Category Archives: The Atheist’s Pulpit

One believer’s view.

Stupor Bowl Stunday

Today, two billionaires pit teams of millionaires against each other in a stately pleasure dome built at taxpayer expense. Tomorrow, whether you’re grinning or crying about “your” team, a few people will be even richer and their surrogates will be hard at work opposing raising the minimum wage, arguing against the estate tax and regulations, while praising the non-existent free market. Hey, at least it’s more fun the original feudal system, right? Right? Go team!

[originally published Feb 2, 2014 @ 07:47 ]

Ducky flies to Peru

We found Ducky abandoned on a picnic table in a campground near Alamosa, Colorado. That was the trip that was nearly ruined by millions of caterpillars falling from the aspens they were denuding. The same trip we saw hundreds of unrelated swallowtails wallowing in mud along the road.

Ducky was just sitting there. That’s his thing. You know his kind well. Perhaps, New Mexicans feel a stronger connection to his kind thanks to Bosque del Apache, or, more likely, the Deming Duck Race.

Since he joined the pack, Ducky has ridden on the dash of our truck. He accompanies us on the mundane daily trips and the longer escapes we live for. This is why I impulsively grabbed him to take to Peru.

I admit that I considered Ducky might fill the roll of the sock monkey and other peripatetic icons dotting photos on the Web. He might add some whimsy, I hoped. Early on, I was very self-conscious about pulling him out and posing him. I don’t mind being affected or eccentric, but I’m not that into him at home. He’s just along for the ride. By putting him in the frame, I brought him into our group, most of whom looked at me indulgently, at first.

These are the best photos of Ducky in Peru, from departure to return. I couldn’t photograph my favorite moment involving Ducky. As we passed through airport security in Cusco, I pulled Ducky out of my pocket at the last moment and put him on top of a pile of other items. I loved seeing the faces of the security personnel soften as they looked from Ducky to each other and smiled. The world craves more whimsy.

Ducky on his way to Peru
Ducky on his way to Peru.

I love you, man!
The joy of birding.

On the Madre de Dios river in Manu, Peru
On the Madre de Dios river, Manu, Peru.

Watching macaws
Watching macaws.

Cloudburst and sunny smile
Cloudburst and sunny smile. I was delighted when Melissa Wilson reached for Ducky. Seize the whimsy! The rain ruined one of our best birding  opportunities, yet gave me more joy than I can say.

long journey home
You can go home again. It just takes forever.

Most of my blog entries regarding the trip are on Ah, Wilderness! Follow this link to 170 photos from the 2 week journey.

This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) By Talking Heads

Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb – burn with a weak heart
(So I) guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It’s o.k. I know nothing’s wrong, nothing

Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you’re standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight, say goodnight

Home, is where I want to be
But I guess I’m already there
I come home, she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can’t tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born
If someone asks, this is where I’ll be, where I’ll be

Hi yo we drift in and out
Hi yo sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I’m just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I’m dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head

Songwriters: BYRNE, DAVID/WEYMOUTH, TINA/HARRISON, JERRY/FRANTZ, CHRISTOPHER
© Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
For non-commercial use only.
Data from: LyricFind

—–

One of my favorite Talking Heads tunes. “I love the passing of time. …. Love me till my heart stops / love me till I’m dead.”

Golden years

Like many of us, I’m sad to learn of David Bowie’s death. He was a rock star before that concept became trivial. He moved us, inspired us, shocked us, delighted us. There will never be another like him.

Take a moment to consider that today thousands, more likely millions, of people will die. Few will have been rock stars but most will be mourned by loved ones who will experience that depth of grief that ultimately unites us all, the real price of love. Most of us never get over that grief completely.

Live. Love. Move. Be kind, be open, be patient. Take care of each other. Stop hating something. Death is more absolute and unending than we can comprehend. Now is our time. Peace.

Find your quest

Find your quest | Ah, Wilderness!  (cross posted)

“Being here makes me realize I haven’t accomplished anything.”

