The Atheist’s Pulpit

One believer’s view.

Rain! Real Rain!

Jun 022013

When it rains in the desert, you tell people. Some are happy for you; some are jealous that it didn’t rain where they were (which might be one block over). We got drenched and muddy playing volleyball in Los Lunas today. It rained two or more times, for 10 or 15 minutes. Wonderful. Heavenly. Joyous. Everyone wore big smiles and talked about what a great day it was. I’m not sure anyone outside of the desert can really appreciate that rare joy.

Meanwhile, in Albuquerque, there was water in the gutters at the southern end of town but not a drop a few miles north at our house.

I listen to the wind / to the wind in my soul – Cat Stevens

The Atheist's Pulpit

Jun 022013

The wind howled for hours last night. It tossed me in my bed as surely as if I were in a hammock strung between high trees, death a long fall away. I cursed the wind. I called it vicious, raging, cruel, and a bully. But, on waking, I realize the wind proves my complete insignificance and powerlessness. Wind isn’t cruel; it is utterly indifferent and beyond grasping.

And so, again, I push together the stones of my sanity, until the wind blows, as it will, long after I’m dead.

Unhinged (a seasonal poem)
Wind Makes Crazy (a timely poem)

Our Anniversary

photos, The Atheist's Pulpit Tags: Merri

May 282013

Merri and I have known each 32 years as of next Halloween. However, today is our 22nd wedding anniversary.

Mom

photos, The Atheist's Pulpit Tags: Mom

May 122013

My Mom hated having pictures taken of her. Despite that, she gave cameras to people who would inevitably train them on her from time to time.

I don’t believe in an immortal soul – when you’re dead, you’re dead. (If I’m wrong, I owe you a coke.) Still, I marvel at the immortality in photographs. Yes, she lives in my memory, her voice in my head and, sometimes, coming out of my mouth, but here she is caught once so lively.

A remembrance on the 25th anniversary of her death.

My Mom
12 photos

Introverts unite! But not all at once, mind you.

The Atheist's Pulpit

Mar 092013

I am sitting home alone on Saturday night, under the light of one lamp, the only sound the whoosh of a humidifier. Not quite alone: the dog sleeps in my chair. Not quite alone: I’m reaching out to untold numbers of others (at least 3, to tell). I used to think I was shy, but I had trouble reconciling that with my pleasure in teaching a classroom of students. (Not too many, though I have lectured to 200.) Merri and I are both introverts, although that probably surprises more people about her than about me. And, some of my best friends are introverts. (We should have a big party. Kidding!) peace, mjh

Leonard Pitts: For introverts, working alone works best – Leonard Pitts Jr. – MiamiHerald.com

[W]here shyness is an outsized fear of other people’s disapproval or of social embarrassment, to be an introvert is to be inward turning, more at home in small, intimate groups than large, boisterous ones. It is to prefer the quiet to the loud, reflection to exhortation, solitude to socializing. …

[I]t is not that the introvert doesn’t enjoy the company of others. Rather, it’s that after a certain point, it leaves [one] feeling physically drained. That’s who I am — less Bill Clinton than Al Gore — and I’ve given myself permission to stop fighting it.

Leonard Pitts: For introverts, working alone works best – Leonard Pitts Jr. – MiamiHerald.com

Has anyone read Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain. (I have not.) peace, mjh

Luke, the Love Hound

photos, The Atheist's Pulpit Tags: Luke

Mar 062013

[I'm reposting the most popular post on the blog:]

On this day in 2010, we met Luke the Dog. Recently returned from Guatemala, Mer suggested we “just look” at adopting a dog, seven months after Lucky’s death crushed our hearts. Mer suggested we go to a pet store where a local group, HART (Homeless Animal Rescue Team), had rescued animals. We walked in and the very first dog we saw was Luke. Mer knelt beside his cage and cried. We discussed Luke with one of the volunteers. We walked Luke out of the store. He seemed oddly short and stocky, but very gentle and easy-going. Mer liked his interaction with small children; I liked his calm manner under the circumstances and as he met other dogs. Of course, we couldn’t just take the first dog we saw, could we? So, we looked at all the dogs available there, many of which stressed us out with their energy. Then, we went to the Humane Society, filled out a compatibility form, and looked at many more dogs, some virtually unadoptable. Then, we went to the Humane Society’s mobile station and test-walked a dog. After a couple of hours of looking and seeing so many dogs that needed homes but that just weren’t right for us, we went home.

The next morning, we talked about Luke, who was so different from all the other dogs we saw. And so, we called HART about him and, thankfully, he was still available. Coincidentally, if you believe such things, he was in Los Lunas, which was where I was headed that day to play volleyball. So, a HART volunteer (Jeri) brought Luke to volleyball. Although I put him in the back of the truck’s extended cab, he had other ideas and jumped into the front seat. Fine, I thought, let him ride in the passenger’s seat. But soon, he crawled over and laid his head in my lap for the drive home. He’s a 65 pound lap-dog and a love hound.

In the years we’ve been together, Luke hasn’t traveled as much or far as Lucky did his first year with us (5000 miles). And, we’ve left him at home with a dog-sitter, something we never did with Lucky in 10+ years. Luke is gentle and mellow and loving and we could only be happier if he and Lucky had known each other.

Luke the Dog
(8 photos)

[first published Mar 6, 2011 @ 7:47am]

Sam, Roady, and Hot Lips say we are not alone.

The Atheist's Pulpit Tags: spike

Feb 272013

We knew others feed roadrunners. A neighbor feeds Spam or Vienna wieners to his pair, who could be Spike’s parents. They nest as close to his door as they can get and don’t roam far. Another neighbor fed “her” roadrunners raw chicken. But, we assumed we were the only ones foolish enough to pay for mice to feed to roadrunners — until we met Sam at Hawks Aloft. She has been feeding roadrunners for over 15 years. She believes Hot Lips, the crossbilled roadrunner, was over 20 years old. Roady lost a big part of his upper bill over 5 years ago, but with Sam’s help, Roady has raised several broods. Sam says she has hundreds of roadrunner grandbabies. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to feed them all store-bought mice. Even so, our rough guestimate of Sam’s running tab has us thinking twice. If Spike outlives us, do we have to provide for her? Maybe she’ll like Spam now and then. She gobbled up the mealworms we bought today.

All of Spike’s posts on Ah, Wilderness!

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