Tag Archives: Present Day

The Meaning of Life

meaningoflife

Sitting in the coffee shop I see that the meaning of life for the two year old running around the room is love, connection, and the joy of moving.  That little boy, expressing sheer joy, has managed to communicate that feeling to everyone in the room.  That is as it should be, and is probably as far as we really need to go.

As we get older, it gets more complicated.  Pain, loss, death, and suffering come into our lives.  Finding Meaning in the midst of suffering is difficult for many of us.  Many people find their meaning in following.  They follow gods, rulers, gurus, preachers, the girl next door, teachers, or their family and tribe.

Some of us, however, refuse to follow.  One of my mottoes is “Don’t trust anyone who says he knows the will of God.”  I prefer to think for myself.  I search for answers and have for as long as I can remember.    I am 72 years old and I am still searching.  I have had a number of peak experiences.  These experiences have come in several contexts, Christian, Buddhist, chemical, and in nature.

Every experience was life changing, giving me a new way of seeing and being.  Sometimes they are brief, fleeting.  Other times I have dwelled in the grasp of divine love for as long as a year.  I have prayed without ceasing, done mindfulness meditation, spoken in tongues, laughed in ecstasy, cried with joy, and had years of no spiritual connection at all.

I know that a spiritual connection does not have to come in any specific religious context.  I do not, however, know how to maintain that connection all the time.  It is just not “After enlightenment, the laundry.”  It is not being able to sustain a practice for a sustained period.

Do I lack discipline?  No.  I have maintained a discipline for an extended time and had an event that broke the connection.  Am I a spiritual dilettante?  It seems so.  Most of the time,however, I am a spiritual nobody.

It’s a mystery.  I know without any doubt that there is more to life and being than this round rock we ride through space.  I have seen the eternal web of universal connection and oneness.  I have been wrapped, enveloped in God’s love.  I have received spiritual gifts.  I have shared those gifts.

Now it seems that my task is to live in the world as a householder and writer.  I do a ten minute meditation every morning and that’s it.  Most of the time the meditation is clutter.  Sometimes I get an experience of complete peace.  That, for now, is enough.

I am not called to lead, to take action in the world.  I learn, reflect, write a little, try my best to be a good husband and friend.  I have family, which is saying a lot, as I come from a family with weak ties.  Today the ties are strong and growing.  Love.

Another task before me is to smooth out the bumps in my brain.  I get angry, irritable.  I obsess about meaningless things.  I get depressed.  I forget and procrastinate.  I eat too much and don’t exercise.  Lots to do.  It is time to be in the world and find meaning here, not out there.

Terror

Paris Terror

Paris Terror

The events in Paris this week bring back memories of all the terrorist incidents we have lived through for many years.  Why?  Why kill innocent people for some cause they have nothing to do with, or they are only making fun of political situations?

Terrorism works.  The goal of terror is to put a spotlight on a cause, to get people emotionally involved in an issue they would not usually care about.  They become passionate and affiliate themselves with the side of the conflict they agree with.  The middle ground, where truth usually resides, becomes obscured as fear and rage take over.

Most people are reasonable and just want to live and let live, whether Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Protestant, Catholic, black, brown, white, wealthy, middle, or working class.  Terrorism divides people into opposite camps, where people view others as suspicious and dangerous.  The others must be controlled, removed, or eliminated.  There is no longer any room for dialog.

This depiction is somewhat extreme.  We have seen decades of terror and hate end in Ireland as the two sides finally stopped the killing mostly out of sheer exhaustion and the work of excellent negotiators.  An example of where terror achieved its end was in 1950s Algeria, when years of bombings, repression, and hate in Algeria and France ended with Algerian independence.

The Battle of Algiers, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Battle_of_Algiers  a movie about that struggle, illustrates how terror works.  It has become either a textbook of terrorism or a lesson for those who wish to end the process of fear and hate.  Algeria was a French colony with a large population of relatively wealthy French amid a large population of mostly poor Muslim Arabs who resented French rule.

An Arab liberation movement began a campaign of terror, bombing public places where French people gathered.  The French army responded with a policy of repression.  People were arrested and tortured, curfews imposed, matters escalated and the bombings began in France, especially Paris.  The polarization, radicalization, and repression escalated as well, finally ending when the French government under DeGaulle granted independence to Algeria.

The parallels with Israel and Palestine are obvious.  The situation there is so divided that many view any peaceable resolution as unlikely, at least in the short run.  In Europe, the parallel is with Muslims living in a secular culture that are marginalized and discriminated against, just as the Catholic minority was in Northern Ireland.

The reasons for terror are not only religion.  Religion often becomes the justification for acts of terror, but race, class, ethnicity, and alienation are often the underlying reasons.  What is needed is tolerance, dialog, and human connection.