We watched a great film about a most extraordinary man, Dayton O. Hyde, cowboy, writer, conservationist. After years as a rancher and cowboy, he turned his considerable force of will toward providing sanctuary — paradise — for wild horses otherwise doomed to slaughter or neglect. He shaped a chunk of the Black Hill of South Dakota into heaven on earth for these beautiful creatures. His wish is that when he returns as a horse, he’ll run among them.

They truly don’t make people like this anymore. However, he serves as an inspiration. Find your quest. Save your space from the profiteers. Love, listen to, honor nature , the land and everything on it.

Running Wild: The Life of Dayton O. Hyde (2013) is a great documentary, weaving old movies and photos into the story. Just when you think you know the rest of the story, it proves you wrong, more than once. As one old friend says of Hyde, “he is a holy man.” It’s streaming on Netflix for two more days — see it NOW.

Find your quest | Ah, Wilderness!

Thank god, religion is waning

Poll Finds Americans, Especially Millennials, Moving Away From Religion : The Two-Way : NPR

Religion is apparently weakening in America. A new report from the Pew Research Center shows that the percentage of Americans who say they believe in God, pray daily and attend church regularly is declining.

Among the findings:

  • The share of Americans who say they are “absolutely certain” that God exists has dropped 8 percentage points, from 71 percent to 63 percent, since 2007, when the last comparable study was made.
  • The percentage of adults who describe themselves as “religiously affiliated” has shrunk 6 points since 2007, from 83 percent to 77 percent.
  • The shares of the U.S. adult population who consider religion “very important” to them, pray daily and attend services at least once a month have declined between 3 and 4 percentage points over the past eight years.

The shift is small but statistically significant, according to the authors, given that the changes have taken place in a relatively short period of time, and the survey sample is large enough (about 35,000 U.S. adults) to be considered reliable.

Poll Finds Americans, Especially Millennials, Moving Away From Religion : The Two-Way : NPR

Wolfman Mark

“Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night
can become a wolf, when the wolfbane blooms
and the autumn moon is bright.” (from the first Wolfman movie)

I can’t remember when I became a werewolf. Looking back, I see a few staggered steps, like tracks in the snow, lurching from man to wolf and back again. There is no cause and effect, merely history, which can be told so many different ways.

When I was a child, I had a dream. It began with me willing myself to fly. I soared over my neighborhood with delight. Soon, the force of will necessary to fly drained me and I began to descend, despite my will. In the slow descent, I flew lower into a dark woods and, at the moment of greatest fear of what lurked within, I awoke. This dream recurred many times until I was past 10 years of age. I think the dream portended changes to come.

In my teens, I found my pack. We stalked the streets and parks of Northern Virginia. To varying degrees, we found and created ourselves, as the pack and as individuals. They must have been the first to see my wolf nature emerge. I watched werewolf movies. I read Steppenwolf – auf deutsch sogar. I identified with the man uneasily on the edge of his society. At times, I lost my hold on humanity, which was a terrible sight, I know, and yet, my friends kept me in the pack, for which I’m grateful still. Eventually, the notion that “Mark is a werewolf” didn’t seem the least bit absurd – simply a statement of fact known to those who needed to know.

It was the pack that brought home my eventual mate the night before Halloween, 1981. Merri Rudd stepped into our den with wise shyness. She sniffed the air and told me she had been a dog in a former life. (I don’t recall when I first told her I’d been a wolf in the current one.) I followed her into uncharted territory, a land with its own wolves. In a few days, we’ll howl at the full moon for what could be the 364th time – a year of full moons.

At times, I think the wolf within crawled out from under my skin to become my totem, my animus, my daemon, if you will. The old man still snaps but his teeth are loose and dull. As much as ever, I linger on the doorstep of a large community, not sure I dare step over into the firelight, no matter how welcome I would be. But, from the edge, it looks lovely.