NPR thoughts...

So I was listening to NPR on the way home from work tonight. I like to listen to NPR, there are a lot of good shows and its a good place to get unbiased news. At least as unbiased as it can be.

Anyway, there was a blurb for an upcoming special. The gist of it was that more and more Americans are giving up on organized religion. How, the announcer worried, could you live a moral life without religion? The upcoming special is going to try and answer this question.

I am of a few thoughts here. My first thought was that I hope this special is a podcast and goes up on the NPR site, because I would like to hear it. Im interested in the mindset of anyone who doesnt know how to live a good life without religion. In my mind, if you need the threat of an invisible father in the sky sending you to a very bad place to make you be a good person, you are fucked from the start.

I was raised in a VERY religious family in the South. Every Sunday you went to Sunday school and then church. Thats just how it was. In Sunday school one of the more hardcore religious adults from the congregation taught us stuff from the bible. Questions were allowed but not encouraged at all and if you asked anything other than a technical question about the wording or what a phrase meant, you were accused of "being smart" and told to have more faith and less questions.

For a long time I tried, I really did. I wanted to be a good Christian and make God happy with me and win his approval. But slowly at first and then faster and faster I realized I was being set up to fail. I ask questions if I dont understand something, its just what I do. Its who I am. Religion never had a clear answer for me. It was always "Because God wants it that way", "We just have to have faith that the Lord will take care of it", "Have faith and it will all happen as its supposed to". A friend of mine got cancer in his spine. He was way more of a good Christian than I was, he was hardcore into it and fully believed and had drunk the kool-aid. I knew this, even if not in those terms. When I asked my family and then our preacher why God would allow someone who obviously loved him so much to get such a terrible disease, the only answers I got were that it happened for a reason and that no one was able to know or understand the reason.

That was the moment my faith cracked and I started to doubt. I was 12. My friend was 11. He died less than a year later. Despite all of our church and a lot more people praying for him, asking God to help him, and giving hard earned money to the church as we were taught to, he died. My faith cracked a little more.

There was now a rebel inside me. The rebel took to the corners of my mind and soul and waged war on things I was told to believe and not question. His voice started out small but got stronger as time went by. I began to ask more and more questions, and when there were no real answers forthcoming I started to doubt the whole idea of God and faith more and more. I expressed these sentiments and was told that I was a bad person because I didnt have faith and accept The Lord without question. This happened probably 4-5 years after my friend died.

Somewhere along that time I discovered and became interested in science. Science answered my questions and then explained the answers to that I could understand them. There was no need to have faith, there was proof. It occurred to me that you could have faith in the proof. If you didnt want to that was OK because there was always an answer to anything you asked. I liked this a lot. I also started spending more time paying attention to the world around me. Sunrises, sunsets, the beauty of a forest or a mountain or even a swamp. Nature was amazing.

Thats about where my spiritual journey is these days, some 30 years later. Im still perfectly happy with science and nature and the beauty and proof they offer. I have faith that the sun will rise tomorrow, yet I know that if I wanted to know why it would there would be a definite answer I could find. Nature continues to enrapture and transform me all the time. Just when I think Im jaded and cant be moved, I'll see a hawk fly into a flock of pigeons and take one out or I will look up at the sky at night and see millions of stars and I will realize that there is always more to experience. I dont need some insecure and sadistic invisible father telling me I shouldnt even think of any god but him and that he will burn me forever if I do, nature doesnt get jealous.

Dont get me wrong here, I appreciate sadism very much. Its just not a quality I want in my Supreme Being. So back to the original question: How does one live a moral life without religion? How about follow one simple rule. It has nothing to do with science or nature, its easy to remember and its all you need:

Dont be a dick.

If you can follow that one little rule, I think you will lead about as moral a life as is possible for a human to live more or less. And no one has to get nailed to anything, killed because they dont believe in something or damned to an eternity of punishment by an invisible sky father. I call that a win/win proposition.

