. Some things have been easy to re-adjust to, like good coffee, hot showers, and putting toilet paper down the toilet (instead of a basket next to you). Other things are more difficult… noticing spider webs before you are covered them for example.

I’ve thrown myself into a mix of old and new: old and new jobs, old and new friends, a new room in a new location filled with my old furniture & belongings, a new wardrobe filled with new clothes from the 50s, 60s & 70s – from Nancy Sutton, a socialite who recently passed away at 94.

It’s been fun. And to top it off this weekend I’m throwing myself into a world of sailing and sunshine in Jervis Bay. Now that’s my kind of scene! Yep – it’s good to be back in the Land of Oz 🙂

Blogs, Fashion and a Favour… “Enough” by Nicole Bennett

My sister, Nicole Bennett, was the first person to introduce me to “Fair trade”. She travelled to Burma, India and other countries getting the bad end of the globalisation stick, long before I did, and became passionate about making a difference. She inspired me to want to make a difference too. I’m (hopefully) doing it through my research and writing. Nicole’s doing it through her (soon to be certified) fair trade eco-friendly fashion label “Enough”.

“Enough” is all about knowing when to say “enough is enough” – enough injustice, enough poverty, enough destruction of our environment, (slightly paradoxically, she knows) enough stuff!

These are a couple of photos from her look book shoot last year:

There are more photos of me modeling her stuff of far better resolution on Margaret Zhang’s blog:

And now the favour I have to ask:

Nicole is close to winning a free website in a competition. If you could spare 30 seconds of your time to click this link and then click “like” next to her label – “Enough” – then she has a very good chance of winning:

The competition ends in 3 days and 22 hours from now so PLEASE help her!!! Thank you so much!

PS Nicole has been blogging her journey here (although she’s let it lapse a bit…):

The Woes of the Girl-Who-Cried-Surprise

There was a girl who hated being bored. She hated boredom so much that she liked to do the unexpected. She almost killed herself diving into the deep end, time and time again. It was an intense way of life. It had its benefits. It also took its tolls.

Surprise surprise, that girl is me: I’m home. As in, my home in Sydney, “Surprise!”

I feel like the boy-who-cried-wolf, but with surprises. It is the second time I’ve turned up in Sydney unannounced. I’ve booked tickets that transport me half way around the world with less than 24 hours notice. More than surprising others, I like to surprise myself. I like to keep myself guessing. Does that sound schitzo? Hm.

In the last seven months I’ve played the girl-who-cried-“I’m coming home” too many times:

I almost changed my return flight to last August, but then I pushed on. I was supposed to come home for Christmas, but then I extended for six weeks in Canada. When I added Nicaragua into the mix and I put the wheels in motion to change extend again, bailing on weddings, announcing my plan to study where it’s sunny and cheap. I was in no rush to return. Then at the last minute I decided not to change my flight, and not to tell anyone.

My sisters jumped out of their skins when they saw me. My parents were over-the-moon. I called friends and turned up at doors to say: “Guess who?!”

Why tell people you’re coming home when it’s much more fun to surprise them? Well, maybe with a little noticed I’d have a car and place lined up…

A week ago I was in sunny Granada staying at Pure Gym, teaching Yogalates twice a day, sitting by the pool sipping Pina Coladas most afternoons and partying a little at night. Now I’m in Sydney at my grandma’s house with a 9:30pm curfew, and waking up at 4am (the present time of writing) with jet lag contemplating my intentionally spontaneous behaviour. Will too many surprises one day also get boring?

I’m very happy to be home, but not so happy to be living the agony Carlin satirised in Stuff. Where did all these piles of stuff come from? I have some stuff at under mum’s house, some stuff in grandma’s garage, some in this room, that room, some in a box in Vancouver, some in Hickory, some in a car, and some still in my backpack, and all of that stuff is mixed with other people’s stuff.


Having somewhat lived out of a backpack for seven months it’s like Christmas, rediscovering all my stuff. But (like Christmas-time) it is also involving fake smiles and gracious acceptances. What was I thinking when I bought these things? What am I going to do?! I feel like I can’t do anything until I find a place for my stuff. I have NOWHERE to put my stuff!!!

So now I’m on the hunt for accommodation in the ghastly Sydney rental market – to find a place to house my stuff, simultaneously looking for jobs, figuring out cars, moving towards selling my scooter… all the boring stuff: cars, houses, money — then I’ll be ready to… buy more stuff — urgh!!!