Keep calm and carry on.

 

 

Hate, Faith, and Polarization

War Children

War Children

I read recently that if people with strong conservative or fundamentalist beliefs have their beliefs challenged, their position hardens.  I don’t think that applies solely to conservatives.  When I see some outrageous statement form Michele Bachmann or others of her ilk, my negative feelings tend to strengthen my position.

Back when I was taking Political Science courses, the prevailing mantra was that the underlying strength of American democracy was a spirit of compromise.  Legislators on opposite sides of the aisle would come together and work out a deal that accomplished some of the goals of each side.  There was an atmosphere of give and take.

The nation has had periods of cooperation. The Truman and Eisenhower years may be an example.  Polarization has also been a repetitive theme in our history.  Slavery and race are the issues dividing the nation since the eighteenth century.  We seem to be inching toward a resolution, but don’t look for peace and harmony yet.

The current impasse in congress is, on the surface, Republicans versus Democrats.  The rhetoric on both sides is “The American People want this” or “The American people want that”.  The members of congress want campaign contributions and more money.

Most Americans don’t know what they want or don’t care.  Under the rhetoric is ideology.  One the one side are the dedicated progressives with a broad view of how the country should change.  They see social issues that need to be changed.  They like the money.

The other side is composed of two main groups.  The true conservatives just do not want change.  They want retreat to a simpler time without the complex, baffling issues a huge, diverse culture is facing.  Think Norman Rockwell.  They also like the money.  The other group is ideological.  They see themselves as engaged in a global struggle between the forces of evil and the true path they represent.  To compromise would mean giving in to temptation and the path to destruction.  They  like the money.   They want power to overcome the Enemy.

The true believers on either side are resistant to opposing views, and when confronted their views tend to harden.  The Karl Roves are mainly interested in power.  The true believers are preparing for the end times, the final confrontation between the Antichrist and the faithful.

This confrontation has, of course, been a constant theme in Christianity since the Book of Revelation was written.  It was written about Rome during the time of the destruction of the temple and the Jewish diaspora.  The imagery is about Rome.  The Beast, the seven hills, all refer to Rome, not today.  This theme came up again around 1000 A.D., at the time of the Black Death, and often in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, whenever some True Believer sees prophecies and does some calculations.

Almost every generation has applied it to their own time. Christ continues to tarry.  The faithful are not deterred.  The consequence of this hardened ideology is congressional gridlock.  Compromise is not an option when confronting demonic forces.  It doesn’t take too many fundamentalist Christians in Congress to lock things up.

The current trend goes back to the Enlightenment, which was followed by the Industrial Revolution and the beginnings of a secular and progressive society.  Concurrent with the secularization was the growth of literacy and people reading the Bible for their own selves.  Now there is a book with a lot of themes.  There is rich soil for a fundamentalist ideology, a return to the City of God.

The Bible and the Quran came from a region where people have always fought over for land and power.  They also fought over ideas, moving from paganism with a God for every purpose to a God wanting everyone to follow His purpose.  Jesus and Paul wanted us to find God’s law and purpose in our hearts. That takes a lot of work, and most are content with the law. Mohammed laid down a new law and people went right to war over who should enforce the law.

Those who want power use the law for their purposes.  They are not too concerned with eternal truth.  Check that with Dick Cheney and Karl Rove.  Some want to use to use the law and power for what they see as spiritual purposes.  Check that with Ted Cruz, Michele Bachmann, and Sarah Palin.

The struggle in the Islamic world is much the same.  Secularization and progressivism   contend with a reactionary attempt to return to pure times that never really existed.  Old tribal and religious hatreds return with true believers armed with computers and AK-47’s.

There is a broad movement of people seeking to use the common bonds of humanity to work and pray for peace.  I hope the peace seekers will prevail.  I pray with them.  There is a universal web of love that can overcome hate.

 

 

 

A Trip to Hell

Hell Frozen Over

Hell Frozen Over

Tuesday I went to Hell.  The other name for Hell in Denver is Park Meadows Mall.  Nothing Dante imagined can compare to the real thing.  Every year I resolve to do all my shopping early and every year I find myself among the throngs.

I had two goals, go to The Tattered Cover Bookstore in Highlands Ranch (Purgatory) and then on to Hell.  I am experiencing something of a seasonal depression and my new meds haven’t kicked in yet.  When I am depressed I am also irritable, which interferes with rational thinking and civilized driving.  I am able to control one, but not both.

I concentrated on my driving behavior and got lost.  It was snowing, and I couldn’t see the mountains.  I have been to the bookstore down there several times, but not Tuesday.  Consult the map or the GPS?  Who, me?