More memories...

When I was a kid, we made our own fireworks for a few years in a row. We were kids, so naturally we didnt have much cash and fireworks were expensive in the volume that we used them.

Thinking back on it, we didnt so much make fireworks as we manufactured explosive devices. I would imagine that a kid now doing any of the stuff we did back then would be put on several lists and likely the word terrorism would be used. We have changed as a society and not in a good way.

This was back in the 70’s. You could walk into the TG&Y (a forerunner of walmart in the South) or into a Western Auto (a wonderful store, Im not sure they exist anymore) and buy black powder in bulk canisters as long as you could ask for it and carry it out. Cannon fuse was sold at the beach by all the good fireworks vendors. We became very creative in what we would make into fireworks. I could go into details about construction and methods but it would probably get me put on some sort of list and have Men In Black knocking on my door so lets just say I had my methods. Friends of mine used different methods and materials and we always had summer long competitions to see who could make the biggest bang.

We would also take out snake nests with our toys. The main snake we had to deal with is called the Eastern Water Moccasin and is known as the cottonmouth because its defense mechanism was to open its mouth and show you the white inside to try and scare you. This is a mean snake, if it tried to bite you and missed it would follow you home and try to get you the next day. If you saw one, you killed it with whatever you could. Its worth noting here that there are companies in the South that manufacture and sell shotgun holsters that fit on riding lawnmowers. My mom has one on her mower, in fact. Anyway, water moccasins nest in very large groups in natural hollows under stumps, logs, rocks and other areas. I lost a friend to a nest of them, he went too close and the ground caved in. When they pulled him out he had 71 bites on him, each of which was enough to kill him. That was a sad summer. When we found nests, we blew them up in memory of Jake, the friend the snakes killed.

So this one summer we went all out. My cousins and I were usually the main competitors in our world. We had other friends, but they would usually side with either me or my oldest cousin and we would be little armies roaming the neighborhood looking for each other. Our neighborhood was several square miles and all surrounded by swamp, which made it ideal for this sort of play. Somehow we decided that we would go to war between our groups over this huge pit that had been dug in the area right behind our neighborhood. Looking back on it, I think it was an experimental strip mine for either coal or another metal, the land we lived near was pretty valuable mineralwise. It was this huge rectangular hole maybe 100 feet deep with two dump truck paths leading down into it on opposite sides and an abandoned dump truck in the center. If it rained a lot, which it tended to do in the spring, there could be several feet of water in the thing and inevitably the bullfrogs would all show up during mating season. (We would call a truce during bullfrog season and hunt them for the legs, which we either gave to our parents to cook or sold to a place in town that cooked them for the black people. No white person would admit eating bullfrog legs, it was the time we lived in.)

After a few weeks my cousin and his team claimed this dump truck and we could never figure a way to take it back. He actually slept a few nights in the cab he was so proud of it. I was of course consumed with envy and humiliation and determined to win the day. I didnt know it had a name a the time but eventually we decided on a scorched earth policy, meaning the next time he wasnt sleeping in the dump truck we were going to blow it the hell up.

This next part I write only because my cousin is dead these past 6 years and I figure any statute of limitations on me has run out by now…

The night came that he was home. We had been preparing for a week or so like little mad scientists, figuring out in our minds where to place our fireworks and what might happen when they went off. We had no idea, but we pretended to so we wouldnt look stupid to each other. Finally the day came that we decided would be our day. I knew my cousin and his family were going to the beach for the weekend so I knew he wouldnt be in the dump truck. We waited till nightfall and began our mission.  

Me and my good friend Paul gathered our arsenal and made our way to the pit. We thought it was the middle of the night, it might have been 10pm. We made our way to the truck keeping an eye out for the inevitable cottonmouths, and after dodging one or two we arrived. We checked the cab and bed to make sure no one was around and started about our business, setting charges under the big gas tanks on either side. Yeah, we werent smart people, its a wonder we all survived our childhoods.