Oh well, I guess you have to take the good with the bad. Travel comes with jetlag. Life in the 21st century western culture comes with stuff. And we need places to put it, and some way to save for our next trip. Work. Sleep. Spend. The cycle starts. The cycle continues…

Weaving my world back together: a weekend at Camp Coorong

Have you ever weaved a basket? I hadn’t… “Life’s too busy for arts and crafts…” or so I used to think. I was wrong. Weaving was more than relaxing and therapeutic, it embodied a metaphorical connection I was in dire need of.

I learned so so much during my weekend at Camp Coorong. I travelled there to discuss a book chapter that I co-authored with some of the Ngarrandjeri youth, transcribing their documentary Nukkan Kungun Yunnan – Narrindjeri’s Being Heard.

When my alarm went at 4:40am on Saturday morning I wondered why I agreed to the trip – didn’t I have enough on my plate? I made it on my 6:15am flight and arrived in Adelaide a couple of hours later.

Sitting for a coffee as I waited for my friend to pick me up, took a long deep breath. There was a stillness surrounding me. I had nothing to do. Intentionally leaving my books at home I realised why I was there, in Adelaide, visiting The Coorong. It wasn’t for the chapter.

It was for one reason: to listen.

I thought back over the week that had passed. I had been the most stressed I’d ever remember feeling in my entire life. While the run and writing from last Sunday’s blog entry helped me get the balls back in the air… on Monday they all came crashing down.

“How was your weekend?” ‘Wahhhhhhhh!”… and later … “Can we meet next Monday?” “Wahhhhhhh!” I burst into tears. Twice. For no reason at all. Now that is what I call STRESS.

No amount of yoga or running could cure it. But at Camp Coorong I felt a deeper change occur.

My friend picked me up, and we drove through Adelaide Hills, over the Murray River, and into Camp Coorong.

An air of serenity surrounded us.

A quiet peace. Time slowed down. And Ellen Trevorrow taught me to weave.

I weaved my life, my mind and my soul, into the creation you can see in the photo above.

And as I weaved, I listened and learned, as together a group of us “had a yarn”!!!

In the culture of Indigenous Australians one doesn’t ask questions. One doesn’t take turns answering. One doesn’t talk about things they don’t want to talk about. No. Instead, people tell stories.

Maybe it’s the weaving. As we weaved, the energy changed. The air lightened and gravity tightened.

I had never felt so grounded. And I had never felt so free.

In this conversation one shared information, stories, they wanted to share. And the rest of the time you listened.

On Saturday I heard some of the most fantastic love stories, and tales of the saddest tragedies. Each story was captured in my weave. Later that night I taught some of the other visitors what I’d learned. Children and adults, all weaving together. There was something magic about this activity, and about this place.

I could go on and on about the many things I learned and experienced. It was all so subtle. It’s difficult to explain. Even more difficult to explain is the incredible feeling of groundedness I still feel today. I have a feeling these things will influence me in ways I can’t yet imagine.

Instead of trying to imagine them now, I’m going to share my favourite story from the weekend and leave it with you to ponder. Surrounded by pre-school children listening intensely, Tom Trevorrow told this story.

This is the story of the Thukeri and the Bony Bream:

‘A long time ago two Ngarrindjeri men went fishing in a bay near Lake Alexandrina to catch the thukeri mami (bream fish). They set off in their bark canoe to catch the big fat thukeri. They fished and fished until their canoe was over full and they said,

“We have plenty of thukeri we will paddle to shore before we sink.”

As they paddled to shore they saw a stranger coming towards them so they covered up the thukeri with their woven mats they said this man might want some of our thukeri, when they approached the shore the stranger said to them,

“Hey brothers I’m hungry have you got any fish to share?”

But the two Ngarrindjeri men said,

“No we haven’t got many fish we only have enough to feed our families.”

So the stranger began to walk away then he turned and said,

“You have plenty of fish and because you are greedy and don’t want to share you will not enjoy the thukeri fish ever again.”

As the stranger walked away the two Ngarrindjeri men laughed at him.

When the two Ngarrindjeri men unloaded the thukeri on to the banks to scale and clean them, they saw that their nice big fat thukeri were bony and they didn’t know what had happened. The two Ngarrindjeri men went home to the campsite in shame and told the Elders what had happened.

The Elders were angry and said, “The stranger was Ngurunderi our Spirit Ancestor and because you two were greedy and would not share with him he has put a curse on our thukeri mami. Now all the Ngarrindjeri people will be punished.”

Respect, caring and sharing, don’t be greedy, and don’t tell lies. Otherwise everybody will get punished.’