So I wandered through the suburban desert to where I thought Park Meadows should be.  Behold, I was on the wrong side of C-470.  I was able to find Quebec Street and struggle through the traffic to Park Meadows.  If you have never been there, the streets were laid out by Satan.  There is no rational pattern to the traffic flow, especially when every car in the Metro Area was there.   People were pretty nice to one another in their cars, so the Season’s spirit was operating to some degree.

I got lucky and found a good parking place which turned out to be on the opposite side of

Styx

Styx

my destination.  I had the opportunity of traversing the entire place.  Full of people, packed, glutted, overloaded, crammed, and crowded.  Some shopping, many just getting out of the house.  There were lots of young Marines just out of boot camp.  There were probably G.I.’s as well, but with enough sense to be in civilian clothes.

The general mood was festive and happy.  My experience of Cherry Creek Mall is more negative.  People seem more hurried and unfriendly.  I was able to do my shopping and make my way back to my car.  I took secondary streets home to avoid the traffic.  I was even able to calm down a bit.  Still could not find the Tattered Cover.  Look at the map or consult the GPS?  No.

Next day I was able to finish my shopping on Colorado Boulevard, Denver’s busiest street, but less frantic than Hell.  Will I be able to do my shopping earlier next Christmas?  Probably not, but I will do my best to avoid Hell.

What’s Happening

002

Going Up

It’s Friday the thirteenth.  The moon is full.  The sun is giving off huge solar flares.  Mercury is retrograde.

Maybe this explains our week.  Our refrigerator icemaker quit for the second time.  The oven went black and the door is locked from a cleaning cycle for the second time.  Parts for the oven are on order.  A driver forced Carol into the curb in the alley by the bank and a trim strip got torn off the side of her car.

I went to work at Four Mile this morning and the group that was scheduled to come with 110 kids went to History Colorado instead due to some mix-up.  One of the horses is lame.

I went to buy electrical conduit for our garage project, bought the wrong stuff, went back, and they didn’t have everything in stock so I had to go to another place.  I thought the electrician was going to install the conduit, but he is busy and then I forgot about it until the day before the City Inspector was due to come.  The conduit is in and inspected.  No more deep trench across the back yard.

The old garage door opener we saved won’t work, so we have to have a new one.  The muffler fell off the lawn mower.  It is LOUD.  In the process of setting the forms for the concrete, the sprinkling system piping got cut in two places.  I had to go to two places for parts for that.

On the positive side, the garage walls are up and the rafters are being built.  We will have lots of storage space above our cars-no space robbing trusses.  Ed, the contractor on the garage is a joy to work with.  His business is Colorado Craftsmen.

Carol’s neck and shoulder hurt.  My wrist hurts.  I am not sleeping as well as usual.  The last installment of Cosmos has come and gone (if you haven’t seen it, do so).

I am waiting on a letter from the VA about my disability since I won the appeal.  The DAV told me they usually take around 60 days.  It has now been 70 days.  Well, actually, I applied in March 2009, so it has been more than 70 days.

Enough complaining.  All things considered, life is good.  We are going to have a secure garage for our cars, we will have a nice patio, and lovely brick walks.  The garden is doing well,

Colorado’s Front Range Floods

2013 flood

2013 Flood

Those of us who live along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains enjoy a unique set of circumstances; a fine climate, mountain views, a mountain playground, and rivers that provide much of our water needs.  There are millions of people living in an urban area that runs from Pueblo to Fort Collins.

Most of the time, the physical setting and the climate combine to make the Front Range a fine place to live.  There is risk, however.  Most of the time we don’t have quite enough water for every need. The people are along the Front Range, and the water is on the western slope.  On occasion, we have way too much water.  We are subject to drought, our own waste of the water we have, and the floods that come out of the mountain canyons.

To understand these problems requires a look at two histories, the Rocky Mountain history for the last 75 million years and human history from 1859.  Around 75 million years ago the Rockies began to form.  As they grew, they also wore down.  The debris from the mountains spread from their base to as far as Nebraska.

The streams were bigger then.  Drive east to Bijou Creek and see the valley that obviously was not formed by the current flow in the creek.  The wind blew.  It still does, leaving eolian sand deposits.  Sand Creek, draining the area east through Stapleton and into Aurora is appropriately named.  You can identify the sand hills – they are grazing land, not good for farming.  That sand and dirt comes from as far as Utah and coats our cars.

 

Today, the Rockies are not eroding as fast as they did during the ice ages, but they are still coming down.  Back in the Precambrian when I took geology, the assumption was that erosion was a steady, gradual process.  Taking the long view, that is so, but on a human time scale, erosion is punctuated by periodic floods.  Some of the floods are from spring runoff from wet winters.  The catastrophic floods pound out of the canyons when storms park themselves over an area and it rains.  And rains.  Sometimes it rains more in a few hours than it does in several normal years.  Sometimes the rain is where the people are, just east of the mountains.