Once we got everything set we agreed it was time to light them and run. This is where things started to go sideways. Paul got his fuse lit but mine had gotten a bit wet and wouldnt catch. My first clue that there might be trouble was a Paul shaped blur going by me at top speed. I lit another match and held it to the fuse and foolishly blew, blowing the match right out. I lit yet another one and held it a few inches in from the end of the fuse, vaguely aware of Pauls voice urging me to run from a distance. It caught and I turned to run, only to catch my foot on a rock and go right down on my face. I started to get up and suddenly something grabbed my arm and heaved me upwards, it was Paul. He had run back to the truck to get me. I got to my feet and we both took off.

About two seconds later the entire world lit up like the inside of a flashbulb. It got brighter and much hotter very quickly and then it felt like the fist of God punched me right in my back. (This was back when I still believed in and even feared God, before I learned to think for myself) I felt my feet leave the ground and all my senses dulled, I remember hearing a roar and seeing Pauls shoe go by my head. I thought for a second about how weird that was and then hit the ground really hard. Luckily we landed in a huge patch of 2 foot deep clay mud, the kind I imagine people pay good money to soak in these days. I got to my feet and panicked, realizing that we had bitten off much more than we could chew. I looked for Paul and shouted his name, and then realized I could barely hear myself. Being lighter and smaller than I was, he had flown about 10 more feet than me and was near the edge of solid ground. I got to him and shouted in his ear asking if he was OK. He looked at me with a look of great amazement and shouted back “I think so” and we both took a few seconds to make sure we had no broken bones or other injuries. I found great amusement in the fact that Paul was missing a shoe and we both broke into a kind of hysterical laughter, almost helplessly laughing as hard as we could. We held on to each other in the light of the burning shell of the truck, shouting our laughs to the skies. Even now I remember what an amazing feeling that was.

After a minute or two we realized what we had done and realized that people were going to notice. We agreed that it would be best if we werent around when people showed up and we started looking for the missing shoe. After a short search, we found it about halfway up a pine tree, luckily enough one of the ones that wasnt on fire. We threw rocks at it until it came tumbling down and he put it back on. We left pretty quickly and headed back to my house, where Paul was staying the night and we were camping out in the back yard. This was a pretty big deal back then, at least to us.

There was quite the turnout to the fire. Departments from two counties showed up and a lot of folks from the neighborhood gathered to watch it. My dad came out and “woke” Paul and I and we all went to see what was going on. Paul and I acted suitably shocked and impressed and as far as I know no one ever suspected us. In fact, not even my cousin, who came home from the beach that weekend and was mad that he had missed the spectacle, suspected us. We agreed to never speak of it again around anyone else but being that this was just under 36 years ago, no one cares any more. Its a good memory and a good story I think :)

Another post from the past

I noticed the other day that a few of my friends here liked it when I wrote about my past and told stories. I like to do this and its a good way to settle my mind, so I plan to continue. That said, I was talking to a new friend tonight and it turns out we know some of the same people, including one of my favorite people on earth. I was also reminded of a story about the favorite one and decided to share it.

My friend, I will call her Misty because thats her name, and I met at a local event. I still remember the first time I ever saw her and more vividly the way she looked at me the first time she saw me. Those who know me will know what it means when I say that when she looked at me I felt like prey for a minute. I actually came close to running, just on instinct. It was great. I dont think we talked that night but it wasnt very long before we did. By that time I had Fetlife stalked her like I do and had a nice little crush going. We talked for a bit and found a mutual interest in Doctor Who and scheduled a Who Night date to watch an episode. The fact that I managed to 9/11 a little crappy model helicopter into her and make her bleed that night and she still talks to me tells you a lot about her.

We eventually decided that a poly relationship and dating werent in the cards and that we wanted to be close friends, which we still are. We fell into the habit of meeting once in a while at some 24 hour place and sitting and talking. She would knit or read, I would drink tea and comment on people around us and we would just be together for a while, its a really cool way to do things.

