An Uneasy Exchange

I visited with a childhood friend recently. We have known each other since elementary school and over the years have shared numerous interests, developed common sensibilities. Things change with time and experience, of course, and my friend and I have found ourselves philosophically polarized.

He has been, for quite some time now, a committed Evangelical harboring the benevolent belief Christian faith will bring serenity and peace not to mention a heavenly afterlife. I on the other hand, remain philosophically open-ended believing a pluralistic world view will produce the greatest likelihood mankind will be able to come together, to unite in a common empathy, reduce sectarian conflicts and direct us toward a peaceful future existence.

I though, unlike my friend, harbor the anxieties of real time, am unable to adapt to the closed system of religious faith, even though the vision of a sunny after-life is pretty attractive.

Vicarious Pleasures

Summers, I spend a lot of time on my back porch from where I have a clear view of my neighbor’s yard. I am able to view the comings and goings of a couple with whom, I in fact, have never exchanged more than a few words in passing. Nevertheless, observation and imagination have provided me insights into these people’s lives.

He, it is clear, is a serious fisherman in possession, as he is, of a state-of-the-art fishing boat with all the electronic gadgets necessary, I suspect, to ensure fishing success. I observe him with his wife whom he embraces as he is about to go off on one of his multi-day fishing trips. He has built his wife heart shaped flower gardens in their front yard that he dutifully tends, weeds and prunes.

In the last few months, though, I haven’t seen the wife, a fact that has me, as I sit here in my lounger, conjuring different scenarios that might explain her absence. Maybe she’s experienced a debilitating illness that has her bedridden or perhaps she’s been institutionalized for mental issues (she’s always appeared a bit unusual) or maybe the neighbor’s attentions toward her were feigned, were means of establishing a potential alibi for her disappearance, that in fact murder had occurred and she was buried in the basement; the adult sons who came by to see mom told she had gone off to live with her sister in Florida.

It’s becoming clear to me I need to find other ways of occupying my mind.

Traveling

I’ve been traveling lately through large unfamiliar cities. Hampered, as I am, by short-term memory loss and an inability to follow directions, the visual glut and auditory din I encounter has me exhausted. I find myself lost almost immediately upon arrival at the train station (or airport or bus terminal) as I try to decipher the abstract metro maps or follow the fine lines of the tram or bus routes on the city directory the friendly information folks handout with a smile. By the time I stumble upon my lodgings and rest up a bit I have to remind myself of the danger of going off without sufficient attention to place and getting lost all over again.
The upside of it all being the realization that people the world over are open, friendly and ready to help a disoriented stranger and are, I think, appreciative that someone would be interested in visiting the place they call home.

Prelude to the American Revolution

I’ve been reading that the political situation in America before the revolution was pretty chaotic. Over the previous 200 years (before the revolution) the population of indigenous people native to the eastern parts of the continent had grown knowledgeable of the immigrant culture, acquired the English language and European bargaining savvy. By consolidating various tribal groups in the common interest of securing their indigenous lands Native Americans fought back against the new settlers.

At the same time the various colonies established by the immigrant Europeans had disparate economic concerns, had trouble in presenting any sort of united front in opposition to the taxes and restrictions imposed by the imperialist English. The colonists’ ire manifested itself in attacks against their British overlords, destroying property and generally raising havoc.

The British found the slave trade quite lucrative, kidnapping thousands of native Africans from off their tribal lands to work southern plantations and to sell for household slaves. In some parts of the American south, the black population came to nearly equaling the white colonists in numbers. Enslaved Africans, like their native American counterparts readily adapted to the white culture and although suffering devastating reprisals rose in opposition to their enslavement adding further instability to colonial life.

At the same time wealthy colonists sought to acquire lands for themselves west of the Appalachian Mountains, a land-grab that pitted the colonists against the King’s Royal ownership of all American lands and further upsetting the indigenous population who knew for certain who’s land it was.

I guess we all know who the winners and losers were in these early power struggles. 250 years later, with guilty consciences, talking reparations for injustices perpetrated, we’ve hopefully come to realize the actions of the new immigrants of the time were less then purely heroic.

With Lego People

The Earth is Flat

It’s clear to me there’s no observable knowledge the earth is anything other than a flat disk. Theories to the contrary are the products of the imagination and attempts to suggest curvature are deceptions without basis in observable fact. Photographs to the contrary have been manipulated by those intent on keeping us in ignorance.

If what we’ve been taught about something as basic as the shape of the earth is wrong one must question all such ‘common knowledge’: if the earth turns on an axis why don’t we feel the movement, the sun moves about the earth not the other way around, travel to the moon is a NASA deception. Our only true source of knowledge is the Bible that informs us of the ‘four corners of the earth (Rev 7:1), Psalms 96:10 tells us the earth is stationary, Daniel 4:10 speaks of a tree at the center of the earth visible to the earth’s ends.

