The Furphy’s were a water cart company that serviced the trench lines in
the First World War in France – they provided the men with the essential supplies of water, sanitary service and ...
gossip from further up or down the trench. So these soldiers, being more or less cut off from what was happening around
them, waited for the water cart to get a little information – a furphy. As most of the tale was inevitably a little
bent and distorted the further it went down the trench, it was just that – a furphy – and not the facts.
The main fuel for this feeling of impatience comes from the notion that there
is something better ‘out there’, in the future – that magic ingredient that will then make life as perfect as the
ending of children’s fairytale – and then they lived happily ever after. And yet it is this very feeling of
impatience, that particular bit of my ‘self’, that prevents me from the sensate-only experiencing the perfection of
this moment. Impatience is the ‘self’ telling the ‘self’ to go away in order for life to be perfect thereafter.
What a furphy! Who am I trying to fool? This is what cunningness in action looks like. It is fascinating to see the self
splitting itself into two yet again in order to pretend that there is change happening without really having to change
anything. Seeing through the charade, I experience the thrill that accompanies the shift from a furphy to an actual
experience, from ‘feeling impatient’ to actively dismantling the ‘self’, from stepping out of the ‘real’
world to arriving here. I understand that the only way to approach self-immolation is by welcoming the death of ‘me’
with free will, open arms and a full YES. It is a magic formula, that turning around 180 degrees again, a yes to
immolation rather than a no to life as it is.
By the way, what is a ‘furphy’?
A furphy according to Mr. Oxford is –
Austral. slang. [f. Furphy water and sanitary carts, manufactured by the
Furphy family in Victoria during the 1914-18 war.] A false report or rumour; an absurd story. Oxford Dictionary
Strange connection – ‘sanitary carts’ and ‘an absurd story’! I like
the sound of the word, it reminds me of a silly little furry animal running round in circles. I used ‘furphy’ as in
a useless emotion that prevents me from getting closer to my pursued goal – freedom. To find out that I have been
going round in circles of doubt, impatience or self-deception means I can stop wasting my time. The more I investigated
reoccurring silly emotions that did not seem to be triggered by anything in particular, the more I considered them to be
furphies – the ‘self’ buying time or ‘me’ being busy postponing my demise.
Thank you. I agree, the notion of a ‘silly little
furry animal running round in circles’ excellently depicts the ‘self’ in action.
In the meantime I have heard some more information on this interesting word
–
The Furphy’s were a company that made water carts that serviced the trench
lines in the First World War in France – they provided the men with the essential supplies of water, sanitary service
and ... gossip from further up or down the trench. So these poor soldiers, being more or less cut off from what was
happening around them, waited for the water cart to get a little information – a furphy. As most of the tale was
inevitably a little bent and distorted the further it went down the line, it was just that – a furphy – and not the
facts. 
Vineeto to Alan, 4.7.2000