This was just one of the many many amazing stories I heard and experienced at the Camp. If anyone has a chance to go visit and learn from the Ngarrandjeri people, I highly recommend the experience. There are many different ways to live and be in this world, and the more of them we can expose ourselves to, the more likely the way we choose to live our lives is actually a choice.

Visit the: Camp Coorong Website

Watch the short version of the doco: Nukkan [See]. Kungun [Listen]. Yunnah [Speak].


Find the story of the Thukeri and the Bony Bream and other information here:…/ngarrindjeri-sea-country-plan.pdf

The sunset on The Coorong on Saturday:

Let us listen, and learn…


Juggling too many balls

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by life? Does your mind and body ever get to that stage where it feels so limp it hurts? Are you juggling so many balls that they all come tumbling down?

Yesterday was one of those days. Actually until I left for a run about an hour ago, that was me. I’ve been stressed. My habit of saying “yes” to almost everything, without thinking through the logistics, came back to bite me.

I leave for Europe in less than four weeks. The last month has been a manic effort aimed at upgrading from a MPhil to a PhD and getting a scholarship, ie writing 35,000 words, confirming at least two journal or book publications, and a pile of paperwork with the right signatures in the right places, and every “i” dotted. And this was to be done on top of editing two books and marking political economy assignments (paid work), editing my own book (in hope of getting it to publishers before I leave), and the system/communications/database work I do for my Dad – a whole other mind-field of its own.

Amazingly enough everything is coming together.

A lot of late nights and early mornings, too much coffee, and ignoring most other things in life from friends to licence expiry dates and visa applications, I am almost there. Of course the neglect in other areas isn’t good.

I think it was Friday that I hit that wall. I know the wall well. I have hit my head on it many times after these almost adrenalin-fuelled mental marathons. I was exhausted but I pushed through it. I needed to get the visa application in, write a letter to try to get out of the $430 fine I got for letting my Learner scooter licence expire (yes that did make me cry), and try to get a little order in my life. Of course after a few drinks to try to forget it all that night meant Saturday I felt even worse.

“What about that essay you have due in two weeks? And the application to present a paper in Krakow? And getting out of your rent? And selling your scooter? And and and ….” The internal chatter of my mind wouldn’t shut up, but physically I was useless. I caught up with family for dinner and got the “wow you look tired” commentary and the same from my friend in Canada over skype this morning.

You know what has made suddenly made the whole world seem much better?

Giving myself simply a couple of hours of love: a long run, a hot shower with a cold blast at the end, a face mask, a little yoga, and entering the catharsis of writing it all down and sharing my thoughts with you. Hopefully I will start juggling again soon.

So thank you 🙂


The Very Short Life and Times of Me and Kombi Xee

Love is blind. It makes you do crazy things. Spontaneous things. Fun things. And sometimes really stupid things. I think when it hits you you know the pain that lies ahead, yet you jump in anyway. The first time I laid eyes on her I knew. Maybe it was her bright orange skin, maybe it was the way she popped her top on cue, or maybe it was her cute button nose. It was love at first sight. Like the trajectory of most love stories I figured this relationship would come to an end. But what I didn’t know was how fast it would happen.

This is a story of false hope and empty promises. This is a story about living with intensity and adventure. This is a story of loving fully and learning to let go if one’s life’s optimal trajectory calls for it. This is the story of the very short life and times of me and Kombi Xee.

I had been looking for a kombi for a couple of months, but none were like her. Mirroring my taste in men the kombi’s I was interested in lived too far away or were already taken, until I met Xee. She was perfect. She needed a little work on the body, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Most importantly, so the seller assured me, she was mechanically healthy with an recently reconditioned motor, no oil leaks, good brakes and new tyres. She would easily pass rego in March. The pressure of competition bid me to jump in. “I’ll take her.” I said, offering the asked price.

Like the beginning of most relationships, the honeymoon period was wonderful. As I learned how she worked, exactly where to let the clutch out and work her gears, things only got better. I projected images of our glorious future together: long coastal drives, sleeping anywhere, early morning swims, weekend getaways, lots of time to read and write and reflect and keep inspired.

Our first trip to Jervis Bay was everything I dreamed. She made driving fun. I sailed by day, and slept by the waters-edge at night.

Ahimsa Sailing Klub Inc

It was only two nights, but it could have been weeks.

Xee slowed life down a notch. Time didn’t matter with her. I couldn’t go anywhere fast so I no longer tried. Chugging along we strived out way up hills, and sped at full speed back down the other side. The hippy inside me lit up as I embraced the things the 70s stood for like peace and freedom and all those ideals I think too much. Now I wasn’t thinking about them – I was feeling them. I was them.

