answers to test - self grade, let me know how you did

1. "There is no position on which people are so immovable as their religious beliefs.  There is no more powerful ally one can claim in a debate than Jesus Christ, or God, of Allah, or whatever one calls this supreme being.  But like any powerful weapon, the use of God's name on one's behalf should be used sparingly.  The religious factions that are growing throughout our land are not using their religious clout with wisdom.  They are trying to force government leaders into following their position 100 percent.  If you disagree with these religious groups on a particular moral isssue, they complain, they threaten you with a loss of money or votes or both.  I'm frankly sick and tired of the political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in A, B, C, and D.  Just who do they thin they are?  And from where do they presume to claim the right to dictate their moral beliefs to me?  And I am even more angry as a legislator who must endure the threats of every religious group who thinks it has some God-granted right to control my vote on every roll call in the Senate.  I am warning them today: I will fight them every step of the way if they try to dictate their moral convictions to all Americans in the name of conservatism."  

 

2. "Christianity is the most perverted system that ever shone on man."

 

3. "During almost fifteen centuries has the legal establishment of christianity been on trial.  What has been it fruits?  More or less, in all places, pride and indolence in the clergy; ignorance and servility in the laity; in both, superstition, bigotry and persecution."

 

4. "Lighthouses are more useful than churches."

 

5."This would be the best of all possible worlds, if there were no religion in it." 

 

6.  "Shake off all the fears of servile prejudice, under which weak minds are servilely crouched.  Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call on her tribunal for every fact, every opinion.  Question with boldness even the existence of a god; because, if there be one, he must more approve of homage of reason than that of blindfolded fear."

 

7.  When asked by the journalist Robert Sherman whether he recognized the equal citizenship and patriotism of Americans who are atheists, this individual replied: "No, I don't know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots.  This is one nation under God." 

 

Now here is the answers:

1. Barry Goldwater - Congressional record 16 Sept 1981

2. Thomas Jefferson

3. James Madison

4. Benjamin Franklin

5. John Adams

 

2 through 5 are quoted in Christopher Hitchens biography  Thomas Jefferson: Author of America

 

6. Thomas Jefferson - in a letter to his nephew Peter Carr 1787

7. George H W Bush - Free Inquiry 8:4 fall 1988, p 16 and interview with journalist Robert Sherman

what liberal left wing commie, socialists said these?

1. "There is no position on which people are so immovable as their religious beliefs.  There is no more powerful ally one can claim in a debate than Jesus Christ, or God, of Allah, or whatever one calls this supreme being.  But like any powerful weapon, the use of God's name on one's behalf should be used sparingly.  The religious factions that are growing throughout our land are not using their religious clout with wisdom.  They are trying to force government leaders into following their position 100 percent.  If you disagree with these religious groups on a particular moral isssue, they complain, they threaten you with a loss of money or votes or both.  I'm frankly sick and tired of the political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in A, B, C, and D.  Just who do they thin they are?  And from where do they presume to claim the right to dictate their moral beliefs to me?  And I am even more angry as a legislator who must endure the threats of every religious group who thinks it has some God-granted right to control my vote on every roll call in the Senate.  I am warning them today: I will fight them every step of the way if they try to dictate their moral convictions to all Americans in the name of conservatism."  

 

2. "Christianity is the most perverted system that ever shone on man."

 

3. "During almost fifteen centuries has the legal establishment of christianity been on trial.  What has been it fruits?  More or less, in all places, pride and indolence in the clergy; ignorance and servility in the laity; in both, superstition, bigotry and persecution."

 

4. "Lighthouses are more useful than churches."

 

5."This would be the best of all possible worlds, if there were no religion in it." 

 

6.  "Shake off all the fears of servile prejudice, under which weak minds are servilely crouched.  Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call on her tribunal for every fact, every opinion.  Question with boldness even the existence of a god; because, if there be one, he must more approve of homage of reason than that of blindfolded fear."

 

7.  When asked by the journalist Robert Sherman whether he recognized the equal citizenship and patriotism of Americans who are atheists, this individual replied: "No, I don't know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots.  This is one nation under God."

answers to follow in three days

political, ethical, religious and philosophical thoughts to ponder

For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.

White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.

White privilege is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck," like Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.

White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.

White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're "untested."

White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy

liberals.

White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was "Alaska first," and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.

White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 20-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.

White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a "second look."

White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.

White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.

White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.

White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it a "light" burden.

And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.

White privilege is, in short, the problem.

I'm a little confused!

Let me see if I have this straight.... .

• If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you're 'exotic, different.'
  
• Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, you're a quintessential American story.
  
• If your name is Barack you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
  
• Name your kids Bristol, Willow, Trig and Track, you're a maverick.
  
• Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.
  
• Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you're well grounded.
  
• If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, elected to the US Senete in 2004 representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.
• If your total resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.
  
• If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian.
  
• If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.
  
• If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
  
• If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant , you're very responsible.
  
• If your wife is a Harvard graduate laywer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent America's.
  
• If you're husband is nicknamed 'First Dude', with at least one DWI conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.
  

OK, much clearer now.

Politics and Choice

The United States is now in the process of deciding who will be its next president. This is a political process that comes down to a choice: the choice of how each of us as individuals will vote on November 4. The choice is not meant to be simplistic; it can never be about one issue. The decision we make at the ballot box has implications far beyond who will sit in Oval Office. The outcome will affect not only this present generation but generations still to come, not just in our nation but throughout the world. It will determine the direction this nation will take on energy, environment, the economy (both local, national, and global), education, health care, social security, national security and a plethora of other important issues.

To choose a candidate on the basis of one issue, no matter how strong ones feelings on that issue is, in my opinion, irresponsible. For many years a powerful faction within the Republican Party has been a dominate force in defining morality based on their particular religious persuasion. They demonize any candidate that does not adhere to their world view. There is no difference between this ideological bent and that of any other religious or political system that denies the opinions and or beliefs of others. This form of extremism does not make for a healthy pluralistic democracy that our republic prides itself on.

The word politics comes from the Greek Politeia which is derived from the Greek word Polis or city state. Politics is about the rights of the citizens (citizenship) of a nation. This nation is a nation of the people, by the people, and for the people. This means that not everyone will get what they want all the time. However, it does mean is that everyone will have the right to express their opinion, especially, at the ballot box. However, the electoral process is not meant to restrict the basic rights and freedoms of others as found in our constitution and its interpreted laws.

For the past eight years, many of our basic rights have been eroded by the present administration in the name of national security. Should the present administration be cloned into the next, we will undoubtedly see more of the same. The religious fundamentalism that has governed much of this administrations decision making will continue eroding the choices we have as citizens. None could be more obvious than a woman’s right to reproductive services being eliminated.

