Category Archives: The Atheist’s Pulpit

One believer’s view.

Orwell tweets: nvr uz a lng wrd whn a short ‘un werks

You any damn word you want to — that’s my motto. But, I like the longer quote. mjh

Brendel Playing Schubert by Lisel Mueller | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Orwell said, "So long as I remain alive and well I shall continue to feel strongly about prose style, to love the surface of the earth, and to take a pleasure in solid objects and scraps of useless information."

And, "Never use a long word where a short one will do."

Brendel Playing Schubert by Lisel Mueller | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Are We Living in Sensory Overload or Sensory Poverty? – NYTimes.com

Short, well-written essay. Read it, then turn off your computer and sit outside for a while. Not to be smug, but I walked to the park, sat in the backyard, and will play volleyball for 2 hours under a gorgeous New Mexico sky in sight of a mountain range. A good day. mjh

Are We Living in Sensory Overload or Sensory Poverty? – NYTimes.com

By DIANE ACKERMAN 

As a species, we’ve somehow survived large and small ice ages, genetic bottlenecks, plagues, world wars and all manner of natural disasters, but I sometimes wonder if we’ll survive our own ingenuity. At first glance, it seems as if we may be living in sensory overload. The new technology, for all its boons, also bedevils us with alluring distractors, cyberbullies, thought-nabbers, calm-frayers, and a spiky wad of miscellaneous news. Some days it feels like we’re drowning in a twittering bog of information.

But, at exactly the same time, we’re living in sensory poverty, learning about the world without experiencing it up close, right here, right now, in all its messy, majestic, riotous detail. The further we distance ourselves from the spell of the present, explored by our senses, the harder it will be to understand and protect nature’s precarious balance, let alone the balance of our own human nature.

Are We Living in Sensory Overload or Sensory Poverty? – NYTimes.com

[hat tip to Meg Adams and Merri Rudd]

Far rarer than an eclipse: I got a tie for my birthday …

At volleyball this afternoon, we had 2 on 2: Chris, Al, Chuck, and me. I lost the first game with Chuck on my side. I lost the second game with Al on my side. Going in to the 3rd game, Chris had won all (2) and I had lost all. For the third game, I joined Chris and played on the side of the net that had won two games. The game was zero to zero through an unusual number of serves. However, eventually, Chuck and Al had 17 points to our 4. I was going to lose all three games. Somehow, we fought back to 20 to 20. Chris was serving and might well have won the game with two points. Then, I asked if I could have a tie for my birthday. And my good friends indulged me.

This has only happened once before in 40 years (25 of which I’ve played). That may also have been my birthday. On that occasion, I assumed it would never happen again until the game they play after I’m dead. I lived long enough to see it happen again.

Eclipse fever? Watch it on the Web.

Every day, I enjoy something outside. Often, birds catch my fancy, as do flowers and insects. I love watching light and shadow change throughout the day. Too many people don’t go outside and savor a moment in nature.

For that reason, I hate to be a killjoy about the upcoming eclipse. However, I remember the most recent annular eclipse in Albuquerque and of those people who were here who I’ve talked to about it, no one else remembers it. Perhaps that says something about the event.

I’ll be out there at the end of my block, as good a place as any for totality, which is relatively high in the northwest. I’ll be just as excited to watch the sunrise tomorrow. A full moon rising over the Sandias thrills me more.

As for the eclipse, it will be simulcast and the Web will be splashed with photos and video soon after. The best seat in the house is in front of your computer.

Don’t forget to go outside some other time and look up for no reason other than that doing so is in our blood. Being outside savoring nature nurtures us.

I remember the eclipses in 1994 and 1970

We stood in our backyard in Albuquerque near mid-day. We used a pin-hole projector to view it on paper. I think several friends were with us. Mer doesn’t remember this one.

On March 7, 1970, my family lived in Alexandria, Virginia (Alison St). I remember how remarkable it felt to experience the transition from day to night in a few minutes.

Kudos to NASA for the data and to MiddleEarth condensing that data.

Annular Solar Eclipse May 2012. MiddleEarth.info

  • On May 10, 1994 an annular eclipse went diagonally across the United States from Tucson, New Mexico to Maine.
  • On February 26, 1979 a total eclipse covered the North Western United States border with Canada.
  • On May 30, 1984 an annular eclipse went from New Orleans, Louisiana to Washington, DC.
  • On March 7, 1970 a total eclipse crossed North Florida and went up the Eastern United States seaboard. If you have seen one, this was probably it.
  • Annular Solar Eclipse May 2012. MiddleEarth.info

    NASA – Solar Eclipse Page

    Solar Eclipses: Past and Future

    The following links give detailed descriptions of all eclipses of the Sun and Moon from 2000 through 2008. The original reports were published in the annual Observer’s Handbook of Royal Astronomical Society of Canada.

    NASA – Solar Eclipse Page

    eclipse

    NASA – Google Maps and Solar Eclipse Paths: 1981 – 2000

    The table below is a concise summary of all total, annular and hybrid solar eclipses from 1981 through 2000 (excluding partial eclipses). The links in the table provide additional information and graphics for each eclipse.

    NASA – Google Maps and Solar Eclipse Paths: 1981 – 2000

    Weird Birthday Weather

    “As described in the Handbook of Unusual Natural Phenomena, by W. Corliss, New England was plunged into almost total darkness at mid-day, May 19, 1780. Smoke from huge forest fires in Canada was the presumed cause, but no one knows for sure.” [Sky Watch]

    On the actual day I was born, New Mexico experienced its greatest rainfall ever recorded: 11.28 inches in 24 hours at Lake Maloya, on the Colorado border.

    Icarus

    I first knew something had changed
    when I thought,
    “my wing has fallen asleep” —
    my wing? I sat up heavily.
    The dog ran from the room
    as I spread my wings out
    six feet either side of my body
    (no exaggeration).
    I ran from the house
    and all the birds for miles
    were silent.
    My cat eyed me coolly.
    I leapt and fell.
    leapt and fell.
    I ran around the yard
    trying to glide.
    I climbed on the picnic table
    jumped
    and fell on my face
    my wings folded elegantly behind me.
    My neighbor came out at the commotion
    and I wrapped my wings
    around my nakedness.
    “Why are you wearing a leather cape?,” she asked.
    It’s sort of a gift, I answered.

    Since that day, I’ve gotten used to the stares
    and whispers.
    I’ve learned to wax my wings
    against the creaking
    and the mites.
    I sleep standing up —
    rarely upside down.
    I’ve jumped from buildings, bridges and planes
    each time falling like a stone.
    Some gifts are hard to take.
    Some gifts aren’t all that great. mjh

    9/7/2004

    [for another take on this imagery, see going home]


    Listen to Icarus

    My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)