Kangeroos in our backyard!

An afternoon at Murrays Beach

After one night back at home we left for our second trip: the Northern Beaches.

After a day’s work in Belrose I parked Xee in Mona Vale, up on the headland with a magic view of the golf course, beach, ocean, horizon and beyond. I went for a twilight swim, had a cold shower, read a bedtime story, and fell into a blissful sleep. At sunrise I repeated the above, and drove back to work. Work would now become a weekly holiday, or so I thought…

Men, women, kombis… who knows what causes them to crack. But when a relationship goes to hell, there’s no knowing what’s going to happen next. I’d been with Xee for less than a week when the romantic bliss came to an earth-shattering end.

In the space of one hour, my side mirror fell off doors, the drivers windows refused to close, at red lights on hills she stalled, spat, spluttered, and died. I powered her back up. Without a mirror I was scared to change lanes, I missed turn offs, and every slight hill she got worse.

People around us stopped and stared.

“Come-on baby, don’t give up on us yet!” I pleaded. But this wasn’t your ordinary domestic fit.

Xee delivered me home and took her last breath.

That night and the following two weeks were filled with doctor visits and hospital stays – from NRMA dudes telling me she was only running on two cylinders through to tow truck drivers and finally a kombi-specialist who delivered the final blast of bad news: it was fatal.

“Try to fix the cylinders and you’ll open a Pandora’s Box of problems.” Steve the mechanic shook his head. “She needs a new motor. I’m sorry to say but you bought a lemon.”

As if stealing my heart and my dreams wasn’t enough.

So here I am. In love with a kombi that just doesn’t want to love me in return.

“The timing just isn’t right for us,” she whispers to me, shedding a tear.

I could spend another $5k on her to get her back on the road, but that’s scraping the bottom of the barrel, using up money I need for trips to conferences and universities in Europe and the US later this year. Part of me wants to stay in Australia, but I know that’s not my path. And so, sad as it is to say, I know it’s time to part ways.

Some relationships last a long time, and some only a short time, but all relationships must eventually come to an end. The trick is to know when to say yes and give it your all, and when understand it’s best for both parties to let go.

Xee needs someone who can invest the time and money that will get her back to health. She needs to be in a relationship with someone who can give her the love she deserves.


Is there something that can be learned from this story, about loving without attachment?

Might this apply to love for a friend, boy/girlfriend, and even for material things like houses and kombis?

Is it possible to love without selfish motive? To love another in a way that puts whatever is best for the other before one’s own desire to be with them?

As I look back over our beautiful week together I know I will always remember the life and times I shared with Kombi Xee.

These moments of the past that will remain present, just a thought away, for the rest of my life.

The best human relationships are like that too. Relationships where moments of the past were lived so fully present that simply the thought of it brings the moments back to life. No matter how long or short a relationship, the best one’s live on forever: continuing to inspire, energise and make you smile.

The last month – the one week of highs and three weeks of lows that followed – are a reminder of life’s roller coaster. It might be exciting at times, scary at other times, and a little dull as you wait in line to do it again. But you can’t have one without the other. The lows are what makes the highs so great. The closeness of death makes life so exhilarating.

Kombi Xee has reminded me of the important things in my life: she reminded me to slow down, to allow time to reflect, to value experiences over money and things (even kombis), to be able to shrug my shoulders when frustrations occur, to have faith in the universe, and that if you follow it’s “signs” guiding you intuitively toward your “optimal trajectory”, the universe will take care of the rest.

Xee reminded me of the importance of letting go: letting go of fear, letting go of the things I tell myself I “need”, and to remember that you never know what new adventure lies beyond the horizon.

Me in Kombi Xee

Photos: most taken by my talented friend Melissa McCullough, and a couple from Sveinug Kiplesund (who’s a pretty good photographer too 😉 ).


I am going to put Xee on ebay, so if you feel you’re up for the challenge of this exciting but exhausting lover, then check it out:

More details about her:

This is the original ad I responded to off Gumtree:

And this is the mechanic report I got last week:

Loving What Is

How often do you think or say “I love that I’m sick” or “I love it that I got a parking fine.” Never. Well I don’t. But that was the message I took away my conversation with three inspiring minds I had dinner with on Wednesday tonight: Love What Is.

Now I know I’ve spoken about this before. I distinctly remember writing about the need to accept everything just as it is, when I thought I was going to die in the back of a crazy driver’s loud-honking car winding up the mountains in India. But as the busyness of life takes over, you can never have too many reminders of positive affirmations. And I think to love what is going a step further than acceptance. Loving what is, even the shitty stuff we face, really means embracing it. And when we embrace our pains, they disappear. But is that easier said than done?