Those on the religious right have made the abortion issue the key in determining whether or not they will support an otherwise qualified candidate. It has recently been pointed out that in the last 35 years (since Roe versus Wade) 48.5 million abortions have been preformed. This is approximately 3,803/day. At the same time we have pharmacists refusing to sell legal birth control pills to women in need. These same individuals want the "morning after pill" banned, and sex education limited to abstinence or "just say no" as a mandated federal policy. The US policy on international aide to poor nations, in need of both birth control and HIV Aids information, is to refuse to give out information on use of condoms, instead abstinence is preached. In the three years prior to 2004 the Bush administration withheld $34 million in congressionally approved funds to 140 nations through the UN Population Fund. The UNPF estimates that this resulted in one million unwanted pregnancies, 800,000 abortions, 4,700 maternal deaths, and 77,000 infant and child deaths. This from a right to life president.

The resources of our world can not sustain the population growth at its present rate. As of 30 August 2008 the world population was over 6.839 billion and growing at approximately one person / sec. The US population for the same day was over 305 million, and growing at a rate of one person every ten seconds. In a world where 15 million children starve to death every year, that is one every 3.6 seconds, 1,028 per hour or approximately 25,000 per day, abstinence alone is not the answer. In a world where 1.2 million children are trafficked to work in sweat shops and the sex trade for an annual $15 billion profit to those who abuse them, abstinence is not the answer.

There are other issues of life and death other than abortion, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan for one. In 2003 the war was costing the American tax payer 4.4 billion dollars per month, in 2006 it had grown to 8 billion per month and by 2008 12 billion per month. Latest estimates place the total cost of the war around 4 trillion dollars. But the true cost can never be calculated. The loss of life of US military personnel is just a part of the cost (the government has put a value of $6.5 million on each American soldier and contractors life, this comes to approximately $18 billion). This doesn’t take into account the documented Iraq and Afghanistan civilian deaths, between 82,987 and 90,521, many of whom are children. Nor does it take into account the billions of dollars that are being spent and will be spent in the future taking care of the physically and mentally wounded from these wars. War is not the answer to our international problems.

A simplistic one issue, black and white view of the world doesn’t equate in the real world of daily suffering and death. For example, the World Health Organization estimates that between 300-500 million new cases of malaria will occur every year. Of those, 1 million will die. Many of these are children. It is estimated that in an average year 195,000 people in the US will die in a hospital due to medical error. The statistic on death and suffering could go on and on, and they do, and they will, no matter who sits in the White House.

The question facing us as a nation and as individuals is which candidate will do the most to end this suffering and death. John McCain is willing to continue the war indefinitely. With the continued waste of wealth and resources on war, there is no money to spend on health care, education, infrastructure (roads, water and sewer systems, etc) and the environment. The failure to address these issue have long term consequences that will in the end cripple our nation, and will add to the suffering of untold millions yet to be born. Is the abortion issue important? Of course, but it must be kept in perspective. What rational person would want to bring their child into a world where environmental degradation and where economic and educational opportunities are limited or not available? John McCain’s vision for America is more of the same as experienced under the Bush administration. Barack Obama’s vision is one of hope. Not a pie in the sky hope, but a realistic vision that will require change in the way Washington does business. A vision for future generations of all Americans, not just the privileged wealthy few, nor the corporations of the rich and powerful. Barack Obama is the kind of president America needs and deserves. 

Around the Next Bend

It has now been three summers since I have been on top of a mountain or for that matter even been in a wilderness area. Frustrated is an understatement. I know, I know, patience is a virtue and all good things come to he who waits. Like so many aphorisms they are only half true, that is, you can almost always find one that says the polar opposite. Oh well, time-wise I am now closing in on the possibility of a new ankle which, if everything goes all right, will put me on top of a mountain by next summer.

In the meantime one does the best one can under the circumstances. Which for me means regular stretching and conditioning exercises with my favorite instructor, Sandy. It seems like she has been trying to shape me up for the last 38 plus years, but with only moderate success. That doesn’t stop her from trying. Patience is definitely one of her virtues. Of course, I have played an important role in developing that virtue, but then like the proverbial devil I don’t get a lot of credit for my supporting role. No one said life was fair.

Since climbing and hiking have had to be scraped from my summer pastimes, that has only left walking behind the lawn mower and bike riding as an escape to the great outdoors. One is of course a "chore" the other is life saving. I’ll leave it to the reader to try and figure out which is which.

Well maybe I won’t. After my mishaps with the torn ligament that took several months to heal, I was again able to slowly, very slowly, get back on my bike and begin to get my endurance and wind back. Only recently have I been able to push it, and it feels great. Over the past few weeks Sandy and I, and various family members, have spent time at Eagle Crest. During this time I was able to work out at the gym, swim and ride the paved bike trails. As good as that is, it is not the same as being out in the forest on a single track trail. While sitting around the townhouse I came across a brochure featuring hiking and biking trails in the Sisters area.

I decided to try a short 5.5 mile loop called Eagle Rock trail just south of Sisters on the way to Three Creeks Lake. While I was riding the trail, Sandy and Rusty hiked a portion of it. The trail for the most part has a slight climb to it as it meanders through tall Ponderosa Pine and along an irrigation stream that comes off of Broken Top mountain. The quiet of the forest was broken only by my deep breathing, and the ripple of the stream. It was another delicious ride that reinforced again my deep love of nature and my desire to see and experience what is around the next bend in the trail.

After my ride and Sandy’s hike, we retired to one of my favorite spots in the city of Sisters, the Sisters Coffee shop. Across the street is my second favorite place the Paulina Used Book Store. I had black liquid drugs (caffeine) straight up and Sandy had some foo-foo coffee, my term for coffee decaffeinated with flavoring added to "kill the taste" of the real stuff. We grabbed a table in the shade outside and watched the rest of the tourists, while sipping one of life’s small pleasures.

The following weekend Leighen brought his mom and dad over for a four day mini-vacation. Rod and I rode the Eagle Rock loop, while Leighen took grandma and mom on a leisurely walk (right Rog) up the steep sandy north slope of the southern most Cline butte above the Creekside town house.

On our ride, Rod and I, stopped alongside the stream and picked some orangish-red berries that looked similar to huckleberries but a little smaller. While picking, a lady came by and asked us if they were edible. I said I hoped so because we had both eaten some. Just to make sure we stopped at the range station in Sisters and asked. Yes indeed, they were edible, they are called Waxy Currents. The Native Americans in the area used them in the making of pemican, also used to stop the flow of diarrhea. A handy tidbit of information. The berries themselves are rather dry and tasteless. Oh well, if I ever have the need to make pemican or for its other use, I at least have the information stashed somewhere in one of the backwaters of my neuronal pathways.