Large amounts of moist monsoonal air from the Gulf of Mexico move north along the Rockies and encounter a cold front coming from the west.  Sometimes the rains are short in a fairly small area.  At other times, as in 2013, the rain comes down over a large area, and it rains for days. To humans, these storms seem like unusual events, but they have been happening for millions of years.  Along with normal erosion, they have filled the Denver Basin with 13,000 feet of debris.  That is a lot of rocks and mud.

 

1864__Cherry-Creek-Flood~p1

1864 Cherry Creek Flood

One of the first recorded monsoonal floods was in 1864, not long after Denver was settled.  Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians told the settlers seeking fortune not to build where Cherry Creek and the South Platte meet.  The town builders built there anyway.  It was a logical town site.  Trails met, grass, trees, and water were available, and the gold-rich mountains just a short distance away.  Much of the new town went downstream.

 

The town was rebuilt in the same place.  Floods came again.  Denver flooded in 1876, 1885, 1894, 1912, 1921, 1933, and 1965.  Pueblo flooded in 1921, the Big Thompson in 1976, Manitou Springs and Colorado Springs in 2013, and much of the Front Range from Denver to Fort Collins in 2013.  The link is from the Atlantic Monthly, with dramatic images from the 2013 flooding.

Most vulnerable are towns at the base of the mountains: Manitou Springs, Palmer Lake, Morrison, Golden, Boulder, Lyons, Loveland, and Fort Collins.  Towns along the South Platte, St. Vrain, Cache La Poudre, and Big Thompson rivers are at special risk.

DSCN0960

Jamestown 2014

Will people stop building there?  Rebuilding is underway in every area flooded in 2013.  While researching this piece I traveled to Boulder, Jamestown, Lyons, and the farmland along the St Vrain.   I saw travel trailers parked nest to damaged homes with building permits on the flood-damaged houses.

Some actions do prevent floods.  Denver has Cherry Creek, Bear Creek, and Chatfield dams.  They are flood control dams designed to capture floodwaters.  Let’s hope they are big enough.

The photo above has a lot of rock in the foreground.  The rocks range in size from sand and silt to head size.  They were exposed by the 2013 flood, but were deposited by a previous flood that had enough force to carry that debris and dump it there.  upstream, there are narrow gulches with the lower ends scoured down to bedrock.  That debris went further downstream.

The Rocky Mountains are on the way to the Mississippi river delta in Louisiana.  It will take many millions of years, but they will wear down and become Mississippi mud.  Floods will hasten the process.

Bad Evening

I’m in lower downtown, Denver. It’s January 12, a Friday evening and the temperature is four degrees. It hasn’t gotten above 18 degrees in a week. There are a few inches of dirty snow on the ground, sidewalks and streets are icy. Tempers are short, people irritated.
I fit right in. We were supposed to meet at the new sushi bar 45 minutes ago. The place was crowded, a line of chilled people waiting to get in. She isn’t there. I call, her phone goes right to voice mail. My feet are cold, I start worrying about frostbite on the ear that got frostbitten on Loveland Pass years ago. I wait for thirty minutes and then head for my car.
It is a bit of a walk to my car. I know a spot on Champa that doesn’t have a meter, and people seem to avoid it. I get colder as I walk. I cross the street to the bus station. Time to warm up a little. I go in. The place is crowded, others warming up, travelers coming and going. I stomp and wiggle for a few minutes, then decide to cut through the bus bay for a short cut.
I go out the door to a noisy, smelly, frigid bus loading bay. Passengers are lining up for their busses, the off-duty cop is arguing with someone over his cell phone, ignoring the surroundings. A well-dressed African-American woman is trying to usher her four children to a waiting bus in the second row.
She looks distraught, the children, ages around four to nine, look cold, confused, and scared. The driver is loading luggage, passengers groping through layers of clothing for their tickets. A man walks through the bus entrance into the bay. African-American, he is wearing a tan trench coat, dark wool trousers, wingtips, and a gray fedora. He is talking on his phone when the youngest child looks up and sees him.
“Daddy!” She cries, running toward him. He lowers the phone as he sees her. She stops in front of a bus, realizing the man is not her father. The bus starts moving, the driver not seeing the little girl. The bus hits her, knocking her down and running over her head.
Screams, panic, people running to the accident, people running away. Blood, already starting to freeze, runs out from under the bus past small, motionless feet. The mother collapses, the cop moving toward her. Quickly, firefighters and paramedics run in. I vomit.
Still retching, I walk into the waiting room and sink onto a bench. Bad evening.

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