One night in particular, we were sitting and talking and she started getting text messages. We have the sort of thing where it isnt rude at all to check that shit when we are together so she was and I probably got a few and responded too. Suddenly I look across the table and she is struggling really hard not to cry. When I see someone I like crying I usually get one of two reactions, either I immediately go into fight mode and wonder whose ass I get to kick or I go into protective mode and want to be all protective.

Misty is in no way someone who needs protective mode but she could also kick about anyones ass I can think of. So I wasnt sure what to do. Eventually I fell into a light protective feeling and just sort of sat and held/stroked her arm and talked to her. After a minute she told me that she thought she had just been broken up with by a long time partner via a text message. We agreed that this was a fucked up thing and determined that she needed a bit to collect herself and we should just sit and talk for a while longer. I was cool with this and continued to hold her hand and talk to her. We eventually agreed that he just couldnt handle The Awesomeness That Is Misty and she smiled.

At this point I looked around the place for the first time and realized something. People were watching us. Not everyone there, but a definite non zero number of people were watching us, a few of them kind of closely. It hit me all of a sudden. Im sitting at this table with a hot woman who is in tears, these people think I am the reason she is crying. A closer look around proved this true, some of the people looking were indeed throwing a serious stinkeye at me.

I was a bit baffled. I knew I wasnt the reason she was crying, I was worried about her in fact. But based on the way a couple of the women in that joint were gazing at me I stood a pretty good chance of getting cut when we left our booth and I hit the parking lot. For a brief moment I thought about standing up and making some sort of general announcement that I had nothing to do with her crying, I think I even asked her if she would agree with me if I did this. I seem to remember a joke or two about her not agreeing and throwing me under the bus, but by this time she was laughing so I didnt much mind if I got hit by the bus.

After a while we decided it was time to leave and I walked her to her car and she hugged me. Hugs from this woman are like a serious contact sport, she hugs like a Russian bear. I love it. There was a little more talk and we went our separate ways. Im pretty sure we talked a few days later so I could make sure she was OK.

It occurs to me that we havent hung out like that since she got broken up with. I’ll have to ask if there is a superstition involving me now or something :)

More thoughts

One of my favorite movies is The Big Lebowski. I watch it often and there's a scene where The Dude has finally had enough and snaps on Walter. He wonders why everything is such a "fuckin travesty" with Walter.

Sometimes I identify with Walter. It seems at times like everything I try turns into a fucking travesty. From talking to women to managing my life to what would seem to be the simple act of getting through a single day, there are times I honestly wonder if I can touch anything without fucking it up.

In the past this has really affected me negatively. My thoughts would spiral downwards and get darker and darker and at times I would hurt myself or lash out and hurt others with words. But then the other day I had sort of an epiphany. I realized that no matter how much of a fucking travesty I felt like my life was, I actually have it fairly decent compared to a lot of people. I have a few people in my life I feel I can utterly trust and a few more that I think are genuine friends. A lot of folks dont have even that. I have the love of more than one woman, more than one dog and more than one cat. I have what is a good place to live even though I dont like it much.

Since I realized this I have started to change the way I think. Its going to be an ongoing process and Im not sure where it will take me eventually. I dont think Im going to wind up happy, I honestly dont think I have that in me given the way my brain works, but Im pretty sure I am going to end up less sad and depressed all the time. That would be really nice.

Im going to do my best not to let this turn into a travesty. I hope I dont fuck this up...

Thoughts

I was thinking about a trip my family took once. We went through Yellowstone and it was amazing. I saw Old Faithful erupt, I saw moose and many other animals and then I saw a bear.

I was flyfishing. Well, to be honest I was flailing around with a pole and a fly trying to get it right. There was a noise off to the left of me, I didnt pay a lot of attention but I glanced over after about a minute or so.