The next day Rod and I decided to do the Peterson Ridge Trail. Leighen again took mom and grandma out for a hike, although he rode in a pack on his mom’s back. This time to the top of the northern most Cline Butte. Rod and I drive to Sisters. The trail head is the same as for the Eagle Rock loop. The first two miles of the trail follows the Eagle Rock loop, but then it crosses the irrigation stream and begins an uphill climb before it tops out at close to 800 ft above the valley floor. There was one short section, after having come up a fairly steep grade, that we dropped into a rocky dry creek bed, then up the other side. At this point the trail became very steep with more than an occasional rock out crop. I was in the lead, with Rod not far behind. I missed a down shift in gears and came to a quick stop, Rod veered around me but also had to stop, too steep. Off our bikes, we pushed ahead for several 100 ft before we were able to hop back on and continue upwards. At several points along the way we were able to get fantastic views of the Three Sisters, but none was as spectacular as when we crossed a forest service road that gave us an unobstructed vista of Middle and North Sisters. We paused and both said: "Here’s where we want to build a cabin." Yeah right, us and every other person that has ever been here.

As is usual we topped out all to soon. Here the trail splits into a short loop around a butte and then back down. Or, as one sign post said: Sisters Trail 1 mile. What to do? I had forgotten to bring the map but remembered that it said it was only half a mile out to the Three Creeks road. I figured as long as we were headed in a westerly direction we were bound to hit it eventually. Unfortunately the map hadn’t said that the road would turn to deep loose scree-like rock that required more work than the previous eight and a half miles. Hey, once your committed you can’t turn around, right? I mean how much further could it be, besides we are probably almost there. The previous eight and half miles had taken us 52 minutes, that last half mile (+) took over 15. Hey, we’re almost there, I can see a gate and a fence. The gate is of course is locked but we are able to climb over the fence and hand the bikes over. Whew! Time for a break and a few calories.

From here it is all down hill, about 6 miles worth, piece of cake, off we go. After about a half mile we pass a sign that says Sisters Trail, Peterson Ridge. Hey sometimes you just have to make a choice and go for it. Would have helped to have had the map. By now the road has become very steep, we pick up speed and are soon cruising faster than we can pedal in our lowest gear and still gaining speed. My speedometer reads out 25, 30, 35, 38, and then 40.2 which we maintain for over a mile. All concentration is now focused on the road, don’t dare swerve or even touch the brakes. As we begin to bottom out and our speed drops we both let out a shout that says: "Wow, what a rush, and we survived!" We are so adrenalin pumped by now that we are able to maintain a 20 mph plus speed for the last 3 miles back to the car, on an almost flat grade. The last quarter mile we slow to cool down. Reaching the car, we hop off our bikes and give each other a big sweaty hug, while at the same the time laughing, smiling and fists pumping the air. Times to remember. Does it get any better? I don’t think so, but then one never knows what’s around the next bend.

A Midsummer Morning’s Awareness

From a restless and fitful sleep, I pull my consciousness from the deep recesses of my mind and towards wakefulness. I arise this morning at the, how’s the old saying go, "the crack of dawn." As I sit in my meditation/reading chair and gaze out the window I realize how inappropriate that saying is to this morning.

I have seen the crack of dawn in the high deserts, from the slopes of many mountains and on the eastern horizon of the sea. The light appears as a thin line in the distance. Faint at first, just a hint that gathers in intensity with the arrival of our day star, Sol.

Not so here in the Mary’s River valley. Here the horizon is close because of the forested hills that define the valley. Here the influence of marine air brings a soft fog, laden with moisture. The effect of this fog is manifold. The moist air settles and gently lays its dampness on meadows and forest. It also brings a dampening effect on sound. The new day breaks not with a crack but a quietness. A quietness that lays like a soft blanket over the land. A freshness that says; "listen, and in the listening be still." Not an easy task for one with my temperament.

But the most subtle effect is the light itself. Diffused by a myriad of suspended water molecules, this light of a new morning creeps silently across my mind. There is no sudden appearance of light streaming across the landscape nor land transformed into areas of deep shadow and bright welcoming warmth.

No, not here, not today. Instead the dark of night slowly changes to a greyness that becomes dawn. No sudden rush of light. No shadows. Instead a melancholy light that turns midsummer fields amber in its soft glow.

Like the change of the seasons, the fog lifts with a steady but with barely perceptible progress. The sky takes on a blue greyness and Mary’s Peak can now be seen at the southern end of the valley. The air slowly warms, the fog leaves and another beautiful summer day has begun. Life right here, right now is good.

Time for breakfast and another cup of coffee. 

A Morning’s Stroll

The other day, Sandy and I spent the night at the Summit cabin with our eldest grandson, Ethan. The weather has been very hot for July, so it is nice to get out of the Willamette Valley and into the coast range where the temperature is generally cooler. Not the case today, even at night it is warm, which is very unusual for Summit and the Mary’s River valley.

Ethan is at that age where "everything is boring," "there is nothing to do." Of course five minutes later he is fully engaged with something, shooting the bow and arrow, helping Nanny water the flowers, throwing the frisbee for Rusty our dog, discovering a nest of birds eggs, or beating Nanny at a game of Skip Bo.

We spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get Ethan to bed that night. "Mom and Dad said I could stay up till 10 O’clock." "Daddy always reads me at least two stories." "I always get a snack before I go to bed." "Can I have a back rub?" By now it is well after 10, we started the process at 9 and Sandy and I are both tired. Ethan is just getting started with requests and postponements. Finally we say our last goodnights, turn the lights out and head down the stairs. By the time we reach the bottom step, he is sound asleep. With three of these wound up balls of energy, it’s no wonder his parents needed to get away for three days.

I awake the next morning at my typical 5:30 AM, roll over and drop back off to sleep until almost 8 AM. This is a highly unusual event for me. I quietly get out of bed, go to the kitchen, where the night before I have ground the coffee beans, add fresh spring water to the pot, push the on button and head outside to rake the front yard before my first cup of Joe. I know. A lot of people say coffee is unhealthy, hell, life is unhealthy. I am not of the religious persuasion or otherwise that believes in doing away with everything that feels good just because someone says it is "unhealthy." Just seems to life denying for me, which of course is one of the major paradoxes of life.

By the time I finish raking the grass, Sandy and Ethan are up and Sandy is making blueberry pancakes. Yum, yum. After breakfast I take my second cup to the guest cabin’s deck, along with my latest read. Time for some early morning vitamin D. Opps, another no, no. Half way through my cup I decided to walk up the logging road and check out the trees we had planted last winter.

Now for me this is a big deal. Riding my mountain bike, no big deal, walking, that’s another story. Since my right ankle has been fused, even the flattest of walking surface is difficult. An old logging road with tall grass, bramble vines, and hidden sticks is really a challenge. Oh well, take my time, be careful, pay attention, I should be able to make it. It is after all only a couple hundred yards to the plantation. I take my trekking poles for added stability and hobble my way up the road.