And down the rabbit hole into the dark realm of conspiracy one falls vulnerable to grifters and scammers and crazies of all sorts, reinforced by like-minds on social media. Frightful to contemplate the numbers of those so enthralled. More frightful to realize this short post will only serve to reinforce flat earth beliefs.

Deteriorating Language

I’m finding that my language is deteriorating since I left the workforce. ‘ing’s’ have become ‘in’s’ or worse, ’em’s’, requested acknowledgements have devolved into ‘init’s’, assents into ‘yabetcha’s’. It’s a sad state of affairs.

Now though, on the upside, having been reading a bio of the consummate short story writer Flannery O’Connor I find that when she applied for appointment to the prestigious Iowa Writers’ Workshop as a young woman in the 1940’s her interviewer asked her to please write her responses to his questions because he couldn’t understand her speech, modified as it was due to her secluded southern upbringing.

At the time, she was, of course, without the benefit of exposure to a strong, accent free media voice that everyone, nowadays, hears on a daily basis. Which leaves me without excuse; my deteriorating language use must be attributed to laziness. The thing is no one seems to mind. I suspect that my slovenly language use lowers expectations, my murder of enunciations and shorthand phrases are accepted, fit into what I sense is a collective disregard for proper enunciation.

This is not an uplifting perspective, I know, but I have nothing to prove, no one to impress and really mean no ill-will. I’ll stick with my written musings as my primary means of communication, though, at least partly out of embarrassment.

The Other

Fall season celebrations remind me of the deeply ingrained inclinations of people to hold onto ideas of the supernatural. I’ve been wondering if, beyond the dogmas of organized religions, do all reasonably sensitive human beings sense the existence of a presence beyond yet within the physical universe, a presence within all beings that accounts for spirit and vitality? A life-force simply unattributable to biological composition alone, an Other, without singularity, ethereal, ineffable, beyond definition?

Such an awareness, I think, might provide a useful perspective when one is experiencing the travails of daily life.

contemplating eternal recurrence

Full Circle

It’s evening. The day has taken its toll. The aches and pains have accumulated over the day’s (relatively) strenuous physical activities. I’m exhausted. I can do little right now but convalesce. Maintaining the mantra: ‘use it or lose it’ is becoming increasingly difficult to voice with enthusiasm. Like others in my aging community vigor and flexibility are diminishing. The unable to perform list awaits and is never empty. Common medical knowledge informs us to cut back our physical (and mental) expectations, don’t push so hard, accept limitations if you wish to maintain your earthly existence.

Morning now. I feel invigorated, competitive again, ready to face any adversity. Age, after all, is experience, an equalizer against youthful exuberance. Bring it on. I’m more than ready for challenge.

Evening again and the cycle continues.

Mumbo Jumbo

In these divisive times of disparate beliefs and alternate realities it seems reasonable to weigh with care one’s personal offerings on subjects of controversy. Strong opinions will arise inevitably in all of us paying attention to the political narrative these days, our chosen news feeds providing us with sound bites of ‘logical’ support for our irrefutable truths. Voicing opinion may best be tempered in the interests of momentary calm, but such a stance seems rarely practiced.

I’ve been reading about the concept of Mumbo Jumbo, an adaptable personage in the traditional cultures of Central Africa. When conflicts emerge, often within the polygamous harems, Mumbo Jumbo may appear with masked face, top hat and staff to gather the community and then single out the most egregious disruptor for punishment.

I’m wondering if a similar sort of magical thought may be creeping into our thinking these days.

I Recently Discovered that My Brain is Shrinking

The science section of the Sunday paper often has an unsettling item or two, usually involving reports by researchers who have determined the dangers of various common behaviors that will likely shorten one’s life. The article that caught my attention most recently warned that alcohol consumption will shrink the brain. Researchers apparently measured brain sizes of some several hundred people and determined that as little as one drink a day will cause one’s brain not only to stop growing but to actually reduce in size.

As I think about this and being aware, as I am, of my forgetfulness as well as the consistency of my inability to come up with the word I want in a conversation, I’m led to believe the researchers may be on to something. The fact that I’ve been consuming alcohol for probably fifty years has me wondering whether dementia may be just around the corner. After all this time it probably wouldn’t make any difference if I quit my daily glass of wine or not; how much smaller could my brain get?

I guess I’ll just have to add alcohol consumption to my other life-shortening behaviors: too much coffee will give me cancer and I can expect diabetes from the sweetened sodas I drink. Such thoughts dim the brightness of the generally healthy lifestyle I see myself living. I guess the realization of life’s fragility will keep me reading such reports even though I won’t be thinking about them too long: shrinking brain, you know.