Im 6'5" tall. The grizzly bear that walked out of the bushes about 40 feet from me was at least 2 feet taller than me and looked very much like the one in the picture. Light colored fur, a HUGE head and much longer legs than I expected. I took a very good look because I figured I was never going to get this close to another animal like this, probably because I was going to die soon.

Im not sure why it didnt charge me. Maybe it wasnt hungry, maybe it was just having a good day, maybe it was because I sucked at fly fishing and no fish had been within a mile of me. Whatever the reason, most of the time Im pretty happy it didnt. The incident also changed me. I have been really close to death more than once, but that was probably the closest. It would have taken seconds for that bear to run me down and kill me. Likely I wouldnt have even moved I was so transfixed by it.

Im not scared of death, not since that day. It doesnt bother me that one day I will die, it just makes me wonder what is next. When I realized the bear wasnt going to immediately charge me, I dropped the cheap flyfishing pole I had bought and just started walking. I walked in the general direction of some rocks I thought might protect me if I decided to chase me. I looked back twice, once the bear was watching me and 30 or so seconds later the bear had walked out into the river and already had a fish. I gave thought to heckling it for being such a better fisherman than me but I just stood and watched as it ate the fish and went back to feeding.

I would damn near sell my soul to be able to go back in time and have had my camera instead of a fly rod. Its weird the things you think about, isnt it?

Changes?

This is a brain dump and an effort to write here more regularly, I need to do this more often.

I made a friend at work, a couple of them actually. They are both on the same shift as I am and are on the maintenance staff. One of them is from Mali, in West Africa, and came here with his family a few years ago to get away from ebola and other stuff going on there. He tells fascinating and terrible stories about what its like to live in a place like that, as fucked as our government is...his makes ours look perfect, GOP included. 

The other guy is from Barbados. He was a sugarcane grower, as was his father before him. He met an American woman and moved here to be with her but then it went wrong and he decided to stay. 

I was talking to my friend from Barbados and he has a house he is going to be renting out. A woman was living there and trashed the place, he said she was young and young people have no respect anymore. We talked about the place for a while and I asked him to tell me when he is ready to rent it, I would be interested and could give references that we would be good tenants. He agreed to and said I seemed like someone that he would like to rent to that would take care of the house. 

Could this be the year we get out of this house that I hate so very much? Prayers to the sweet baby jeebus that it is. Any extra energy, mojo or animal sacrifices anyone is willing to do to help would be wonderful. Im sure if the landlord was to try and complain about us leaving we could get out of our lease based on the amount of stuff she knows about and hasnt made any effort at all to repair for at least 2 years. 

Speaking of work, its going smoothly. I have adjusted well to the walking and figured out a schedule that gets me moving a lot and makes time seemingly go faster. I am still doing between 4-5 miles a night with the occasional bump up to near 6, I expect this number to grow when it warms up as I plan to take longer routes and be outside more. Im not sure if this will be a summertime position or not, there is talk of making it a Butler University position from their police department and I have indicated my extreme willingness to come work for Butler and drop ESG to part time. That would be an amazing opportunity. 

Im still eating like shit, but its getting a little bit better. I am really trying to do two things: I want to eat healthier stuff for lunch and I need to learn portion control. If I get too much I will eat it all no matter if I stop being hungry or not, a throwback to childhood when I was taught that food was love and love was completely consumed among other mindfucking lessons I learned around then. I am trying to learn portion control in a number of ways and some of them seem to be working, others not so much but I figure I can keep with the stuff that works and get it done eventually.

Another problem at work is hydration. I love to drink water, but somehow I dont like to drink it at all when I am moving around. I move around the vast majority of the time I am working so I get behind on hydrating and it takes a real toll. I try to carry a small bottle and refill it a lot but I can never find anything that is convenient and works. The search continues.

Thats about it for now. I am off to watch a movie after I work a little on cleaning the kitchen. Our next house will not get as fuckified as this one did. That I swear on my soul before the old gods and the new. I cannot live like that.