Even though I am in the shade of some big firs, by the time I reach the plantation I am sweating and slightly winded. It has been too long since I took a walk, other than behind a lawn mower. The road goes through the upper part of the plantation so it is easy to see how the trees are doing. There is new growth on all the ones I can see, this is a good sign. Now if the ground doesn’t get too dry before the fall rains, they will be in good shape for another year. The first year after planting seems to be the most critical. After that it is just a matter of staying up with the grass and brush that will try to crowd them out. Along with the fir, we also planted another 500 Coastal Redwoods, this makes the fourth planting of redwoods. The first planting now has some trees close to 20 feet high. What a beautiful sight, can only imagine what it will be in a hundred years.

I decide to continue my walk up the old road. It becomes steeper and overgrown with thistles and blackberry vines, but I can see that if I am able to push through these it becomes more open in about 50 yards. I slowly push on. The steepness of the hill now requires that I turn my right foot, which means the whole leg, sideways in order to continue upward. After about ten minutes I reach the junction with the new road and a flat landing. I pause to decide whether to continue "outback" or take the new road back to the cabin. Not really much of a choice, outback it is. Although the road leads upward, it is a more gradual incline, plus a week or so ago I had ridden with a friend in his pickup in search of some fire wood for him. As a result of that, the road track has been beaten down by the tiers, this makes walking a lot easier.

I am now walking through an area that we first logged after the death of Sandy’s parents. The trees we planted that winter are now close to 40 feet tall. That would be the winter of ‘92. It never ceases to amaze me how rapid the growth rate is for these trees. A rapid movement in the tree tops catches my attention. I see three Band Tailed pigeons perching on the leader of three fir trees. The white band on their tails become translucent as they take flight into the morning sun, disappearing in a blaze of light.

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the trees on the ridge above me. The only sound I hear is the lazy buzzing of insects as they warm to this new day. I am now about to reach the second fork in the road. One will take me down into the back canyon and the creek, the other will skirt the southern hillside of that same canyon. The choice is to the right, no way am I going down into that canyon, I have already pushed my limit, maybe to the max. As I get to the fork, I pause and look across the canyon to the hill side we planted two years ago. The trees there are still being shaded by the tall grass, but when I was there with my friend Joel last week they appeared to be doing fine.

I have decided to walk only as far as the upper landing on the right fork, that’s about a mile from the cabin. I turn and begin to walk in that direction. I stop abruptly, about 30 yards in front of me is a young doe browsing daisies in the middle of the road. I remain frozen and watch as she flicks her tail and ears in irritation at the flies hoping to suck a little blood for their breakfast. She has yet to sense me even though she occasionally looks in my direction. She steps off to the side of the road and begins to nibble at an elder berry tree, then putting her head back down she continues to graze the bushes, grasses and daisies, giving me neither heed nor fear. When her head is down, I cautiously move towards her, all the while saying to her in my head; "I mean you no harm." After about ten minutes of this stalking, I have halved the distance between us. She finally looks up as if seeing me for the first time, I freeze. Her ears go to the alert, my breathing stops. It is so quiet I can almost hear my heart beat. She takes a couple of tentative steps towards me then stops. Slowly she turns and walks away, occasionally stopping to look back at me over her shoulder. I stay frozen. With grace of movement and no fear she steps into the brush and disappears. I turn and head back to the cabin.

Life is filled with the unexpected. Sometimes the unexpected can be disastrous at other times it brings pure pleasure. How we perceive this unexpected and what we do with that information will determine not only our personal attitude (self talk) but our relationship with other beings. When the unexpected is approached with fear, others sense it. When it is approached with love and acceptance that also is sensed. Ultimately the choice is ours.

Remember: all that glitters is not gold

In regards to one said Keith Miner, after a brief but intense incounter session we were able to deprogram his Pavlovian conditioning.  This was done mainly by allowing him to see that the natural world really is the color green, that the stars of the milky way are easily seen on a clear night and that the sound of silence is indeed possible.

 

Prior to that he thought that green referred to money, stars to Holywood personalities, milky way to a candy bar, and the sound of silence to a song by Simon and Garfunkel.  Having now reach a deeper degree of both physical, spiritual and mental insight we have sent him back to spread discontent among the natives.

 

As to his continuous omissions, we were able to counter that with a couple of Beano pills.   We in the great state of Oh-rain-on-yah are not worried about SUV's or Hummers.  For one thing they will never make it to our great state, there isn't enough money to fill their gas tanks.

 

Yes we are aware of the physocological discontinuity between the southern and northern half of your state.  We feel that with counseling, love ins, wearing flowers in your hair, lots of prayerand fasting that healing may be possible for your "state of delusion".  If none of that works, doubling your daily dose of Prosac may help.  

 

As to his propensity towards graffiti, we have been able to take this latent talent and turn it into a positive trait.  He has been commissioned to paint the inside of our capital dome with scenes depicting the natural beauty of our state.

 

It has been discovered that late night "bull" sessions with his sibling and a trained counselor have inabled him for the first time to express his inner self in a way that has allowed him to let go of his anger and aggressive tendencies.  WARNING: His new found inner peace and tranquility has brought him to a point of enlightenment that will spread love and joy to all those that he now feels the freedom to hug.

 

As to camp fires, we have shown him the foolishness of such primitive expressions of thinking and acting in the belief that it is necessary to have them inorder to get in tune with nature.  We did this by showing him short videos of the fires in your "state of confussion."

 

We return this wonder filled ambassador of hope to the hopless, of love to the unloveable, peace to the dicontented, and joy to the depressed of your state.  May his awakened condition stir the yearnings of migration within your hearts and minds.

 

Love from your northern kin, hope to see you soon 

Time and Flies

I have found a rather secluded spot on the back deck of our Corvallis home, seclusion is not need at the Summit cabin. Here I can sit in a semi nude condition without worrying about scandalizing the neighbors or having the police show up at our front door and being charged with indecency. In this spot I can catch some early morning rays, drink a cup of coffee or tea, depending on my mood, and read a chapter or two in my current book.

Today it is a cup of Chai with lots of milk and honey. Yum. Good drink for awaking the senses, without overstimulation. I can’t say the same for the book I have been digesting lately. The book was loaned to me by a Tuesday morning breakfast friend. One of the discussions of late, at our weekly breakfasts has been ancient civilizations prior to the rise of Sumerian and other fertile crescent cultures. An aside, which typically happens in our conversations, was about the origins or origin of life. Hence, the next week I was given a book by organic chemist Robert Shapiro. The book is titled origins: a skeptic’s guide to the creation of life on earth, and although written in 1968 it still has many salient points.

As an evolutionary biologist, confirmed atheist and avid reader of Richard Dawkins I have been delightfully surprised by Shapiro’s book. Good stuff, and I recommend it to anyone interested in the subject.

Anyhow, back to the deck and my quiet time of study, contemplation and observation. Absorbing my daily dose of vitamin D from our local star and beginning to perspire a bit, I realized that I had become the host for a beautiful little creature. Now under most circumstances I would just brush it aside and continue with what ever I was doing, or not doing. Not this time though. Maybe it had a bit to do with the book I was reading and the steps involved with the production of life on this blue planet. Or for that matter, anywhere else in this vast mysterious and full of wonder universe.