As the antipasto was placed on the table, my friend made a suggestion:

“Name the one biggest thing you need to let go of.”

The first thing that came to my mind was Kombi Xee, and the overnight loss. Attached to my kombi was an image of freedom, not to mention the $5k supposed to fund a trip to Europe I want to do on my way to America later this year. I shared the story with my new friends, and the fear I have associated with my stupid spontaneous decision – I thought my intuition was telling me to buy her. Still who the heck doesn’t get a mechanical check on a 36 year old car? (Note – I will get to the full kombi story share some other day).

The question bothering me in that moment was: Should I keep her in, or should I exchange her for peanuts?

“Now I suggest this to you… you have to let go of your attachment to stories. Freedom is found inside you, not in the kombi. You need to let it go. Let go of any fears. Accept you’ve lost the money, and do whatever feels right to you.”

It’s not easy to let go of things you love. And while I understand the need to let go of stories, and my kombi, I just don’t know if I’m ready to. I’m trying to listen to my intuition, to be open to the signs of the universe, but sometimes those signs are simply unclear.

“I love that my kombi broke down a few days after I bought it.” I’m saying it, but I don’t mean it. I really wish I got at least a few months of fun out of it, didn’t lose my money, and didn’t have to borrow my sister’s old car that I’ll have to get registered in less than a month.

“I love that this kombi experience taught me a lesson to be careful in the future.” I’m saying it but I don’t mean it. While I’ll definitely get a mechanical check next time I buy a second hand car, I’m sure this experience won’t stop my tendency to make spontaneous crazy decisions when I feel so inclined.

Let’s try again. “I love that my kombi broke down a few days after I bought it.”

The only way I might mean it, is if at some point, some future point of hindsight, I see a purpose for it. Maybe I should put it at my grandmas house in storage for a year until I can have time and money to get it back on the road.

Let’s try again: let it go. Whatever happens doesn’t matter. The money is gone. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Kombi or no kombi, everything will work out.

If you let go of the stories that you are attached to, if you let go of fear, if you let go of expectations, and if you live every moment with acceptance and love for all that is, you will lead a happy life.

I still don’t know what I’m going to do with this kombi. Should I keep it or should I sell it? Can I sell it, or is Xee now a worthless piece of junk? I suppose if I ask the universe, the answer will soon become clear… Either way I have to try, to love this situation just as it is.

Parkinson’s Law: Using Time to Your Advantage

“Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.” This is known as “Parkinson’s Law”[1]. I’ve been testing it out and so far it does seem true.

I’m working more jobs than I ever have before: 4.5 days a week between two jobs, plus a part-time research degree, and working with an editor on my novel. And now I a new deadline for my research: 35,000 words by June.

I’m six months into a MPhil that my supervisor is encouraging I upgrade to a PhD and get a scholarship so that I can work less money-jobs and achieve more with my writing. I’m all for this, but 35,000 words? By June?? Not that words are generally a problem (as any regular readers of this blog would attest to this) still when I consider doing this as well as working so many other jobs, I start to freak out.

“Am I overdoing it?” I asked my dad on the weekend. “Am I going to give myself a nervous breakdown?”

He laughed. “As long as you also put a little time to maintain your health – go for your walks and do your pilates – you’ll be fine.” He reminded me of all the people that work full-time and do uni full-time. “It’s possible to do it all, and you will look back and ask yourself: How did I do it? But you do. You just get it done.”

That was when I remembered Parkinson’s Law.

I think it’s true: whatever deadlines you set for a task, that’s how long the task will take.

If I set myself the task of 35,000 words by June, I will do it. I know I will.

One month in to this crazy schedule I’m surprised to say that it is going rather well. Even with buying a kombi, doing a weekend away, and having it break down, to add to the craziness that is currently my life. I think the trick is not to think – just DO.

My mind has started to approach the world differently. This situation is forcing me to live fully in each moment.

I’ve had moments where I think I’m going to send myself crazy – but they only come when I am thinking about everything I’m doing. If I look at my week as a whole, at where I am using my time, I feel overwhelmed.

But if I live in the present, always focused on doing rather than thinking about doing, I am happy and extraordinarily productive.

On that note, it’s time for a walk.

[1] Parkinson’s Law is an adage first articulated by Cyril Northcote Parkinson in his humorous essay published in The Economist in 1955. Wikipedia.