Here sat one of those small wonders on my right forearm. It was a fly, about half the size of common house fly. His (actual gender unknown) body, head, thorax and abdomen were a beautiful metallic greenish blue color. As he grazed on my forearm his iridescence sparkled in the mid morning light. I now had a choice, continue reading or observe this interloper. I choose to read. Bad decision. Well not bad, more like unsuccessful. The little guy kept drawing my attention away from the book and to him. Finally I got the point. Setting the book aside, I gave this marvelous creature my full attention.

Some might think, well that sure is a waste of time. But is it? Where else in our solar system does such a creature exist? He is unique to this planet, and in all (well maybe most) probability, the entire universe. So I sat and watched. It seems that we "big mind" creatures, on the whole, pay little or no attention to our "lesser" distant relatives. And if we do pay attention, it is usually to exploit them. After all aren’t we humans the highest evolved life form on this little blue speck of a planet? Hmm.

Occasionally I will turn my arm or hand and he will continue grazing with nary an apparent thought to his food source. His world is so much different than mine, I can not even begin to imagine it. What is it like to see through the eyes of compound lenses? What smells or tastes attracted him to my arm? As I watch him, I notice that his proboscis is shaped like an elephant’s trunk. This little vacuum cleaner is busy sucking up his midmorning snack: me. Unlike some of his relatives he neither bites, nor punctures to draw blood. He is a surface grazer. Every once in awhile he will lift off, fly around, always coming back to the same spot, before moving off through the tangle of arm hair.

After an undetermined length of grazing time, he will sit up on his back four legs and with his front two wipe his proboscis and face. I guess they haven’t developed napkins yet. And then he will proceed with his meal. Life, as short as it is for him, must be fairly good with such a large food source as me. Thank you very much.

This creature so delicate, so relatively obscure and unnoticed in my everyday world and yet in some ways so much apart of it deserved my attention today. I would like to think that in some small way he has changed my life. I know that I did his. He left with a full stomach.

Morning Tea

6:30 AM. I’ve been lying here in bed half awake for an hour. Sandy softly breathing in slumber beside me. I gently pull back my side of the blankets and slip out of bed and into my bathrobe. The shades on the window make the room very dark. Careful not to stumble I quietly open and close the bedroom door. Time for tea and some quiet time.

Our blond haired 5year-old ball of energy grandson, Collin, is spending the night with us at the cabin. Need to be quiet so as not to wake him. As I enter the living room I see him curled up on the floor in his blue blanket, lying next to our dog Rusty. Both look up as I stand in the door way looking at them. I let Rusty out to do his morning ritual. Collin, wrapped in his blanket, gets into my old recliner and snuggles down.

I open all the window blinds and let the gentle morning light flood the room. Time for tea. Filling the tea kettle with fresh cold spring water, I set it to boil on the stove. Taking two cups, I place in each a bag of sweet coconut Chai, with a teaspoon of honey and cold milk. In Collin’s, I add a dash of chocolate syrup. Water at a boil, I add it to the mixture and stir.

Sitting across from each other at the table we wait. The hard part of the tea ritual is waiting for it to cool. We both savor the aroma and the moment as both flood the room. I hand Collin a spoon with which he dips and softly blows on the steaming Chai, impatient for the first taste.

"Is it good?" I ask.

He smiles and dips for another sip. He spooning and me sipping, we look out the window at the awaking valley.

"There’s fog covering the hills," Collin says, "and it’s quiet."

"Listen to the quiet," I say.

His gaze is now turned again to the field with purple lupine in full bloom and the stream meandering the valley. He is contemplative for a brief moment then turns to me and says, "It’s really quiet." I nod as we continue spooning and sipping our morning tea.

Cherish these moments Papa, cherish these moments.  

TWO SAGES

Coffee in one hand

book in another

walk to the back deck

hot spring morning

sit and observe

Gary Snyder in mind

nature in senses

Snyder says

"anything looked at with love

and attention

becomes very interesting"

close book

enough

listen to the traffic

let it go

pay attention to now

purple sage

flower buds

almost blooming

hold lovingly in hand

texture soft

tender

imparts fragrance

deep breath

inhale texture

fresh

alive

pungent

sage

two sages

Snyder and purple

one for the mind

one for the senses

meld in the moment

Paul and Paul Adoption Agency LLC

15 April 2008

Dear Ms Xborris

This letter is to inform you that Mr and Mrs Roger Paul, herein referred to as the, adoptive parents, have been in contact with our agencies lawyers regarding the said child now in there temporary custody.

At the request of the adoptive parents, said minor child, Ginger Rogers Paul Boris, will remain in their custody until said minor is 18. At which time, said minor, will be considered an adult. As per our lawyers request, visitation rights, and child support will be sent to the adoptive parents on a monthly basis until said child turns 18.

Our agency lawyers have suggested to the court that a minimum child support of$300 per month, plus any medical expenses they incur be sent directly to them. The court also instructs Ms xborris to set up a college educational fund for said minor. The monies from this fund, $200 per month will be place in a trust fund for said minor. This fund will be administered by the adoptive parents to be used by said minor. Should said minor decide not to attend college, this fund will be held until said minor turns 21 years of age. At that time at that time the adoptive parents can use said fund to take a vacation to Tahiti.

As per the courts instructions pertaining to said visitations. The court hereby instructs Ms xborris that she can have one day a week, to be determined by the adoptive parents, and one weekend a month. The times for pickup and return of said child can be determined by the adoptive parents.

Failure of Ms xboris to follow through on any of the courts instruction will be considered a failure on the part of Ms xborris, and visitation rights will be terminated, and Ms xborris will be remanded to the Benton County jail prior to being sent to OSP. The court herein hopes to impress upon Ms xboris the importance of her parental duties and the financial and emotional obligation Ms xboris has to said minor child.

It has been brought to the courts attention that said minor child has been emotionally abused as a result of separation from Ms xboris. As a result the adoptive parents are getting therapy for said minor. The court instructs Ms xborris to cover the cost incurred, $200 per hour, monies can be sent directly to the adoptive parents.

Sincerely yours,

CEO of Paul and Paul Adoption Agency, LLC 

No, Not At Eighteen

Took a fall last Friday that left me on crutches. Thought I might have broken loose one of the bones that was fused in my leg and ankle. Doctor’s xray showed nothing broken, just a torn ligament. Which, of course, takes longer to heal than a broken bone. As if that wasn’t bad enough, coming down the stairs from our front door into the tiled sunroom I took flight. Crutches don’t make good wings.

Actually the flight wasn’t that bad, although it was less in distance and time than the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk. It’s the landings I keep having trouble with - can’t seem to get my wheels down in time to prevent a crash. Head first on the tile floor, not a very forgiving surface, even for a hard-headed male Paul. When I came to, I had a bump and cut on my head, four jammed fingers on my right hand, a sore shoulder, sore knee and a slight concussion, plus more damage to my ankle. Wow, all that in less than 3 seconds. And no, I hadn’t been drinking, unless decaf coffee counts.

How’s the old Zen saying go? "Pay attention, damn it." That might not be exact.

I hope that another old saying doesn’t have application in this instance: "everything comes in threes." Unless, of course, I consider what the doctors at the Foot and Ankle Institute in Seattle said today counts as the third one. They told me that I have to wait a year after removal of the hardware from my leg/ankle, before they will consider giving me a ankle prosthesis. That means it will be some time in October before I can get that surgery done. I had been hoping for this spring so I could be healed and on a mountain by this summer. No such luck. Guess I’ll just have to hobble my skinny butt up there a little slower than I would prefer. More time to pay attention.

Hells bells, I may still be on crutches by our 50^th high school class’s reunion this summer. Fifty years! Oh well, at least I’ll have made it, knock on wood, and no more tile floors. Some of our class mates haven’t, and that is always sad. When you are eighteen your whole life is in front of you. You don’t think about getting old, and the body that has supported you for those eighteen years, and is at its peak, will someday fail you. Just let me get out on my own, the party is just beginning. Look out world here I come. College, graduate school, marriage, job, children, divorce, marriage, job, children, grandchildren, retirement. None of that was high on our radar screens at eighteen. Little did some of us know that the military was also right around the corner. For some that meant Vietnam, and death, for others it meant a life of living hell. I wrote a poem at the beginning of the Iraq war that’s appropriate for all wars: Wars a whore that fucks your mind, that steal your soul and leaves you blind, to the terrors you have seen, and horrors worse than any dream.

At eighteen those aren’t even a possibility. Getting laid, getting drunk, now that’s a different story. Not suicide, addictions, death of friends and love ones, death of children and grandchildren, failed relationships, not at eighteen. In the immortal words of Forrest Gump; "Shit happens." But that is only part of the story, actually a small part.

Little did we know or understand the satisfaction that a long time marriage could bring, a year going steady in high school was a loooong time. The joy of seeing your children and grandchildren being born, their first teeth, first steps, and all the other first they would bring. The simple daily things that we all too often take for granted: rainbows, butterflies, the pungent aroma of the morning coffee, delicious sunrises and sunsets, a smile a tear and oh so many more, little things. The little things that fill the spaces between everything else. That bring coherence, that tie together the days, week, months and years of a lifetime. Not at eighteen could I have predicted all the joys and sorrow that make life full to the brim and overflowing. No, not at eighteen. 

MY DELUSION, MY DELUSION, HERE’S WHY I HAVE FORSAKEN YOU

Truth is the only god worth serving, even if it destroys dogma - J.B. Hannay

 (Delusion: a false belief that is resistant to reason or confrontation with actual fact)

Recently I heard William Young speak at a Sunday service at the Corvallis Foursquare, Life Spring Church. William Young is the author of a highly popular book in Christian circles called The Shack . I had read the book an was taken aback not only by Mr. Young’s playing with Biblical theology, but by his shallow, in my opinion, treatment of human suffering.

In contrast to Mr Young’s book, I just finished reading a book by Bart D. Ehrman (God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer our most Important Question - Why we suffer). This book is a serious study, by a highly qualified theologian, on the Biblical God’s failure to alleviate human suffering, and in fact is the creator and sustainer of such suffering. In my opinion, this makes the God as presented in the Bible as being nothing short of masochistic. Some will probably say that is blasphemy, but let’s look at the facts.

God, by definition in Christian theology is Omnipotent (all powerful), Omnipresent (everywhere, in both time and space), Omniscient (all knowing). That said, as creator and sustainer of the entire universe, He (she, it) is ultimately responsible for how his creation functions. So how does it function, on a human level? What follows is a compilation of facts gleaned from governmental and non governmental organizations around the world:

1. The US Department of Justice reports for the year 2007 that over 800,000 children are reported missing. Of those, 58,200 are children abducted by a non-family member. That is one child every 40 seconds or 2100 per day.

2. The United Nations reports that 15 million children starve to death every year in the world. That is a child starves to death every 3.6 seconds, 1,028 per hour or approximately 25,000 per day. 800 million people suffer from hunger and malnutrition world wide, and it is growing.

3. The World Health Organization estimates between 300-500 million new cases of malaria per year, of that 1 million will die.

4. The American Cancer Society estimates for the year 2002 were that 555,500 Americans would die of cancer. That is 1,500 deaths per day.

5. It is estimated that 1.2 million people will die world wide due to auto accidents. There is no estimated how many will suffer injury and permanent damage.

6. It is estimated that in an average year 195,000 people in the US will die in a hospital due to medical error.

7. According The International Labor Organization, 1.2 million children are in forced servitude, making $15 billion annually for those that hold them captive.

The ICWO (Indian Community Welfare Organization) says that there are between 700,000 and 4 million people trafficked annually worldwide. Child trafficking is the third largest source of illegal profit, behind arms and drugs.

8. 25% of the approximately 2.3 million sex workers in India are minors, most are sent to Middle East nations.

9. The United nations estimates that there are at least 300,000 children serving as soldiers worldwide. Burma has the greatest number, some 70,000 child soldiers. The Children’s Rights Division of Human Rights Watch reports that children are fighting in 33 different conflicts. The typical child soldier is from 15 to 18 years of age, with some as young as 10. The percentage of female child soldier in El Salvador, Ethiopia and Uganda is almost one-third.

10. Anti-Slavery International estimates that over 27 million people around the world are slaves and at least 200 million people exist in some form of bondage. Today over 8 million children worldwide are slaves , of these, 1.8 million are forced into prostitution or pornography.

11. The Center for International Studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in November 2002 estimated that there were 13 million refugees worldwide. The United Nations Commissioner for Refugees estimates that 9 million of them are children.

12. From Jan 2006 to Feb 2008 there have been documented 52,421 violent deaths to civilians in Iraq. For the entire Iraq war civilian deaths from violence is between 82,987 and 90,521. The authors of a study titled: The Human Cost of the War In Iraq, says that their research carries a 95% "confidence index" and that the range of violence related deaths is between 426,369 and 793,663. We went to war in Iraq over less than 3,000 people dying in 911.

The above list of suffering and deaths could go on and on. I haven’t even covered mental and emotional suffering and many other kinds. We have at least 4,000 years of written civilization and 100's of thousands of years prior to that where people suffered and died. And yet we are told, god is love.

Often the pat answer is; "Who are we to question god’s ways." Better yet, I really like the one; "When we get to heaven it will all be made clear to us." Or "Don’t worry when Jesus comes He will wipe away every tear." Or how about this; "God gave us free will, he doesn’t want robots." If free will is associated with the choice to make mistakes which create suffering and death, and in heaven there is no suffering and death, then there must not be any free will in heaven. "I robots" for ever dancing around the throne of an insecure god that continually needs praise from his creation in order to be happy. Doesn’t make a whole lot of rational sense.

God is portrayed in the Bible as, all powerful, all knowing, loving, compassionate, etc, etc. Surely he knew what would happen when he created the earth. Knowing this why couldn’t this god just skip the experiment on planet earth and go directly to the heaven experiment? Why cause billions of people, to say nothing of all the other plants and animals, to suffer. Sure sounds masochistic to me.

Some will say; " boy are you angry with god." That is the farthest from the truth. I don’t get mad at Santa Clause when I don’t get what I want. For me, it is the same type of delusion. What, if anything I get angry about, is the delusions people create to justify not doing anything, and the life styles they have perpetuated for themselves that add to the pain and suffering of fellow human beings in the process. Like the now famous quote from Dick Cheney; "So." Hey, I got mine, to hell with everyone else.

I know that I too have created pain and suffering in myself and others lives. And it’s not that I see myself above others, because I don’t. Maybe it’s because of my awareness of suffering and pain around me and what little I can do to alleviate it, that is so frustrating. We give lip service to being compassionate, caring, loving people. Are we really? When we see the genocide, the squalor, the pain and suffering on the evening news, or documentary films, what is our reaction? Do we turn on our tap water knowing full well that the majority of the people in the world can’t even find clean water to drink, let alone a tap to turn on? Do the statistics compiled above just overwhelm us to the point of there being just statistics? Or do they touch our hearts, knowing that they aren’t just numbers, but real people? People like us with hopes, dreams, families and children. People who can feel pain and suffer just like us. Or are they just the "other?" The anonymous ones.

These questions are valid to ask, whether or not one believes in a god. From my perspective, those that believe in a loving god that created all this have a much more difficult time reconciling all the above than those of us who don’t believe. Maybe, this is why religions create such elaborate myths and dogmas in trying to explain their particular belief systems. Again, from my perspective, none of them stand up to critical analysis. They are unable to follow the maxim; "search for the truth; follow it; do your utmost to find it; let it be your guide wherever it may lead." Instead they all proclaim "we have the truth." If all religions claim to have the truth, then it would appear that none have the truth. They are often contradictory and therefore can not all be reconciled within one belief system.

The atheist, on the other hand, is not encumbered with a belief system that has to be justified with sacred texts, rituals, ornate cathedrals (mosques, temples, etc), mumbo jumbo magic incantations and special robes for the initiated and last but not least, tithes (sacrifices) to appease the god or gods. The atheist has learned, or is learning, to accept things the way they are, and to change that which he or she can change. That is, that which is within their sphere of influence. This places the responsibility on the individual to do the best they can with what they have. It means action now, not pie in the sky "when we all get to heaven." It means, to use the old saying, living simply so that other might simply live.

Perspective from Dimple Hill

Watched the Story of Stuff yesterday on U-Tube. Amazing how a simple reminder about all the crap, stuff, things, we accumulate in life brings awareness to how enslaved we have become to them. I recall a bit of wisdom from the Native American tradition that goes something like this: "Every object has a spirit attached to it. As I attach myself to this object (stuff) out of a needy desire, the spirit of the object attaches itself to me." The corollary is that with each attachment I become more possessive, more greedy and more in bondage to "them." The more objects of attachment, the more spirits are attached to me.

This truism was brought home to me as I was out riding my bike in McDonald Forest today. I was headed from the Witham Hill house to the top of Dimple Hill, about 17 miles round trip. I see many hikers with I-Pods. My guess is they are listening to music. What the fuck are they trying to drown out in the solitude of the forest? Stopped and talked to another biker on my way down, told him one of the things I appreciated about him was that he didn’t have earphones on."Yeah" he said. Neither of us could fathom going into the forest and missing the sounds of silence. Attachments!

I stop to take a water break at the 6 mile fork in the road, one goes to McCullock Peak (elev. 2178 ft.) the other to Dimple Hill (elev. 1478 ft.). I watch a small white moth, and listen for wings beating the cool spring air. The apparent randomness of its flight is mystifying. Probably sniffing the air for pheromones from a moth of the opposite sex. It is spring and the sexual sap is flowing. There is a rat-a-tat-tat high in a doug fir. A wood pecker looking for a late afternoon snack. The beating of beak against bark echos throughout the forest. The bursting of leaf buds explode new life everywhere I gaze. The forest screams, pay attention, pay attention!

This is only my second ride since getting over the flu two weeks ago. Don’t know if I have the stamina to make it to the top. The next half mile is a gentle up hill grade. I stop for more water just before the hairpin bend, need to stay hydrated. I now face a mile and a quarter that is a moderate to steep grind. Put my bike in low gear and prepare my mind. I know every curve and straight stretch on this road. I have ridden it many times, but today is going to be a challenge both mentally and physically if I am going to make it to the summit. Progress is slow, and that’s okay, one turn of the crank at a time. Don’t look up and too far ahead, stay focused on the immediate. Need to pay attention to my breathing. I know that if I try too go to fast I will get winded, lactic acid builds up in the muscles, and fatigue sets in. Staying at a steady pace is always best. Discipline.

I try to stay focused on my physical body’s needs and at the same time observe the beauty of the forest that surrounds me. This requires splitting my mind into two modes of conscious awareness. My physical eyes notice the road, the huge trees, the grassy under story of the forest floor. This is so different from the brushy coast range or the soft pine and fir needles covering the forest floor of the high Cascades. My minds eye pays attention to thirst, tiredness, breathing and heart rate. Being in such a beautiful place helps unite the two into one. In his essay Poetry and the Primitive, Gary Snyder states: "Outwardly, the equivalent of the unconscious is the wilderness: both of these terms meet, one step even farther on, as one."

Now McDonald Forest is a far cry from wilderness in the sense of "wilderness area," being roadless and relatively untouched by humans. Mac forest is, after all, the research forest of Oregon State University’s School of Forestry. As such it sees periodic thinning and clear cutting in small designated areas, but it also has an area set aside as "old growth." Yes, it is disconcerting to ride into an area where I haven’t been for some time and see that it has been logged. On the other hand, it is wonderful to have this resource so close and to be able to use it and share it with others.

I almost wrote, "with others of like mind." Which brings me back to stuff. I realize that stuff isn’t just the physical "things" we are attached to, it is also the mental junk that fills our conscious and unconscious mind. Meditation is found in many spiritual traditions, it is used in every case to clear the mind of extraneous stuff. Meditation takes many forms. Within the Buddhist tradition there is a form known as walking meditation. Since I can no longer walk comfortably, riding my bike has become, for me, my walking meditation. It keeps me focused and sane in a world that appears insane and hell bent for destruction.

When riding I feel a sense of at oneness with my body, my bike, and the diversity of sights, sounds, and smells of the forest. What’s strange is that the sense of oneness is also accompanied with the sense of aloneness. This is not loneliness. It is more of that sense of interconnectedness and inner connectedness. There was a song from the 70's that had a line that went something like this: "one is the loneliest number." But I believe that this is not true especially in a spiritual sense. The one, is the essence of and place from which all else is derived. The one describes wholeness.

I am beginning to feel the flush of success as I look up and see the flat where the road forks. When I get there I take a water break and a breather, before the next quarter mile to the summit. I haven’t seen anyone since I left the lower trails, but now a young biker passes me as if I was standing still. Ah youth. What the hell, at least I am out here.

I now leave the road for the connecting route to upper Dan’s trail and the summit. We’ve had quite a bit of rain in the last few days and the trail is still muddy. I have to get off the bike and push it for about 200 ft; its too steep and muddy. When I get to the top, the biker that passed me is just about to leave. We exchange greetings and wonderment at the scene that lays below us and to the south. There is fresh snow on the foothills of both the coast and Cascade mountains. The air is crisp and yet the sun is warm. The sky is a light blue with wisps of high clouds to the west, hints of more rain to come. There has been a hatch of small black gnats since I was here last - another sign of spring. I sit in the stillness, listen to their humming and sip warm chai tea from a bottle taken from my back pack. The sweetness of the tea adds to the delicious feast before me.

Life doesn’t look and feel so negative and oppressive, from up here. Feeling rested, I put the tea back in the pack, and pack positive thoughts into my mind. From the summit it is a good 2 ½ miles of downhill coasting. I try to keep my speed just under 20 miles per hour. Back in the forest, the sun’s warmth is filtered by the huge trees. The air at this speed has a chill to it. The chill is not cold, it brings a fresh awakening, the eyes tear up and my exposed skin tingles. Life! Simple life! Must remember, stuff isn’t required for this experience.

Robert Pirsig - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

If your values are rigid you can’t really learn new facts.

You are never dedicated to something you have complete confidence in. No one is fanatically shouting that the sun is going to rise tomorrow. They know it’s going to rise tomorrow. When people are fanatically dedicated to political or religious faiths or any other kinds of dogmas or goals, it’s always because these dogmas or goals are in doubt.

The Gift of Presents

Sometimes, actually more often than not, when I awaken at night I have to pee...oh the joy of prostate problems. Before I awaken, somewhere in a dream state, I feel the bladder pressure building. It is not unusual to be aware that in the dream I have to pee. In fact I may actually be in a dream bathroom ready to relieve myself. Then realities shift and I am awake. I recall those similar scenes from my childhood dreams, the difference being then I wouldn’t wake up until it was to late . . . woops wet bed. Some times I wonder if that will start happening again, second childhood and all. No sense in worrying.

This morning was one of those abrupt shifts in reality. Our cabin bedroom is very dark, I hear Sandy breathing softly. I slowly roll my side of the covers back and slip out of bed, careful not to awaken her. I open the bedroom door and then quietly shut it behind me. The front room is still warm from last nights fire. I turn the light on so as not to stumble in the dark. I still have to pee. I head for the front door and the covered porch. Careful, don’t let the screen door slam.

It is still dark, I can just barely make out our goats and horse in the pasture, nuzzling the snow to get at the young spring grass. The cold air on my naked body intensifies the need to pee. I squeeze my penis as I take the few steps to the porch railing. . . ah. A steaming yellow stream on the fresh snow below. I take several deep breaths, inhaling the cold, damp, predawn air. I stretch, shaking the cobwebs from a groggy brain. There’s something about standing naked on one’s front porch, looking out on the silence of a new day breaking. Maybe its just a guy thing.

I go back inside and put on a shirt, socks and long johns, then I turn on the coffee maker that I ready the night before. The sound of its perking is some how comforting as I build a fire in the wood stove. Simple tasks, but meaning full, full of meaning. I turn the lights out, open the blinds to the big picture window and await the dawn in the light from a warming fire.

Looking south from our cabin, the valley widens in the foreground then narrows to the south. There is a "notch" formed by spurs of the eastern and western hills that advance towards each other. Within this notch sits Mary’s Peak. Elusive in her presence as clouds swirl past on their journey from the coast to the Willamette Valley. The night’s snow fills the valley and dampens any early morning sounds. No frogs this morning. Spring daffodils push their sun yellow flowers into a wintery field. Fir limbs laden with their white blanket, wait in hope of the warmth of a spring sun to set them free. The first light is soft upon the meadows, it bings no warmth, but chases nights shadows away. Thought:

"Morning light softens the land as it unfolds in mist and fog."

The peak is obscured by clouds, then glistening white as they open to the pale blue dawn sky. The valley swirls with light and clouds. Each moment brings a new wonder. Nothing static. Change upon change, wonder upon wonder as time and space unfold before my eyes. Like a mind filled with thoughts, each competing for attention, so the wind erases the scene of a brief moment before, only to sketch it anew yet different. Thought:

" Spring time strains its birth pangs as winter’s death grip gives way to life."

A Redtail Hawk glides by the window, within its talons is breakfast. It alights an alder down by the creek and begins its feast. The coffee is done I pour a steaming cup and sip the aroma. The two of us, hawk and human, sharing a morning ritual that the other can not fully appreciate. Each has its experience and perspective, unknowable to the other.

The light brightens and amorphous shapes take on definition. A distant dark shadow becomes a horse or a cow. The polar opposite occurs in the last glow of evens light. Thought:

"Somber is the color of the hills as the valley descends into night."

I ponder that last sentence in light of birth and death. Birth being the morning of life in which the amorphous takes shape. Death being the extinguishing of light (the life force), the eternal sleep of night.

Some might find that nihilistic, morbid, even fearful. Not me. What was it Mark Twain said? Something like; "it didn’t bother me the billions of years before I was born, don’t think it will when I die." If this is it, all the more reason to wonder, be filled with wonder, while I can. Enjoying the beauty of each moment. As the Buddhist’s say: "Be here now." After all there is no other time but the present. This knowledge makes every moment precious. Being precious causes one not to label moments as good or bad. It brings a profound sense of awareness to every situation. A knowing that this too shall pass. So savor it, then let it go and in the letting go savor the next and so a lifetime passes. What a wonder filled gift.

Rogert Pirsig in his classic book, Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance, puts it this way: "The past cannot remember the past. The future can’t generate the future. The cutting edge of this instant right here and now is always nothing less than the totality of everything there is."

Get your mind around that and life becomes an awesome adventure into the unknown. Every bit of it tingles the spine with shivers of excitement, talk about orgasmic. This is the gift, don’t take it for granted, open your minds eyes and your heart. Life is to short to miss a single moment. Thought:

"Like a window shade the rain and fog filter out the dying light of day."